Dear Old Dad can tell you that once in a while the pain I deal with on an everyday basis gets to me. If it isn’t that then it’s the nightmarish amount of technical stuff I have to handle with on equipment that will stop working if I look at it the wrong way. Add in nonsense from angry people at random intervals and there are moments when I throw my hands up in the air and wonder why I do this job.

I was having one of those moments a few days ago when I ran across an email John in New York sent us in 2008:

Dear Pat and DoD,

I just got married last weekend and although I’ve only been playing
for about 6 months, I belted out a version of “The Wild Rover” at my
big fat Irish wedding.  This was my first performance in public.  It
was one of the scariest things I have ever done (and I’ve jumped out
of airplanes).  The worst happened: I forgot some lyrics and was about
60% as good as I am in private on the banjo.  Guess what?  No one
cared.  The crowd was so into it that they filled in what I forgot and
helped me along.  This was by far one of the highlights of an awesome
reception.  I want to thank you guys for all the services you have
provided that enabled me to do this (and put that look of sheer joy on
my new wife’s face).

Letters like this – pictures like this – moments like these are why I fight through my hearing and seizures and strokes and everything else that gets thrown in my way.

I have a lot of emails, cards and letters like Johns. Stories of men and women who took up the banjo to sing to, for and about the people that they love.

I love my job.