Tag Archives: guitar

Let the Rabbits Run: A Tribute to J.W. Parsons

As they sat in the little out-building dimly lit by a single incandescent bulb overhead, J.W. leaned back in the old metal legged kitchen chair smiling broadly as the student before him began pulling the first few strains of sound from the instrument under his chin. It would be the first of nearly a dozen lessons. His now white hair protruded boldly from beneath the cap on his head. As he listened to the young man play, he talked to the elder sitting next to him on the upturned white 5-gallon bucket. Reno Sharpe had come along this evening with the young man, a friendly escort of sorts. They talked of old friends and days gone by while the student would painfully try to repeat what the master fiddler had just shown him. There were no music books, no sheets from which to read; no, this was learning as in the old days, by ear.

John Wesley Parsons was his full name, but everyone knew him simply as J.W. It was said that he could fix anything with strings on it; from fishing poles to rehairing a bow. The room around them that night doubled as a slaughterhouse. J.W. raised hogs on the side, along with a host of other jobs. In the summertime, he sold minnows and watermelon. There were butcher saws and knives gleaming in the shadowy room. It was appropriate for the beginner fiddler, so badly were the sounds coming from his bow, akin to killing a song if you will, and not in a good way, that J.W. would remark, “Boy, are you married?”

“Yes-sir,” he stopped making the painful sounds to look up from his violin to answer.

“You gotta out-building you can practice in?”

“No sir, but I’m starting to work on one now.”

“Well, you better gitter built if you wanna stayed married.”

To that, both he and Reno laughed heartily. The young man joined in knowing full well what they meant.

It was just one of many evenings the three would spend together over the course of several weeks that fall.

J.W. was quick to tell the two men that night that he literally taught Charlie Daniels how to play the fiddle. It was a true story, yet it is doubtful that Mr. Daniels would ever attest to it. To J.W., that was his claim to fame. In truth, his real legacy would come later, but not through a single entity such as Mr. Daniels. J.W.’s legacy would be a gift to many.

One evening, J.W. brought his guitar along. The student had now progressed enough that he was able to follow along to the rhythm of the guitar. The master fiddler was slowly working his prodigy into someone that would benefit from this experience for a lifetime. J.W.’s own background was from years of mastery learned through countless hours of sawing the bow across the strings. In wartime, he played with bands that would tour all over the Far East; Japan, Korea, and other Pacific Rim islands. J.W. would eventually come home to settle back down on the farm and raise a family. There he found like many old-time fiddlers, they could earn more money playing for Pea Pickin’s or Corn Shuckin’s on the weekend than they could at a regular paying job. That being the case, and money being tight, he became known far and wide for being a master fiddler.

As he sat his fiddle down that evening, he said to the two men, now his tiny audience, as he picked up the old Martin guitar beside him, “You always want a good guitar player backing you up. And when you get one, make him stand right beside you. You got to have him right beside ya like he was’n a glued to your side. Otherwise, you won’t be able to hear em. If you get off, it makes the whole band get off, and that’s a bad, bad thang.”

The student would reflect back on the many things learned in that tiny studio. Not all of the things taught were just from the notes flowing through the wood and strings, but rather, from the knowledge of the elder passing onto the student the lessons of life and what it was to live in a time when the music of this sort was in much greater demand and appreciation. In today’s education, too often the human aspect of the interaction between student and teacher is overlooked. Sitting around the hearth on cold winter nights, the old-timer’s in the Appalachians would pass down not only the songs but the stories and traditions of the culture that made them distinct from others. It made the music they made all that more special.

On that memorable evening, J.W. sat down all four legs of his chair and began tuning his guitar. His large fingers adeptly turned the tuning pegs as he bent his head to listen. There was no tuner needed so well adapted were his ears to the sounds of the instruments in his hands. To try to watch his fingers position themselves on the tiny neck of the fiddle, it was sometimes impossible to discern which string he was actually playing. Because of his large working hands, the fingers were nearly always positioned to cover two strings, which made his double stops (purposely playing two strings at once) perfect. Even though the fiddle looked out of place in those rough, hewn hands, the beautiful strains of his waltzes were some of the sweetest melodies many had ever known.

That particular evening, his mood seemed different.

Before continuing, he told the two men in a solemn tone, “What I’m about to play you I don’t want you telling anyone about. I don’t normally sing in front of people,” he would go on to say.

