09/03/2026
Today as I was writing to a friend and the grandfather of our cellist student taking part in our pilot program, I was reminded again of how important the stories and songs are between generations—and how they are the “folkways” that connect us—defined as the casual customs, traditions, and etiquette of everyday life that guide how people interact in a group.
When I was working as a traveling hospice musician one of my patients spoke of her father, a self-taught fiddle player who performed locally with five other musicians. From the sound of it, they were the real deal. When I asked the name of the band she replied, “They didn’t have one.”
She then told me a story about her son and his grandfather. It demonstrates the practical wisdom imparted between generations. She proudly gave me permission to share it.
Pat’s son wanted his grandfather to teach him an instrument. So, one day his grandfather obliged and gave him a carpenter’s belt filled with nails, explaining that the first step to being a musician is to understand rhythm.
To clarify, he told his grandson, “The roof needs fixin’, so I want you to pound each one of those nails into that roof until you understand rhythm. Then we’ll talk music.” And, according to Pat, that’s exactly what the boy did.
This story is a real-life example of how the songs we sing become driven into our everyday lives, each a rite of passage. From lullabies to waltzes, patriotic anthems to protest songs, we are led back to our roots, a folkway to the next generation. Pat’s father illuminated the practical purpose of rhythm, much like the rowing songs discovered on the Sea Islands or train songs. The Great Migration, when millions of African Americans relocated to the north between 1916 and 1970, melded these work songs with the folkways of the white rural working poor, allowing traditional music to cross racial lines and ultimately changing the political and cultural landscape of our country.
To be able to do this work again. This time as a teacher and facilitator of folkways is a beautiful legacy to leave behind.
To close I am attaching a picture of my dear cat Echo who, like music, continues to live on in my heart.
