Medicine in 18th Century United States

On April 5, 1797, Elizabeth DeWitt penned a letter to her father, presumably located in Europe at the time. In this letter, she referenced “the ill state of health of [her] friends” and let her father know that in the states, “a great many people die of different disorders the most common [being] pleurisy…” (“Letter from Elizabeth DeWitt to her father”). Pleurisy is defined as “a condition in which the pleura – two large, thin layers of tissue that separate your lungs from your chest wall – becomes inflamed” (“Pleurisy”). This condition causes difficulty breathing and chest pain, but in the modern era, it is not life-threatening with timely diagnosis and proper treatment. Pleurisy is a condition caused by underlying disorders, most often an infection of some sort. According to Mayo Clinic’s entry on “Pleurisy,” the condition can be caused by “viral infection, such as the flu (influenza); bacterial infection, such as pneumonia… [and] Tuberculosis (TB),” to name a few. So, why is it that during the 18th century, people were commonly dying from this secondary disorder? To answer that question, one must first understand the medicinal beliefs and practices of the 18th century.

Letter from Elizabeth DeWitt to her father

Prior to the 18th century, the prevailing theory on how disease was contracted and spread was based on a miasmic, humoral model: “traditional theory held that disease was caused by bad air, a miasma that upset the balance of humors” (Breslaw 29). It was not until 1721 that this theory was challenged by a Cotton Mather, who believed that “’little animals’ that existed in pus from smallpox victims had something to do with causing the contagion” (29). Mather was a revolutionary thinker in this regard, as he took his theory further and “also suggested that the eggs from that ‘animicular’ matter could invade the body through the pores or the mouth” (29). In the present-day, we can recognize that Mather was referring to microscopic organisms called viruses spreading through droplets in the air. While Mather was taking a different approach to the causes and treatment of illness, other diseases were still being treated with outdated methods. When measles epidemics affected communities, “doctors followed the usual regime of bleeding, vomiting, and purging, which probably increased the danger of death” (39). Methods of purging could involve “laxatives… [which] could leach nutrients and electrolytes from the body,” or “calomel (a combination of mercury and chloride)” which is now an ingredient in “insecticide and fungicide” (46). While bloodletting could have had medicinal properties – “by lowering the availability of iron in the blood, some pathogens lose their ability to grow and multiply” – such a practice hardly helped treat the disorders it was typically used for, such as “smallpox, yellow fever, [or] pneumonia” (46-47). Moreover, physicians relied more on their perceived ability than any other tool they might have had at their disposal. Even if a physician’s methods caused 80% of his patients to become seriously injured or to die, “the doctor was considered successful if he seemingly cured one person” (47). This way of practicing medicine is harmful to patients at any time. If a doctor is unwilling to explore other options when their treatment methods are outdated, harmful, or outright dangerous, then patients cannot get adequate and informed care. Physicians were put on a pedestal, patients “[endowing] their medical practitioners with enormous authority” (47). Additionally, it was much more difficult to diagnose illness in the 18th century than it is now. Typically:

Diagnoses were generally based on symptoms as described by the patient. The doctor seldom touched the patient except to take a pulse or check for fever and thus was dependent on how individuals described their pains or discomforts. He would then diagnose a flux as anything from simple diarrhea, to dysentery, typhoid, or typhus… A pleurisy referred to respiratory or lung diseases such [as] influenza or pneumonia. (45-46)

This is a significant contrast to methods of diagnosing illnesses and disorders today. According to Noah Webster’s “A Brief History of Epidemic and Pestilential Diseases…” published in 1799, “in periods when plague and other mortal epidemics rage in summer, the diseases of winter assume new symptoms. The pleurisy, at such times, has often become epidemic and even infectious” (331). Based on the methods of diagnosis during this time, it can be presumed that the “epidemic” or “infectious” pleurisy being referenced was a respiratory disease, such as influenza. It is possible misdiagnoses or missed diagnoses were more common during the 18th century due first to a misunderstanding of illness, which was then compounded by the lack of reliable diagnostic tools. Physicians during this time did not believe, and often rejected, notions that “science [or] technology had any application to medicine” (47). For example, even though a “very primitive form” of the thermometer was available during the 18th century, physicians did not use them until “at least… the middle of the nineteenth century” (47). Diagnosing “pleurisy” or any other respiratory illness would not have been able to be done accurately during the 18th century, undoubtedly resulting in the deaths of “a great many people” Elizabeth DeWitt would come to write about in the letter to her father.

