Finding Resonance, Part 2: Besotted
You know how sometimes you feel kind of itchy, but you don’t know why? You’re not unhappy, or dissatisfied with anything in particular, you’re just not all in. That’s how I was when I got off the plane in Maui. So, when Rex got me singing in baggage claim, I started smiling deep inside, and that got my attention.
I woke up the next morning with one thought: I want a ukulele.
So I went to the local music store and bought one. I’m in love with it.
Until I notice that it won’t play in tune. Back to the store it must go, but not before I head to the shop of the guy who made it to make inquiries.
The maker’s shop is a room full of ukuleles. There’s an old/ageless man in the corner playing amazing uke and another sitting across from him strumming along. I plop down next to the strummer and make my confession about buying one of their ukes with bad intonation. I ask for help. They assure me that their ukes play in tune and that my new uke is hiding in that shop. Soon, one ukulele after another is being put in my hands and the old/ageless man is teaching me song after song. My partner, Carolyn, (who initially hoped this would be a quick transaction, gives in and) supplies the vocals in her lovely lilting soprano. 2 hours pass in ukulele bliss, but without a resolution to my problem: I love a ukulele that won’t play in tune. What to do?
In the morning, clarity dawns: Though completely besotted, I am unable to play anything out of tune, so I return it to the music store and confess to having perfect pitch. One of the owners is similarly afflicted. One after another, he puts all the expensive ukes in my hands to prove that they can play in tune. They can, and beautifully.
But, $1600.00 seems catastrophically expensive for a vacation whim. And, even in that price range, I’m still not besotted.
Finally, the owner hands me his own uke, an 8-string Kamaka tenor, made by a Hawaiian family for 3 generations. I like it, but I’m not in love with it. It’s cheaper than $1600, but still quite a bit more than I want to pay. He says “we’re getting a shipment of Kamaka ukes in two days. I might have one that isn’t already sold.”
I spend the next couple of days playing every tenor uke on Maui. Though I find many that play in tune, I do not fall in love. I fall slightly in like with one, but it’s go one of those 4-digit price tags. I’m starting to think I’ll be going home ukulele-less.
When the Kamakas comes in, I figure I’ve got nothing to lose, so back to the store I go. The ukes are stacked in their cases on a table in the back of the store, at least 30 or them and in all sizes. I start with a tenor and fall in love on the first strum. I hear myself say “I’ll take it.”
I’ve got a ukulele, and I’ve been invited into several stories now - the real estate agent wanting everyone to love Maui as much as he does, the music store owner wanting me to love my ukulele as much as he loved his, the guys in the maker’s shop, wanting me to love playing the as much as they do - and to join the worldwide community of ukesters. I resonate with each of those stories. I’m drawn to them. And I’m still not sure what my storyline is here. It’s no longer “I bought a uke on a vacation whim.” After several days of focusing exclusively on it, I’m way past the whim stage. I think it’s now officially a project. Because what is a project, but a story? And what is a story but a description of a journey? Project, story, journey, initiative - all synonyms.
And, at this point, the story is so far from being over.
I’ll bring you up to date in a day or two, then get back to my regular Monday posts.