Krakovski

It is very hot outside. Every clever man is on the lovely sandy beaches or somewhere in the deep shadow of old fat trees… I can only dream about lovely holydays I have in my life. Nowadays, for me is a holyday, when I finished my daily tasks, and have a little rest for some minutes to lay back on a bad and watching TV for a while, or catch a time to play my guitar… I love easy movies, to rest my mind of those stupid memories I am thinking about all day long. No ocean, no really holydays for me any more….

I remember the times, when I was about 16-17 years young, I used to spend my holyday with my parents in Hungary, at the side of the lake Balaton. We have there relatives, they were very kind people, and we spend 2 weeks with them in every summer.

I am not that kind of person, who like to lay in a hot sand for hours, but I like to be in water. I love to swim; I like water more than fishes. I love boats, I love to travel with boat, to feel that lovely cold wind brushes my hair, while the rippling wave touches my legs…

Oh, yes, we were on a holyday at my cousins, but they worked, they were not on holyday, they had to do their usual tasks while we were there. Our cousin John was working on a gasoline station, and his wife Cecilia was working in a little Coffee-bar beside the station. It was near their house, about five minutes walk beside the main road what surrounded that beautiful lake Balaton. Hungarian people calls it the "sea of Hungaria".

In a first week of our summer holyday, we already visited interesting places, like Tihany. It is placed on a hill at the border of Balaton. From this places we could se almost the all lake, and naturally we climb up to the hill, to here the famous "echo of Tihany". I can tell you, I did not here it, but maybe it is also only one mythological tales…My parents and cousins already tasted the famous vines…I know, it was a little tedious for me, because I have not friend here of my ages…The swimming, and the sun-bathing was enough for me after some day…sometime I said to myself: "What a fucking hell! Why did not I go to the Adriatic sea with my school friends? Sometime it seems to me very stupid and idiot here…!"

I know the answer for that. If I had traveled to the sea, my parents could not be able to go to their relatives here. They have no money for two holidays, and I thought, sea or lake, there is water and sun everywhere…

One day, the family decided to go to some new restaurant, but I stayed at home. "My God! Every restaurant is same! Man goes there just to see what to eat! On that hot summer day, better to stay in the nice cold room, or enjoy the fun of water and sun. I stayed at home, lied on a bad, and looking to the pictures on a wall.

In one moment, I looked to the chair opposite me, and sow some strange thing, I was wondering, what is it. My "wise ness" told me, it must be some instrument, but who knows, what is it. It seemed to be something like guitar , but it wasn’t. While I was thinking what it would be, the opens, and my cousin John comes in. He comes back, because he forget his keys of his car.

Than he put banjo in his hands, sit down to the chair, and touched the strings on it. Move some buttons around at the end of the neck of the instrument, and started to play on it. It had a heavenly voice! Than he put the instrument into my hands, and said:

He went out, shouted the door, and I was alone in the house with that interesting instrument in my hands. Oh, yes, I was looking at the banjo, as I could look at the cow’s ass, and banjo was looking at me. The old, warn, seedy banjo.

"I shall not look at it all day! So, what did John do with it?" – I said to myself.

I started to experiment with voices on it. It had lovely, metal-voice, but after a little playing it started to loose that beautiful, pleasure voice. The strings started to stretch, because the instrument was so old, it was not able to keep the tune. Than I tuned it again, but it started again to stretch… Than I thought, I must tune it harder! At least, the strings get stronger. I started to touch the strings again… "That’s it!" – I thought, and started to enjoy the tones…and in that moment, suddenly, I had heard a strange noise…cracked the bass string on a banjo…..I wonted to repair it, started to tune it…but it was too old, and rusty…as I tuned it, it twisted and got longer like a bubble-gum!....Than I had hear an other crack…it was the other string! I started to tune it again, and at least I had successfully broke them…!

I was in a big trouble! What can I do now!? It was a shame thing for me, because I destroyed the instrument…and one question, but big question "What shall I say, if they came back?"

It was evening, when cousins come back. I was very silent and said. I had tried to find words to explain what had I done, but no words for those things…

Next day, John sow the banjo with broken strings, he was very disappointed, asked me what had happened to it. My answer was:" I do not know! I had just played on it…" Probably he sow my sadness too, and his answer was: "All right, it was old anyway, I shall buy new strings for it!"

In the rest days with John and Cecilia, I was just thinking about the old banjo…and planted a will deep in my heart "Some day, I would like to have a banjo…to play it days and nights…" ck to Yugoslavia, we beautiful, pleasure voice. _____________________

Today, Rock Lady has one bass guitar, one black Showmaster HSH el.guitar (by Fender), and one red Powerhouse from de luxe serie....and many-many texts on english and hungarian language....that MAKES THE LOVE OF THE MUSIC.

NEXT TIME.....come's the story....SHE CAN'T SING.....Peace