Give'em Hell Mickey! Reminds me of when I was forced to take piano lessons as a kid. I hated that crap. I loved the music, but I rather listen that be banging away at the board.
Now the violin that's different. My Dad played violin. However as I say I was stuck with the piano. Each of us in the family had to learn a different instrument. So as I say I was fucked.
(Btw 'should have old Mickey here play a fiddle, but what the heck.)
Anyway years later I had many dreams about my dad playing the violin. He played for me. I was a child again in the dreams. In these dreams it was just us two,...and the music.
I had so many such dreams that I felt that it truly was my Father trying to tell me from Paradise to play. Well Paradise or some place nice on the gulf coast that I should just go, and play for heaven's sake!
I did.
I went over to a shop here in Manhattan just off Times Square. Music Row it's called. Anyway I went over there, and told the owner of the shop about my dreams my family.
He listened thoughtfully then called his assistant over, and told him to go to special storage, and get a certain violin. My god it was beautiful! Sounded like heaven too.
He told me this wasn't a beginners instrument. It was special. He had found it at an estate sale. He'd re-made it. Worked hard on it. It was in a way he said a "favorite" of his.
William, that was his name, William played several pieces on it for me. I was so moved so struck. As I say it was a wonder.
He said I was "meant to have it". I couldn't possibly afford such an instrument...yet he insisted it was mine. He gave me a 'very' affordable price, and home it went with me.
A very good man, whom I'll always remember, and wonderful violin.
Amen.
...an Addendum
Several years later hard times rather hard days came to me. I lost my home, and almost every possession I owned. I was still working at the radio station where I'd been for years.
Some Houseless just lose the house, but still have their jobs even insurance. However it's still a vast profound dislocating trauma. Well my dear friend Jose the news director one day came down to my tiny office, and presented me with my violin.
My heavens....
He said he'd found it at the 28th Street flea market. He used to play, and was looking for a violin. He opened the case, and saw my name on the lid. That, and a few letters addressed to me under the instrument.
He bought it, and came straight to the station where I was on, and off living...in the machine room. It gave me such joy, and such hope. To have such a friend, and to have the universe re-connect me via that friend with the Violin. An instrument from both William's kindness, and my Father's inspiration.
It was perhaps not yet a happy ending, but most certainly a happy moment.
Amen.
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