Mountain Dulcimer 

Soon after I started playing my dulcimer at the nursing home, my friend, Helen, bought one of my brother’s dulcimers. We began getting together to practice. Such times we had. Many of our sessions ended in giggles. She tried, without success, to teach me to count the time so we could stay together. My mind refused to do two things at once, count the time and keep track of what frets to play. I must have learned to follow her, because we started sharing our music in nursing homes and churches. We never became famous, but some people seemed to really enjoy our music. It certainly provided a lot of enjoyment for us.

One time I was invited to play at an AARP meeting. It was a dinner meeting held in a room next to the bar. I wore a dress with a full skirt that reached to the floor. To elevate me enough that the people could see my dulcimer, they brought in a stool from the bar. When it came time for me to play, I struggled to manage my long, full skirt and my dulcimer as I clambered up onto the stool. No sooner was I situated than I dropped my pick. I climbed down off the stool, cheeks flaming, recovered my pick, and got myself situated again on the stool. Trying to redeem an embarrassing situation, I pasted a smile on my face and said, “Sorry, folks. I’m not used to sitting on a bar stool.”

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If you long to play an instrument, consider the mountain dulcimer. Check your local music store or go to Everything Dulcimer. If I can do it you can. Check back in a month or so and I’ll share some more of my dulcimer journey.

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