This week we welcome C.J. Chase to Author Memories.
After leaving the corporate world to stay home with her children, C.J. Chase quickly learned she did not possess the housekeeping gene. She decided writing might provide an excuse for letting the dust bunnies accumulate under the furniture. Her procrastination, er, hard work paid off in 2010 when she won the Golden Heart for Best Inspirational Manuscript and sold the novel to Love Inspired Historicals.
C.J. lives in the swamps of Southeastern Virginia with her handsome husband, active sons, one kinetic sheltie, and an ever-increasing number of chickens. When she is not writing, you will find her gardening, watching old movies, playing classical piano (badly) or teaching a special needs Sunday School class.
C.J. lives in the swamps of Southeastern Virginia with her handsome husband, active sons, one kinetic sheltie, and an ever-increasing number of chickens. When she is not writing, you will find her gardening, watching old movies, playing classical piano (badly) or teaching a special needs Sunday School class.
Pap's Fiddle
by C.J. Chase
My maternal great-grandfather was an illiterate, hardscrabble farmer in Appalachia. By all reports, his father was an alcoholic, but Dennis Reese determined he wanted a different life for himself. He worked hard and didn’t drink, he married a Christian woman who named her children after famous American heroes, and he taught himself to play the fiddle.
Fiddling was common in late nineteenth century Appalachia. My grandpap Oliver Perry Reese—named for the famous naval hero—also learned to play, and he bought his own fiddle once he left home. Back then, you could order a violin and bow set from the Sears and Roebucks catalogue for as little as $2. Contrary to what many believe, most of those violins are not valuable today. They were cheaply made instruments for a time when poor people had few entertainment options other than folk music and square dancing on a Saturday night. Pap’s fiddle never had a case or even so much as a chin rest.
With the advent of phonographs and radios, and with automobiles making transportation cheap and easy, the need for local folk bands diminished. My mother played clarinet in her high school band as buses allowed consolidation from one-room schools into large high schools, but neither my mother nor any of her nine other siblings learned to fiddle.
And thus, over the years, Pap’s fiddle saw less and less use. I took violin lessons for a short time. Then my father died, and faced with a decision between violin and piano, I chose the more practical piano. After all, I had many options for playing piano at church, but our rural school district didn’t have an orchestra.
Fiddling was common in late nineteenth century Appalachia. My grandpap Oliver Perry Reese—named for the famous naval hero—also learned to play, and he bought his own fiddle once he left home. Back then, you could order a violin and bow set from the Sears and Roebucks catalogue for as little as $2. Contrary to what many believe, most of those violins are not valuable today. They were cheaply made instruments for a time when poor people had few entertainment options other than folk music and square dancing on a Saturday night. Pap’s fiddle never had a case or even so much as a chin rest.
With the advent of phonographs and radios, and with automobiles making transportation cheap and easy, the need for local folk bands diminished. My mother played clarinet in her high school band as buses allowed consolidation from one-room schools into large high schools, but neither my mother nor any of her nine other siblings learned to fiddle.
And thus, over the years, Pap’s fiddle saw less and less use. I took violin lessons for a short time. Then my father died, and faced with a decision between violin and piano, I chose the more practical piano. After all, I had many options for playing piano at church, but our rural school district didn’t have an orchestra.
Pap died in 1989, in the same hollow where he was born. My cousin still lives in the old farmhouse, still farms the same land. With ten children and dozens of grandchildren, no one inherited more than a piece or two of the materially small estate Pap left behind. I already had his fiddle by that point—he’d given it to me back when I was learning to play—and it remains the only memento I have of him other than pictures. It hangs on a wall in my house, the way it did on Pap’s farm. But for one day in 1999, this story might have ended with that bit of sentimental Americana decorating my dining room.
Even as a toddler, our oldest son had shown a proclivity for music. Days before his fourth birthday, we decided to drive to a Scottish and Irish music festival near Philadelphia. We shared the day with my husband’s cousin who lived several hours on the other side of Philly, listening to bagpipes, tin whistles, bodhrans and fiddles.
Calvin fell in love that weekend. For six months afterward, he insisted he wanted to learn the fiddle. Finally deciding he might be serious, we found a Suzuki violin teacher. Now 16, he plays both classical violin and fiddle. He has his own fiddle, one of much better quality than Pap could ever have afforded himself. Prosperity allows for that.
As a member of a ceili band of young fiddlers, Calvin has performed before thousands in local arenas, churches and concert halls, with groups as disparate as the massed pipe bands at the Virginia Tattoo and the Virginia Symphony Orchestra.
I like to think Pap would be proud to see the legacy continue.
Calvin fell in love that weekend. For six months afterward, he insisted he wanted to learn the fiddle. Finally deciding he might be serious, we found a Suzuki violin teacher. Now 16, he plays both classical violin and fiddle. He has his own fiddle, one of much better quality than Pap could ever have afforded himself. Prosperity allows for that.
As a member of a ceili band of young fiddlers, Calvin has performed before thousands in local arenas, churches and concert halls, with groups as disparate as the massed pipe bands at the Virginia Tattoo and the Virginia Symphony Orchestra.
I like to think Pap would be proud to see the legacy continue.
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Book Trailer for C.J.'s debut novel: Redeeming the Rogue
Redeeming the Rogue, Love Inspired Historicals
Read an excerpt here.
Available August 2011
Barnes and Noble
Christian Book Distributors
Amazon
You can visit C.J.'s cyber-home (where the floors are always clean) at http://www.cjchasebooks.com
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