something about the banjo

 I have been meaning to write something about the banjo. In October of 2020 I faced a long winter and a Covid lockdown. So I wondered, what am I going to have to show for all this time of lockdown? What will I have accomplished, or have to show from all of this?

I decided I would learn to play either the guitar or banjo. I sought the advice of various articles online, as to which was easier to learn. It was a toss-up. Pick one. So I went to Amazon and search for a good beginner banjo. I bought a cheapo for around $200. 

It was a bad banjo, but I didn't know that for a while. It did get me through those first months of deciding whether I wanted to stick with it. Last summer I spent about 6X as much as originally and bought a good one. Deering Blackgrass Special. I like it. I wouldn't say I love it, as it is a demon that has taken over most of my mornings. But I'd rather be with it, than without it, I suppose. 

I am 65 years old. Learning a new skill is difficult but in retirement I need difficult things to do. Things that challenge me both physically and mentally. This is one of the most challenging things I have attempted. It is right up there with passing all three levels of the CFA exams in succession. 

I practice around 2 hours each day, every day that I am in town. That is most days. The only day I take a break is on days when I have a lesson. On those days I just do the one hour lesson. My teacher is a master, and a hard driver. But I need to be driven, so I don't complain, much. 

From the first time I picked up this devil, I have been mesmerized with it. How is it that one can do one thing with the right hand and something completely different with the left? How is this happening? Day to day there is no noticeable progress. But I keep records. Watch that metronome. Write things down. I am playing a few tunes at half the speed a professional would, but a few months ago I played them at a quarter speed. Slow progress, but progress. 

Chords, licks, rolls. Chords, licks, rolls. Memorization. Manipulating my old fingers just right so that I don't buzz the string or deaden an adjacent one. Don't look at the right hand. Going too fast and going too slow. Playing for my favorite audiences of one, my wife, or one of my grandkids. The oldest grandkids, age 5 and 7, think I'm pretty good. If I can keep up with them, where ten years from now they still think I'm good, even if they don't like the music, will be an accomplishment. That's my goal. 

Travels in Covid Year 2 - 2021

For purposes of this list I traveled to a city if I spent the night there. 

Victoria, MN, Brentwood, MO, Minneapolis, MN, Charlotte, NC, Boone, NC, Mount Pleasant, SC, Baltimore, MD, Gettysburg, PA, Scranton, PA, DuBois, PA, Ocean City, MD, Webster Groves, MO, Steubenville, OH, Charlotte, NC, Roan Mountain, TN, Houston, TX, Silvis, IL, Webster Groves, MO, Bolivar, MO, Paris, TX, Eastland, TX, Abilene, TX, Oklahoma City, OK, Olathe, KS

A Winter of Content

 It is a basic human fault to complain about the weather. Most of the time it is too hot, too cold, etc. etc. blah blah blah. 

In Minnesota our Lord bestow a special blessing that I am increasingly thankful for. Very cold days. This morning it was -13 as I ran an errand to a neighboring town. 

On these days human activity slows down. When I had a job, the buses ran a little slower on these days. Fewer people came into the office. The phone rang less. Thus, work I needed to do got done. 

Today, I do not have a job. I use this time to get things done that are both important and unimportant. Get lost in a book. Tighten that screw, splice that wire, dust that difficult spot, file that receipt. Read the Bible. Sit in a Church and adore the Presence. Write a letter to my aunt.  

Solace. Quiet. 

In six months it will be one hundred degrees warmer. There will be more people moving around. There will be requests that I join them in consuming food. Humans will gather in celebration of certain plants, such as the " (insert county name here) (insert vegetable name here) Festival".  Farmers will have their markets. New young drivers will experiment with speed. 

The level of solace and quiet in my life will decrease as the days grow longer. Not for better or worse, just different. 

These days of cold are days I treasure, when I can do simple things like write down these thoughts of gratitude.