Probably it was the mid-’90s when I saw the Hawaiian ukulele player Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwo’Ole at the Lowell Folk Festival. His performance was one of the most memorable live music experiences I have ever experienced. He was electrifying, especially when he sang “Somewhere Over The Rainbow” that segued into “What a Wonderful World” and back again. I couldn’t have been more stunned at the beauty of it.
So much so that I said right then and there, “I can do that!” Now, you’re probably thinking, based on how great this guy must have been, that no, I can’t. I wouldn’t want to dissuade you of that notion, not entirely, but wait. Because, you see, after all these years, I’ve recently picked up the ukulele again. And by all those years, I mean more than 60.
The ukulele was my first instrument (not counting the triangle in kindergarten), which my Uncle George gave me when I was around 6 or 7 years old. It came with a book of songs that included “Skip to My Lou” and “Turkey in the Straw.” I don’t remember any of the other tunes, but, honestly, I’m impressed that I can remember those two after all this time.
I took to playing the ukulele like I was born to it, totally gung-ho. Right up until one of the strings popped. It’s just not the same with three strings. At 6 years old, I wasn’t in the financial position to buy a new string, and I hate to say it, but my parents were probably glad that with no ukulele, the caterwauling was over. And thus came the end of my ukulele career.
But wait a second. A week or two after I finished writing my book last fall, there appeared in my town’s weekly newspaper an announcement for a ukulele group that met twice a month at a local theater. Beginners welcome.
Now, I just happen to have a ukulele, which I acquired in a roundabout way. What happened is, several years ago, we went on a family vacation to Maui, and on our last day there, we walked into a music store and my future son-in-law picked up a ukulele and started riffing. Cut to the future: With my elephant-like memory, when future son-in-law became actual son-in-law, I gave him what I thought was a brilliant present: his own ukulele. It turns out I was terribly misguided, and to make that story a little shorter, I am now in possession of said ukulele.
So, twice a month I now go to a ukulele session. The average age of attendants is well older than my late first ukulele (RIP), and we all have a great time. With a few sessions under my belt, I’m way past “Skip to My Lou.” I’m talking “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “Octopus’s Garden.” This is the big time.
I’m starting to think my “I can do that!” when I heard IZ play all those years ago is maybe not too far off. You remember, don’t you, what happened the last time I said “I can do that”? Right, I wrote a book. One song is nothin’.
Here he is, my inspiration, Israel Kamakawiwo’Ole …