A True Story from Home There it was, lying in a black case on the quilt like a closed casket. “Well, open it,” she said quietly. I unhitched the clasps and cracked it open to see a dark violin lying in green velvet. It was coated in dust and rosin, its strings were frayed, and … Continue reading The Butcher’s Violin
The carnival tent on Fifth Street was as hot as an air balloon. The old men wore shiny shoes, and there was one woman in a dress with piano keys all over it. Ragtime wafted from pianos all over town—from the mainstage on Fifth; from somewhere up in the banisters of the Bothwell Hotel lobby; … Continue reading It Began in Sedalia
The college theater was dim last Friday night, and the musicians played Brahms in andante, which means it was soft and low. I would’ve drifted to sleep it hadn’t been so beautiful. The concertmaster from the St. Louis Symphony Orchestra was visiting our little town, and I wasn’t about to miss watching him vibrato each … Continue reading The Concertmaster
My favorite part of Fritz’s funeral was when his friends got up to tell stories about him--- how he got locked inside the city dump once, how he ate breakfast at Wimpy’s diner every week, and how the waitresses kept a bottle of special syrup there just for him. Fritz was man with his eyes … Continue reading Fritz
The newspaper was lying on the breakfast table last week, and while I ate my egg, I read an article about Mr. Krone, the man who (I think) made my violin, or at least restored it. The front-page picture showed him at a worktable, his big hands running raw wood under a chisel. He wore … Continue reading The Violin Maker
Our porch lights were on when we pulled up the drive at 1 A.M. last Tuesday morning – Joel, Trent, Janaya, and I. A strong, warm wind was in the trees, and a patch of stars blinked between clouds. (Maybe it's the way music works in me, but things always seem more vivid and alive … Continue reading Souls
November 15 Dad played Fernando Ortega at daybreak, as we'd pull away toward vacation-- usually Colorado. Now, I can't listen to his songs without craving a Voss Market breakfast sandwich and a trip West. When I hear "Old Girl" or "Traveler," I think of the sunrise out the van window and our heads lolling on pillows. Fernando's was … Continue reading The Day We Met a Legend
April 19 I’ve spent February, March, and April getting to know C. S. Lewis through his works. From Surprised by Joy to The Magician’s Nephew to The Weight of Glory to The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Lewis has stirred something inside me. There’s a German word he used—sehnsucht—to describe his inconsolable ache for something … Continue reading Sehnsucht: My New Blog Playlist
December 8 I’m a no-Christmas-music-before-Thanksgiving stickler. But this year, I broke my own rule in October because Andrew Peterson released his first recorded album of Behold the Lamb of God. Behold the Lamb is a collaborative Christmas production that’s been in the works for twenty years. Every December, Christian artists join at the Ryman Auditorium … Continue reading Behold the Lamb of God
They say the songs of your childhood never really let you go— that music has a seizing, shaping power. It must be true because my Southern Baptist pastor dad still thumps the steering wheel to Journey and James Taylor. Now I’m crossing that threshold between childhood and life beyond. I’m eighteen and watching just how … Continue reading In the Morning, When I Rise
bethanyjlincks.com 