Do you know what a dulcimer is - A Dulcimer is not a guitar by Beckie Weinheimer

Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Can I be a musician and a writer?

So since my brother in law died two weeks ago I've done a few things I hadn't planned besides crying, going to a funeral and trying to comfort Ed's kids and grandkids. I also made extra sure my kids knew I loved them. I hugged my husband a lot. I tried to patch up a few shaky relationships. And I took a walk with a musical instrument I bought a few years back (still in it's like new black leather case) to a big guitar and drums store a mile away from me on Queens Blvd.

Why?

A few years back my brother in law Ed, who died this month, and I had gone with his brother to Berea, KY which is a tiny town in the backwoods of Kentucky. Berea is a mecca for Appalachian Crafters to sell their wares. Ed and I were totally blown away in one store by a man playing a dulcimer. Ever heard of a dulcimer? If not you are not the only one.

And before we knew it, the music has swept all reason away and we each plunked down over 300 dollars so we could have our very own dulcimer. I learned later that they are similar in sound to bagpipes. No wonder all my reason fell away. I have been a sucker for bagpipes my whole life and explain my total loss of reason when bagpipes are playing to people by explaining that my genealogy shows that from 1800's to 1600s my people lived in Scotland. I don't know where they lived before then, but the way my heart aches and swells whenever I hear a bagpipe, I figure they lived there from when time began. And now it was the same with the dulcimer.

After our great adventure to Berea, hosted by my other brother in law who lived in Lexington KY we traveled back to his house that night. Once settled, once everyone had seen our new toys, we dutifully started practicing our little instruments with the beginners music book the musician/artisan provided. (Oh and my dulcimer was made from tulip poplar wood taken from a jail house when it was torn down. Jail House Rock and Folsom Prison began strumming through my mind as the creator told me this).

Anyway Ed's wife and my husband who had stayed in Lexington for the day just rolled their eyes. They knew we had been taken and that we would never play the instruments again and said as much.

Ed replied, "Hey I know I won't play this again. But It will look nice in my house."

I was determined I would learn to play the dulcimer. But see those little post-its on the instrument in the picture. I put them there over three years ago, when I was learning to play. After two days I broke a string trying to tune my instrument. So I put it away waiting for some free time to go get a new string. True confessions--until this week my beloved dulcimer sat in its nice little case, hidden in some back storage room. But when we got home from the funeral, I got it out and made a new vow. To learn to play the dulcimer, for Ed. For Me. To help me grieve.

But first I had to get the string fixed. Hence my walk to the store. I have only received as much attention as I got in that store twice before in NYC, and both times it was by association of being cool, not being cool myself.

Two years ago I got my husband a waterproof cover for his ipod so he could swim with it on. Oh my gosh, that night after our swim at the local Y you would have thought he had the iphone a smart car, or something way cool. Everyone in his locker room and mine were talking about it. In his, Where did you get it? How cool? Does is really work?

And in my female locker room. Did you see the guy swimming with the ipod? I want one. Where did he get it? Did I speak up. No I just beamed as everyone talked about it. For at least a night at the Y I had made my husband a star.

And then my daughter adopted two Yorkies. I dog sat a while back and when I took them for a walk, you would have thought I was walking with the Olsen twins. I never felt so important and special.

But when I was at the guitar store, huge by the way, I must say I made a hit on my own with just my dulcimer. I was waiting in line behind several people. At the head of the line was this guy who had come in while his driver and Lincoln Town car waited outside. "I want the newest and the best you have, as soon as possible," he barked importantly to the clerk behind the counter.

And finally after the line calmed down the guitar/musician/my day job is at this store/clerk wanted to know how he could help me. So I told him I had a broken string on my dulcimer and I needed it tuned. He opened my case and just stared like he had opened something Holy. What is it called again?"

"Um a dulcimer. It's an Appalachian Mountain instrument."

He had to get all his buddies to come take a look. They had never seen one before either.

He didn't know how to tune it. Together we read the little book that came along with my dulcimer, that I had luckily brought a long. I learned my dulcimer has four strings. The highest is tuned to G and the the lower strings are all tuned to D, all in the same octave. Don't ask me why. I don't understand yet. But when the clerk who quickly became my friend had it in tune and I strummed it, I may as well have been in the highlands of Scotland, or the tops of the Blue Ridge Mountains. I was in heaven. Customers came over to take a look. One asked, can I touch it?"

I let them all. I beamed. My insides seemed to turn into four strings that strummed a happy tune.

I had come on a determined mission. I had been sad. I wish Ed was there with me. He would have loved it that no one, not any of these very musical people in big famous New York City had ever seen a dulcimer. He would have loved it and I loved knowing that he would have loved it.

I used to play the piano. A lot.

I used to sew and design clothes. A lot.

Then I discovered reading and writing.

And now I read and write a lot.

And I find not enough creativity left in me for the other things.

Other artists have shared similar stories. You can't do it all. Only so much creativity is inside.

But I pray to the God of arts, whomever and wherever she/he is that I will find the energy and continued passion to read, write and play the dulcimer. For Ed. And for me.