The Well Aging Fiddler - Age Ain't Nothin' But A Number

“What orchestra are you with?” “Um…. Excuse me?” “That’s a violin, right?” “Yes.” “So, what orchestra do you play in? Oregon Symphony?” “Well, actually I’m on my way to my first lesson.” “What?” “I’m a beginner. I’m going to my first lesson.” “Seriously? At your age? Ha! Well… good luck, dude.”

“Is that a violin?” He asked. “It is,” “Are you in an orchestra? A touring soloist?” Oh dear, here we go again. “No,” I say. “I’ve just take lessons.” He looked startled. “Really? At your advanced age? That’s amazing!” “Well, I’m 70 years old.” “70! Exactly! And learning the violin! Wow!” I just smiled. “Yep. 70. It’s a miracle.” “Absolutely! Way to go!” "Thanks."

This past May I ended five delightful years of violin lessons. I loved it. I could have gone on, but something inside of me said it was time to move forward. I needed to explore other roads with my music. Also, frankly, I was wondering if I was wasting my time with all of this music. Where am I going with this? I practiced daily for weekly lessons. Every single time I went into a lesson, I was prepared to do my best, but as time moved forward, I was starting to feel adrift. Perhaps those people were right. Perhaps I’m too old for all of this. I spent the majority of the past two and a half years playing my violin alone in a bedroom. In the darkest days of the pandemic, I had over 50 lessons online, rather than face-to-face. On occasion, I played in recitals and soirees with the other students. I went to the park by myself, stood by picnic tables, and played music for whoever was there. But it seemed stale. Was that it? What happens when the discipline of lessons ends? What’s next? I needed to get out of my routine. I needed to be with people. I needed to shake things up. So, I did what I always do when I hit walls like this – when in doubt, spread the wings, jump off the cliff, and see what happens. I signed up to participate in the Port Townsend Acoustic Blues Workshop at Fort Worden State Park, in Port Townsend, Washington.

While I enjoy classical music, and other genres like Irish, Scandinavian, Eastern European, Bluegrass, and American fiddle tunes, I’ve always had a deep love for the blues. I’ve seen many of the great blues performers; Muddy Waters, Willie Dixon, Howlin’ Wolf, Sippie Wallace, Koko Taylor, Buddy Guy, Hound Dog Taylor, James Cotton, Bobby “Blue” Bland, Dr. John, Freddie King, Luther Allison, Otis Rush, and many more. Ironically, I’ve never played blues music with anyone. It had never happened. So, no time like the present to scratch that off the Bucket List. This week-long workshop, takes a wide and loving approach to acoustic blues music, with sessions in guitar (fingerstyles, slide guitar, country blues, etc.), harmonica, bass, mandolin, bones, fiddle, voice, washboard, accordion, piano, ukulele, and pretty much anything else you can pluck, strike, shake, or vibrate. Every night there are performances from students and teachers. The final day is all performance and a great Barbeque lunch. I had only a hint of what to expect. I’d see videos of the teachers and participants on YouTube, and I was impressed with their skill and imagination. So, of course questions and doubts spun around in my mind. Can I do this? Will I stick out like sore thumb? Most of these people have probably played blues for years. Should I just bring my violin? How about my mandolin and guitar? While I was nervous about the whole experience, I did my best to get ready. For three weeks, I put everything away and worked on basics. Blues scales in major and minor keys. Improvisations, chords, slides, hammers, staccato, and so forth. I also brought my mandolin, an electric guitar, an acoustic guitar, and my viola. I practiced some song I’d written in case any opportunity came up to play them. I wanted to go in ready to play. The biggest question still loomed, in my mind. Am I too old for all of this? I didn’t think I was too old for anything, but what if some people were right? What if this? What if that? Of course, being a Gemini – the Twins, two personalities, and all that other astrological gobbledygook, the other side of my brain was screaming, “What do I care about how they see things? Jump in!” So, Juliana and I drove up to Port Townsend, and I signed in. For her part, while I was making music for a week, she went hiking in the Olympia National Park. Smart move. While the rest of the West Coast was baking in 100+ temperatures, the northern coast of Washington was in the 60’s and low 70’s. I went to dinner in the Mess Hall. Fort Worden is a former military complex. The movie, An Officer, and a Gentleman, was filmed there. Hence, the cafeteria was called a mess hall. Nifty, eh? As I sat and talked to other participants, I discovered something wonderful. To my delight, most of the players at the workshop were in their 40’s, 50’s, and 60’s. My violin classes (oops fiddle classes) were 70% players over 50. Some players were very experienced in guitar, or violin, or mandolin, piano, accordion, and so forth. Several, like me, played more than one instrument. Some were relatively new to their instruments, and everyone – seriously, everyone – was eager to play music with other people. This wasn’t a competition, but a shared journey in musical discovery. We weren’t there to dazzle each other with our musical skills. We were there to share what we knew, to learn, to put some well needed twists on formal musical training, and have a good time. Although, I’ll admit, I was pretty dazzled by the skill of many of the teachers and students. Age just didn’t matter. The schedule was exhausting. We had a choice of over 20 workshops, late afternoon jams, evening performances by both teachers and students, and jam sessions that often went into the early hours of the mornings. I jumped in and participated in five sessions a day, played in jams, and even knocked out a song I wrote in an evening show. It was my first time playing alone before an audience since 2017. Later in the week, I fronted a band with another original song. I was completely exhausted. I had a great time. Do yourself a favor. If you are like me, and you’ve spent the majority of this pandemic playing music alone, it’s time to get out there. (By the way, masks were required for indoor activities, everyone had to be vaccinated and boosted. Safety first, right?) When you discover you’ve hit a wall, knock it down. Loosen up. Spill some beer on your fiddle. Of course, if you insist on remaining a classical violinist, I suggest spill some pinot noir on your violin. In any case, know this – age ain’t nothing but a number. Sadly, some people haven’t received that message. Here’s a final story. In the hall of the music school where I was taking lessons, I was sitting in a chair next to a young girl. Both of us were waiting for our lessons to begin. “How long have you been playing?” I asked. “Eight years!” She said with pride. “How about you?” “Four years.” “How old are you?” “72.” There was a pause. Then she shook her head, and said, “It must be hard to learn violin at your age.” “Nope,” I replied. “It’s no harder for me than it is for anybody else.” Before she could respond, our teachers appeared, we went into their studios, and life moved forward. * * *

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