Heart Strings

“Hi, Jim! It’s Rachel. I’m calling from Barcelona.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound too excited. I was standing on the sidewalk below my fourth floor apartment on Calle Valencia in Barcelona, Spain, and, on a whim, was calling the farmhouse where he lived in northern Indiana. I hadn’t spoken with Jim in over a year. As we talked, I could tell he was surprised and glad to reconnect. And soon after, I received his first snail mail letter catching me up on his news and telling me that he had purchased a pedal steel guitar and that he was taking lessons on it.

I don’t know when I first heard the sweet sound of the pedal steel guitar. It might have been when I listened to the first Pure Prairie League album. Or when I went to hear a visiting band in concert  at Goshen College. What I did discover was that all the men who played these instruments held a certain attraction. When I learned that Jim was taking on the instrument, my heart gave a little leap. Upon my return from Spain, our friendship quickly turned romantic. That summer, I spent many a day and night following him to the local honky tonks and festivals to hear him play with his band. Never was the sound of the pedal steel sweeter to my ears. I loved watching him as he sat at the steel, focused, and using his fingers and knees and feet to bend those notes just the right way. I imagined each sound directed my way, and my ears were attuned to each nuance. It was a lovely summer.

Soon, we became partners and parents. Jim was still playing most weekends, bringing in some money to add to our meager budget. But the demands of the music were starting to encroach on our family time. He sold his guitar, his pedal steel and his other equipment, and let the band go.

About fifteen years later, through magical circumstances, an old friend sent Jim the beginner’s pedal steel that he had first learned on. One thing led to another. Jim bought a new pedal steel and started practicing again. He was back with a band and started using the pedal steel in performance again. Over the years, he has continued to practice and play slowly building up his repertoire again. As a builder of acoustic guitars and a craftsman with wood, he couldn’t help himself: he started building, in secret, his own pedal steel guitar.

One day, when I peeked into his shop, I noticed a pedal steel guitar I had never seen before. “What is that?”, I said. “Where did you get the money for it?” “Uh, that’s something I’ve been working on.”  “What?” “Yes, I’ve been trying to build it but I wasn’t sure it would work…” “What??” I was shocked. When I got over my surprise, I realized that this handmade pedal steel was going to put out even sweeter sounds.

These days, when I go hear Jim’s band play, I try to listen for those pedal steel songs.

I remember the early days of our love. I soak in those sliding notes that make my heart sing. And I still imagine he is playing them just for me.