I keep string in my little sewing cabinet for repairs, and I also keep a sturdier string in the kitchen for tying up meats, packages, etc….
String comes in all sizes of course and is used for keeping many things together, fiber optics, medical wires thinner than a human hair, all the way up to enormous cables made from millions of strings of metal used to suspend bridges and to connect the world….there are also the kinds of strings you can’t see or touch at all that holds our hearts together.
Another type of string is cat gut, used for eons in most musical instruments.
When my Mother was 7 years old, which would have been in about 1922, she came down with polio. She was very sick for several months, but unlike millions of others whose lungs were paralyzed, her legs seemed to be the only thing affected. My grandmother told of the long nights she would set and rub lineament on her and spent many hours massaging. One day my granddad attended a sale where he purchased an old pump organ and brought it home with him. Like any youngster would act, my Mom just could not leave it alone and was soon spending hours on it teaching herself to play. Having to pump it in order to get any sound to come out of it, it was wonderful exercise for her little sick legs and after time, it proved to be her savior. She never read a note, but It wasn’t long before she would hear a song on the old radio that my Granddad built, then she would march over to the organ, set down and play it. She was born with an “ear” for music. She also played the “fiddle”, and I used to think it was strange that some people called them violin’s.
For as long as I can remember, always-present in our house was an upright piano. The one we had all the time I was living at home was a massive piece of furniture, and Mom was most proud of its “solid brass harp”, it had a wondrous sound.
Mom played the piano at Church for years which, when they found out she could play, gave her an acceptance in the rural community even if she was oil field trash…
Also, for a year or so, probably when I was about 6, in order to supplement the household income, Mom played in a honky tonk band. Usually twice a month on Saturday night we’d leave the house around 7:00 and drive to one of 3 or 4 other small towns within a 20-mile range, go to the American Legion or VFW to spend the evening. My sis and I and Dad always went with her. Yes, believe it or not, in those days, kids were allowed in dance halls and no one took a second look. Sometimes, my sis and I would go to the movies, and Dad would come and pick us up and take us back to the saloon. Many hours was spent setting on the piano bench beside Mom. When I tired of that, I could bed down on some coats on the corner of the stage, or go out to the car and sleep. It was always my job when we first got there to tape the fingers of the base player. He carried a big roll of old white adhesive tape in his pocket and before every session, he’d have me wrap his three middle “slappin” fingers with the tape….. If this was not done, they would be bloody stumps by the end of the night. His name was “Moon”. If he happened to have a few penny’s in his pocket when I got them wrapped, I’d get paid……so that was really my first job. “Cotton” played the electric guitar, and sometimes I’d get to play a key for him while he tuned. They made a recording one time and unbeknownst to anyone, the electric cord used to plug into his old amp was laying under Cotton’s foot and all the way thru you could hear the tapping of his foot.
Dad would get paid extra some nights to be the bouncer in some of those clubs…. I also remember standing on Dad’s feet and dancing with him across the dance floor.
Mom never really liked playing in the clubs, and that’s why it didn’t last long, she said the worst part was that no one really appreciated the music! You’d set up there and play your heart out all night long, and the largest percentage of the crowd was drunk and didn’t know a good band from a bad one. She turned down a lot of invitations to play professionally, but she loved doing it for anyone who just loved to listen and got honest enjoyment out of it.
After she quit the band, my most wonderful memories were of the “jam sessions” at home….. Company would come over or we’d be invited to another musician’s house nearly every weekend and it wasn’t long before someone would walk by the piano, pick up an instrument, tighten the strings, hum a tune, and the party was on…… They used to love it when Mom would play “Del Woods” version of “Down Yonder”……No one could do it like Del, but she played a close second.
Through my life I’ve know a lot of musicians…..some good, some really good, and some pretty bad.. It didn’t take long to hear about anyone who moved to town that could sing or play an instrument, word got around fast and they would end up being regular visitors. They were all usually pretty good people and once in awhile we’d meet some real characters.
