|The Fiddle Player by Andrew Krieger|
I have been told that music lovers divide into two camps: violin or piano. Strings or percussion. I don't always believe everything I'm told. I love the violin. Its voice has the amazing ability to take on any emotion. I can travel on the wings of violin music to almost any corner of the world. But I also love piano music. And I love winds. And brass. And bagpipes.
My father could play what he called the 'fiddle'. I think one of my nieces has that old violin now. Oddly, I never, ever heard him play. The violin only appeared after I had grown up and I'm sure he was pretty rusty so never took it out while I was around.
Or maybe there was another reason? Families and their relationships are always at work in every story. My father's relationship with his father wasn't always the best as frequently happens with fathers and sons. I have a memory of issues around this instrument when he was a boy. But, as usual, I don't have the whole story and never will.
Funny what one letter can bring up.
* The painting was borrowed from this blog.