Alan Plays Fiddle

Alan plays fiddle. He has a concert tomorrow evening and has been practicing for a few days. The sound wafts up the twisted staircase to my corner library/bedroom where I now sit.


I've never known any other music, or any other sound, to have as much power over me as his fiddling. I feel blessed to be here, have him so close, play so frequently, so casually.

He began practicing while I cleaned up after dinner. His bow-pulls came with with the turning of the hot tap, the exact moment I slipped the dish-rag under the water.

The combination of physical warmth and aural pleasure was stunning. I could have cried.

Part of it is the knowledge that he is internationally ranked and world reknowned as a scholar and fiddler.

Part of it is the knowledge that he gave up all of his years and years of classical training to ONLY play traditional Old Time music.

Most of all, though, it's the knowledge that he suffers from a degenerative neurological disease and he is slowly losing his ability to play.

I savor every note.