Chinese Moon Fiddles

The day stretched long and wide as the Liu family gathered in the sewing room. Mrs. Liu worked at Grandma Mei’s sewing machine while the children played with Ge in the middle of the living room floor.
They sat on two sides of the cricket as he hopped back and forth, between them. He chirped gently as Mr. Liu, Grandpa and Grandma watched.
Lien-Hua held the pencils that Mr. Wong had used to show how a cricket chirps in her hands, clucking them noisily. Although it would usually upset Mrs. Liu, she was busy sewing a dress for the Opera. Grandma Mei and Grandpa Jong, on the other hand, loved the noise that their grandchildren made.
“Lien-Hua, see if you can be the harmony to Ge’s chorus,” said Grandpa Mei.
She clicked the pencil slowly, keeping time to Ge’s chirping rhythm.
“That’s it,” said Granda Jong.
Grandma Mei hummed softly, singing a gentle ballad for the rest of the family. Granda Jong tapped his foot softly as Ying drummed his hands on the carpet.
Ge continued singing and jumping about. He jumped across the sewing room and into the living room. Soon, Ying and Lien-Hua could not keep up as he hopped towards the bedrooms.
When Ying finally caught up with his cricket, they were in Grandpa and Grandma’s bedroom. Ge had crawled beneath Grandpa and Grandma’s bed and was hiding in a dark corner, just behind a large wooden crate.
“Come here,” said Ying as he stretched his arm towards Ge. The cricket crawled further into the corner, just out of Ying’s reach.
“How am I supposed to get you if you stay there in a far-off corner?”
Ge walked up towards Ying’s hand, and as Ying tretched out, Ge backed away again, happy in his dark, safe corner.
“Papa! Grandpa! Come here, I need your help!” In just a few moments, everyone had gathered around Ying.
“Ge won’t come out,” said Ying.
“Let me try something,” said Grandpa Jong. He reached behind the bed and waved his arm about. Ge hopped away from the corner and toward Ying’s outstretched hand.
“Somebody move that crate,” said Ying.
As Mr. Liu moved the crate, Ying reached out and grabbed the cricket.
“What is in that crate, papa?” asked Lien-Hua.
“Yes, what exactly is in that mysterious crate?” said Mrs. Liu as she crouched down and looked at the crate. She recognized the boxes immediately.
“Papa, you didn’t!”
“It was your husband’s idea.”
“Ya Liu, are you trying to make me cry?”
“No, I’m just trying to bring back an old smile,” he replied.
Mrs. Liu pulled the boxes from beneath the bed. Grandma Mei’s eyes lit up as she saw what her daughter had seen. It was another instrument case, only this one quite a bit larger than the other.
Mrs. Liu unsnapped the fasteners on the tiny black box and opened it. She pulled out a tiny, one-stringed violin called an Erhu. She held it gingerly in her hands.
“I forgot how good it felt to hold this,” said Mrs. Liu.
“Aren’t you going to open the other box?” Grandpa asked Grandma.
“I’m going to need a little help.”
Mr. Liu bent down and opened the large wooden crate. Inside it sat a large instrument.
“What is it?” asked Ying.
“It looks like a pregnant banjo,” said Lien-Hua.
“It’s a Pipa. It’s one of the oldest musical instruments from China,” said Grandma Mei.
“Play it for us,” begged Lien-Hua.
“I’m not going to play it here.”
“How about the sewing room?” asked Lien-Hua.
“Only if someone will carry it for me.”
Grandpa Jong picked up both instruments and carried them to the sewing room. He gave his daughter the Erhu and carefully placed the Pipa on Grandma Mei’s lap.
“It’s been a long time,” said Grandma Mei.
Ying’s mother held the bow in her hand awkwardly. A nervous smile escaped as she pulled the bow across the twin-stringed Erhu. The instrument let out a soft cry as she moved the bow back and forth.