Knowing or not, the young man had always brought along his video recorder in order to tape each lesson. From those he would practice the week, carrying the master with him as a manner of speaking. This night was no different. Instead of interrupting, he let J.W. continue so as not to stop what they were about to see. “If it was really something to be kept secret, he could always go back and erase it if necessary,” he thought to himself.

“This here’s a song about an old man and his dog. I call it the Rabbit Song.”

He began playing and singing like we had not seen before. His voice was a good as any country singer they had known on the radio. The song was from the heart. As he played and sang, J.W. closed his eyes as of if he was being transported to another place and time.

These hills have been my home, come eighty years next Monday,

Since sixty-five it’s just been this old dog and me.

My woman was called home to be with the Lord in Glory.

My life has been a good one but my journey’s end I see.

Seems like the rabbits run much faster than they used too.

Every year the hillsides get harder to climb.

Seems like the autumn turns too quickly into winter.

Won’t be long and me and this old dog will say goodbye.”

The same young man sat in the cozy little barbershop behind Max’s house. It was Thursday night, and Max was open for business. Earlier in the week, Max had found the young man had an old fiddle on display in his house. It was one his wife had bought at an auction back when they were in college. It was merely intended for decoration since neither one of them could play it. That evening Max, curious as he was about most things couldn’t take it any longer when he paused clipping away with the scissors, and gently touching his customer’s shoulder, and leaning in to say, “I happened to see a fiddle sitting in your dining room at your house last week when I was doing that work for you. Do you play?”

“No sir, that was something my wife bought a long time ago at an auction when we were in college. It’s broken up on the neck and can’t be tuned unless it can be repaired,” he replied. Then the next few words he was about to speak would alter the course of the young man’s life, “But I’ve always wanted to learn how to play a stringed instrument.”

It was almost as if Max had been waiting to hear those exact words. Before he had barely got the words out of his mouth, Max had an answer. “I know a man that can repair your fiddle and teach you how to play it too.”

“Really,” the young man said in almost disbelief?

Grabbing the local phone directory, he opened it up to the ‘P’s, “Yep, sure do, his name is J.W. Parsons.”

Pointing to the J.W.’s name, they wrote down the number. Then the conversation turned to all the music that had been a part of Max’s life and how he and J.W. had made music so many times. Those were precious memories. The world began to spin seemingly out of control for the young man that night, as so many things that could have been began to become possibilities. It is sometimes said that truth is stranger than fiction. It seemed that night as if the young man had stepped back into time, hearing about lives from another century.

As J.W. played for the audience of two that night, his student and Reno, he sang to them a song that was nearly as prophetic as it was sad.

Instead of sleeping over in the corner by the fireplace,

That old dog would run and hunt all day.

Not too long ago, we were out amongst the corn rows,

Making the memories that are on my mind today.

Seems like the rabbits run much faster than they used too.

Every year the hillsides get harder to climb.

Seems like the autumn turns too quickly into winter.

Won’t be long and me and this old dog will say goodbye.”

He ended the song and solemnly sat down the guitar at his side as the two men cheered his beautiful rendition. His humbleness overwhelming them as he repeated, “Now don’t tell no one I ever sang that, you hear.” They shook their heads in disbelief and approved. It was the gentlemen’s agreement; they had given their word.

From there, J.W. would eventually introduce the young man to other venues and people, whereby eventually, those off-key notes would form melodies that would entertain crowds of enthusiastic onlookers, but never to the same level of the master’s hand. The style of which he had learned from the old Pea Pickin’ fiddler, J.W. Parson, was one of a kind; a mix of bluegrass with a hint of old-time mountain music. From that point forward, the legacy of J.W. Parsons would be passed down as that young man would go on to become the first Director of the Chatham County Junior Appalachian Musician’s Program (JAM). There, he and many others would teach young children from the ages of 8 to 16, how to play the songs and instruments of the old-time music. The method used in the program was exactly the same J.W. would use, sharing the sounds of the music along with the stories that made it special; and learning by ear.

Years would go by, and like pages on a well-worn book, the edges of recollection would begin to fade. Sadly, in his later years, J.W.’s memory would begin to slip. It was painful to watch the master fiddler slowly lose the precious gift he had known most of his life. Around him, especially his loved ones, people watched the man they loved and called Papa, slowly fade from them. His friends would fight back the tears as they would see him one more time and know this was only the shell of the man they had once known.

One might attribute the loss of his memory to the accident that took his loving wife, “Mara-Lou,” as he called her. They had been in a wreck and gone to the hospital afterward, but the doctors told her everything had checked out. They went home, even though she was still in pain. Sadly, she passed away during the night from her injuries. J.W. was never quite the same afterward.

