Friendly fiddlers

The shrieking fiddle boys on Friday nights are especially cute and courteous. Not only did they brush off our windshields, they shoveled an individual path to our snow-covered cars after the jam, during a snowstorm. I like them. However, another venue seems to be necessary for me to hear myself play the meek mandolin.

Fortunately, a couple of men at church were in my bluegrass class. And, they're flexible workers which means they can come to my house in the late afternoon beginning this week. They both have musical backgrounds apart from their beginning instruments, and I trust them, although the BTK man was from church too.

Nonetheless, I'm quite excited about a smaller group, where we can diverge from fiddle tunes which split the air. And, I can improve my hypocritical musical contributions too. I'll still play from time to time with the little boys on their various instruments (mainly fiddle, but occassionally they pull out a jaw harp, a harmonica, and an old mandolin). I'm sure one day they will be famous, and I'll rue the day that they gave me a headache.