The Old Guitar Pick With The Initials “Vm” Found Taped To The Back Of A Lyric Sheet

April 2, 2025

As I rummaged through the dusty boxes in my grandfather’s attic, a familiar scent of aged wood and memories enveloped me. Old family photos, forgotten toys, and long-neglected treasures lay scattered around, but one item caught my eye—a crumpled lyric sheet, yellowed with age. Curiosity pulled me closer as I unfolded it, revealing a song that was once a hit, written by my late grandfather, Victor Moore, known to his friends as “VM.” Taped to the back was a single guitar pick, worn but sturdy, with the initials “VM” etched into its surface. I held it in my hand, feeling a connection to the music that had shaped his life.

My grandfather had been a passionate musician, a storyteller who poured his heart into every note. He played in local bars and clubs, sharing the tales of his life through his songs. But the music industry could be cruel; dreams often collided with harsh realities. He struggled to make ends meet, balancing between fleeting fame and the demands of everyday life. Days turned into years, and the spotlight that once shone brightly on him began to dim. Eventually, he set aside his guitar, believing the world had forgotten him—a heartbreaking choice that haunted him long after.

As I continued to study the lyric sheet, a story began to unfold. The lyrics spoke of dreams, heartache, and resilience, each word a fragment of my grandfather’s emotions. It dawned on me that this pick, this small, seemingly insignificant object, symbolized more than just his love for music; it represented his undying spirit. I wondered how many times he had strummed the strings with that very pick, pouring his soul into melodies that echoed in the hearts of strangers. Though he had walked away from the stage, his music never truly left him.

Inspired by my grandfather’s legacy, I decided to revisit the abandoned dreams he had set aside. That night, I picked up my own guitar and started to strum. The chords felt awkward at first, but soon, memories of my grandfather’s melodies began to flow through my fingers. I wrote a song, weaving his story with mine, celebrating the passion that had once defined him. It felt as though he was right there beside me, guiding my hands, just like the music that poured from his heart.

Over the following weeks, I practiced diligently, letting the stories of my grandfather inspire me. I thought of the struggles he faced, the moments of doubt, and how he had allowed the challenges to seep into his soul, yet he had never given up. With each note I played, I felt a sense of resilience build inside me. I began to perform at local open mic nights, sharing my grandfather’s songs along with my own. The audience responded with warmth and encouragement, and with each performance, I could feel the spirit of “VM” reigniting, not just within me but within the hearts of those who listened.

Through the journey of rediscovering my grandfather’s music, I learned that dreams may fade, but they never truly die. The guitar pick I found, now a cherished memento, reminded me that passion for our art can be a guiding light in our darkest moments. My grandfather may have thought his music was forgotten, but now, it lives on in me, an unstoppable force that inspires not only my life but also the lives of others. Ultimately, his legacy taught me that resilience, love, and the joy of creating music can transcend time, giving hope and inspiration to all who dare to dream.