AGE SIX
During my childhood it was a tradition
that the children (especially sons)
in a Jewish family had to play the violin.
And without question,
excellence was expected...
The year: Nineteen Hundred
During my childhood it was a tradition
that the children (especially sons)
in a Jewish family had to play the violin.
And without question,
excellence was expected...
The year: Nineteen Hundred
and Thirty-Nine.
Dear mother of mine
heard the word--and
Every Jewish Mother's son
knew he was a 'chosen one'.
Requirement: I learn to play
(no matter what I might say)
horse-hair-cat-gut, mortal-sin
apparatus called a violin.
SCREEEECH!
And so, as a gift I received
piles of dust, out of dusty piles.
From attic Grandpa retrieved:
you guessed it, a filthy old viol
no hair--no gut. Dried glue did
not hold it together, but rubber
bands did the trick--one slick
instrument repair
TEEEEECH!
Grandpa was not Jewish, you see...
neither was my mother. Nor me.
But everything is OK in the end.
I play violin, celebrate with friends
Rosh Hashanah, Chanukah, EID(!),
Pentecost and the Feast of Stephen.
PRAKTISSSSS!
At an age when greatest of stars
in sports are 'over-the-hill'
I play violin, near and so far
and keep getting better still.
Has nothing to do with the fact
I can no longer hear the trill
SPEEEECH!
But this I say to you, my Peeps
an 'attitude of gratitude' keeps
me happy, joyous and free
long as God will let me BE.
Blessings.
Love you.
PEEEEEEACE!
--Steve E (aka steveroni)
PS. To "You know who you are"
I L O V E my
Liberty University
security blankee!
Thankee.
