agitcorp

For years I have nurtured a secret love for the fiddle. I’ve often wished I could play it. Mostly, I rationalized that since I missed out on violin lessons as a child it was best to maintain the appreciation of a spectator. Hell, I’m still trying to figure out which end of the guitar is up and I’ve played that for years.

Enter Katrina (which smacked me back to a zen-like appreciation of living in the moment) and the Festivals Acadiens (which made me want to move to Mamou and raise my kids speaking French) and suddenly I’m playing the fiddle.

Well, not exactly playing . . . yet. But last night my friend Pat Flory brought me over one of his fiddles to borrow so I can see if I really want to do this. He graciously spent an hour or so showing me how to hold the bow and find a couple of notes. And a mere 24 hours later I can play the most god-awful version of ‘Happy Birthday’ you have ever heard.

Thats ok though. Because it has been a long time since I have approached something that made me feel so incredibly inept and made me laugh like a kid (surfing might have been the last one).

I think I am safely beyond the age where I have to worry about becoming a virtuoso player. Happily, I’m also finally past the age where I feel I have to be good at everything I do.

If I can learn a song or two and have some fun with friends, that’s plenty.