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The Banjo Lesson - 1893-94 Mary Cassatt Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, Richmond |
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These poems, stories, songs, quote, and art have been gathered from all over the world, partly via FIDDLE-L, an online list for fiddlers and those who love fiddle music. |
dhebert@crocker.com |
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Amazing Grace in the Churchyard by Lewis Holt The morning that Alice and I were to leave for the state fiddle convention, my brother and I went to the funeral of our cousin, Ralph. We arrived 40 minutes early so we drove through the little town of Buxton in Northwestern Oregon and reminisced what it must have been like almost 100 years ago when our father came to this region. We drove the graveled and narrow country road that took us up the hill to the little grave yard in among the giant fir trees. Other cousins were already there -- they never change -- still the same giggle, still the same stories. My brother and I walked out among the graves to reminisce, stopping at our father's grave. He was killed in a logging accident in 1939, at our mother's grave who died at 89 -- 12 years ago and at our brother's grave who died "during the war." He was at Pearl Harbor during the attack by the Japanese. Then quickly by the graves of our grand parents and the many aunts, uncles and cousins. We don't get there as often maybe as we should. It was eleven o'clock. We all gathered to one side of the flag draped coffin. It was rather chilly and threatening to rain. One of Ralph's nephews conducted the service. When it was time for music, he nodded to a rather large bearded fellow who went to a boom box on the top of a post and pushed the play button. The volume was turned off so there was no sound but with a frown, he rewound it and started over. "I'll Fly Away" came from the cassette player. Not very convincing. I had taken my fiddle -- earlier I had asked the nephew if I might play a tune during the service. Later in the service he said, "Lewis will now play us a tune on his violin." I stepped to the foot of the flag covered casket. It was a "rural moment" -- friends and family gathered around the casket in a country grave yard and the plaintive sound of the fiddle as I played "Amazing Grace" gave the service the serenity of a "country funeral." I was glad that I brought my fiddle. I stepped back in among the others. At the end of the service, the nephew asked if we had any words to say. Others spoke of this great man as had the minister and they sent him to his glory. I stood there thinking back over 50 years ago but not saying a word. I could have added, "Yes, I remember the time many, many years ago when Ralph and I went spot lighting one night for deer. I remember the time that Ralph and I dynamited fish in the river and I remember the time when I got sick on Ralph's home-brew." But I remained silent. I want to share another story with you. Last Saturday morning Alice and I got up early. The day before we had been asked to play at Allen's funeral. Allen was an old time fiddler that held his fiddle down on his arm when he played, held his bow a third of the way up and who probably couldn't read a note but he played with an old timey style that we all envied. We drove directly to the funeral home in McMinnville where we met Lee and Donna. We stepped into an office of the mortuary to practice Ashokan Farewell and Amazing Grace. Both tunes Alice and I knew but we wanted to touch base with the two back up guitar players. During the memorial service, we played our tunes. I thought we had done well and had contributed to the mood of the service but when the VFW members conducted their closing services, they ended with "Taps." It was then that I was moved. The bugle playing "Taps" ended the story of the old soldier who was being buried. "His day is done." Lew Holt is a fiddler from Salem, Oregon. Fiddlestick Graphics |