The Bible tells us in Philippians, 3:13 “Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before,” One could say, God, moved J.W. past the painful loss of his beloved, comforting him in his final years with a sense of peace. Looking back, it was as if God knew the pain he suffered from losing his life-long partner. In taking away his memory, he might have lost his musical talent, but he was also afforded a few years of peaceful grace before he left this world. We often only comprehend what we can see. Beneath that placid façade of bleakness, we witnessed, who’s to say J.W. couldn’t already see the joy that would fill his soul on that beautiful reunion day when he and Mara-Lou would meet again on the far distant shore of Jordan?

The memory of the Rabbit Song would return to that young man J.W. taught so long ago every time he saw him in those final years.

That young man, of course, would be me.

As he had asked, I never mentioned the song or that it had been played. Reno passed long before J.W., so it was a memory only I carried with me.

Not many years after J.W.’s passing, I mentioned to Wendy about the song. It was the first time I had told anyone. She replied, “I’d like to get a copy of that from you someday.”

Someday will come. My walk in faith has buried so many things in storage. Unlike the things we carry, the memory of that special evening has not been lost.

As time goes by, the children from that JAM program are growing up and moving onto other parts of their own lives. Many of them had heard the story of the Rabbit Song, but few know the rest of the story. As they grow up and continue playing the music learned from the student of J.W., it is as if a part of J.W. Parsons continues on. His legacy still surviving into the next generation beyond our own. Those students are now becoming teachers as well, carrying on the tradition of learning by ear, playing in the old-time way.

Yes, the rabbits seem to run much faster than they used too. These Blueridge mountains seem harder to climb.In the corner sits my fiddle, lovingly signed on the back by J.W. Parsons.

As the weather turns cooler, it takes me back to that little old shack behind J.W.’s home where we sat underneath the light of that autumn moon. It’s time to rosin up the bow and play that fiddle hard, cause J.W.’s memory will not be lost, his legacy will linger on.

2 Comments

Filed under Inspirational, Music

JAM Camp 2013 is almost here…..are you ready?

I have to admit, I have been remiss in my blogging as of late, but there is a very good reason.

We are deep into the preparations for JAM Camp 2013.bluegrass-640x350

This year’s camp will be bigger and hopefully even better than last year’s. In addition to the great morning instrument classes (which includes lessons in guitar, fiddle, banjo, mandolin and mountain dulcimer with a host of great teachers) we are creating more afternoon activities; meanwhile, keeping the popular ones from last year.

This year, in addition to campers making their own biscuits, they will also learn how to make the preserves to put on their biscuits as well. Joan Thompson from the Siler City Farmer’s Market will teach the preserve making class and Bill and Sims Poindexter will lead the biscuit baking class.

Everyone enjoyed the pottery class last year, so this year we plan to do it again. We plan to add to our pottery experience with Jon Spoon, the Director of the NC Arts Incubator, leading the workshop. We hope to have a JAM Camp 2013 tile for everyone to take home by the end of the week.

We are excited to have Sue Wilson back for a second year. She will hold another workshop in Hammered Dulcimer, which we didn’t seem to get enough of last year. In addition to Hammered Dulcimer, we will also be offering a build-your-own Mountain Dulcimer workshop hosted by Emily Schilling, who is also our Mountain Dulcimer teacher. In this class you will build and decorate your own Dulcimer.

Also back by popular demand is Kathy Schilling and her clogging class. Kathy, a multi-award winning dancer, will be leading afternoon dance workshops in clogging. Kathy will also hold classes on how to square dance, which will be very useful at the Friday Night Barn Dance.

We are adding some new afternoon opportunities with a Native American themed activity by first building a Tepee, which we will then let the campers decorate. Along with the Tepee we will create a sundial, nature boat float and an Orienteering course. Other artistic endeavors somewhat Native American themed, will be focused on a Giant Weaving and Mural project and Jug decorations.

100_1943We will once again hold our Jug Band class on Friday, where our students will learn or be reminded of how to play the jugs they decorated earlier in the week along with the art of Kazoo. Last year, Julie Brown, Emily Schilling and myself led this class for the first time. I think we laughed more than we played music, but we found out the beauty of performing while playing a Kazoo…for sure!!! I also found out that playing a jug required a lot more air than I had anticipated, nearly passing out the first time I tried. Needless to say, we now make sure our students know the hazards of too much jug plaing. In addition to the jug, each student will get their own kazoo to play. We will perform a Jug Band song at the Friday Barn Dance show as part of the evening’s pre-Dance entertainment. Along with the Jug Band performance our students will be invited to come up and perform what they’ve learned during camp; you will not want to miss this.

