Ok, so I love this.
Not just because my father played accordion.
Not just because my German grandmother loved to polka and the very first time she danced again after her first massive stroke was to a polka with my grandfather on the reception dance floor at the renewal of marriage vows my husband and I held.
Not even just because one of my top all-time favorite musicans is "Weird Al" Yankovic, whom I have seen in concert three times and creates the unexpected from the expected - while using an accordion.
Or that a favorite fictional character, Waldo Butters, M.D. (from Jim Butcher's "Dresden Files" book series) is a polka-loving, accordion-playing virtuoso who has a suit to compete as a one-man band in polka competitions and has used said skills to save the day.
And no, not because even as a kid rummaging around downstairs, and finding/playing with my father's old accordion, I spent hours considering how versatile it was and how unassuming or even "dorky" it looked on the outside - much like me, I thought at the time.
If I were to have walked into that room full of instruments you mentioned, I would have headed for the cello or bass guitar. They plays classical music, look sophisticated, but suddenly can turn on a flick of the wrist and become the driving force of a jazz riff or heartbeat of more modern hard-hitting tunes. This with only a few simple strings. It doesn't require the complex interaction and coordination of buttons, bellows, and keys to create the unexpected.
But I love this HoH because of two things.
1) It brought me back to my roots, my family, and my personal interests. I don't play accordion, but I play piano, organ, flute, piccolo, and am semi-decent on a few other instruments with a couple of instruments still on my "to learn" list (harp and French horn at the moment). I may just add accordion to that list. It is part of my familial heritage too.
2) My choice of cello or bass guitar made sense, but lacked a certain "something." This HoH made me realize what that was.
A reflection that looks can be deceiving.
Those stringed behemoths look classy just sitting on a stand in the corner. The accordion? Not so much.
But literally as the folds in the bellows open, new secrets and discoveries of sound and harmony and emotion are revealed - then hidden again as it collapses in upon itself during the squeeze.
We ARE accordions.
We open up to others and close ourselves off to others. Our unique music is shared with some, and not with others. Not everyone appreciates our music - but many do.
Those who "push our buttons" may find either a melody or discordant tones, depending upon what other buttons and keys are being pressed - and what our personal inner state of being may be. This is the squeeze and release of the accordion bellows in action. Are we open? Or closed? Full of breath and with arms spread open to receive? Are we experiencing the bottom of the exhale with arms protectively close to our body in inward contemplation of the notes just sent out to the universe?
I wouldn't choose the accordion if I walked into that room full of instruments. I wouldn't need to. Because I have now realized I AM the accordion. And life is good as an accordion. 😊
Thank you for this, Betsy. I see the light - and hear the music (polka or otherwise) - within you. 🤲🏻❤️🤲🏻