In the present-day United States, “we have antibiotics to cure contagious diseases and vaccines to prevent them” (Breslaw 1). In the 18th century, this was most certainly not the case. Elizabeth DeWitt lived in the states at a time that medicine was not making many strides. Outdated thinking and a refusal to be open to new or improved methods of treatment prevented advancement. Doctors not having reliable and consistent methods of treatment meant that they believed “diseases were peculiar to individuals; each individual required different medications or combinations and depended on the physician’s special understanding of illness” (48). Rather than recognizing that a standard approach would probably be best for the patient, physicians rejected newer ideas or modes of treatment “in favor of established practices” (44). People were exposed to illnesses and diseases that they had no experience with in their homeland, they then relied on the authority of physicians who were not open to new ideas – even if those new ideas could prevent injury or death – and, due to a lack of understanding by the general public, patients took their doctors at their word and did not question their diagnoses or treatment methods. When one takes these facts into consideration, it is not difficult to understand why people were dying due to secondary disorders such as pleurisy. It is possible that these people were afflicted with such infections as influenza, pneumonia, or tuberculosis, but received improper or incorrect treatment, leading to the development of the aforementioned condition. However, it is also possible that when Elizabeth DeWitt mentioned “pleurisy,” she was not referring to the inflammation of tissues within the lungs at all but was rather referring to an epidemic caused by influenza, the measles, or any of the other contagious respiratory diseases that afflicted communities. Thinking about the medicinal practices of the 18thcentury can help us to understand the conditions of individuals living during these times.

Works Cited
Breslaw, Elaine G. Lotions, Potions, Pills, and Magic Health Care in Early America. New York Univ. Press, 2014.
“Letter from Elizabeth DeWitt to her father,” Hudson River Valley Heritage Exhibits, accessed November 22, 2021, https://omeka.hrvh.org/items/show/2908.
“Pleurisy.” Mayo Clinic, Mayo Foundation for Medical Education and Research, 3 Jan. 2020, https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/pleurisy/symptoms-causes/syc-20351863.
Webster, Noah. A Brief History of Epidemic and Pestilential Diseases: With the Principal Phenomena of the Physical World, which Precede and Accompany Them, and Observations Deduced from the Facts Stated …. United States, Hudson & Goodwin, 1799.

Medicine in 18th Century United States

On April 5, 1797, Elizabeth DeWitt penned a letter to her father, presumably located in Europe at the time. In this letter, she referenced “the ill state of health of [her] friends” and let her father know that in the colonies, “a great many people die of different disorders the most common [being] pleurisy and inflammation of the head” (“Letter from Elizabeth DeWitt to her father”). Pleurisy is defined as “a condition in which the pleura – two large, thin layers of tissue that separate your lungs from your chest wall – becomes inflamed” (“Pleurisy”). This condition causes difficulty breathing and chest pain, but in the modern era, it is not life-threatening with timely diagnosis and proper treatment. Encephalitis – which is inflammation of the brain – is another disorder that if diagnosed and treated properly does not always lead to serious injury or death. Both pleurisy and encephalitis are caused by underlying disorders, most often an infection of some sort. According to Mayo Clinic’s entry on “Pleurisy,” the condition can be caused by “viral infection, such as the flu (influenza); bacterial infection, such as pneumonia… [and] Tuberculosis (TB),” to name a few. Mayo Clinic’s entry on “Encephalitis” names such viruses as “measles (rubeola), mumps and German measles (rubella)” as “fairly common causes of secondary encephalitis” in the past. So, why is it that during the 18th century, people were commonly dying from these secondary disorders? To answer that question, one must first understand the medicinal beliefs and practices of the 18th century.

