Fatherhood has had a profound impact on my life, as it should, and playing music has come to occupy a different space than it did before my son's arrival last fall. It used to be that I'd carve out an hour almost every night to play banjo or fiddle. I would mark the calendar each month with the local old-time jams I planned to attend, and then attend them I would. Ever since my son was born last September, these luxuries seem beyond my reckoning. Now, I play my music in whatever time I can manage between work and family duties. My wife has been OK with my instruments residing in our dining room, close at hand for when I have the time to play. When the weather is nice, I drag my fiddle to the office and play in a nearby park at lunchtime. When my son gets fussy eating his dinner, I yank my banjo off the stand and play until he's ready for the next bite. When his eyes are fluttering as he settles down for a nap, I serenade his dreams. And when he's finally
How to learn to stop worrying and love the twang. A journey into old-time music.