yes i got my drum last week , i have it hanging right now to protect it from my furbabies the killer queen cat and almighty chewer brownie, mini pin, its made of rawhide and sis said hed have a ball with it, so it is hanging up i will take a picture, ii played the other day while dave was upstairs,,, he didnt yell or anything hehehe , the furbabies kinda looked cockeyed at me and walked off LOL. I love to listen to the beat of the group Inanna, and some others, an acquaintence a few years back got me started on the dejembe drum i borrowed hers when we went to group at the college, now that i think i have figured out how to hold it i have been tryin to remember the rythms at the group.
i wish there was a group near by clarion pa, that i could attend, but i am grateful for my drum and sis, ive played all keyboard instruments since i was a child piano organ and electric keyboard , i tried guitar ha,now i can learn to raise the energy with the drum blessings sparky
Here's the story of my first drum. It is a beautiful Pearl Professional Series Conga drum. I was in Alaska for the second summer in a row, working at a cannery. There were a group of us that would hang out pretty frequently when we were not working. We lived fairly communally, as it was a good way to survive, considering we were all living in the woods in our tents or cars. We built a large teepee that served as our meeting area, kitchen, etc. In the center we had built a cozy fire pit.
Many of the folks had brought their instruments along, and just about every night, we would have an impromptu jam that would consist of a drum circle or a sing along. Those of us who did not own any instruments were always welcome to borrow an instrument from another if it was not in use. There was a girl named Dana who had the most beautiful conga drum that I had ever seen, and she would always let me play it. Its tones were nice and deep and its rim would offer a nice crisp pop whenever it was tapped just right. She had bought it in Anchorage just a few weeks prior.
Things were slow that summer at the cannery and the work was not as available to some as they had hoped, and Dana, who specialized in the processing of salmon roe, was not getting enough work. She decided that she needed to sell her drum, or she was going to have to take it back to Anchorage to get her money back. Anchorage is a three hour drive from where we were. I offered to buy her drum from her, because I was getting plenty of work in my position of quality control. After a few more weeks, our plant was closing its doors because it was just not seeing enough product to keep it open, so a few of us, including Dana, moved on to the town of Valdez.
After a week of being in Valdez, Dana and a few others decided that it was time for them to go back home. They were miserable there, but I decided that I was going to stick it out. Because I was still living in a tent, and it was rainy most of the time, I asked Dana if she would mind taking the drum back down to the lower 48 because I was not sure when I would be leaving, and where I would be going next. I knew that I would have a hard time lugging that drum around with me, and that it would be tough to get it onto a plane. She was so excited to be able to spend a few more weeks with that drum. I gave her $50 so that she could ship it from Arizona to Florida once she got back home. I honestly wasn't sure if I would ever see that drum again, nor did I really expect to.
I spent about another month in Valdez. I stayed long enough to close that plant for the season. After that I went to California to spend some time with my uncle (rest his soul). After about a month of being in LA and suffering from some serious culture shock, I decided that it was time to head back home. My plans were to stay with my mom for a few weeks until I could find a place of my own. When I arrived at my mother's house, and I started to unpack, she told me that there was a package that had arrived just a few days before, and that it was HUGE! She didn't know what it was. I immediately dropped everything and ran to the room where the package awaited me. There it was, from Arizona, a large oblong box wrapped with so much shipping tape that I wasn't sure how I was going to open it. I carefully sliced through the tape and cut back one of the panels, spilling packing peanuts everywhere. There, buried amongst those little chunks of safety was my drum! I was so overcome with joy that I cried! I honestly did not expect to see it again.
Sixteen years later, I still have that drum. It still has its original head, and is just as beautiful today as it was then. I have decorated it with some stickers, bells, and a red sash. It also now has a stand. That drum could tell some stories, and it has taken part in many drum circles throughout the years. It doesn't see as much action as it used to, in part because I have added a djembe and two doumbeks to the collection. I am cur