I revealed this to Mark one year ago, and in the spring right before we went to Disney he surprised me with a violin to call my own. Of course, like any instrument, it was hidden in the laundry basket. Right? After folding some towels while casually chatting with Mark about his day I uncovered it (in its black case). Confused, I tried to convince myself it was something that a friend had left at our place. No, that wasn't it. It was mine...all mine.
He remembered.Mum and dad Hardy bought me some lessons for Christmas. I have had three lessons and am now officially hooked. I like my teacher and I am even practicing. Woot.
What I really wanted to share with this post is a one of the two very profound experiences that motivate me to play the fiddle...
Two months after Hurricane Katrina, I went to New Orleans. I was the youngster in a group of adults whom I didn't really know. But they were going...so I went too. The disaster had truly moved me to the point where I HAD to help someway, somehow. Most days, we distributed items from a church facility that was still standing and undamaged. Diapers, soap, toilet paper, canned food, etc. We slept in a gymnasium with a curtain separating the women from the men. Strangely, nothing I wasn't used to as this is how we slept in Costa Rica (that story is for another time). One morning a group of us drove out into some of the harder-hit neighbourhoods with instruments. I remember the spray painted codes left on each house. Symbols left by policemen and firefighters saying not only had they searched the building, but also what they had found in there. The number of people, pets, etc.
The brownish water line had marked everything. This line was where the water finally settled long enough to leave its mark before finally disappearing..So there we were, in the streets of New Orleans- a place known to be alive with music. It was eerie and quiet. I looked around and saw only a handful of people scattered down the long road...clearing up. We started off walking, singing along to a guitar and a drum beat. We sang songs about hope and about and Love. We wanted a break from the depressing distribution centre.
We wanted our music to bring LIFE to the streets. All of a sudden, Georgian Banov started to play the fiddle. This guy was AMAZING. That instrument alone could get anyone's foot tapping. It was like magic- we all perked up, the people we passed were smiling...like, genuinely. He played and played and played his heart out. Jigs and reels...man, it was fun.
I will never forget thinking, "I want to do that".
Eight months later I went back to New Orleans. This time, with my friend Jacob and two van-loads of youth. The main project that week was gutting a house for someone (clearing away the black mold and damage). It was really hard work. That time, there was no music to fuel us when we were feeling weak. We just kept going...and I really missed the fiddle.
I am glad to be starting to learn an instrument now that I am old enough to appreciate the opportunity. In grade 2, I didn't look forward to practicing piano. Now, I put Adelaide to bed and I go into Mark's studio to play. Sometimes he joins me with the guitar, and sometimes he retreats to the PS3 for a bit ;) So far, the journey has been an extra challenge added to my plate of balancing uni and motherhood...but I am sooo thankful for it.
Next time I will write about seeing Canada's own Natalie MacMaster play at a fundraising gala.
Talk about INSPIRING!
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