You Never Know Until You Try

Last Thursday night I did a wonderful thing, something I am embarrassed to admit I had not done before.


I went rollerskating with my kids.


We had a blast. My daughter's school put the party together, but we quickly got my son onto the floor as well. We all agreed it was quite miraculous that I didn't fall, which is good news considering my next endeavor.


And so yesterday with a help of a friend I bought a pair of used ski boots, to go with the skis that now-NC resident SoUncreative willed to me on her way South.


I never have been athletic, but to enjoy these kinds of activities, you don't have to be. You just have to be willing to learn, take a few falls, and accept that some folks will make fun of you. Since I'm plenty used to all three it was high time I got moving and took the plunge.


My friend and I were perusing the ski equipment in the "used" tent. Some of the skis were marked as high as $6,000. It seems odd for something you only do a few months of the year, but I can see how someone might spend the money on skis when someone else might put that same amount into a new Gibson mandolin (or half a Collings mandolin).


I've tried a few new things in the last year, and it seems I'm in line to try a few more. It's really all about fear. Fear is a draining, useless trap. At worst, it's a lame excuse. I'm not looking forward to riding the ski lifts, but there's really only one way to get to the bottom of the mountain, and that's from the top.

I have a similar fear about playing tunes with folks. In a couple weeks a good friend is hosting a gathering of serious trad musicians, and I will be there, chili and guitar in hand and voice at the ready. These are seasoned musicians but he's generously extended the invitation and so I'll be there. I'm sure I will learn a lot, make a new friend or two, and have fun.

At IBMA this year, I felt horribly guilty sitting in on Pete Wernick's Flexigrass set on the Roots and Branches stage. He had offered to help me launch a slow jam; I put it out to the folks at IBMA and as the year rolled on I did not vigilantly follow up. That's all changed now. There's no reason we can't grab one of the suites off the second level for a couple guided slow-jams next year.

When I sat down at the computer this evening I was thinking about my day yesterday. The friend I was with had mentioned he'd forgotten his pentatonic scales, and so I picked up my mando and was playing through them. And instantly I was playing Darling Corey, which is about as simple an old tune as you can find. A fine gritty killing song, it's all on a pentatonic scale.

And really easy to learn, fast, like in a group you've never played with before, or just one other person you barely know.

Sometimes something you thought was so difficult to overcome is suddenly a little stone in the path, behind you.

Here's a fairly traditional version of Darling Corey with a band Tara Nevins pulled together for her solo project some years ago. It's very very good, but I really was curious about Bruce Hornsby's version of the same old, old tune from his album, Intersections. But at least I know it's out there when I'm ready to give it a listen.