The Hog-eyed Man

I just was presented with an old drawing done by my delightful daughter maybe when she was fourteen. It contains a side portrait of none other than me. It has the usual mouthful of teeth with a hint of a smile, maybe a sly smile. She makes note that it is her Dad. In the bubble of speakage it says "What me to play my fiddle? That's what I thought." It implies that I would take out my fiddle, ask the question and then play no matter what the audiance said. It was a like-it-or-leave-it comment and that no matter what others thought I was going to play my damn fiddle.


Ya, they got tired of my asking and probably playing but I have prevailed. The kids did move away but I don't think I drove them out, I don't think, but I never did ask. In any case, I love to play in the kitchen by the old cook stove.

If nothing else the old songs bring back a few memories of barn dances, maybe some history and a number of times in the distant mountains when we played for the reinactmnets of mountain men in the long ago. There were some great names to the tunes, Cluck Old Hen, Jack's Maggot, Nixon's Farwell and Hog Eyed Man. The music never goes away.