I had to go and have a little cry on that one, Sorcha.

You scored big time. Golden River was the last piece I ever played publicly with my Dad, accompanying him on the stage of the George W. Manhart Post of the American Legion hall in Sacramento in March, 1946. My Dad had a singing voice a lot like Hank Snow, and he was a pretty good guitar and banjo picker. I played the fiddle from the age of seven on and I often accompanied him if he was performing without the orchestra and sang songs like Cowboy Jack and Utah Trail and When The Works All Done This Fall. I played for square dances at the age of nine (Devils Dream, Chicken Reel, Soldiers Joy) I was sixteen when the war started and I ran off and joined the Marine Corps. On Guadalcanal I got a minor bayonet wound that severed a lot of nerves in my left hand and a year later in the Russell Islands I crushed all the fingers, same hand. It all healed pretty good but it just didn't work so good afterwards. I'm afraid I wasn't much good to my Dad that night at the Legion Hall.

I tried picking up the fiddle again from time to time, but each time my hand got a little stiffer and so I taught myself accordion in the fifties but I eventually had to give that up, too. In 1981 I called the whole thing off and sold both my fiddles and I gave my last accordion to my daughter.

I grew up on music. I love music. It was music and the ability to make it that brought this country through the depression and the war that followed. I've got great- grandchildren now. I hope their children will be able to use music to help them through their times of trouble.

Again, thanks. You've been a blessing. Spud