You Done Broke My Heart . . . Uh Guitar

Guitars and communications – a couple of my favorite topics.

While I've held Taylor guitars in high regard I've only ever held one Taylor in my hands. And until today, I'd never heard of Dave Carroll.

After today, I hold both Taylors AND Carroll in high regard.

A songwriter, he tried for a year to get an airline to cough up for his Taylor guitar damaged on a Chicago-Nebraska flight.

After penning a country song “United Breaks Guitars”, the troubador and his bandmates hammed up a corny video*, already viewed nearly two and a half million times on Youtube.

Carroll also used his own website and Twitter effectively, as demonstrated by an Aussie, Lance Scoular.

In his staid deliver, Scoular chronicles the phenomena (I hestitate to call it a formula. Carroll did some things very right, but wannabes could now do - and and likely WILL do- the very same and get just 15 views.) Congrats go to Dave (a David of sorts), who brought the giant to heel, with faith in new media capabilities and letting go with a couple of stones.

The little guy can be heard against a giant, whether its United or the manufacturer of malfunctioning voting machines (another episode of new media, viral story travel and crowdsourced journalistic work).

But it is still not a replacement for newsrooms and professional journalists. There is too much injustice for that.

*a little warning that the Lord's name is used in vain early in the song.

Twenty-thousand Feet at 2,820 Meters

(Deep radio male voice, close mic position) TWENTY-THOUSAND FEET!

(Excess studio reverb) 10,000 RUNNERS!

THOUSANDS OF CHEERING FANS!

(Race noises up, then under) And a 15 kilometer race on cobblestone and on pavement, with the FINISH in the Atahualpa soccer stadium!!!

That’s the way it was likely promoted – the annual Ultimas Noticias run. The way it began was much more low key.

We and other runners rode in silence on the trolley. At the end of the line we walked in small groups, most of them talking among themselves.

We stretched and waited for the starting gun. Then after the race officially began . . . we waited even more. Ten-thousand people don´t cross the start line all at once.

The stories are important to me. A day earlier, I talked with Luisa and Gustavo while in line to get our singlets and shoelace time chips for the race. A year earlier, Gustavo had come up from Riobamba to run the race, so Luisa took him way down south for the race start.

“Well, we´ll see how I get home,” Gustavo casually mentioned. “I´ll go with you for awhile,” Luisa replied.

A ways down the 15k route, she decided to go further with him, then on a bit further.

And on and on . . . until they jogged right into the stadium in the north part of town. That was 2008.

Saturday June 6, 2009 they were picking up their race supplies for the Sunday race.

Gustavo is 83 years old.