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My father's violin

My father was a bluegrass musician whose family originated from the Appalachian mountains. As a young man, he sang and played acoustic guitar at drive-in theaters and old time radio shows. He was a mandolin picker and a third generation fiddle player as well. My earliest memories recall our family's Christmas parties where he and his father huddled together with their fiddles in the back room of our house sipping whiskey and sharing songs with my uncles. The sound of the fiddle characterized my childhood. It was synonymous with the sound of his voice. Sometimes I couldn't tell the two apart except that he could say things with his fiddle his words would never allow him to express.

On July 21st, 2017, my father passed away leaving behind a collection of broken fiddles, mostly ill-kept as his health declined.  In October of the same year, I had a significant dream I'd like to share with you along with several events that followed.

In the dream, I was in England. It was dark…

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