Mona

     On the cusp of my 33rd year, I decided that I would take up an instrument that most people begin learning when they are six. I was told in advance by several reliable sources that the fiddle was not an easy instrument to learn, especially if you intended, as I did, to teach yourself. I'll admit that was even a part of the attraction. I felt fairly comfortable with most of my skill set and wanted to really challenge myself. I wanted to force myself into something that changed my frame of reference and perception. I consider myself to be mostly a visual person and not inherently musical. If you discount my harmonica skills, the closest I come to having "an ear" is that I can do  a few accents, voices, and sound effects successfully. I have always loved music in it's endless varieties.
The question to my mind, is not why did I decide learn music, but why I waited so long. Music more than any other art form seems magical, requiring a special God-given ability. Throughout my life I had always been half in awe and half envious of those who could open their mouths or take an instrument in hand and create so spontaneously. A week of trumpet lessons and an unsuccessful  relationship with my high school chorus left me convinced that my sisters had all the musical talent in the family. Besides that, I was way too busy drawing or reading old stories or learning to track to have any time to practice. Maybe in my next life I'd learn to play something, but this time around I had far too much on my plate to add yet another unmarketable skill...Right?
Eventually I wasn't convinced by this argument either.

Maybe I finally got sick of my excuses keeping me waiting in the wings.I finally realized that while I may never  be good enough to play in front of an audience, I really wanted to play. I liked the sound of the fiddle and I wanted to learn, Not to amaze anyone with my virtuoso skills ,but to simply be able to make music even if only for myself.
A week later in one of those inexplicable moments of serendipity, I found my fiddle. She was half concealed in a battered case in an antique shop. there were small body cracks in several places. The horsehair of the bow had been eaten at by carpet beetles. She hadn't been played in such a long time that the two intact strings were gut strings. I knew I was going to buy it, even before I consulted a friend who played fiddle. I still remember the first time I heard her voice. It was deeper and more resonant than I had expected, a sound that I felt in my marrow. I negotiated a fair price and took her to the local music store for repairs. Rarely have I regretted a purchase less. The luthier's eyes lit up when I opened the case. My new fiddle was a German made Amati copy violin from the 1930's. He showed me the inscription paper in the body that read "Nicholas Amatus Fecit in Cremona 1630 " and beneath that "Made in Germany" This and the noises I would probably be making for about the first year was what made me christen my new instrument  "Mona". further conformation of my good fortune came the next day when I received an offer to buy my fiddle for at least twice what I paid from the shop's violin teacher. I politely declined.

Learning to play has been a challenge, but less of one than I anticipated. I suspect this is because I never played an instrument with frets and so didn't have to unlearn any habits. I initially decided that I would put aside an hour a day to practice. This changed when I noticed how much time I was wasting by watching the clock. I now attempt to pick up the fiddle at least once a day, if only to play one tune. this is a far more attainable goal and I often find I play much longer than an hour without noticing. I have been playing for several years now. Recently I've noticed that I actually look forward to practicing. Playing tunes has become fun for me. I learn new music best from a combination of hearing the tune several times and sheet music. I'd like to train my ear a bit more so that I can pick up tunes just by hearing them. Most of what I play is traditional fare from Ireland and Scotland, with a few early American tunes thrown in for good measure. I love the intricate patterning of these songs as well as their evocative titles. To give just a few examples: Whiskey Before Breakfast, Soldiers Joy, The Road Lisdoonvarna. The Wind That Shakes the Barley, The Devils Dream, Ashokan Farewell and of course a catchy little tune called John Ryan's Polka! One of the weirder things to me about  playing the fiddle, is that  it still terrifies me to play in front of anyone. It is the one thing in my life that still gives me stage fright!  Possibly because I'm still not very good yet...

Finally Here is one of my new favorite musician jokes:
What's the difference between a Violin and a Fiddle?

Nobody cares if you spill beer on a fiddle!