I found him.
After weeks and months of fruitless searching–calling music shops, cringing at the price of new mandolins, being let down by angsty Facebook marketplace sellers named Todd–I found him. The One.
Robert the Spruce.
To be fair–my friend Marco found him. He works at the Guitar Center in Pearl City, which, if you ask me, is rather a bitch to get to via the bus network. He told me that they had gotten a used mandolin in the store, and that it would be held for at least a few weeks for police clearance etc., etc., basically: Josie, here’s your mandolin, but you’ve got to be patient. And also you have to exert a time of energy to get it.
And here he is. Safe in my arms.
Mandolin Miles 