Naming of the parts (Ukulele version.)
Posted: Thu Feb 01, 2024 5:44 am
Naming of the parts.
My Grandaughter challenged me,
"Name the parts of your Ukulele."
So I did, from one end to the other.
Head stock, tuning pegs, nut,
neck, strings, frets."
She nodded her approval.
"Body, sound hole."
I turned it over,
tapped the underside,
"Belly."
"Didn't know that, Grandad.
Thought that was all just the body!"
"It's called the belly on a fiddle."
I saw her file that fact for later.
A temporary facial stillness,
and a little semi-blink,
shutting the mental file drawer.
"Bridge."
"What's the bit under the bridge?"
Damn! My mind went blank.
I saw her face light up. Eyes watchful.
"I like seeing your brain ticking over.
It's funny when you get stuck."
No answer from my memory bank.
"Bridge support?"
Raised eyebrows, a gleeful little smile,
"That's what it does, not its name. "
"Okay, Smartarse, name that part."
"Saddle."
So we had a neuro-diverse detour,
comparing it to a horse saddle,
wondering why the bridge sat off-centre.
"If you sat on a horse like that,
you'd fall off. Trust me."
Then we went back to strumming,
fretting, and trying to nail chords.
It's not really music yet,
despite occasional melodic moments.
But we made a joyful sound together.
Found we'd lost three hours.
and gained sore fingertips.
She already has gymnast's callouses
from swinging on bars, and groundwork.
I have residual ones from the Arena,
sword and staff callouses,
and space-bar callouses too.
The fret and strum ones are growing.
Every trade leaves it marks.
Gyppo
My Grandaughter challenged me,
"Name the parts of your Ukulele."
So I did, from one end to the other.
Head stock, tuning pegs, nut,
neck, strings, frets."
She nodded her approval.
"Body, sound hole."
I turned it over,
tapped the underside,
"Belly."
"Didn't know that, Grandad.
Thought that was all just the body!"
"It's called the belly on a fiddle."
I saw her file that fact for later.
A temporary facial stillness,
and a little semi-blink,
shutting the mental file drawer.
"Bridge."
"What's the bit under the bridge?"
Damn! My mind went blank.
I saw her face light up. Eyes watchful.
"I like seeing your brain ticking over.
It's funny when you get stuck."
No answer from my memory bank.
"Bridge support?"
Raised eyebrows, a gleeful little smile,
"That's what it does, not its name. "
"Okay, Smartarse, name that part."
"Saddle."
So we had a neuro-diverse detour,
comparing it to a horse saddle,
wondering why the bridge sat off-centre.
"If you sat on a horse like that,
you'd fall off. Trust me."
Then we went back to strumming,
fretting, and trying to nail chords.
It's not really music yet,
despite occasional melodic moments.
But we made a joyful sound together.
Found we'd lost three hours.
and gained sore fingertips.
She already has gymnast's callouses
from swinging on bars, and groundwork.
I have residual ones from the Arena,
sword and staff callouses,
and space-bar callouses too.
The fret and strum ones are growing.
Every trade leaves it marks.
Gyppo