Lilly Bell the Autoharp

I’ve always loved singing—feeling air pass through my lungs and come out as charged emotion. I did a choral stint in middle school which included the classics--Bob Dylan to Pachelbel’s Canon in D. In high school I joined the gospel choir. As the single Jewish girl, I thought I was saving my soul by only mouthing the words, Jesus Christ when they came up, then going deep on a good, Sweet Chariot.

Yeah, it was public school in Brooklyn. I’m not sure how they managed it, either.

When I aged out of four part harmony, I settled for singing in the shower, and in the car, and while cleaning, and in prayer from my pew at synagogue, but purely for the pleasure of it.

I’d taken piano lessons as a kid, though ironically I don't have a great ear or coordination. I picked up the keyboard instead. The typing one, I mean, and leaned into telling stories.

Yet when the opportunity came, I jumped at the chance to take up music once more. My friend who is an exquisite singer, a cantor, encouraged me to do more at temple, to lead a service, to sing and also to play. 

Eventually she asked me to join the band she was starting. Our music formed a perfect connection for me between the ancient Jewish prayers, melody and a darned good time.

“Bongos,” she said. 

It turned out, I have no rhythm either—or hadn’t found it then. 

“Tambourine?” we tried. 

I played with relish, but apparently relish doesn’t cut the mustard. Even my tambourine skills proved to be more ephemeral than actual.

The lead guitarist chimed in. “I have just the thing.”

The next time we got together, he brought me an autoharp. She was a 32 string burnished cherry beauty with 21 chords—all conveniently labeled. One hand holds down the button and felt contacts tamp down the unnecessary strings, producing the desired, brrrrrnnnggg. It can be played in a long angelic moan, or manipulated into a jig. Finger placement is key as chords span octaves. I’ve brought people to tears with my version of asking God to raise us up, give us shelter, grant us good counsel.

Don’t look at me. A prayer is a question, not an answer. 

The autoharp can be bluegrass, or Dolly Parton/June Carter Cash country. Sheryl Crow has been known to pull one out and Brian Jones of the Rolling Stones is one of its players. Do you Believe in Magic? Yes, John Sebastian of the Lovin Spoonful is one of the autoharp’s greatest champions. Even Janis Joplin explained, “I took my harp out of my dirty red bandana, I was blowing sad while Bobby sang the Blues. Uh huh….”

I practiced and practiced and I found my beat. What I lack in mastery, I make up for in spirit. Suddenly I was a musician, not some kid who sang in high school chorus. 

My band has a steady gig. Our repertoire involves a Friday night Shabbat service and a few tunes picked up along the way. It’s a solid performance with its own devotees, and a thing I look very much forward to once a month.

I’m not the kind of person who performs randomly to an unintended audience. Plus, she’s a bear to tune so I don’t take Lilly Bell, my blonde wood upgrade out, too often. 

But when I found myself face to face with several visiting toddlers, it occurred to me it might be fun as a distraction. Not only for me, but for them.

Unsnapping its case for my fifteen month old nephew, I brought Lilly Bell to my lap. He looked intrigued, but kept chasing the dog. 

I stuffed my hand into three finger picks and strummed slowly. My nephew stopped and turned. The strings thrummed again and he looked into my eyes with awe. He grabbed my knees trying to get closer to the sound.

I strummed again and he sang. Well, gurgled, but sort of in tune. I played a bit and encouraged him to hold down the chords himself. We put our ears against her back and felt her resonate. I watched a light come on in his eyes and was delighted. It was a moment. And it touched me. Like recognizing a fellow traveler in a smaller, but life-sized mirror.

More toddler/kids came, this time from Spain, and I took it out again. They wanted to hear me play. They asked over and over, “Otra vez! Otra vez!”

The look and amazement I felt in all the kids’ face was raw, innocent and unfettered. They reminded me just what I love so much about being an artist in the first place. It’s a hope that a chorus I’m conducting is reverberating in perfect harmony along a string, a thread or cord that connects us, one to the other. An impossible bridge exists because we choose bring it to life. Thanks, Lilly Bell. 

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—This is the first of my newly launched, By Request feature

“Please write more about your singing, musical instruments and love for music.” Ele, Patchogue, NY

Full disclosure: Ele has been coming to the band’s Friday night Shabbat service since it began.

Thanks, Ele and the rest of you for all your great ideas. Please keep them coming!