My Guitar was Made in Indonesia

        As an undiagnosed, autistic, teenager I couldn’t find love even when it grabbed me and kissed me. Or, at any rate, I couldn’t keep it. I was a true Peter Pumpkin Eater. After a few hours, or days, or weeks, whoever came looking for love in this wrong place would lose interest, or feel rejected, and look elsewhere. 

And yet, despite my lack of success, I always had hope—and always expected that I would find love or that it would find me.

 

        Looking back I credit my parents and my family. We were a dysfunctional crew, drenched in alcohol, but we were creative, smart, interesting, interested, and accepting. My six older siblings provided built-in playmates, my mother provided constant encouragement, and the whole family—even a dad who lost his way due to alcoholism—provided love. It was the first thing I told each of my two therapists when I sought help understanding why my youthful life was so different: that I was loved as a child and knew it.

Which means I knew that I was lovable. What a gift for an autistic child.

In my book, My So-Called Disorder: Autism, Exploding Trucks, and the Big Daddy of Rock and Roll, I quote some of the songs I wrote as a teenager, pointing out that most of them are very “autistic.” When I bought a new electric guitar a few years ago it inspired me to write a song that celebrated the guitar and all of my other special interests (stars, telescopes, Chuck Berry and the blues) and also the love that eventually found me when I knew how to hold on: my wife, my grown children, and my granddaughter.

As a child I lusted for

Those old Silvertone guitars.

I used to lie outside in the dark and wonder

At the mystery of the stars

I played the same kinds of records then

That I listen to today

And even then I knew in my heart

I’d be with you someday

Didn’t know what you’d look like

Didn’t know how you’d sound

Just knew life was better when

You were around

I had more hopes and wishes then

Than I have today

Cause a lot of them were granted when

You came walking my way

Life’s full of mystery

Life can be so hard

The people we love are lost

You can be dealt an awfully difficult card

There are times when life is full of joy

And then such deep despair

But I can make it through it all

As long as you are there

The stars are harder to see these days

Washed out by all those city lights

My guitar was made in Indonesia

But it looks and sounds just right

About to hit the road again

Memphis, Clarksdale and St. Lou

Sitting on the banks of the great Mississippi River

I’ll play this song for you

                                                                            c. Peter O’Neil

        I wrote the song about my wife, Rebecca and my Indonesian copy cat Silvertone but I immediately saw that it applied to my children as well. We never know what our loves will look or sound like, but like a copy-cat Indonesian Silvertone, they make life better.

Having studied what it means to be autistic for a few years now I realize how lucky I was lucky to have a family who loved and supported me, and a mom who encouraged my many, many quirky interests, and fought for me whenever she saw some injustice.