Letter from Elizabeth DeWitt to her father

Prior to the 18th century, the prevailing theory on how disease was contracted and spread was based on a miasmic, humoral model: “traditional theory held that disease was caused by bad air, a miasma that upset the balance of humors” (Breslaw 29). It was not until 1721 that this theory was challenged by a Cotton Mather, who believed that “’little animals’ that existed in pus from smallpox victims had something to do with causing the contagion” (29). Mather was a revolutionary thinker in this regard, as he took his theory further and “also suggested that the eggs from that ‘animicular’ matter could invade the body through the pores or the mouth” (29). In the present-day, we can recognize that Mather was referring to microscopic organisms called viruses spreading through droplets in the air. While Mather was taking a different approach to the causes and treatment of illness, other diseases were still being treated with outdated methods. When measles epidemics affected communities, “doctors followed the usual regime of bleeding, vomiting, and purging, which probably increased the danger of death” (39). Methods of purging could involve “laxatives… [which] could leach nutrients and electrolytes from the body,” or “calomel (a combination of mercury and chloride)” which is now an ingredient in “insecticide and fungicide” (46). While bloodletting could have had medicinal properties – “by lowering the availability of iron in the blood, some pathogens lose their ability to grow and multiply” – such a practice hardly helped treat the disorders it was typically used for, such as “smallpox, yellow fever, [or] pneumonia” (46-47). Moreover, physicians relied more on their perceived ability than any other tool they might have had at their disposal. Even if a physician’s methods caused 80% of his patients to become seriously injured or to die, “the doctor was considered successful if he seemingly cured one person” (47). This way of practicing medicine is harmful to patients at any time. If a doctor is unwilling to explore other options when their treatment methods are outdated, harmful, or outright dangerous, then patients cannot get adequate and informed care. Physicians were put on a pedestal, patients “[endowing] their medical practitioners with enormous authority” (47). Additionally, it was much more difficult to diagnose illness in the 18th century than it is now. Typically:

Diagnoses were generally based on symptoms as described by the patient. The doctor seldom touched the patient except to take a pulse or check for fever and thus was dependent on how individuals described their pains or discomforts. He would then diagnose a flux as anything from simple diarrhea, to dysentery, typhoid, or typhus… A pleurisy referred to respiratory or lung diseases such [as] influenza or pneumonia. (45-46)

This is a significant contrast to methods of diagnosing illnesses and disorders today. Modern technology and modern medicine make it possible to diagnose and treat a plethora of diseases. In the case of pleurisy and encephalitis, diagnostic imaging (X-Rays, MRIs, CTs), blood tests, spinal taps, etc. are tools that can be used to determine whether someone is afflicted with pleurisy or encephalitis (“Pleurisy,” “Encephalitis”). Throat or nose swabs can be used to determine whether someone has influenza, strep throat, or now, COVID-19, among others. It is possible misdiagnoses or missed diagnoses were more common during the 18th century due to the lack of reliable diagnostic tools; additionally, even though a “very primitive form” of the thermometer was available during the 18th century, physicians did not use them until “at least… the middle of the nineteenth century” (47). Physicians during this time did not believe, and often rejected, notions that “science [or] technology had any application to medicine” (47). Regarding pleurisy or encephalitis, those conditions would not have been able to be accurately diagnosed during the 18th century, undoubtedly resulting in the deaths of “a great many people” Elizabeth DeWitt would come to write about in the letter to her father.

In the present-day United States, “we have antibiotics to cure contagious diseases and vaccines to prevent them” (Breslaw 1). In the 18th century, this was most certainly not the case. Elizabeth DeWitt lived in the colonies at a time that medicine was not making many strides. Outdated thinking and a refusal to be open to new or improved methods of treatment prevented advancement. Doctors not having reliable and consistent methods of treatment meant that they believed “diseases were peculiar to individuals; each individual required different medications or combinations and depended on the physician’s special understanding of illness” (48). Rather than recognizing that a standard approach would probably be best for the patient, physicians rejected newer ideas or modes of treatment “in favor of established practices” (44). Colonists were exposed to illnesses and diseases that they had no experience with in their homeland, they then relied on the authority of physicians who were not open to new ideas – even if those new ideas could prevent injury or death – and, due to a lack of understanding by the general public, patients took their doctors at their word and did not question their diagnoses or treatment methods. When one takes these facts into consideration, it is not difficult to understand why people were dying due to secondary disorders such as pleurisy or encephalitis. It is possible that these people were afflicted with such infections as influenza, pneumonia, measles, but received improper or incorrect treatment, leading to the development of the aforementioned conditions. Thinking about the medicinal practices of the 18th century can help us to understand the conditions of individuals living during these times.

