U.A.S.

Our time as cruisers led to several deep changes in the kind of life we live. It is hard to explain the difference when one's world view is expanded by years spent on a boat, time spent in different countries and cultures, and the challenges (and dangers) that come with  living so close to nature. It also led to a minimalist approach to life, keeping things as simple as possible. But that minimalist approach to life did run afoul of another change that happened while we cruised. That of  my being exposed to playing music on a ukulele.

It had a disarmingly innocent beginning. The other part of my family that was living on a sailboat gifted me a modest soprano ukulele. A cute little blue plastic thing well suited for the harsh conditions of the sailing life, conditions not particularly friendly to wooden musical instruments. One might suggest that I got a little hooked. I wrote a short book about the journey from being a drummer to playing notes titled, Learning from a Uke,  a journey I am still enjoying. 

It may be that being "a little hooked" might be a tiny bit of an understatement. The soprano is a little thing, so I bought a slightly bigger concert size. That was fun and has a bit more room for my mechanic's fingers. Noodling through a music store one day one of my granddaughters picked up a baritone sized uke, two steps up from a concert, and suggested I try it. I did. It is tuned differently than the others and sounded really good. It came home with us. With a soprano, concert, and baritone in the collection, it seemed only fitting to fit in a tenor, the size between a concert and a baritone. So I did.

Part of getting First Light outfitted for the trip to St. Louis was finding a place to safely store the ukes that would be taking the trip. After some brainstorming, we decided to build a cabinet that would fit behind the lower helm station seat. That was a fun project. Each of the ukes rested on its own shelf, nestled in a custom cut foam cushion and protected with a latched door. To top it off, one of my granddaughters painted the top with a picture of my original blue soprano uke and a music score that was the first song I learned to play, The Blarney Pilgrim. By the time we got First Light to St. Louis, a year behind schedule, we needed room for three more ukes and Deb's guitars (2). They ended up resting in a storage area under one of the settees in the salon.

Once settled back in St. Louis, we needed to find room for the ukes and guitars in our little apartment. There was some empty wall space that was put to good use, a good place to store the seven instruments. Along with Deb's two guitars, I now have access to fourteen ukuleles hanging on the apartment walls—tenors, baritones, concerts, and sopranos. Each is unique. Some have alternate tunings. Two are made of composite materials. They have different makes of strings and different body styles, all making for different tones. One has no front sound port at all, only side ports. I'm told it is called a "violin" uke. You play it like any other uke, not tucked under one's chin with a bow. So I don't know how it got its name. Three of the tenors and one of the concerts are electric / acoustic and can be run through an amp. I don't have a baritone that can be amped...mmm.

The early wall...

A little later...

And the current state of the wall.

They are all "rescue" ukes—bought at used music stores or from owners who simply didn't play them anymore. But there is no doubt that I have been badly infected with U.A.S...Ukulele Acquisition Syndrome. It seems to be a rather common ailment in the ukulele community. My collection is actually rather modest.

They all get played on a regular basis as my "retirement schedule" usually includes several hours of practice every day. It isn't really practice in the sense of me striving to meet some goal or prepare for a gig. Sure, I am a little better at it than I was at the beginning. But the damage done to my hands and fingers after years of being a mechanic, added to that done by car and motorcycle accidents and the growing tally of years (I'll be 70 next month) limit how far I can go on this musical journey. And, oddly enough for someone who has been a teacher and regularly spoke in front of crowds of people for various reason, I apparently suffer from a serious case of stage fright. Anyone in the room other than Deb or grandkids, and my fingers and brain get completely disconnected. It makes for some truly frighting noises pretending to be music.

At best, I might reach the level of being a modestly capable amateur ukulele musician. But that is of little concern. In fact, I tend to look at it the other way around. A perfectly played "C" note or chord, even if surrounded by some not so perfect, is still a perfectly played "C" note or chord. A perfect anything, no matter how small or short lived, is a gift to be treasured. And I do take a bit of encouragement from being a pretty good drummer. Along with the ukes there is an electric drum kit, a djembe (really fun and really loud) and two different pan drums. Having someone around while I am pounding out a rhythm with any kind of drum isn't a problem at all. Though, truth to tell, most of my drumming is done when Deb is out doing other things. A djembe is overwhelming in a two room apartment. If I happen to be playing it outside, it can be heard several blocks away.

Music is also a place where, while I am playing, nothing else in the world actually matters. I can get completely lost in a single riff, one line of notes, or a simple chord progression, utterly oblivious to the passing of time. It is a magical place to be and has become my primary hobby in more ways than one. 

One of the ukes on my wall, a wood tenor, I built out of a kit the family bought me for Christmas. All of the parts were there, they just needed fit, assembled, and finished. It was a fun project, one I may take on again. The very artistic granddaughter who painted the cabinet finished the uke with some really cool custom artwork. It now hangs as the center of the collection and it sounds as good and any of the others.

   

Another of my ukes, a tenor strung as a 'low g" (not important) I modified by cutting a side sound hole in the body. I wanted a uke with just such a port, (it is kind of a new thing with ukes) but the one I played at the used music store had an eye-watering price. (One can spend a lot of money on a uke if one is so inclined, more than ten grand. I am not so inclined.) It worked out even better than I had hoped.

I wouldn't know what to say if someone asked me which is my favorite. Each one feels different when being played, and each is fun to play for different reasons. Each one sounds a little different. For some magical reason certain songs sound better on certain ukes. I guess my favorite is the one I happen to have in my hand at that moment.

Music is one of the better ideas that human kind has come up with. I am starting to believe that, if one isn't touched by music in some way, one isn't really much of a human at all.

One of the best parts of playing music is playing it with the grandkids. This was our first attempt to play together and I hate being recorded so be kind...

Our grandson started playing guitar while he was on First Light with us just two years ago. Having the next generation pick it up is so satisfying.