“It’s been a very long time, indeed,” said Mrs. Liu.
Grandma Mei joined in, carefully plucking and strumming the Pipa that sat upright in her lap. Raindrops of notes jumped across the soulful cry of the Erhu.
“How about we play a song?” asked Grandma Mei.
“The only song I can remember is ‘Shining Energy,’” answered Ying’s mother.
“That’s one of my favorites. I remember you practicing it all night long,” said Grandpa Jong.
“Then Shining Energy it is,” said Grandma Mei. She plucked out the happy tune of Shining Energy, which floated along. Ying’s mother pinned the Erhu against her hip and pulled the bow across the strings. It sang the happy song of Shining Energy.
“That’s it,” said Grandpa Jong. A smile crossed his face as he tapped his large foot heavily on the sewing room floor. It boomed like a bass drum. Ying snapped his fingers and bobbed his head to the beat. Lien-Hua danced in the middle of the sewing room floor.
After the song ended, everyone clapped for the two Mrs. Liu girls. They bowed and set their instruments down.
“Ya Liu, where did you find my fiddle?” asked Mrs. Liu.
“I was in the basement looking through some old boxes when I found these. I opened the box and then mentioned it to your father.”
“So that’s what was in the box from Mr. Li?” asked Mrs. Liu.
“It wasn’t from Mr. Li. I took them into the furniture store and fixed them myself. I glued the fretboard on the Pipa and I replaced all the tuning knobs on your Erhu,” said Mr. Liu.”
“It’s beautiful. I have been wanting to teach Lien-Hua to play an instrument,” said Mrs. Liu.
“I like the Pipa more than the Erhu,” answered Lien-Hua.
“You could always learn both,” said Grandma Mei.
“Whichever one you wanted to learn, I’d love to help you,” said Mrs. Liu.
“And it would be good to hear music in the house again,” said Grandpa Jong.
Lien-Hua pulled her chair beside Grandma Mei and took the old Chinese Lute and set it in her lap.
“It’s very big,” said Lien-Hua.
The Pipa was almost as tall as Lien-Hua. Its neck stretching above her head. She investigated the Pipa for a few moments more, running her hands over the strings.
“If you press your fingers over one of these frets and strum, it changes the sound,” said Grandma Mei. Lien-Hua stretched her hand, trying to press several strings at once.
Grandma Mei strummed the Pipa gently. Her hand flowed easily over the pear-shaped box Pipa. Lien-Hua tried strumming, but couldn’t move her tiny hands over the long fret board quite quickly enough.
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should try the Erhu,” insisted Lien-Hua.
Mrs. Liu gave the bow and the Erhu to Lien-Hua and stood behind her, showing her how to properly hold the fiddle.
Lien-Hua looked up at Grandpa Jong and he nodded reassuringly. In the twinkle of an eye, Jong was transported back in time, when his daughter practiced every day and performed at countless recitals.
Lien-Hua carefully pulled the bow across the strings of the fiddle and it cried out in pain.
“It sounds like somebody’s stepping on a cat!” said Lien-Hua.
“Practice makes perfect. If you want to learn, we will teach you,” said Grandma Mei.
“I want to start with the Pipa,” said Lien-Hua.
“The Pipa is harder than the Erhu. You master the Erhu and then you can move on to the Pipa, okay?”
Lien-Hua frowned. “How long did it take you to learn?” she asked her mother.
“A long time,” answered her mother.
Lien-Hua frowned again.
“Don’t worry, we’re here to help you.”
Grandma Mei plucked out the notes of Shining Energy again and Mrs. Liu joined in, only this time, Lien-Hua held the bow. It chirped and squeaked unevenly, but with each stroke, it sounded a little better.
"Now turn that frown upside down," begged Grandpa Jong.
Lien-Hua smiled as they played more music.
The cricket began chirping again. This time, Ge was backed by the Liu family orchestra as they played all night long and sang songs together.