fiddle story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Memoir  |  House: Booksie Classic


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Submitted: August 30, 2018

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Submitted: August 30, 2018

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Once upon a time, I was a kid. I loved oranges, climbing trees and fooling around on the piano.

One day I came home from school with wonderful news: the school was going to start music lessons and I wanted to play the violin: instrument rental was $4/mo and lessons were free.

But my parents said no, that they couldn't afford it (this was 1966).

So I climbed the willow tree between our yard and the Goben's and cried my eyes out.

Mrs. Goben heard me and came out and asked why I was crying so I told her... She immediately marched over to have a word with my mother.

Mrs. Goben was a retired piano teacher. She had heard me fooling around on ours and told my mother that she was messing up, that I had natural talent and that if mom wouldn't let me take violin that she would teach me piano. So I started piano lessons.

My brother and sister cried, "unfair!" like little siblings are prone to do, that they also wanted lessons.

$10/mo/each.

So instead of $4/mo, my parents doled out $20/mo.

We moved 10mo later. I had breezed through 4 lesson books and my siblings had each struggled through one. I continued to play and teach myself as long as I lived at home but never had any more lessons.

Finally, when I was in my early 40's, I was loaned an old beater fiddle with a broken scroll and took up Old Time music. Not that I'm any good at it, I'm not, but I fully enjoy playing the tunes. I also now have a better instrument. And my mother loved listening to me play, especially Ashoken Farewell.

Not that I'm any good at it...

Never give up on what's in your heart. Large and small. It's amazing what a little believing can do.


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