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Strings, wood, tension and connections

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When I first held a violin in my hands, I was amazed by the shiny wood. How the strings connected to the tailpiece and the pegs running across the bridge and the fingerboard with a tension creating a vibration when plucked or bowed to create a sound.

When I opened the back of my piano, I was also fascinated by the intricate workings of the internal mechanisms which prompted the internal hammers to hit the strings and make the sounds when fingers hit the keys.

In both of these cases and most every other instrument that ever touched my hands, the similar nature of the creations used the tension of a tightened string to precipitate the opportunity of a musical sound to be created. That tension has lined the foot path upon which my shoes have traveled through my life.

The amazing miracle of that tension, has allowed me to make some amazing and not so amazing sounds with my fingers.

Those sounds have brought so many unique individuals into my life. Stars who we all know by name, some we once knew but are now fading as the new generations of stars fill people’s ears. Musicians who have created sounds that warm our hearts, spark our memories and uplift our thoughts, have stood within a few feet of me sharing their gifts beside me or me with them.

I could have never thought that possible when I first picked up that ¾ size violin and tucked it under my chin, picked up the bow and scratched a sound that could peel paint out of it.

That tension, those strings and the wood which as craftsman brought together, has given me an opportunity to chase my dreams of standing on stage and sharing what is within my heart and head.

It has made me friends, who similarly hold an instrument and entertain. The strings, the wood, the tension, the miles traveled and the long, long talks to fill that travel make brothers and sisters that will never leave you or forsake you.

They are there in sickness, in happiness, and in sorrow. It may be a helping hand, a performance, a call or so much more, but my music family is such a gift in my life. Sometimes, we may not see one another in years, but we can pick our conversation up where we left off. If we play together, we can once again find our groove usually pretty quickly. It’s actually almost second nature to us.

I could fill this column with dropped celebrity and star names who God brought into my life, but that’s not the focus of what I am sharing with you. If you are really interested, check out the bios on my website or Wikipedia.

My point here is in the case of musicians, unlike most folks, tension is a good thing, and how we connect with other like-talented folks. If I had not found that tension, my life would have been much poorer in the spirit and gifts of other folks. They have uplifted my walk down that foot path of life.

If you have the desire to play, it’s never too late, or perhaps you have a youth with those aspirations. Encourage their desires by leading them into and instrument that they can play throughout their lives and enjoy alone or with a small group of musicians.

The tension has been a bridge to a life I could never imagine. It might do the same for you or yours.

Where oh where are you tonight?

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That’s a line from a comedy skit I heard so many times, I can still sing it by heart from the long-running TV show – “Hee Haw.” “Why did you leave me here all alone? I searched the world over and thought I’d found true love. You met another and th… you were gone.”
February always brings on thoughts of romance. I never realized when I was younger that skit would be a comedic commentary on my own love life or lack thereof.
Sometimes though God gives us ways to find humor in all aspects of what we face.
It is better to be able to laugh at ourselves rather than be settled in a rinse and repeat cycle of frustration, sadness or anger.
Over the years, I tried my best to learn how to be a good potential suitor.
I was taught how to act around females, what to wear depending upon the occasions, how to dance, and how to eat depending on the level of formality. Manners were the key I thought.
Then I realized many of the prettiest girls were drawn to the bad boys who seemed not to have any.
I could never pull that act off. Just wasn’t in my make up.
Although once I studied acting, I could manage a decent stab at it.
Early in my life experience, I tried but found no takers.
Then when I got a little older, I tried but wasn’t much interested in finding any takers that held on.
None really seemed like they wanted to anyway.
Once I did start trying harder, is when I seemed to be into repeating the lines of that song again and again.
I got so tired of the experience; it eventually became a comedy of errors that seems endless.
But despite my losses, I was comforted in knowing that marriage is an institution and I never want to be institutionalized anyway.
I know that love exists, otherwise folks wouldn’t spend all that money on those greetings’ cards with hearts and all those heart shaped boxes of candy, and dozens of red roses. Those must be the cement upon which hearts with initials are drawn upon.
“She took my heart out and stomped that sucker flat,” Lewis Grizzard joked.
I can say for sure that experience is not exclusive to the late columnist. Many of us have found our hearts on the floor.
But no matter how many times it hits the floor, you know, it has the ability to bounce back.
The right smile, the right look, the right words, a perfect song and your heart soars again to new heights.
And within you, you find the hope and the dream that love is possible.
You know, with God all things are possible.

Fishing and the one that got away

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Grandma Kitty pulled her shiny case knife from the pocket of her blue apron. She reached down far to the bottom of the cane pole and cut it.
“This will make a good one,” she said, as she handed it to a three-year-old me. Then she cut one for herself.
As we walked to her favorite spot along Frogleg Creek, I could not help but take a peak within the small metal pail she had given me to carry. I knew it would have something good for us to eat, like some chocolate pie or a piece of coconut cake.
I almost fell down when as I looked beneath the lid, only to have my hopes dashed by a bucket of dirt filled with red wigglers.
“Granny, what are we going to have to eat,” I said. “I thought this was our food.”
“It is food, but it is for the fishes,” she said.
“You will have to wait till we find some berries or maybe a plum tree,” she said.
“What are we going to do with these poles?” I said.
“I am going to tie some string on them and you and I are going to spend the morning fishing,” she said.
As we walked along the trail, I noticed a stick lying across the trail. I rushed ahead to pick it up.
“Hold your horses, boy,” she said, as she took her cane pole and popped on the back of what I thought was a stick. The stick slithered away like a bolt of lightening.
“That’s your first rule of being in the mountains, son — be careful where you put your hands,” she said. “We share this space with all kinds of critters. Some don’t care much for sharing.”
As we reached the spot along the banks of the creek, she said. “This is it.”
Conveniently, a huge oak log had fallen there. Upon it we sat.
“All you need to do is put one of the wigglers on the safety pin and drop your line in the water like this,” she said.
She handed me the pole. Then she fixed the other one, carefully attaching the string, safety pin and adding the worm.
As we sat there side by side with our poles in the water, I know I probably asked her a million questions about the leaves, the trees and the little green frog which hopped on my shoe.
She patiently answered every one. We sat there for what seemed like hours enjoying the mountain breeze which flowed over the Gravelly Spur and along the Frogleg Creek.
“Well, we better be getting back,” she said as she pulled her line out of the water.
Just as her pin touched the top of the cold waters, the biggest fish I ever saw jumped by her line.
“Granny, did you see that?” I said. “We can’t leave, we have not got that fish yet.”
“Yes, we did,” she said.
Close your eyes, “Can you see it?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Then you will carry that fish with you everywhere you go,” she said.
“So we did catch a fish,” I said. “Today, we caught the biggest fish of all.”
“We caught something much better,” she said. “We caught each other.”
From Randall Franks’s book “A Mountain  Pearl.”