Music

“Give me your ‘A’, Paul.I scoot onto the wooden stool and shift the guitar strap over my neck. The banjo twangs once, twice, three times—the solemn bestowal of the “A.”Another “picker” comes down the basement stairs as I am tuning up. He’s holding a guitar case in one hand and a mandolin case in the other.“Hey, do you think Mike’s going to make it? Will we have some fiddlers? What about a bass?”As if on cue, others begin to arrive, some carrying as many as three instruments. I drag out more stools and armless chairs to accommodate new arrivals. Empty instrument cases begin to pile up in the corner like cast-off cocoons.Another “A” is passed around with the conversation, intermittent twangs, plinks, and plunks sneaking up on it until each instrument is pronounced “within hollerin’ distance.”Anticipation building with excitement, the melodic strains of “Wildwood Flower” begins to emerge from somewhere…