Another joyful night at the fiddle shop.
"My feet always dance to Irish music."
--Ciaran Hinds
Copyright © 2020
by Ralph F. Couey
A few years ago, I stopped in an Irish pub near downtown Denver for lunch. I had heard that there would be live music in the afternoon, so I stuck around. Along about 3 o'clock, folks started coming through the door carrying instrument cases of various shapes. They sat around a long table in front of the windows and after some conversation, they burst into music. I was instantly hooked. I went back every Sunday that I could after that until time came for us to leave Colorado for good. A knowledgeable guitar player put me in touch with a group that was meeting in Honolulu, our eventual destination. I started attending the sessions, first as strictly an observer, and eventually an occasional singer. I felt drawn to participate, so I ordered a Bodhran, which is an Irish frame drum, from a craftsman in Dublin, Ireland.
Learning the drum proved to be a bit of a challenge. I have a good sense of rhythm, but the technical aspects of playing the drum correctly kept me practicing at home in private until I felt competent enough to join in the session. I still had a lot to learn about volume and the types of rhythms which supported the other players. Fortunately, thankfully, they are a patient bunch and they brought me along with a lot of encouragement.
In the nearly two years we've been in Hawai'i, these sessions have been an important part of my life. Yes, I love the music. It resonates with me in a way no other form or genre ever has. But as time went on, it wasn't just the music, but the experience of sitting in a room with highly skilled musicians who possess an encyclopedic knowledge of the literally thousands of tunes which have animated Irish life for the better part of three centuries. My father once told me, "Surround yourself with people who are better and smarter than you. Then, try to keep up." I have so much respect and regard for them, and I work hard to preserve the integrity of the session. When I need correcting -- and I do need it -- they deliver the information in just the right way, not jumping through my front teeth, but making sure I understand the importance of what they're saying.
Our last session was in...lessee...early March, when the Pandemic started really hitting its stride. So for the past five months, we haven't met. I miss those nights. I miss the friendship and camaraderie. I miss the joy of being within the group. And of course, I miss the music. And as the weeks have slid by, I feel the loss even more.
I still practice, putting music on my computer or playing it on our karaoke player, and joining in with my drum. I enjoy it, but it's just not the same. I miss watching the almost telepathic way they communicate as they navigate within the tunes and go from song to song. I miss the "talking story" between tunes, finding out about what's going on in their lives. I miss the moment when the dancers showed up and we moved our chairs back to give them room as they gracefully performed their artistry. I miss those rare moments when, either playing or singing, I would get something exactly right and seeing the quick grins and sparkling eyes as they took note. We only met two nights per month, but I always looked forward to those nights, and now carry the ache that always accompanies a sense of loss.
The worst part is that this pandemic now seems to be spinning completely out of control, and it seems likely a new and more severe shutdown is on the horizon. So, instead of looking forward to resuming the sessions, now it seems like we may never meet again, at least in the foreseeable future. Its not the first time real life has intruded on things I love, but this time....its harder.
I don't know if my friends are missing the sessions as much as I am, and while I wouldn't wish this kind of longing on anyone else, part of me hopes they're feeling at least some of the loss as well. Maybe some day in the future, things will be better and I will once again find myself schlepping through Honolulu's China Town, my spirit brimming with anticipation for another night of music, fun, and friendship. And hopefully getting better as a musician.
Absence, they say, makes the heart grow fonder. It also makes the heart ache, just a little. I find myself understanding how important it is to embrace the things in life that I love in the now. Because life has a way of cruelly taking them away.
And you never really understand how important those things, and those people are until they're gone.
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