As most of you know, I am an unyoung guy but still a novice fiddler. So, when I talk about fiddling, please don't assume anything about pride or prowess. It's part of my current life (something that I'm just taking up as an older beginner) and my life is what I blog about. That's why you get so many photo posts of Nikki Dee — because she's a big part of my life right now.
Anyway, since September, I have been attending a Celtic Jam that is held in a town about a half hour away. I listen a lot as they play tune after tune that I've never heard before, but I know a few of them, and I get to call the tune two or three times a night, so, I keep going. Even when I can't play along, I often feel blessed to be surrounded by people playing this great style of music — yesterday's style (more like our great grandparents' yesterdays for most of us). Actually, I only feel blessed when I first remember not to become agitated and discouraged about my progress or lack of same. But I try to maintain a positive attitude, and I usually succeed.
The thing is that I'm a punctual sort of guy, but when I arrived on the first night, the place was already JAM-packed (I didn't intend to pun on jam at first, but I'll take it). So, I got there somewhat earlier the next night: same thing. Over the weeks, I've kept arriving earlier and earlier because I like to pick out a seat that I like after all — towards the back and right if you please.
Last night I arrived at 7:07 for the jam which was to begin at 7:30. I still wasn't the first to arrive fiddle in hand; there were already three cars ahead of me, and two more pulled in right behind me. Can you think of any other group that gathers so far ahead of time? We do have to go to all of the bother of taking out our instruments, but that takes about five minutes, and we then still have fifteen minutes or so to sit and wait. Is that crazy or what?!