Sad to say I did not inherit my Mother’s talent for playing music. Oh, I can pick out a melody on the piano, and I still mess around with her old fiddle now and then, but a musician I’m not except in my love of music. During the years I took lessons, she would get the fiddle out and accompany me, It was always so neat when she would set down on the bench and start to play then have me guess the name of the song….. About 2 months before she passed away she got out a little recorder and set one afternoon at the piano just playing some of her old favorites……I do still have and cherish that recording.
We are for sure tied to our past with strings of all kinds, and If you’ve ever heard someone strike a B flat, (my favorite key), or “hit a lick”, or do a “turn around” or play a “minor in the middle”, you will feel the vibes like I do that can literally send a warmth through your body that can be compared to nothing else.
I love music of all kinds, jazz, pop, blues, classical, gospel, and of course I was a teenager with Elvis in the 50’s, but nothing can compare to the old time foot stompin tunes I grew up with. Old country music is still my favorite. I’ll take some “honkin hank” any time over bach. ☺ Hubby and I love to dance and can cut a mean jitterbug, but it’s Bob Wills swing that I first fell in love with. I can close my eyes and hear “Take it away Leon” on “Panhandle Rag” and not miss a beat.
Instead of "heavenly harps", I am sure my guardian angels tickle the ivory’s, fan the fiddle or play the steel guitar.
String comes in all sizes of course and is used for keeping many things together, fiber optics, medical wires thinner than a human hair, all the way up to enormous cables made from millions of strings of metal used to suspend bridges and to connect the world….there are also the kinds of strings you can’t see or touch at all that holds our hearts together.
Another type of string is cat gut, used for eons in most musical instruments.
When my Mother was 7 years old, which would have been in about 1922, she came down with polio. She was very sick for several months, but unlike millions of others whose lungs were paralyzed, her legs seemed to be the only thing affected. My grandmother told of the long nights she would set and rub lineament on her and spent many hours massaging. One day my granddad attended a sale where he purchased an old pump organ and brought it home with him. Like any youngster would act, my Mom just could not leave it alone and was soon spending hours on it teaching herself to play. Having to pump it in order to get any sound to come out of it, it was wonderful exercise for her little sick legs and after time, it proved to be her savior. She never read a note, but It wasn’t long before she would hear a song on the old radio that my Granddad built, then she would march over to the organ, set down and play it. She was born with an “ear” for music. She also played the “fiddle”, and I used to think it was strange that some people called them violin’s.
For as long as I can remember, always-present in our house was an upright piano. The one we had all the time I was living at home was a massive piece of furniture, and Mom was most proud of its “solid brass harp”, it had a wondrous sound.
Mom played the piano at Church for years which, when they found out she could play, gave her an acceptance in the rural community even if she was oil field trash…
Also, for a year or so, probably when I was about 6, in order to supplement the household income, Mom played in a honky tonk band. Usually twice a month on Saturday night we’d leave the house around 7:00 and drive to one of 3 or 4 other small towns within a 20-mile range, go to the American Legion or VFW to spend the evening. My sis and I and Dad always went with her. Yes, believe it or not, in those days, kids were allowed in dance halls and no one took a second look. Sometimes, my sis and I would go to the movies, and Dad would come and pick us up and take us back to the saloon. Many hours was spent setting on the piano bench beside Mom. When I tired of that, I could bed down on some coats on the corner of the stage, or go out to the car and sleep. It was always my job when we first got there to tape the fingers of the base player. He carried a big roll of old white adhesive tape in his pocket and before every session, he’d have me wrap his three middle “slappin” fingers with the tape….. If this was not done, they would be bloody stumps by the end of the night. His name was “Moon”. If he happened to have a few penny’s in his pocket when I got them wrapped, I’d get paid……so that was really my first job. “Cotton” played the electric guitar, and sometimes I’d get to play a key for him while he tuned. They made a recording one time and unbeknownst to anyone, the electric cord used to plug into his old amp was laying under Cotton’s foot and all the way thru you could hear the tapping of his foot.
Dad would get paid extra some nights to be the bouncer in some of those clubs…. I also remember standing on Dad’s feet and dancing with him across the dance floor.
