Banjo of Destiny (6 page)

“Dad, Mom,” he said, quickly putting down the banjo. “I'm sorry I ran out like that.”

“Did you really build that yourself?” his mother asked. “Monroe said you did.”

“The shop teacher helped.”

“You know,” his father said, “until now I've never actually heard someone play the banjo. It's a pretty nice sound.”

“You really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

Maestro Boris stepped forward.

“May I see your instrument?” he asked.

Jeremiah held it out and Maestro Boris took it gingerly by the neck. He peered at it closely in the darkness, turning it upside down and around.

“A very interesting, if primitive, instrument. Of course many great composers were influenced by folk music. Beethoven. Dvorak. Real music always touches the soul. Even music from a...cookie tin.”

He gave the banjo back to Jeremiah.

“Play another, Jeremiah,” his mother said.

“I don't think — ”

“Please,” said his father. “For us.”

Jeremiah sat down and began to play his latest tune, “Wildwood Flower.” He didn't play it too quickly, but let the first low notes vibrate like someone twanging a fat elastic band. Then he let the bright, high notes of the second part ring out like tiny bells.

“Nice playing, Hayseed!” somebody called. Jeremiah saw Damien Mills passing by with his parents.

“Hayseed?” his father said. “Now
that's
going too far.”

Regular Life

JEREMIAH BIRNBAUM'S
life did not dramatically change after talent night, but it did get a lot better. He still had homework, still had some of his after-school classes (although his parents let him drop etiquette), still took piano lessons with Maestro Boris.

He started to enjoy playing the piano a lot more, now that Maestro Boris allowed him to choose his own pieces. At school, kids quickly forgot about the spectacle of him dashing from the stage on talent night. When he played his banjo under the tree, some kids listened. Others ignored him.

But that was okay, Jeremiah thought. That was
normal
.

Banjo playing was just a regular part of life. It was a part of who he was and what he liked to do.

One day a new student, a girl with brown eyes and bangs, came up to him with a guitar covered in stickers. Her name was Marci Kalman.

“I know six chords,” she said. “Want to jam?”

“Sure,” Jeremiah said.

•••

EARLY SUMMER
meant warm weather, leaves on the trees and bright grass. It also meant another cross-country run.

As always, Luella slowed down her pace to keep Jeremiah company.

“I know what you're thinking,” she said, as their feet pounded the gravel country road. They were well behind most of the other students.

“You always think you know what I'm thinking.”

“Well, I do. You're thinking about that man.”

Luella was right. Jeremiah had often thought about the man he had first seen playing the banjo, sitting on the porch of that abandoned farmhouse. He wished that he could meet him again and thank him.

“Seeing him the first time was a lucky fluke,” Luella said. “It's not as if he's going to come back. Not even if he knew that he changed the life of Fernwood Academy's dorkiest student. You're not going to find him again.”

“I know,” Jeremiah said. “Let's take the short cut anyway. Just for old time's sake.”

They headed for the old farmhouse. Luella chatted about how she was going to spraypaint her army boots gold, but Jeremiah wasn't listening. He was thinking about everything that had happened in the past year or so.

But then Luella stopped talking. Because she heard something. And so did Jeremiah.

Banjo playing. Playing that grew louder as they went around the corner of the house to the front porch.

The tune was “Roustabout.” Jeremiah recognized it although he didn't know how to play it himself.

He and Luella looked at each other.

“We're going to be late getting back to school, aren't we?” Luella said.

But Jeremiah didn't answer. He was already going up the porch steps, nodding to the man.

When the man saw Jeremiah, he nodded back and finished the tune.

“Well, hello again,” he said. “So have you learned to play a little since we last saw each other?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Jeremiah.

“I thought you might have.” The man held out the banjo. “Show me, would you?”

So Jeremiah did.

A Note from the Author

MANY QUESTIONS
remain unanswered about the history of the banjo, from its African origins to the modern instrument it has become. But one thing is sure. The early American banjos were handmade by individuals who wanted to play and a little later by woodworking craftsmen in small shops. And, yes, it is possible — and not all that difficult — to make your own banjo.

The wood for the first banjo that I made came from a broken Ikea chair. For the third and most recent one, I used wood that I found in the garage of our house (it looked like oak flooring). Two of the banjos have pots made from cookie tins. For one I used a hand-drum that looked something like a large tambourine. That banjo produced a better sound.

A search on the internet (using such words as “homemade banjo” and “cookie-tin banjo”) will produce all kinds of photographs, drawings and plans. No two hand-crafted instruments are ever exactly alike, which is part of their charm. For the pot, people have used cigar boxes (an old tradition), gas cans, even wooden salad bowls with a skin stretched over the top. You can also see people playing homemade banjos on YouTube.

If you want to build your own banjo (or any other instrument), remember that tools can be dangerous. Always ask an adult for help. There are also books in the library and information on the internet about building simple homemade instruments out of cardboard boxes, plastic bottles, rubber tubing and the like. Building any instrument is fun, and making music by yourself or with others is a blast.

As for learning to play the banjo, there are plenty of instruction books and DVDs available, including some specifically for kids. You might even be able to find a real live teacher in your town. In
Banjo of Destiny
Jeremiah begins with a DVD called “Elements of Clawhammer Banjo.” That's a real DVD starring Chris Coole, and it's a good one. Chris happens to live in my town, and is pretty much responsible for my own love of banjo. Thanks, Chris!

Some more thank yous are in order. To Shelley Tanaka and Patsy Aldana and Michael Solomon and Nan Froman and everyone else at Groundwood. To Rebecca, Sophie (Ms. Red Pencil herself) and Yoyo for first reading and commenting on the manuscript. And to all the amazing kids I've seen playing banjo (and mandolin and guitar and fiddle) at music festivals in the past few years. Some of the inspiration for Jeremiah came from them.

About the Author

Cary Fagan is an award-winning author of books for children and adults. His work has won the City of Toronto Book Award and the Jewish Book Committee Prize for Fiction. His first novel for children,
Daughter of the Great Zandini
, won a Mr. Christie's Award Silver Medal, and his picture book
Thing-Thing
(illustrated by Nicolas Debon) was a finalist for the TD Canadian Children's Literature Award and the Marilyn Baillie Picture Book Award. He is also the author of
Book of Big Brothers
(illustrated by Luc Melanson),
The Big Swim
and
Mr. Karp's Last Glass
, all published by Groundwood. Cary lives in Toronto, where he writes, and practices the banjo.