Works Cited
Breslaw, Elaine G. Lotions, Potions, Pills, and Magic Health Care in Early America. New York Univ. Press, 2014.
“Encephalitis.” Mayo Clinic, Mayo Foundation for Medical Education and Research, 17 Apr. 2020, https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/encephalitis/symptoms-causes/syc-20356136.
“Letter from Elizabeth DeWitt to her father,” Hudson River Valley Heritage Exhibits, accessed November 22, 2021, https://omeka.hrvh.org/items/show/2908.
“Pleurisy.” Mayo Clinic, Mayo Foundation for Medical Education and Research, 3 Jan. 2020, https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/pleurisy/symptoms-causes/syc-20351863.

13A North Front Street: Beyond The Bakery

Image

13A North Front Street, New Paltz, NY

Built in 1883 for Samuel Judkins, this building currently is the home to The Bakery, a restaurant staple to the New Paltz community. Formerly a barn, this annex to 13 North Front Street (currently The Bicycle Rack) has since undergone renovations to near double in size. Its history since being a barn includes being a laundromat and most notably, the headquarters for the New Paltz Food Coop.

Physical Description:

The Bakery as it is today is a synthesis of two buildings. In the back is the original building being an 875 square foot barn with a lofted second floor. This building is where the kitchen is currently, and the second floor contains offices, storage, and a bathroom. The kitchen has high ceilings with horizontal beams, referencing the barn-like construction.

The newer part of the building is the 800 square foot addition, which is currently the storefront for The Bakery. The storefront consists of a display case spanning most of the length of the room, a deli case, a toaster oven, espresso machine, and a counterspace. The back wall of the storefront has a door connecting to the kitchen (the original building component) and a large glass-doored refrigerator containing refrigerated drinks. There is a smaller version of this refrigerator on the adjacent wall, as well. In between the two refrigerators is a bathroom, and on the other side of the smaller refrigerator are the stars to the upstairs, a door to the basement, and then the door to the outside seating area. The second floor is also lofted here and houses additional seating, both booths and tables, for patrons to eat at.

Provenance:

The ownership of the 13A North Front Street began in 1883 when it was built for Samuel Judkins. By 1886, it was sold to William Delamater for $1,600. I am still investigating the ownership in the next few decades. The next known property owner was Virginia Decker who used the barn as Ginny Decker’s Center Laundromat in 1970. By 1975, Alan Stout bought the property (both 13 and 13A) and turned 13 into The Bicycle Rack while renting out 13A to the New Paltz Food Coop. In 1981 Stout leased the barn to David Santner who turned the space into what is now The Bakery. In 1994, Santner doubled the size of the space to what it is today.

Narrative:

The former barn at 13A North Front Street has mostly been used as a center for New Paltz social life. It was built in 1883 for Samuel Judkins by Daniel Kniffio. By January 1886, Andrew Dubois occupied the space, yet it seems Judkins was still the landlord. Later that year, William Delamater bought the property from Judkins for $1,600. At that time, there is reference to Delamater having “three barns” on the property and expects “to have one for a bake house and one to sell bread.” This information leads one to believe that perhaps the current 13A might be a barn built at that time, however there is not too much evidence supporting this, and it seems more likely that 13A is the original barn built in 1883.

When Virginia Decker owned the space in 1970, she used the barn as Ginny Decker’s Center Laundromat, which supposedly was more of a laundry service rather than a typical laundromat with self-serve machines. It was noted that by the end of her time there, there was an extra large waterline to the barn, which would make for an ideal kitchen in the future.

Mural on the side of the New Paltz Food Coop. Designed by Arthur Kusher.

Mural on the side of the New Paltz Food Coop. Designed by Arthur Kusher.

In 1975, Alan Stout bought both 13 and 13A, turning 13 into a bicycle shop known as The Bicycle Rack, while renting out 13A, a then vacant space, to the New Paltz Food Coop, an organization started on the SUNY New Paltz campus that supplied bulk beans and grains to its customers, when those items were not commonly found in stores at the time (i.e. brown rice.) The second floor of the Coop was used for community classes such as Tai Chi. The Coop lasted for a few years, but closed around 1979.

In 1981, a former student from SUNY New Paltz and member of the Coop, David Santner, rented 13A from Stout, turning it into The Bakery. The space was filled to the brim, the kitchen occupying most of the space, while customers would have very little room to stand.

Santner said his goal in starting The Bakery was to have a place where people from all parts of the New Paltz social life could visit. So in 1994, Santner and Stout arranged for renovation of the space, adding the 800 square feet for seating and additional customer space. This renovation also coincided with an expansion to the menu from just baked goods to include sandwiches as well. Santner said they were one of the first places to have an espresso machine in New Paltz which made The Bakery known for this hot commodity.

