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care of me”, I slipped away to the local ice rink and took lessons once a week. Let’s just say I was not a natural, and there were no fancy medals with their sights on me.
I do, however, remember the exact moment when I reached a milestone. I was caught up in the music from the Walkman hanging from my belt when I realized I was actually dancing. I was no longer teetering to stay upright or dodging the traffic around me. I was somewhere else where time and space either didn’t exist or merged. Einstein would have been impressed! This was all I ever wanted from my efforts… to dance in complete abandon… on ice. This continued to be my great meditative escape for several years.
At some point I had an epiphany. I realized that what was really feeding my spirit was no longer the skating but the music I was skating to. So I hung up my skates and took guitar lessons and later picked up a fiddle. I’ve never grown tired of either, but neither have I become a virtuoso. I’ve been content to use the guitar to accompany my singing, but I’ve always been driven to become a great fiddler.
I began playing “old-time’ which is akin to bluegrass, but what I really longed to play was Irish traditional (trad) music. I don’t know why. Maybe there was something in my Irish DNA that beckoned. After retiring early, I went through a self-teaching Irish fiddle book with a couple of motivated musician friends but we didn’t get far. It’s not something you learn overnight. Formal lessons didn't help much either.
After mulling over it for a couple more years, I planned a trip to Thurles, Ireland for a week of lessons at a Fiddler’s Retreat I’d found online. You know the rest of the story. I now live in Thurles and the fiddle teacher is a dear friend. I am absorbed in the music, history and culture of this land of my ancestors.
However… progress on the fiddle has been slow. Most tunes can be learned in my head in just a few minutes and played slowly. But playing up to speed requires technique and tenacity.
I believe I have just reached a milestone. Like dancing on ice, I just realized that on many tunes, I’m actually doing it. It’s a great affirming feeling that I only achieved through perseverance and support from a number of very patient fellow musicians. I’ll never be a soloist, but I know my practice is paying off and that brings me so much pleasure.
Last weekend, we took our RV, the AvantBard, to the Patrick O'Keeffe (a famous fiddler) Trad Festival. We “wild” camped four nights in a parking lot in the middle of Castleisland (which is a town, not an island, but was named so because in 1226 a castle built there was surrounded by a formidable moat) in Kerry. There were sessions in every pub, day and night, with some of the best musicians in the country leading. Dixie was in his element on the guitar but I mainly sat and listened. Sample session schedule
The first evening was chilly and, after returning from the pub, we turned on the gas for heat and there it was… gone. What a time to discover the second gas canister we bought straight from the dealership was empty! The nearest source of a refill was 20 minutes away. It would have to wait til morning. I layered up but still shivered in the night. Maybe I’m just a glamper at heart.
All that was sorted the next day and by early afternoon we were back in the pubs, flitting from one to another like butterflies high on nectar. I enjoyed the Guinness and watched Dixie join in the sessions. I hardly played at all because the standard was so high and most of the tunes were unfamiliar. I slipped away on Saturday afternoon to a singing session where at least 50 seniors had gathered to share the old ballads. One after another they sang with no accompaniment, songs I’m sure many had learned from parents or grandparents. There was a sense of serenity in the room that sharply contrasted with the high energy of the trad.
The next day as I was sitting at a bar, an obnoxious drunk (there’s always one, right?) tried luring me into conversation. I didn’t want to give up my seat because seating is precious at these sessions. So I leaned over to the gentleman on my other side and said, “If you don’t mind, I’m going to start talking to you so hopefully this guy over here will get the message and leave me alone.”
He laughed and was accommodating. He said a few of his friends were looking for a place to meet for a few songs if I wanted to join them. He soon left but returned to let me know they were in the back room of the pub next door.
I gladly followed. There were just eight of us together sharing ballads. They were so welcoming and that became one of the highlights of my weekend. (Dixie said my strategy could have landed me tied up in the trunk of a car but who thinks of that at a trad festival?)
We’re back home now anticipating our trip to the US for Thanksgiving. I always say I’ll practice while I’m there but I never do. I’d rather meet with friends and play with the grands. But by mid December I’ll be ready to cross back over the pond, decorate my Irish home for Christmas and resume the dance.
