Welcome to this week’s blog hop. Today the topic is:
If you weren’t an author, what other art would you likely pursue?
I’ve always been musical, but have never really mastered an instrument. I had violin lessons as a young child, and when I left junior school my violin teacher gave up his lunch time once a week to come to my grammar school and teach me. I was the only child in the school having music lessons, and the kids would look in the window of the classroom and take the piss, which put me off big time. Now I’d happily stick a middle finger up at them, but at age 11 all I wanted to do was to fit in with everybody else. I gave the lessons up.
My parents bought me a guitar for my 13th birthday and I had a few guitar lessons, but found it hard on my wrists and fingers. Perhaps that’s why most guitarists are men? Anyway, I persevered and formed a little group with some school friends, but then we all discovered boys and the guitars went out of the window, so to speak…
Next came the piano lessons when my kids were a bit older. I passed the Grade IV exam, but gave it up after that as trying to sight-read Grade V music was rather difficult for me. By then I suppose I didn’t have the motivation to study at the same time as being a mother, running a home, and going out to work full time.
So… to answer the question, I would like to have been a musician. However, my youngest son has more musical talent in his little finger than I’ve ever had in both hands, and he doesn’t read a note of music. Like my mother could with the piano, he can just pick up a guitar and play any tune (with wailing solos for greater effect) that you care to name.
If not a musician, then I’d like to have been a professional dancer. I still enjoy dancing today (I can do a mean cha-cha) but in my younger days had never even thought of trying to make a living at it.
Let’s see what other blog hoppers would do if they weren’t authors. You can join in by clicking the blue button below, or just leave a comment.Rules:
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Stevie Turner 
I tried to teach myself to play guitar, but then I had an accident and lost some of the hearing in one ear. Of course, I had no sense of rhythm, so that made it difficult!
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Still… you tried, lol.
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“What else is sacred? Oh, Romeo and Juliet, for instance. And all music is.” – Kurt Vonnegut
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Very true!
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Shared on Twitter, Stevie. 🙂
Best wishes, Pete.
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Thanks Pete.
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I can play a mean air guitar but that’s about it.
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I can play chords, but my son can do all those wailing solos as well.
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I was taught to play the piano but I’ve not touched a keyboard for decades I’m afraid
As for dancing, I lack the coordination or memory for it. My lady wife and I have never actually danced together. There again, she isn’t a great dancer either.
I’d love to be able to draw and paint but alas. But that’s the other art I would choose.
Still I’ve always had a great deal of genuine admiration for those who can do these things. Even those who just have fun and have a go.
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Sam has two left feet, but we sometimes go to barn dances. He’s not too bad at that.
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A friend of mine is one of those people who can play an accordion and organise a barn dance at a drop of a hat. If there is plenty of room then I might take part 🙂
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I love barn dances. We get a lot of them around here.
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There are various dance clubs and societies but because it’s ‘not my world’ I’m a bit vague about what there is. Apparently ‘Scottish country dancing’ is quite popular round here and further north
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The true definition of a musical gentleman (or lady) is someone who knows how to play the accordion but won’t.
Quick, the definition of an optimist? An accordion player with an agent.
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love it
🙂
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We have a little old man who plays the accordion in our market square. He’s been there for 30 years. Every year he gets a little older and thinner. I think he’s immortal.
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Rodney, an accordionist, lived in a walkup over a neighborhood bar called Rocco’s in a grimy part of town. It was New Year’s Eve, and without a date or any plans Rodney decided a trip downstairs to Rocco’s would raise his spirits. Sleet, snow and a fierce cold wind greeted Rodney when he exited the enclosed stairwell. He pulled his scarf and coat tight, fought the wind to the door of the bar. Upon entering a handful of neighbors and the bartender greeted him, and immediately went back to a grainy picture on the over bar television wherein a man without a hat stood in the freezing sleet warning the city the dangerous blizzard conditions would only worsen overnight. The bartender switched the TV to a New Year’s celebration somewhere warm and turned the volume down, picked up the phone, listened briefly and dropped it back into its cradle.
“So much for New Years, The band is stuck out on the causeway, the caterer broke her hip getting to her van and the jukebox is broke.”
Rocco’s heaved with a collective sigh.
“Say,” a florid man turned from the bar. “Don’t Rodney play some kinda music?”
“He does,” said the thin lady in a dress that was fashionable in her distant youth. “Accordion, ain’t it?”
“Yeh…ess. I got a little PA system, too.”
“Can ya sing?” Someone hoarse croaked from the shadows.
“A little. I know a lotta songs. The kind most people just sing along to.”
“Well?” The bartender cocked an eyebrow.
“Right.” Rodney bundled up, fought the cold to the stairwell and returned in less than five minutes with his whole accordion rig bungee-corded to a warehouse dolly.
People got on their phones and called everyone they knew within walking distance, told them the party was on at Rocco’s. Most of them showed and Rodney helped them usher in the New Year with the best snowed in party ever.
Just after 2 AM the bartender locked the door and handed Rodney $200 saying, “Same as I woulda paid a whole band! Helluva a party kid. Something outta the ordinary, y’know? How about you do it again next year?”
“Sure thing,” Rodney said, pocketing the cash. “Is it okay if I just leave my gear here?”
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