Along with Jug Band class, other afternoon singing and song writing classes will be held again with Laura Thurston leading our folk singing class and Sarah Osborne hosting our song writing workshop. In addition, Jr. Counselors, Abbey Buchanon and Chloe Lang will lead a Taylor Swift song-sing-a-long session slanted more toward the Old Time/Bluegrass sound of her music.

Along with all the learning there will be lots of physical activity with the return of the ever popular 100 ft. water slide. We will add additional water games throughout the week along with various other games and activities. Zach Tomlinson will host a jump rope workshop. You have to see him in action to believe it…a double-dutch master.

Our story teller this year will be Claire Ramsey. We look forward to hearing Claire weave her tales as no one else can. In Claire’s own words, “Therefore, my first wish as a storyteller is to bring all my listeners — children, teens, and adults — to that place where they remember their first stories… where they find themselves again at their parents’, grandparents’, or babysitters’ knees, pictures filling their minds and hearts. Whoever you are, however old you are, Stories With Claire have moments of joy, excitement, and peace for you.”

We are happy to announce our visiting performer this year is Chatham County’s own iconic treasure, Tommy Edwards. Tommy will be visiting us on Wednesday afternoon starting at 2:00 PM. We look forward to hearing Tommy speak and perform for our campers; he always has lots of inspirational words of wisdom to share and beautiful music as well.TommyBoT3

The backdrop for the JAM Camp 2013 is the wonderfully restored Silk Hope Farm Heritage Park and the beautiful Silk Hope countryside. Along with this beauty we plan to include some farm related activities and learning experiences similar to last years. Farming is a dynamic lifestyle where weather always plays a major factor. So we never know for sure what activity we will be able to promote until closer to the time of the camp but we promise it will be something all the children will enjoy.

In all, this year promises to be bigger and better with a lot of learning with a whole lot of fun thrown in. If you haven’t registered it’s still not too late to do so.

For more information and to register go online to www.ChamJAM.org/SummerCamp2013.php

1 Comment

Filed under Art, Farming, Music, Nature, Sports

Play Through Me In Spite of Me…

fiddlersWe’ve been attending the local Fiddler’s Conventions in our area lately with friends and family. While there are contests for various instruments and talents I’ve forgone any attempt in competing to win; rather, I have found it much more rewarding to use the opportunity as a platform. I know there are some who would say, “You shouldn’t waste your time going if your not going to compete to win.” Well, in a sense, I am competing to win, but not in the monetary sense.

Allow me to explain.

A couple weeks ago I watched a TED presentation on “Your elusive creative genius” by Elizabeth Gilbert http://www.ted.com/talks/elizabeth_gilbert_on_genius.html and found her lecture spoke to me quite profoundly from my Christian background. 70532_74x56What she said that struck such a chord with me was that when we are true to our faith, we become the channel, the vessel if you will, through which a power greater than ourselves can flow.  The fallacy of so many artistic minds is that we start to believe the talents we pocess are because of us, something “We” are responsible for creating. With this responsibility comes great pressure. Once you’ve created that awe inspiring masterpiece, then everything after that becomes compared to the one that made you famous. More often than not, the vaccum that follows leaves many in such states of depression that they fall into either a dependency behaviour or take their own lives. However, all of this can be avoided if we realize the source of our talents; our inspiration.

It was from this TED talk that I was reminded of how we must give God the Glory, that everything we have we owe to him. When we try to take credit for it, we are only kidding ourselves and quickly fall into that trap of thinking we are more than we really are. So when the 2013 Fiddler’s Conventions came around, I realized I had to do more than just go on stage and perform; I had to deliver a message, even if it was brief.

So each week, before the performance, and most of the times on the way to the event, I listen for God to speak to me, telling me what I am to do, what song or scripture I will share with the audience. Some weeks he has told me in advance; others, I found out only minutes before. Such was this past week at the Seagrove Convnetion. Before we arried I had picked out a song I thought would be good enough, but on the way there, the idea of rewording the song, “House of the Rising Sun,” and playing it on my fiddle flashed into my brain. Upon arriving, I found my cohart and backup on stage in the recent weeks, a young man who is wonderfully talented and a great Christian, Tanner Henson. I presented to him the song and we tried it out but found neither one of us knew the chord progression on the guitar. I was about to scrap the idea unless I could find one of the many guitar virtuso’s in attendance. Just a few minutes before stage time, I found Harold Pickett; one of those guitar experts. I was also wonderfully surprised to find Harold a fellow Christian as well. Soon, the gig was on.

