Barbara

Summer arrived officially with the Solstice although we had been enjoying the warmer temperatures for several weeks. After two years of pretty blank calendar pages I was finally getting out and playing live music, doing book readings, etc. I’d played in my jazz duo, String of Sheeps, for International Make Music Day. It felt amazing to be playing in-person again, to feel music touch people.

Last week on Thursday evening I had been asked to read my children’s book, The Violin Family, onstage at an event called Feast And Field. Paul and I arrived early with our truck jammed full. We slowly rounded the curves of the dirt road down to our spot and began the job of unpacking everything. We planted stakes into the ground and lifted the blue tent toward the evening sky. We opened boxes of books to sell and popped open our folding chairs. Beside the table we propped up fractional sized cellos and carefully placed tiny violins on the table top next to the books. Our road show includes a petting zoo of musical instruments for the young and young at heart to experience. Gratefully Paul is willing to bring his shop apron and assume his character from the book, Luthier Paul.

As we were setting up people began arriving with their chairs. The smell of cooking began rising from inside the barn and a homemade ice cream stand started lifting large tubs of frozen cream onto their table. It didn’t take long for us to take a break and bring some fabulous tacos back to the picnic table, where we sat and watched the festivities unfold.

As the sky quietly turned dusky, several bonfires sent sparks up to compete with the stars. Music was playing as people and their kids swung around holding hands. At the first break I went up to read: several children sat with their parents and listened. Their eyes widened as I read about Violet Violin becoming injured. They waved back at Luthier Paul and clapped and cheered when Violet’s sound returns! After the story, I told everyone about the petting zoo and Paul and I had to move quickly back to the blue tent as the lines of kids wanting to play strings began to build.

Almost immediately we had a four-year-old named Barbara wanting to try a violin. She loved the sound of the cello but we could not convince her to play anything other than the small eighth size violin. Her tiny left hand supported the neck, her right hand gripping the bow like a small club. She played with a determination that began in the grit of her teeth. Back and forth she sawed zealously. As there was a line, we had to gently pry the instrument from her hands to give some other children a try. Her dad thanked us, had her do the same and off they went toward the bonfires. We continued helping children try the strings but noticed, after not that long, Barbara had reappeared, same violin in hand, making the same determined music. She’d play and leave, her father patiently standing and taking photographs of she and her sister, shaking his head at her unwillingness to stop, even for blueberry ice cream. It became a bit of a running joke for Paul to look up and say to me, with the a grin, “Barbara’s back!”-

At the end of the evening we slowly pulled the truck back in place to reload it and Barbara stood quietly as we put the violin into its case. Her dad calling her to leave, everyone saying goodbye to each other. Her mom came over, thanked us and, in passing, we talked about my going to Bookstock on the Woodstock green that weekend. She said that they would see us there as she was a baker and would be selling desserts at the event.

Saturday morning we had the show on the road again and unloaded, lock, stock and barrel into a different tent on the green in the center of town. We had no more than unfolded our chairs when we looked down and there was a familiar four-year-old standing next to the eighth size violin.

The day was blisteringly hot and we had to keep inching our table forward to stay out of the sun. I sold quite a few books and we spent a lot of time putting kids on the instruments. One adult shyly asked if he might try the largest of the cellos that we had brought. I snaked the end pin out of the three quarter cello as far as it would go and sat him right down. After he got over the initial awkwardness that goes with being an adult, he began playing, and smiling.

At one point we had Barbara, her sister, Rebecca and a young girl named Annabelle playing a makeshift string trio, the other girls laughing and tentatively bowing, Barbara gritting and sawing with her take-no prisoners approach to music. At one point as I sat beside her she handed me her little bow and said, “Can you make this tighter? It’s too loose.” I did mention that she was four, yes? After I picked myself up, I tightened her bow and quietly handed it back to her. She took it from my hand with the same purposefulness that she played with and began working again: a small, satisfied smile on her face.

At the end of the day it was the same scenario as at Feast And Field; Barbara, her sister and parents arrived as we were picking up. Her mom had a six pack of beautiful cupcakes and handed them to me with a warm smile. Barbara stood watching us put away “her” violin. Her father once again took her hand and led her away, waving a final goodbye.

I double parked to load the truck which made us need to work quickly. We all carried several music stands, instruments, boxes of books and our cupcakes. Each of us a one-man-band. Suddenly there was Barbara, her little arms hooked over the rails of the fence separating the green from the road, seemingly nobody with her she watched us. The final cello tucked into the truck, the [back door] tailgate shut, we waved at her and shouted our goodbyes. In the truck Paul and I watched her dark eyes watching us as she untangled herself from the fence. She turned to leave but swung around one final, hopeful, time and we noticed her lower lip begin to tremble.

I sold several books at the event which, technically made it a success, but as we made the long drive home I realized that what was making me feel good was the four year old that we had introduced the violin to. I may never know what kind of impact those two days might have on her, but I do know the impact she had on me. There’s special magic in the unabashed passion of a four-year-old.

I think we could all use a little Barbara.