The Fiddler

         He was a little more than middle-aged; this man with thinning dirty blond hair flecked with gray. He had a shy, childlike manner that sort of drew you to him like a mother hen to her chicks. Some say he was not quite all there, but I've since wondered if somewhere underneath his shyness and self-consciousness, there was a genius of sort.
         He was always courteous to the women-folk as if he had a certain respect for them. He seemed to relish any attention given to him. You could tell by his wide, sheepish smile and the way he twiddled and twisted around, his cheeks as flushed as if he'd just finished a 20 yard dash in 100 degree weather. He was a character all right, but his demeanor made him rather lovable.
         His manner of dress was less than stylish. His clothes hung on him as if they were a size too big and they could of used a good ironing. It was not unusual to see him wearing unmatched socks that draped loosely around his ankles, showing a bit of white-skinned leg below his too-short pants. But he did appear clean; his face and balding head shone as if recently scrubbed and his thinning hair was slicked down neatly as if by a wet comb. When he smiled you could see his slightly rotting teeth with tinges of brown stain, probably from years of snuff dipping or tobacco chewing.
         Most every one around town knew Raleigh and were never surprised to see him wandering aimlessly down a sidewalk or hanging out at one of the local shops. He most always carried his fiddle with him, contained in a worn faded case, clutched in his arms as closely as you would carry a newborn babe. I knew him from his frequent visits to my dad's bicycle shop. My dad and the other workers were always nice to him, talked and joked with him. They never made fun of him but treated him as their equal. I think he felt comfortable with them and I'm willing to bet that these visits were an important part of his life.
         Everyone that knew him appreciated his musical talent. He could play a fiddle like no other around town. His talent was God given, that was for certain as his lack of education would have prevented any learning by reading music. He played the fiddle in a way that always drew a crowd. I suppose his need for attention had something to do with his performance.
         I remember the first time I heard him play. I was just a young girl, not yet a teenager, and was at the bicycle shop with my mom. We were sitting at the rear of the shop where there was a pot bellied stove and a few straight back chairs. Raleigh came moseying in with his fiddle clutched in his arms and hung around the front of the shop for a bit, obviously waiting for someone to cajole him into playing.
         It wasn't long before he lit into his repertoire. He made that fiddle and bow dance and sing like nothing I'd ever heard. A crowd of people started to draw into the shop. His face beamed with pride. Pretty soon he had that fiddle on his back, between his legs and on his head, never missing a beat. The crowd was clapping, stomping their feet and Raleigh was delirious in his heaven. It was a sight to behold.
         But there was another side to this man, one that I think was rarely seen. It was one of a lonely, tender, romantic soul. I had a glimpse of it one day when he asked me to read a letter out loud to him. It was crumpled and yellowing as if he had been carrying it in his pocket for some time. It was clear that he was embarrassed by the fact that he could not read. He must have been waiting to find someone that he felt easy enough with to ask. Maybe it was because I was so young that he felt I would not look down on him.
         I read it out loud to him slowly. It was a letter from a woman or girl, depending on how long he'd had the letter, it had no date. The words spoke of love, how much she missed him and how she wished they could be together. I watched his face as he hung onto every word. I saw the sadness in his eyes. Even at my young age, I realized at that moment that this man had known and lost a woman's love. My heart went out to him.
         I don't know whatever happened to Raleigh after that. I like to think that this meek, talented soul lived the rest of his life happy with his music and his memories. I know he brought a lot of happy moments into the lives of those fortunate enough to know him.