I prayed for guidance from the Lord and told the crowd before I started that I had to sing a couple lines to the song, so that they would know where I was coming from; meaning, not the original song but the new verse I had written on the way to the convention. So, with the power of the God flowing through me, Harold Pickett on guitar, Clyde Maness on bass and myself on fiddle  performed “House of the Rising Sun” but with these words as the intro instead, “There is, a House, at the end of the street, Where we go to worship God, and many a poor boy, has waited for judgment day, to accept the Spirit of the Lord.”

After that verse, we kicked the song into overdrive and the rest was a blur. I know I couldn’t have won anything monetarily, for I could barely contain the energy that swept through my fingertips as the bow nearly flew off the strings. There was a complimentary applause following our performance, but I think most folks were just being polite. I followed up the fiddle with an old Tom T. Hall song on my guiatar, while I sang and played, “Me and Jesus“. I left the stage, shaking from the adrenaline rush that had come from the fiddle performance and prayed I had not dishonored God in any way. Afterward, all I could think of was the TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert and how it was God playing that night, not me. Regardless of how it sounded, I was more concerned that I had probably ruined my chance to touch a heart. I kept asking myself, “Did I get in the way of God?” You never know until its over if what you did was respectable in his eyes, but again, I kept the faith and carried on.

Shortly after coming off stage, just as we were about to walk out the door, a young man walked up to me and said, “Now I know who you are. Your that preacher from over around Asheboro aren’t you?” I smiled and thanked him for the compliment but told him I was not a preacher; at least not yet. I told him it was a little ironic that he ask that since I was scheduled to preach my first sermon of my book ministry at the Crestview Wesleyan Church in Asheboro on April 7th. I gave him a card and invited him to come to the service. We shook hands and parted ways.

As we walked out, I realized something special had just transpired.  As we drove home that night, I felt as if I had somewhat achieved my goal; at least one heart had been touched, even if it was a case of mistaken identity… and that was all the prize I needed.

All we ask is that he plays through us in spite of us, in God’s name we pray….Amen!

ps. We were tired and there was a lot more convention left to go when we left. We rarely stay to the end to find out who won. We found out a couple days later that my daughter had won second place in vocals when she sang, “Amazing Grace.” You can bet we were proud of her, thanks be to God!

Do you find yourself getting caught in that trap of feeling like its you, like you have to do better next time? Let me know, and better yet, let me know if you’ve touched someone’s life by something you did recently.

1 Comment

Filed under Inspirational, Music, Religious Experience

The Vibes at the Bean

greenbeanAs an author, I’m supposed to keep you posted as to what I am up to in the literary sense. Although I haven’t a story to upload tonight, I felt compelled to speak to you and let you know I haven’t been silent. Two new stories have emerged recently which I am not able to publish here in lieu of their entry into writing contests. I’m not much for contests, but as with all other aspects of being an author, I’m following what I’ve been told “Is a good thing to do.”

So when you finally to get to read, “My Little Buddy” and “The Farmer in the Bull” you will hopefully be doing so from a literary publication. If not, you’ll just see them on another blog of mine down the road.

In the meantime, the sequel to “Bruecke to Heaven” has been languishing until this weekend. For some unknown reason, perhaps its the lunar phase, the story has taken off again. I couldn’t stop pulling the threads in different directions the past two days until I finally weaved them into something I hope will make the reader more intrigued and fascinated than the first story. Suffice it to say, I dare not share any details at this point for fear fo giving away anything. Like a proud father, I’d love to sneak a peek in your direction, but I wouldn’t want to diminish what might be an eventual second publication.

Meanwhile, life goes on.

We had the rare opportunity to get out this past Saturday night and see two live bands at the Green Bean Coffee Shop in Greensboro, NC. We were fortunate to know a member or two from both bands, “The Zinc Kings” and the “South Caroina Broadcasters”. Each band was a rollicking blast of old time traditional music, rocking the place with amazingingly enough, energy to spare for all. The songs they performed might have been created in antiquity but their presentation of them were so fresh and alive, that one couldn’t help feel the beat well up into your soul. The Green Bean blended the rejuvenated antique building with the rejuvanated sounds of today’s youth melding together their past into the future.

I was grateful to be there to witness its forging…and yes, the music and the story goes on.

Leave a Comment

Filed under Music