You can't learn to play that stuff without a uke, so I started shopping, then and there, on the islands and I learned, to my shock and dismay, that I could not afford a uke. Not a real uke, one that was made to play. I could pick up a tourist piece of kitsch, maybe with an island scene painted on it, for not very much money at the ABC store or Hilo Hattie's, but if I wanted a real uke, I was going to have to pay. I was bummed. I'd blown all my cash on Aloha shirts and overpriced cocktails with umbrellas in them. The uke was going to have to wait.

 

Back stateside, I bided my time and started listening to real Hawaiian style music. I also listened to some Western Swing. I saw Led Kapaana play with Cyril Painuhui at a place not too far from my house. I went to hear a swingy little combo in the righteous coffee shop around the corner.  Their piano player kept picking up the uke. The uke was getting closer to me. It was trying to find me.

 

I went to music stores and music festivals. Oh, there were ukes, to be sure. But what was with the price tag? I picked them up, I fawned over them, I put them down again. I was not going to spend 300 dollars on something I was not sure I could play. But things were getting desperate. I needed a uke and I needed one soon. 

 

Enter the neighbors. They're moving away and getting rid of All Their Stuff. You know what happened, right? I wandered down there about a month ago. We were all standing on the porch. "Hey, you want a ukulele?" my neighbor asked.

 

It's a baritone uke. You string it like the top four strings on a guitar. The baritone uke was really popular when Western Swing took off in the 30s and 40s. Those cowboy songs like "Don't Fence Me In..." came with uke chords across the top. They had uke tuning instructions right below the title. I played the guitar a little when I was a kid, so I took to the baritone right away, but it was not quite the sound or the feeling I was looking for. Plus, it does not fit in my bicycle panniers. Don't get me wrong, I like the baritone uke. I bought a book on how to play it and learned, in about a week, to play what I feel is a GREAT ukulele song, "The Rainbow Connection." You know, Kermit the Frog sings it in the Muppet Movie. It's perfect for uke.

 

Still, having played with the baritone only confirmed that I was not going to get that island sound without a soprano uke. I was starting to feel like dropping a little money; so needy was I for the right uke. The husband and I shopped the stringed instruments stores, but honestly, I'm kind of a cheapskate and I just couldn't see dropping the bank. I just couldn't see it.

 

We were downtown having coffee when the husband suggested we check the pawn shop across the street. I hesitated and then gave in. We walked in to the usual assortment of guitars. "There are no ukes in here!" I insisted, but the guy at the back proved me wrong. "We've got lots of ukes!" he said, and waved me down to the back of the shop. He handed me a 400 dollar Martin, which I handed right back. "I ain't gonna even play that," I said, knowing the difference already. Plus, he had a handful of 30 dollar ukes right below it. I played the Johnson, which I didn't really like, and something else, maybe it was called a Gremlin? I wasn't crazy about them. They didn't feel right.

 

Then the pawn shop guy handed me the Royal Aloha. He's a big guy, the pawn shop guy, well over 6ft tall and wide. Not fat, just wide. His fist wrapped around the neck of the Aloha until it practically disappeared. I took it from him and before I even started strumming, I had a funny feeling. This uke was pretty, for starters. It was made from mahongany, which I've since read is not ideal for ukes, but it had this reddish glow to it. It's got a fancy head graphic with the state motto of Hawaii on it. And to my ears, it sounded perfect. I handed it back to the giant behind the counter. "I gotta think it over," I said.

 

We headed out of the shop. Ten steps up the sidewalk I came to a full stop. "I'm going back. I gotta get that uke." The husband handed me two twenties. "I don't know why you were hesitating in the first place," he said.

 

Back in the shop I asked about where it had come from. The nice older lady (maybe the mother of the two enormous men that worked there?) told me it came from an old customer of theirs; an old guy who she said could play anything. "You could just hand him something and he could just do anything. Anything. He was a really old man. A musician."

 

I loved that, of course, because it made me feel like the uke had history, like it had been played. I decided to embrace that story and go with it. I figure I got the uke from the old guy himself. When I asked him about it, he told me that he bought it in Hawaii when he'd been stationed there after the war. He fell in love with the sound of the islands. He came back to Seattle in the 50s and played in jazz bands and night clubs around Pioneer Square for a living most of his life. He's getting old now and he still plays, but his hands don't work as well as they used to and the uke is just too small to play now, what with his arthritis and all. Plus, he's living on a fixed income, between Social Security and his veteran's benefits, so he could use a little extra cash. You believe it too, don't you?

 

The uke is worn away on the back where you hold it against your body and it's got a sweet warm sound that I can't get enough of. I won't put it down. I take it with me everywhere. I brought it to work twice and every time someone new sees it, they light right up. A uke makes people smile. I'm learning how to play Little Grass Shack and the Hukilau Song. They're harder than you'd think because the timing feels strange to me, but that's okay. I signed up for the 4th Peg message boards because I had questions about tuning and I joined the Ukulele Freedom Front because I believe in their mission - freeing ukes from basements and pawn shops and front porches so they'll get played. I'm living the dream.

 

Got an old uke lying around? The way I see it, you have two choices. One, dust the poor thing off, tune it up, and start playing. It's not that hard, you can totally do it. Or, two, give it to me. I'll find it a good home. I'm starting my own catch and release ukulele program. It's the right thing to do.