Amish Guitar

I spent the weekend at mom and dad's farm where mom's extended family held their annual camp out. We've been doing this for nearly thirty years. We tried camping at a campground once, but somehow it moved to mom and dad's sizable yard. This year there were 47 relatives and 5 generations (if you count my late grandparents as the first, which we all do). Sadly, mom and dad are downsizing, selling the farm and moving on a smaller plot of land in their front meadow. So, this was the last reunion at my homestead.

This is also the first year I dared to bring my guitar. My mom's family is very musical. And can be very critical. It is a joy to sing with my family, but I also know what it is to sit through their criticism. It is a family I don't always feel like I fit in. But that would be a subject for another blog. I wasn't sure I wanted to take my guitar because I wasn't sure I wanted to put myself out there for judgement.

In the end, I decided to take along my guitar. If it wasn't well received, I would just play for myself and forget the rest of them. But, to my delight it was very welcome. I played quietly as everyone visited and conversed. Just noodled, or strumed a few simple songs. Afterwards several cousins came to tell me they appreciated my music as a kind of background to the relaxed evening.

Today, then, after the big family meal, we had a traditional hymn sing. My mother wanted the song "They will know we are christians." To my surprise everyone called me out to get my guitar. It is a song I do know how to play, and play well if I may say so. Unfortunately, I had decided to leave my instrument at home for the day (we live down the road and usually don't actually camp--give me a queen size bed any night). So I couldn't oblige. But it felt good to have my family, who I know to be musically discriminating, clamor for me to get out the guitar. It was another kind of affirmation--the best kind--the one you aren't looking for.