I promised Lou I would jot down some memories of my musical career. It all started before I was born. Every hour of practice Mom and Dad had practicing piano or violin caused their DNA to adapt over a 7-year cycle. Those changes were sent on to me, as well as the hundreds of such adaptations of the DNA of their ancestors. I know from my research that Mom's Uncle, The Rev. John Greenleaf Waelde was an accomplished violinist, as was one of his son's. The dozen or so ministers in our ancestry were at least connected to vocal music. Every year, research comes closer to making a connection between our ancestors and those of Jean Baptiste Calkin, a hymn composer with at least four melodies published in Methodist hymnals, most notably "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day."
But my first "encounters of the third kind" were not Mom or Dad, but Grampa Waelde, I recall the Waelde clan gathered at his house on 18 Mile road. After dinner, with a little encouragement, he would either do a recording on the recording phonograph, or drag out one of his handmade instruments.
One was the musical saw, or "singing" saw, which was just a regular rip or crosscut hand saw with a quality tempered blade, and an old violin bow.
Holding the saw handle between his knees, and bending the other end of the saw, he stroke the upper edge of the saw (without teeth) with the violin bow, making a beautiful sound, whose tone could be raised or lowered by bending or relaxing the end of the saw.
His other instrument had a similar sound, and was just about as difficult to play. It was a homemade Theramin, the second electronic instrument ever invented (back about 1928). Tubes, and wires, and knobs, and a car aerial sticking up out of the mess. He hooks up a drycell battery, turns a couple of the knobs, and waves his hand toward the aerial. When his hand got within 3 feet of the the aerial, a sound emanated from the household radio, to which the device had been attached. As his hand grew closer, the pitch raised, and lowered as his hand retreated. He let me "play" it, but the results were dreadful.
And now that I have mentally revisited that day, I have a craving to buy one, not a cheap $88 one, but a $350 one with the additional wire loop for controlling volume. My female dog, Tessie, can't resist "singing" along with my harmonica; I can't imagine what she would do to me playing the "Star Trek" theme.
Next time: hooked on performing.