Illustration of the proposed renovation from 1994.

Illustration of the proposed renovation from 1994.

One of the most important contributions Santner and Stout were able to make to the community came from their desiring of outdoor seating. Santner said his ideal restaurant would have been built somewhere next to a park so people could enjoy the outdoor eating experience. However, since this was not what was available to them, Santner and Stout got a permit from the Village of New Paltz in 1996, granting them permission to maintain a landscaped outdoor seating area, a novelty at the time. This permit set the stage for future New Paltz establishments to have outdoor seating permits as well.

The Bakery also introduced an important tradition to the New Paltz culture when it began hosting The Night of 100 Pumpkins in 1990. Santner said his wife came up with the idea to host a pumpkin carving contest open to the community around Halloween time. The event, which has occurred annually since its inception, features carved pumpkin displays, as well as free hot chocolate, cider, and pumpkin bread. The Bakery’s location on North Front Street, being a one-way, wide street near the end of the traditional Halloween parade route, makes it a convenient place for people to gather and take part in the festivities. It is truly a haven of the New Paltz social life.

References:

Kwiatoski, Debbie. “Planners encourage property owners to find solution for garden spillover.” The Daily Freeman 10 July 1996. Print.

Ryan, Jeanne. “The Bakery builds on 800-square-foot addition.” Huguenot Herald 22 Dec 1994. Print.

Santner, David, and Alan Stout. Personal interview. 13 Mar 2013.

“The Bakery, in New Paltz, NY.” Photograph. Baking Fix, 7 May 2011. Web. 15 Mar 2013.

Clips of articles also referenced (from the Haviland-Heidgerd Historical Collection):

New Paltz Times: 11 Apr 1883, 12 Jan 1886, 5 Nov 1886

A Large, Music-Making, Decoration Displaying Wooden Box

Image

This is a Rudolph Wurlitzer piano. The Rudolph Wurlitzer Company, more commonly referred to as “Wurlitzer”, was established in 1856, with the intention of manufacturing stringed instruments, woodwinds, brass, and many other types of instruments. Over the years, they decided to produce only pianos, organs, and jukeboxes. The company continued doing so until 1988, when Gibson Guitars purchased it. This particular instrument happened to be purchased while the company was still in existence in 1976.

 This piano, like any other instrument, was manufactured with the intention of creating a pleasingly harmonious sound. Each key was designed to make a hammer hit a string, and each string was designed to vibrate in such a way as to create an invigorating sound. It was constructed in the hopes that someone, either beginner or expert, would place their fingers on the keys in a pattern, a rhythm, to create an arrangement of tones. Its intended purpose was to make music.

 For many years, this object did just that. My grandmother originally purchased it because my aunt was taking piano lessons and wanted to be able to practice at home. So, its first few years were dedicated to helping a young girl improve her music-making abilities. Throughout this time, my grandmother also gave it a function that it was not originally intended for. She used the flat wooden surface on top as a place to display her statue of the Virgin Mary. And from that day on, this piano was not just an outlet for music, but was also aesthetic. For many more years, it continued to serve its dual function as items were displayed on top and other children of the household began learning to play music.

Eventually, my grandmother sold her house and no longer had room for the large music box. No one being willing to let the instrument go, my mother took it and it found a new home in our living room. Although my brother took lessons for a few years, no one ever really pursued the art of playing piano. In this new home, the piano continued to serve a function by acting as a place for other objects to be displayed. It has held family photos, Christmas decorations, and other trinkets. Today, it ironically displays a new sound system, which produces high quality sound waves to evoke the feelings of a live performance.

 In my home, this instrument was hardly played with the intention of making music, it has acted as somewhat of a toy for the children growing up around it. As a child, I would play silly songs such as “Chopsticks” or “Mary Had a Little Lamb”. It would attract the attention of my friends, who would want to touch it; to feel the keys depress so that a sound could rise out. And now, my nephew of nearly three years enjoys smashing against the keys and swaying as if he were producing the grandest symphony.

