Learning from Old Hippies

 Learning from Old Hippies

By Bobby Neal Winters

Teaching is an art and a science.

But it’s mainly an art.

I am trying to learn how to make flutes. That is to say, I am trying to teach myself how to make flutes with copious aid from YouTube.

Eventually I would like to make recorders. “Eventually” is a long word in terms of letters and of time. This may take a while because there is a lot to it.

A lot.

At this point, I’ve put recorders on hold for a while because I want to get them right.  This is a precise instrument being made for the European tradition where there are a lot of picky people with very high standards.  

Very picky; very high.

For the time being, I’ve shifted to the Native American flute. This instrument makes a beautiful sound that will make anyone of primarily English descent like myself feel sad and guilty in nanoseconds. (Irish music will do the same, but we are also good at pushing through the guilt and sadness.)  It has the advantage of being taught by some very mellow people who are in touch with themselves spiritually. You get the feeling that they don’t deal out criticism or backhanded compliments.  They praise what you do, and then gently direct you in ways to be better.

I find that I can learn from these gentle teachers for the small price of ignoring the nose rings.

And here's the thing. I don’t know if any of the Youtubers who are teaching how to make Native American flutes are actually Native Americans.  I do know that they are all--for lack of a better word--hippies. Hippies, who in their deepest souls, want to be Native Americans.

From my experience, those are the very best kind of hippie.

Anyway, among them are some very good teachers.

Okay, in making a flute--recorder, Native American, picolo, whatever--the big picture goes like this: You take (or make) a long tube and then make the right sort of modifications in it to make music. That is the view from 30,000 feet.

Right now, because of my equipment, I’ve got a limitation on how long of a tube I can make out of wood.  Using a drill, I can go 5 inches one way.  I can then turn that around and do a five inch hold on the other end.  So--and the math is not hard--I can only make a 10-inch long flute from wood.

The rule is this: The shorter the flute, the higher the pitch. The sound can be somewhat...annoying. 

Longer instruments make a lower, more mellow sound.

There are ways to bore longer holes and I am working on that, but in the meantime, my hippie teacher has a lesson that has allowed me to put aside the hole-boring for a while and to learn about doing the modifications needed to make music.

His teaching technique: The PVC pipe Native American flute.

Right, you can see it right away. You’ve got the pipe of basically any length you need.  You can then just concentrate on modifying it to make music.

PVC music, but music none the less.

Part of the art of teaching is that there has to be a bit of success along the way in order to encourage learning.

I spent a morning yesterday doing the work needed to make the PVC pipe make music.  I cut holes in it; I put a wood plug in at the correct place.  I carved the edge on the sound hole; I put “The Bird” over “The Nest.”

Then I blew into it.

Sadness. Pure, beautiful, righteous sadness.

This is from someone who literally cannot put two notes together.

In the hands of an Indigenous musician, this can produce great beauty.  The hippie on Youtube can do a pretty good job himself.

For my part, I have to use the powers I get from my ancestors to push through the guilt and learn as much as I can.

There is something to learn, about so many things, and in so many ways.

Bobby Winters, a native of Harden City, Oklahoma, blogs at redneckmath.blogspot.com and okieinexile.blogspot.com. He invites you to “like” the National Association of Lawn Mowers on Facebook. Search for him by name on YouTube.