FORGING AHEAD with the FIDDLE

Deciding to learn the fiddle in your fifties?  At the time, excitedly telling friends and family,  I was met with varying reactions: condescending smiles, hoots of derision, incredulous stares, but also, a few looks akin to awe.

I'd never been around the fiddle or violin.  Growing up, the only exposure I had to fiddle music was having to watch Don Messer.  But one day in 2010, I suddenly got an overwhelming compulsion, a lightning bolt out of the blue, for reasons only known by my subconscious, that I simply must get a fiddle and start playing.  Perhaps, listening to symphonic metal had twigged something in my brain.

As a child I took some piano lessons, when there was a teacher available in our small town. When I was about 15, I got a guitar, but never got good at it.  I wanted to learn "Classical Gas" or "Crazy on You" but didn't.  For over 40 years, I had no musical instruments at all, and only played a couple of songs on piano a couple of times a year when I got home to my folks.  Around 2006,  I got a guitar from my kids for Christmas.  Again, I tried to learn, with tips from musicians I knew, but just strumming chords didn't really do it for me.  I thought maybe because, I can't sing, I can't carry a tune in a bucket, that guitar is not right for me.  I guess I'd never be Nancy Wilson! I was a failure, not once, but twice!

(Gibby,  Dresden bridge)

Years after I left home, my dad had bought an old fiddle at an auction sale,  and it was just sitting in the basement.  I'd never even seen it.  So I asked him about it, if I could have it, and he was tickled pink. He told me when he first bought it, he had his brother George check it out, who said it was OK, but he thought the bridge was oddly shaped or customized.  I never even knew uncle George played the fiddle, only the guitar.  George had passed in 1991, so sadly I missed a great opportunity. I found out that my dad's family did grow up with the fiddle and their neighbour known as the old Swede,  built fiddles probably around the 1920's to 40's.  I  made the trip north to pick up the fiddle in March of 2010. It was an old Strad copy. I called it Gibby, or Gilbertina, after my dad.  After my first lesson, I drove away in tears, because I felt so stupid!! I'd never even held a fiddle before! The young lad who was my teacher,  later expressed envy at how lucky he thought I was, he would have loved to have been able to watch Don Messer!!

I practised daily, and told myself I'd be happy if I could play the Swallowtail jig in a year...I was playing it within weeks!  I'm still 'working on it".  My lessons were short-lived though, as James, my teacher, was now too busy with college, & never did get around to showing me "crooked" Metis fiddling as we had planned. But I was motivated to continue self learning.  I went through 2 books & then bought a book of  267 Cape Breton tunes & started on that. My dad and his two remaining siblings were happy that I was playing- there are no other fiddlers among the many cousins.  My aunt Ruthie was so interested in the Traveling Fiddle, she still asks me about it! When her husband was terminally ill,  Dad and I went out and I took my fiddle.  It really provided a lot of enjoyment at a tough time for them.  I just love how fiddling never fails to bring a smile on, no matter where you are or who you are with. 

(Left: Aunts Ruthie on piano, Marilyn on fiddle

 (right:  switcheroo, double exposure, circa mid 40's)

James said my fiddle was not very good, although it sounded fine when he played it (He is a champion fiddler) so after awhile I started thinking about getting a better one.  I got corresponding with Steve from the forum & he told me about some auctions where you could get a deal on a darn good fiddle if you watched the bidding closely.  So that's what I did, and I got one for not very much plus a better bow.  I call that one Sunnie.  I now keep the old fiddle at my parents' place.

Later on, I scored a beautiful electric one at a local independent guitar shop, for another great deal.  They were not selling, so their loss is my gain. With no amp, it's weight affecting an old shoulder injury I rarely play it.

(Gibby, Desi, Sunnie)

I fell in love with the cello a couple of years ago, and am now firmly convinced I need one.  I'm holding off on that for now.  But I also like the viola, and just a few weeks ago came across such a deal I could not pass up.  I am the queen of deals!

At first, I just wanted to learn Celtic jigs and reels.  Then I started enjoying the slow airs. I've been playing a Gaelic tune called Mo Nighean Dubh (I don't know what it means). But then my ear & my tastes have developed and changed somewhat thanks to Fiddlerman . I have learned, and been inspired,  by everyone!  I get to feeling that everyone there is my friend; and the Traveler has surely connected us.  I am so grateful for the opportunity of having the Traveler, & meeting up with Michelle, another member, as well as for the help I have received.  I haven't heard much lately from some of the old regulars, and I miss & wonder about them!  I am shy though,  so I do not have much of a presence there.  If I ever get to Florida I know where I am going!  I may never play as well as I'd like, or as well as the next person, but I play for my own enjoyment.  In all, it is a journey that I've began and it has no end, truly.   

To be able to play in front of others, with a group, participate in projects, and learn technical aspects of recording, changing strings, set up and such are goals as well as struggles, as is staying motivated. Opportunities abound if I open myself up to the challenge, I know.

My dream is an art & music studio.....at the remote intersection of Not Bloody Likely Street and Unrealistic Avenue.  Where metal and music meet, built Brick by Brick,  I might be hammering metal and more, throwing paint around, painting horses, wolves, and people, collecting crystals, making orgonite, reading, writing (no arithmetic) and other creative pursuits; playing music, live or dead, and inviting anyone who would like to join in, to come and hang out.

"The Forge" is where you'll find me, on the quarter  now owned by my dad, where the "Ole Swede's" log cabin still partially stands,  & accessible only by foot, where old Benny Eskelsson lived long before my time...played & built fiddles.....invented the eskelphone and gadgets...

It is said, that if you put your hand to one of the rotting logs of the cabin, and attune your ear to the northeast, and are very very still,  and listen just so, you may still hear the faint strains of ol' Benny's fiddle..filtering through the forest, to float on the feathery boughs of the far reaching firs....