I was exploring the back roads of west Washington County when I remembered that right around the corner was one of the most influential people I'd ever met. One influence being his knowledge of the Bible and the other being he is the reason for my appreciation of the arts.
He was my literature professor in junior college. I'd heard about how hard his class was and wanted to change, but it was the only one available for my schedule. The best thing that happened to me that semester was not missing out on that class. Often throwing in his great sense of humor, he would read some of the more difficult plays aloud so we could get a better understanding of what was going on as well as get a good laugh. Most memorable was his performance of Moliere's Tartuffe. The way he got into character when he read has lead me to watch the play numerous times including a wonderful performance by The Alabama Shakespeare Festival.
I called to make sure he would be at his house and he jokingly replied, "Yes, I'll be at my house, not my wife's house." Meaning he would be in his sound proof, music shed he'd built behind his house. He also calls it his "pouting house", where he goes to pout when he's in trouble. It was filled with guitars, cellos, fiddles, and recording hardware and software. He invited me in and we quickly caught up on the past eight years. Most of mine being college and working life and his was his many travels(including how he introduced the skunk to Chicago), recent composures, and some minor health issues that you couldn't pity because of his humorous asides. He showed me pictures and told me about his book that he's been writing for the past ten or more years; we went through his knife collection and talked about wood working. When we got off on wood working, he asked me to pick up the fiddle case behind me. When I opened it there was this beautiful violin that you could still smell the varnish drying. This was his prize possession. He went through the entire process of fiddle making including what kind of wood he used as well as where he got it. He had made his own jig to hold the plates while he fitted his purfling and carved his own tuning pegs. It was an extraordinary piece but even more extraordinary was the sound that it made. He played classical, gospel, and even bluegrass without missing a note. It was one of those moments where you say, "wow, I wish I could do that". As if I wasn't impressed enough he showed me his recording software. He had recorded the percussion, bass, lead guitar, lead vocals, backup vocals, and of course the fiddle. Then he showed me how he had put it all together. If he wouldn't have told me that, I would have thought it was his band. I couldn't talk him into burning me a CD because he said he "hadn't perfected it", but trust me it was remarkable. We listened and talked for another hour or so and the he remembered he had somewhere to be, so we parted ways.
The whole experience was great. I was impressed with everything he showed me but most of all I enjoyed the laughing and the music. Once again our interactions left me with great influence. It was the best five or more hours of the day. I left with inspired and with that down home feeling you get when you've just had a few glasses of lemonade with one of the elders of rural Alabama.
He was my literature professor in junior college. I'd heard about how hard his class was and wanted to change, but it was the only one available for my schedule. The best thing that happened to me that semester was not missing out on that class. Often throwing in his great sense of humor, he would read some of the more difficult plays aloud so we could get a better understanding of what was going on as well as get a good laugh. Most memorable was his performance of Moliere's Tartuffe. The way he got into character when he read has lead me to watch the play numerous times including a wonderful performance by The Alabama Shakespeare Festival.
I called to make sure he would be at his house and he jokingly replied, "Yes, I'll be at my house, not my wife's house." Meaning he would be in his sound proof, music shed he'd built behind his house. He also calls it his "pouting house", where he goes to pout when he's in trouble. It was filled with guitars, cellos, fiddles, and recording hardware and software. He invited me in and we quickly caught up on the past eight years. Most of mine being college and working life and his was his many travels(including how he introduced the skunk to Chicago), recent composures, and some minor health issues that you couldn't pity because of his humorous asides. He showed me pictures and told me about his book that he's been writing for the past ten or more years; we went through his knife collection and talked about wood working. When we got off on wood working, he asked me to pick up the fiddle case behind me. When I opened it there was this beautiful violin that you could still smell the varnish drying. This was his prize possession. He went through the entire process of fiddle making including what kind of wood he used as well as where he got it. He had made his own jig to hold the plates while he fitted his purfling and carved his own tuning pegs. It was an extraordinary piece but even more extraordinary was the sound that it made. He played classical, gospel, and even bluegrass without missing a note. It was one of those moments where you say, "wow, I wish I could do that". As if I wasn't impressed enough he showed me his recording software. He had recorded the percussion, bass, lead guitar, lead vocals, backup vocals, and of course the fiddle. Then he showed me how he had put it all together. If he wouldn't have told me that, I would have thought it was his band. I couldn't talk him into burning me a CD because he said he "hadn't perfected it", but trust me it was remarkable. We listened and talked for another hour or so and the he remembered he had somewhere to be, so we parted ways.
The whole experience was great. I was impressed with everything he showed me but most of all I enjoyed the laughing and the music. Once again our interactions left me with great influence. It was the best five or more hours of the day. I left with inspired and with that down home feeling you get when you've just had a few glasses of lemonade with one of the elders of rural Alabama.
