The Traveling Gibson
How one guitar carried a family’s music across generations
by Tammi Rubert
This story begins in 1962 with the purchase of a beautiful Gibson guitar. Coincidentally, 1962 was also the year I was born—and the year my father formed his band, Norm Nolan and the Northern Lights. Can’t you just hear “Six Days on the Road”?
My dad is the reason I play guitar.
I would sit for hours listening to him practice. When I was old enough, I’d write out the lyrics to his favorite country western songs so he could rehearse. He is, and always has been, my hero. From a very young age, he let me play his Gibson.
The first time I really picked it up was in 1970, when my dad was the lighthouse keeper at Fort Worden in Port Townsend, Washington. That’s where my guitar journey truly began.
I was a Coast Guard brat, which meant we moved every two years. It’s a lonely way to grow up—you’re always the new kid, just starting to make friends when it’s time to pack up again. But wherever we went, music came with us.
My dad’s last duty station was Kodiak, Alaska. One night at a gig, someone tipped over his amplifier and crushed the side of his Gibson. I was devastated. The man who caused the accident bought my dad a new Fender—and my dad duct-taped the Gibson and handed it to me.
I didn’t care about the duct tape.
The Gibson was mine.
I played that guitar for decades just like that.
When my dad retired, he and my mom decided to move back to Port Townsend—they’d loved it so much in the ’70s. Once again, I was the new kid. But I had my guitar. And this time, someone was able to repair it properly. I was so happy to see it whole again.
Music has always marked the big moments in our family—births, reunions, losses. When my daughter was born, a close family friend walked into the hospital with a ukulele and sang “Thank God for Little Girls.”
One of my favorite childhood memories is Christmas at my grandma’s house in East Wenatchee, Washington. No matter where we were stationed, we’d end up there. I’d lie on the couch under my great-grandmother’s handmade quilt, listening to the elders talk, play guitars, and sing. It was the best way a kid could fall asleep.
In many ways, this story isn’t just about me. It’s about my family—and how music brought so much good into my life.
The Gibson has always been my true friend. I can’t fully explain it, but when I pick it up, I feel warmth. Home. Love. Contentment. I can’t imagine my world without it.
My dad is 89 now and doesn’t play much anymore, but whenever I can, I ask him to show me “Johnny B. Goode” one more time. I can tell it takes him back to the good old days. It takes me there too.
I’m 63 now. Which means the Gibson is also 63.
We’re both a little arthritic. A little banged up. Considered classics.
But we still play well together.
The beat goes on. My son is learning to play guitar now. And someday, the traveling Gibson will be his.
Just not yet.
That was a beautiful music and love filled story Tammi. Loved it! May God continue to Bless you and your music. Thank you for sharing! To God Be the Glory! We are the same age, but, difference is that I am finally attempting to play my dad’s Martin guitar after many years of being a church praise, choir, & hobbyist quartet singer, and, 10 years after my dad’s passing, who similar to your father was a guitar enthusiast. Let’s Keep playing.
Cody Douglas – Elgin, Texas
I have to say, this article is really touching. Just imagine a family gathered together, playing music on a guitar passed down through generations—it’s just like Coco.
Music has the power to pass on traditions, this guitar has become a symbol of this family.
Great article! Thanks for sharing. I really enjoyed reading this!
My dad also formed a band, I can relate to sitting for hours listening to him practice, did your father’s band Norm Nolan and the Northern Lights inspire you to write your own country songs?
This is such a great resilience message not just of the guitar, but you.
I understand being the new kid and then moving on right after you’ve made friends or my brother and I got to the point where we didn’t make friends because we knew that we would have to move again and it hurt too much by the time my brother and I were born. My parents were both out of the military, but my dad had PTSD from the Korean War and unfortunately that Matt we moved and had a 3 to 6 month honeymoon period and then people places and things became the problem with my dad and he was a runner so we ran to a new place every six months on average and it was extremely difficult, and it’s still affects me today in my 60s what’s so great about your story though is the connection that you and your dad both have with that guitar and that it bonded the two of you for life which just makes me smile that wasn’t the relationship that I had with my dad, but I always wished I had. It was kind of like that with me and my stepfather and he’s the one who actually gave me my first guitar so I guess we do have some parallel upbringings
1962. Gibson is definitely a keeper even if it weren’t your father‘s or yours I think it’s really cool that you’re keeping it in the family. It’s a beautiful guitar.
