When Life is Getting you Down, Just Fiddle

Let's have a little fun today with my friend, Tracy Farr. When I was the managing editor for the online community magazine here in East Texas, Tracy was a regular columnist sharing his "I'm Just a Guy" column with our readers. This is one of his offerings from 2009. Enjoy...

There comes a time in a man’s life when he wakes up one morning, feels his bones creak as he gets out of bed, and realizes his tree-climbing days are just about over. He feels old, he feels tired, he looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and the monotony of every day life is an anchor that keeps dragging him further and further down into the abyss.
It’s at that moment that a man decides his life would look a whole lot better from the saddle of a brand new Harley Davidson Fat Boy – a black one, with straight pipes kicking out un-godly decibels of thunder, with the optional Biker Babe attached and holding on for dear life.

Yes indeed! Sometimes you need a bit of spice in your life to make it through the day. But I say a Bike and a Babe might not be the most prudent way to go about it. In my opinion, if a man really wants to add some flavor to his meal, what he truly needs is a fiddle – a down-to-earth, honest to goodness, low-tech, cat scratching, fingernails-on-chalkboard, wife yelling “Get that thing out of my house before I lose my ever-loving mind” fiddle.

Poppycock you say? Nonsense you say? You think I’m full of hot air, gibberish, gabble rubbish, and baloney? Maybe so, but I bet you good money that if you were to give a man the choice between a Harley/Biker Babe and a fiddle, he’d choose the Harley/Biker Babe every time – but only because that’s what society demands of him. Deep in his heart he yearns to play fiddle. Just ask him. He’ll lie to you, of course, but you and I know the truth.

(WORDS OF ADVICE: If you decide after reading this essay that you indeed need a fiddle, keep in mind that your local music store will try to sell you a violin instead. Don’t let them. Stand your ground. Tell them you weren’t born yesterday. You want a fiddle, and you won’t leave until they sell you one.)

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Posted by Maryann Miller, who doesn't play a fiddle or a banjo, but does a credible job strumming her 12-string guitar. Visit Maryann's Web site for information about her editing services and her books. When she is not working, Maryann loves to play farmer on her little ranch in East Texas, where Tracy also likes to play farmer when he is not playing the fiddle. For more fun posts from Tracy, visit his blog HERE. He has a thoughtful post up right now.