Music Man

My mothers father came over from Sweden when he was in his teens. He actually came through Ellis Island which means he must have stood on a ship's deck and watched the Statue of Liberty getting closer and closer and then passed beneath her torch. I can only imagine what he must of felt. I am sure he was scared. I don't think he spoke much English if any when he walked off the gang plank in New York City.

His name was Otto Erickson. There are a lot of Ericksons in Sweden. Someone sitting at a desk that day on Ellis Island spelled his name for the records in this fashion. It could have been spelled any number of ways depending on the clerk at the desk. I read somewhere that Sweden is filled with Ericksons all with the same phonetic name and the different spellings came from different clerks at the immigration desks.

Grandpa's brother Eric had arrived in America a few years earlier and ended up out in Illinois near the border with Iowa. Grandpa joined him and somehow ended up in Burlington Iowa married to Hazel Emmery.

Both Grandpa and Uncle Eric could play the concertina accordion. (Not a piano accordion but the one you associate with polkas) They played well enough to play for dances. The Midwest had a fairly large population of Nordic settlers and I believe they played at a dance hall up in Swedesburg. (Sarah, you might want to ask Aunt Bert or Uncle Bob, they may know more.)

Anyway, the music Grandpa and Uncle Eric could make was incredible. The accordions came alive in their hands and put out beautiful music filled with runs and warbling rifts that trilled out Nordic melodies. Every Christmas they would play for hours. I was very young when Uncle Eric was still alive and I can only remember the music, not another thing about him. Grandpa inherited Uncle Erics accordion when he died. It was similar to Grandpa's but much nicer. The tone was even a bit richer.

Anyway, as I got older, I would beg Grandpa Erickson to play when we went to visit. I sat in front of him and watched the finger patterns for the melody. Eventually, I sat there often enough and long enough to use Grandpa's original accordion and I was able to learn one several note riff. Grandpa and Grandma had eight kids and none ever managed to learn to play the concertina although I know some of them tried. I think I was viewed as the last hope.

At some point Grandpa was so encouraged by my stumbling notes he gave me the accordion to take home and practice. It took me many months to learn to play a few tunes all the way through-- just the melody. I couldn't begin to cord and play the melody at the same time. It took years to learn to cord to one song while playing the melody. All this was done by ear. Grandpa played by ear as did Uncle Eric. The song I learned to cord to was a polka and had the um pa pa beat. I would love to be able to tell you that I developed rapidly from there--but in truth I am more determined than talented. I learned a few more tunes but they had a different beat and I never learned to cord and play them at the same time.

I got out the accordion recently. I like to hear the old tunes occasionally. It occurred to me that none of my grand children had ever heard me play. So this weekend when Em and Ethan were here I pulled out the accordion. It had the same effect on them as it did on me. The melodies really are captivating. This week end when we skype with the Alaska group, we'll see if it is captivating over long distances. I have a grandson there I hope to impress with my limited musical ability.

I am thinking of taking this show on the road and going up to Christy's daycare. Having only a few songs, their attention span and my ability are made for one another.