You’re so cool! I don’t suppose I’ve read anything similar to this prior to. So nice to get somebody with many original thoughts on this subject. Really we appreciate you starting this up. This site is something that is required on the web, someone with a little originality. helpful problem for bringing something totally new towards the web!
I love this story. I am from Washington so I can just picture these places you refer to. It is so cool to have a musical family. Thanks for bringing me back to Washington and thanks for sharing your story.
Great story. Thanks for sharing.
This is a beautiful story about real life. It makes me think I can do this at age 72.
love it… you have been blessed in so may ways.
The Gibson was always greatly admired but out of my price range. Settled for a ‘Kimbara’ FCN acoustic and happily been a three chord wonder ever since. That was 60 years ago still strum and sing along but my 86 year old voice is weak but still provides much comfort and memory.
Nice story.
What a wonderfully fresh and upbeat story, so touching. Thank you and congrats to all three of you. And how surprising to read comments from so many others who also now play guitars that were first played by their parents or grandparents. It seems music has a very special value when passed down through generations in the form of a treasured instrument.
Great story! I always thought the best gifts were experiences, more than things. But it turns out that old Gibson is both! I hope it brings great memories to your family for generations to come.
cute story, very sweet
What a cool story! Those are truly memories to treasure!
Love the picture. I’m glad that you still have your friend. It is a beautiful guitar!
Love your story Tammi
Great stuff. Thank you.
Great story and photo of you as a little girl with your Dad. Thank goodness you had the good sense to hold on to that Gibson which is now still a good guitar, a prized possession, and a family heirloom! Thank you for telling your story. Kate
Great Family story! Thank you. I need to get a Gibson!
Wonderful and hoping the lineage of the Gibson will continue onto a new generation.
Thanks for sharing this great guitar story. I love that it will continue to travel.
Miss Tammi,
Thanks for the Great story. I hope n Pray You n Dad can play again this coming Christmas season. No one in my family, as I know seriously played an instrument. I’m almost 71yrs young now, but oh how I remember when I was mid teens, I ran into a man by the name of Steve, a soldier at a local base in town. We use to get together on Friday nights, Steve would play an old Gibson acoustic, and 3 or 4 of us would sit around, Steve would play n sing n we would sing right along with him, my what a time we had. It still brings back great memories. I have puchased a brand new cedar top n mahogany back n sides acoustic n he sits in my bedroom waiting for me to play him. You Miss Tammi n the others in these Guitar stories are reaffirming the True joy of what playing n not just owning are all about. I turn 71 February 2, and am vowing to pick up that Guitar by then n learn to play. We will have a ball n Just maybe I can pass it down to someone to carry the Joy forward. Thanks Miss Tammi
Love this…..keep on playing
That’s a great guitar history,love it.
Got the feels from this. Thanks for giving us a piece of yourself.
Gret stories and memories. I was also born in 1962. It was my grandpa and his guitar that got me interested. That’s a very beautiful guitar your dad had and I’m glad you got it fixed. I recently bought a Epiphone Dove Studio which is a copy of a Gibson guitar that was invented in 1962, the year of our birth. It’s not an expensive guitar but it plays quite well….enjoying this group and the support it gives me to keep on learning.
Beautiful memories.
Tony, the story brings back memories for me. My mother was a self-taught musician. She played the piano and the guitar by ear. She had somehow acquired a beautiful Gibson. I loved to hear her play. Somehow in the years I wasted with drugs, the Gibson went elsewhere. Wish I had valued it (and her) more.
Great article! Thanks for sharing. I really enjoyed reading this!