Mom never really liked playing in the clubs, and that’s why it didn’t last long, she said the worst part was that no one really appreciated the music! You’d set up there and play your heart out all night long, and the largest percentage of the crowd was drunk and didn’t know a good band from a bad one. She turned down a lot of invitations to play professionally, but she loved doing it for anyone who just loved to listen and got honest enjoyment out of it.
After she quit the band, my most wonderful memories were of the “jam sessions” at home….. Company would come over or we’d be invited to another musician’s house nearly every weekend and it wasn’t long before someone would walk by the piano, pick up an instrument, tighten the strings, hum a tune, and the party was on…… They used to love it when Mom would play “Del Woods” version of “Down Yonder”……No one could do it like Del, but she played a close second.
Through my life I’ve know a lot of musicians…..some good, some really good, and some pretty bad.. It didn’t take long to hear about anyone who moved to town that could sing or play an instrument, word got around fast and they would end up being regular visitors. They were all usually pretty good people and once in awhile we’d meet some real characters.
Sad to say I did not inherit my Mother’s talent for playing music. Oh, I can pick out a melody on the piano, and I still mess around with her old fiddle now and then, but a musician I’m not except in my love of music. During the years I took lessons, she would get the fiddle out and accompany me, It was always so neat when she would set down on the bench and start to play then have me guess the name of the song….. About 2 months before she passed away she got out a little recorder and set one afternoon at the piano just playing some of her old favorites……I do still have and cherish that recording.
We are for sure tied to our past with strings of all kinds, and If you’ve ever heard someone strike a B flat, (my favorite key), or “hit a lick”, or do a “turn around” or play a “minor in the middle”, you will feel the vibes like I do that can literally send a warmth through your body that can be compared to nothing else.
I love music of all kinds, jazz, pop, blues, classical, gospel, and of course I was a teenager with Elvis in the 50’s, but nothing can compare to the old time foot stompin tunes I grew up with. Old country music is still my favorite. I’ll take some “honkin hank” any time over bach. ☺ Hubby and I love to dance and can cut a mean jitterbug, but it’s Bob Wills swing that I first fell in love with. I can close my eyes and hear “Take it away Leon” on “Panhandle Rag” and not miss a beat.
Instead of "heavenly harps", I am sure my guardian angels tickle the ivory’s, fan the fiddle or play the steel guitar.
4 comments:
that was a fun read Mary. The soundtrack of your life. I wanted to learn to fiddle once upon a time; someone gave me one, and like any other instrument I tried I was trying to teach myself. Only thing was, at the time we lived in a small trailer. Not much room to escape the screeching sounds of a wannabe fiddler. The dog whined and crawled under the bed. My wife complained and stuffed her ears. I was not encouraged and my life as a fiddler came to a quick halt before even starting.
Love your memories of the honkey-tonks and hanging out as a little one there. My Dad was a bartender (good gig if you're already a drunk) and I grew up as a little kid spending time behind the bar. There's a bar smell of old alcohol, smoke and leather that is the scent of my Dad to this day.
Thanks for sharing the memories,
-e
Here ya go Tarzan:
Del Woods - Down Yonder
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aiUxsyWpIiU
Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X37xnM3VYH0
I love it!
Wow. Great stories! Mary, re. your mom and dad's honky-tonk days: WHERE DID THAT TAKE PLACE? I find it all fascinating. I read the bios of Bob Wills and Milton Brown and have been an amateur 'scholar' of all that is Western Swing. My home, Fort Worth, was sort of the capital of swing back in the 30s, and so I'm well-placed.
PS: I think this entry has the elements of a short story or novella/novel or a non-fiction piece that is bigger and longer. I hope you try to string some of these blog things together as an honest-to-goodness tale with a beginning, middle, and end somewhere down the road. You have the ability and the stories. It's just a matter of taking them to another level.
Tossing down the 'gauntlet',
xxoo
m
PS: The image of going to sleep in a pile of coats stacked in the corner struck a nerve with me; I did the same thing a few times in my childhood. A very beautiful moment in this piece.
Okay, since we're taking over this blog and turning it into a lesson in cultural I.Q. -- here's MY favorite band from that period.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3NhWKDNMgM
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