Tammi's World

Just a story

I have a mandolin that I am rather fond of. Oh, I don't play it. It's in my wall unit - protected. But the story of how I got that mandolin is pretty cool.

I don't think I've blogged the whole story yet. I looked and didn't find anything - but if I'm repeating myself................tough. ;-)

I try to sing at Mama's church at least once a year. It makes her happy and I actually enjoy it. So one year just before Christmas I schedule my annual performance.

The church was pretty full that morning and as I looked out at the congregation I spotted an old, dear friend of Daddy's. I hadn't seen him in years! He seemed surprised to see me up there singing.

After service he came up to give me a hug and then asked if he could drop by that afternoon. He had a surprise for me.

After lunch, as we were washing up the dishes, the doorbell rang. I invited him in and we all settled into the living room. He had a box. He told me before he gave me what was in the box he needed to explain.

About a year before Daddy died they were out in our garage doin' "guy stuff" and laughing. Daddy found a box on a shelf, opened it up and started grinning. Seems the box held a mandolin. But, as with many things Daddy was fond of, there was a story.

Back in the mid '30s, at the height of the depression, Daddy was a young lad of 4 or 5. Grandpa was a preacher and a farmer - there were only 5 children at the time (Daddy being the youngest) so there was plenty of work on the farm.

One day a man came walking up the drive carrying a bundle. The man saw Grandpa out by the barn and went over to talk. Seems he was just wandering - had nothing left except that bundle. It was getting close to winter and he was looking for a place to hunker down. Would Grandpa let him stay at the farm in return for him helping out with chores.

Grandpa agreed and they made him a place in the barn.

Seems Daddy took a real shine to this guy. Followed him everywhere. In the evenings, after chores were done, they would sit out in that area of the barn and the man would play his mandolin and teach Daddy songs. Daddy was fascinated with that mandolin.

Come spring, the man got sick. It was over quickly and Grandpa had him buried in a plot there at the farm. No one ever knew much about him, and he never gave more than his name. No idea about where he came from, his family - nothing.

Since Daddy was so attached to that mandolin, Grandma (much out of character) put it up for him so it wouldn't get ruined. When he moved out years later she gave it to him. He had kept it all those years, in a box, on the shelf. Just because.

Then he asked his friend if he wanted it. Seems Daddy never learned how to play it and it seemed a shame to just keep it boxed up, not being appreciated. So it passed hands again.

Fast forward over 25 years. This friend was cleaning out his attic and came across the mandolin. Deciding to give it to his daughter he took it with him to church. Enter Tammi. Seems he didn't know about me and my music. To hear him tell it, as I stood there singing he knew that mandolin was mine.

I don't have many things that belonged to my Father. But I can't think of anything more appropriate than that mandolin. I have it in my wall unit. When I move it is wrapped carefully and always carried in my front seat. I can't play it - no skill but it also needs work before it gets handled much. But that's ok. It's the meaning - not the condition.

Why am I telling you this today? Well, I don't know many things about Daddy's childhood. In fact this is the only story I've ever heard. And it's his birthday. Today he would be 75 years old. So I thought it the perfect time to share.

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Posted by Tammi at October 16, 2005 06:58 AM