Hello Hammered Mbira
Wednesday was a pretty good day.
It started like most days: up early, one cup of coffee to get everything moving, and then drinking enough water to make me uncomfortable. This has been my routine throughout radiation. While it may seem very simple to arrive at radiation oncology at the proper time and be ready to hop in the machine, each session begins with an ultrasound to verify that the bladder is properly full, not too much, not too little. I get it right about half the time, even though I consume the same amount of fluids each morning. The ultrasound reading is never the same. Many factors contribute to the differences, like how hot it is, how much I exercised the prior day, my salt intake, etc.
With apologies for the bad pun, 26 treatments in, it is clear that this is a crap-shoot and the body is going to do what it is going to do. The remedy is simple: drink more water, wait, or pass some to the porcelain. However, the pressure to get it right, both internal and external, is real because there are other people, some doing the gotta-pee dance, in the waiting room and desperately hoping everything stays on schedule. I'm fortunate to have one of the earlier appointments, although I still care for my fellow man or men since these are first-world male issues.
Yesterday, for instance, only required waiting about five extra minutes, which was great news because I had a busy day planned. On Wednesdays, radiation precedes an additional visit with the doctor to ensure no new problems have cropped up.
After finishing the checkup, I hopped on my trusty CatTrike Expedition and rode to the nearest car rental facility to begin my adventure. The process took about an hour, so by the time I was able to get behind the wheel, it was already 11 a.m. My return time for the Toyota Tundra rental was before the closing time of 5:30 p.m. that same day.
With my trike in the back of the truck, I headed to South Lake Tahoe, reaching my destination at 1 PM. The reason for the visit was to pick up a Hammered Mbira made by my friend Don MacLane, and no, he's not the guy who sang about Vincent Van Gogh taking his Chevy to the levy.
This is my Don MacLane hammered mbira.
My friend Jean Desilets safely delivered the instrument from last weekend's Hammered Dulcimer Rendezvous near Portland, OR, to her home in Nevada. She lives about 20 minutes from Lake Tahoe. This act of kindness saved approximately six hundred dollars in shipping costs. The truck rental, including gas, only cost me $46.
Here's a snippet of video after the uncasing in South Lake Tahoe.
A mere two hours later, I was on my way back to Sacramento, but so were thousands of others, perhaps beginning their Memorial Day vacation travel. It was tense, and I returned the rental at exactly 5:28, a little too close for comfort.
After returning to my home-away-from-home in the Kiwanis Family House, I headed outside to explore the mbira. I am blown away by how much I love playing it. One of my mostly unspoken dreams is to be able to play like legendary jazz vibraphonist Gary Burton, but the traditional hammered dulcimer layout makes that a lofty goal. Within about an hour, I felt like I was channeling a little Gary Burton vibe (pun intended). Of course, I've got a long way to go, but I couldn't be happier with this mbira's tone, layout, volume, and range.
While playing, one of my buddies from Shriner's Children's Hospital came out to listen. I put a kashaka in her hand, and in a couple of minutes, we created this little ditty, recorded by her mother. It was a perfect ending to a busy day. I'll give a more thorough demonstration of the mbira soon.