Dulcimer et Decorum

I originally wrote this blog in another place on 13^th September 2010.

The first to 24^th of September is a strange time for me as it was the time (in 1992) between the consultant telling us there was no more they could do, and the cancer taking Phil away.  

He would have chuckled at (or maybe is chuckling at) the Facebook post at the end.

Dulcimer et decorum est*

My late husband Phil Ranson played the Appalachian dulcimer (amongst other instruments) and had three:  one made by Stefan Sobel in the 1970s; another Stefan made around 1990; and a little one he’d made himself from a kit.  The 1990 one went to a colleague of his, but the other two have stayed in our house as I didn’t know who to pass them on to.  

 

Earlier this summer I received an invitation to a 50^th birthday ceilidh in Allendale.    

I wanted to go, but didn’t fancy the drive home in the dark.  Then I remembered Phil’s dulcimer playing friend Dulcima Law lives in Allendale and emailed her asking for a bit of floor for my sleeping bag and offering home-made jam in return.  She replied saying she had a bed for me and no jam was required.

Dulcima is a wonderful dulcimer player and teacher and it suddenly hit me where the dulcimers should go.

So on Saturday morning I took the dulcimer box down from the wardrobe and looked at his favourite for the first time in almost 18 years.  The box is big enough for two so I took the kit-made one down from the bookshelf it’s lived on and put it in.  Sometimes Phil played with a bottleneck (bit like a slide guitar) so I took that out of the cupboard and put it in as well.  There were also some “Dulcimer Players News” magazines he’d had sent from America.

I arrived at Dulcima’s on Saturday evening and took in the dulcimer box with my overnight bag, and some jam.  Her partner drove me down into Allendale and some of Tyne Bridge brought me back after the ceilidh. 

Whilst I’d been out Dulcima had tuned the dulcimer and after breakfast yesterday morning she played it for me.  It was so beautiful to hear it coming back to life under her fingers it hurt.

As the final chord rang sweetly out she looked at me to see my hand over my mouth and tears welling.

“Oh!  I didn’t mean to do that to you!”

When the lump in my throat allowed me I whispered “There’s no way hearing it again wouldn’t have done that to me.”

“As long as they’re tears of gladness that’s ok.”

“Oh they are.”

 Then of course we had a lovely morning as she played all her other dulcimers so we could hear all their different voices, tones and characters.

The little kit dulcimer will be used for students to learn on.

As I left Dulcima thanked me for “such as lovely gift.”

Don’t think of it as a gift Dulcima, think of it as something finding the place it should be.

 *for those who haven’t benefited from a classical education the title of this blog translates as “it is sweet and fitting”.

13 September 2010 at 15:09 ·

Twilight Zone. 

After I blogged about Phil's dulcimer the 'phone rang and a voice asked for "Miss B Ranson".   

A researcher for NTyneside on people with children under 14.   

The address was right. 

I've always used my maiden name and never use Ranson in connection with the boys.   

The caller apologised for any upset so I told him "I'm not upset - I'm intrigued - he's reaching out from the beyond."   

Which scared him more than me.