A Small Town Bass Player

A man with crazy hair and glasses sits in the front row at church, nearest to the hastily constructed stage. Across his lap rests an off-white bass guitar with tattered stickers stuck to its body. His Bible rests against the red velvet fabric of the pew, directly to his right. He doesn't notice me as I watch him, because he is too focused on the tune that he plays. His left hand glides across the fret board. With the fingers of his right hand he plucks at the strings; clearly, this bass player doesn't use a pick.

This is the moment that a much younger version of me met Tommy Guernsey.

Soon, this man and his influence became an integral part of my life. His daughter became my friend and one of his sisters became my aunt. Another sister and her family became my neighbors. One of friends became friends with my dad; his kids also became my friends. Tommy's father became the sweet, elderly man who brought oatmeal cookies to church each Sunday and told me stories. Even his extended family became family; one of his nieces was my son's first baby sitter. When I started driving, his cousin became my insurance agent and insures my house to this day.

Clearly, knowing Tommy Guernsey enriched my life. His smile was always kind, and I always felt welcome in his home (and in his swimming pool). Being in his presence always brought sunshine and hope to my day; with a big smile and a reminder that "Jesus loves me," he made sure that I knew that he cared.

More than anything, I valued Tommy's respect and imput because we had something in common. We were musicians.

His death is especially heartbreaking because I have to accept that I will never hear him play again, I will never hear him sing. As a baby bass guitar player, Tommy took me under his wing and showed me some tricks that I still use from time to time. At church, I was constantly amazed by his personality and how comfortable he felt on stage. He was never nervous or scared; when he was on stage, the music, offering praise to God is what mattered to him.

It was clear to anyone who listened to him that music was his passion, his calling in life. Tommy wasn't Tommy without music. While later in his life he released songs with his lifelong bandmates (Exit 19) and attended church elsewhere, I still think of him every time we play the songs that he released during his time at Fisherman's Paradise, entitled: "You Are" and "What Are You Waiting For."

In honor of Tommy and his memory, please consider the words that he wrote in his song, "What Are You Waiting For," by reading the lyrics below:

Don't wait for life to pass for your decision. It's a long and rocky road. Put your burdens upon him, and start living. For the treasures we are told, are stored up in heaven, just for you, at the right hand of God. What are you waiting for?

It wasn't long ago, he was taken; to a hill called Calvary and placed upon a cross, just to die for the sins of you and me. Rose up on the third day, just to reign at the right hand of God. What are you waiting for?

Why take a chance on the ways of man? Just let the spirit set you free! On his graces we both can stand! He shed his blood for you and me.

Don't wait another minute, the time has come for you to take your place, no matter what you've done. There's forgiveness, 'cause the price has done been paid. What are you waiting for?