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Thursday, February 5, 2009

The violin was in a window at a pawn shop. I have always wondered about this violin...where it has been with it's owner. Did it play Papa John Creach's version of "Over the Rainbow" in a dimly lit venue in Greenwich Village? Did it try to reproduce Itzach Perlman in a brightly lit concert hall with perfect acoustics? Was it a guest of Charlie Daniels in Nashville? I feel certain that the owner fell on hard times and probably hated to give it up. The stains on the old case reveals late nights and spilled drinks so I tend to think it's owner tried his or her best to make a go at it but just didn't get the break they needed. Hopefully it was still there when they got back on their feet and could go back, get it out of hock and hit the road again. I wish this person better luck next time out.

If you pass by late at night and hear the strings of a solo violin, no matter what the style, stop in listen for a while and leave a dollar in the cup.

8 comments:

J Cosmo Newbery said...

Yes, the stories they could tell.

~ Denise ~ said...

Oh, how intriguing items like that are? A musical instrument, so needed for the soul to tell their story, shouldn't be sitting in a pawn shop. It should be in the arms of creativity, used for songs of joy and comfort, finding its own kind of solace in the rhythm of the owner. ** sigh **

Dan Felstead said...

Denise,
Great insight! I never looked at it from the perspective of the instrument needing the human. You are right, there is no creativity no matter how exquisite the instrument unless it is held by someone.
Thanks for the additional perspective.

Dan

_we_the_pieces_ said...

Once again, wonderful writing.
Oh, and I love your picture on Pictures Poetry & Prose!
I just am a bit brain dead and can't write today.

Dan Felstead said...

Molly,

Thanks for stopping by. We all have brain freezes now and then...just take a break and it will come back!

Dan

Ian Buchan said...

I've always liked piano music, some time ago I sort of drifted towards the violin, through the work of particular artists. There's a man around this province of South Africa who busks with his fiddle -- and plays seriously , too, for weddings or anything. He and some friends formed a group who called themselves "The Hairy-legged Lentil-Eaters". On the serious side, I recall a magic moment in Salzburg, Austria. I'd had a day of absorbing Mozart as much as I could, and walking in the warm evening after supper, I heard the sound of a violinist, possibly a student, accompanied by piano, floating out of an open window of the Mozarteum, the fmaous music college. Busker or Mozart, there is mystery and magic in that fine wood-crafted instrument, wherever one may be.....

Dan Felstead said...

Ian,
Thank you for visiting the blog and taking the time to leave some beautiful imagery. I saw on your blog a photograph of a tree lined lane and the way the trees rose and met, I felt as though it was the inside of a Gothic cathedral and the trees formed the vaulted arches. Very nice.

Dan

Ian Buchan said...

Thanks, Dan; that avenue of plane trees was planted by the curator of the Botanical Gardens in 1908. Last year they held a celebratory lunch under the huge trees.