I am somewhat sad to admit that this piano is soon to be a memory in my home. The lack of moisture and excessive heat that the wood-burning stove creates is a very poor environment for this thirty-seven year old wooden music box. It never stays in tune, and some of its keys have gone dead. It requires constant maintenance and has become more of a burden than a pleasure. However, it is to be donated to an organization that might be able to take better care of it, and use it for its intended purpose. Perhaps in the future, young children or elderly folk will have the opportunity to create music that they otherwise would have been unable to do. I believe this music-making object would be proud to have served so many functions, and end its days doing what it was always meant to do.

The History of My Violin

ImageImageImageImage

This is my violin. It is a standard 4/4 size, which is roughly 24 inches in height, and about one and a half inches thick. The body has a curved structure, much like the body of a woman. The bottom of the body is widest at 8 inches, where it graciously curves inward to about four and a half inches, and curves outward again to about six and a half inches. On the lower left (facing the violin) of the body you will see a circular wooden chin rest of about four inches. You will see another piece of wood about four inches long which holds the four metal fine tuning gears which keep the strings in place. On the front of the body, on either side of the strings, there are two f-holes about three inches in height through which the sound emerges. There is a wooden bridge about an inch in height and half a centimeter in thickness, which holds up the four strings. Two inches above the bridge, there is a black wooden fingerboard, which extends about eleven inches up the violin. The top five inches of the fingerboard constitutes the neck of the instrument, and above that you will see four pegs, two on either side, which hold the four strings. These pegs, when turned, will pull the string tighter for a higher pitch, or ease them for a lower pitch. At the very top of the violin is an elegant spiral curl, which is most evident of the fine craftsmanship of its creator.

This instrument is a dark honey-colored brown, with vertical grains running across the front of the body, and fine horizontal “ribs” can be observed on the back of the body. The strings are made of steel, and vary in thickness for different sounds. The left most string (G) is thickest, and each string gets progressively thinner until you get to the right most string (E), which is thinnest and produces the highest tone. About four and a half inches up the fingerboard, there is a small white piece of tape. This is to mark seventh position, and it was put there by my ninth and tenth grade Orchestra teacher, Mrs. Sckipp. The bottom half of the body has three small nicks, which were all put there by myself, accidentally. Each one is from my bow, which sometimes smacks against the body of the violin while I am carrying it around casually. It is fragile and surprisingly light in terms of weight, as the body is hollowed out.

Although the first stringed instruments came about in the 9th century, the violin has only been around since the 16th century. It first emerged in Northern Italy and spread throughout Europe. These instruments were handmade for hundreds of years, until the 1940’s when they begun being factory produced. The quality of the instruments suffered from the lack of care put into their creation, and since then there have been some manufacturers who have decided to use the conventional, hand-made method, which gives each instrument a unique look and tone.

My violin was handcrafted by a violinmaker under the training of Andreas Eastman of the Eastman String Company. Qian Ni founded Eastman Strings in 1992 after he moved to the United States from China. He gathered a group of talented violinmakers in order to begin his business, and has since built a very reputable reputation. This particular violin was made in 2004, and eventually ended up at a violin dealer by the name of Laurinel Owen, who works out of The House of Strings, in Bellport, New York. This beautiful instrument found its way to me in the summer of 2006, just before I entered the seventh grade.

I had been playing violin for about four years when my parents decided to grant my wish of getting my own, brand new violin. The instrument I had been using was my sister’s old, cheap violin that was most likely factory made because its quality was quite poor. When I arrived at the home of the dealer, there were 6 beautiful violins laid out before me and I was asked to choose which I wanted. After careful consideration, I chose this particular one, and my parents purchased it for $1100 as a gift to me. I was ecstatic.

This violin has been with me through years of practicing, auditions, and concert performances. It was with me as I played my first NYSSMA solo. It felt me tremble as I nervously prepared to perform in front of a judge for the first time. It was with me for all twelve seating auditions for concert and symphonic orchestra. It was with me as I played Christmas carols for a group of elderly folk at a nursing home. It has accompanied me through numerous school concerts, and has resonated vibrations to the tune of Brandenburg’s Concerto No. 3, Barber of Seville, Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony, Beethoven’s Scherzo Movement, and many more. This violin has felt the misplacements of my fingers, and screeched at me in poor intonation so that I might learn the proper placements. It has resonated with a deep, full, powerful voice as I learned how to help it sing.

This marvelous instrument has not only generated a sound for others to enjoy, but has also acted as a de-stressor for myself; it has allowed me to unwind and forget about the troubles that silence often brings. This violin may not have a very long history, or travelled through many different hands, but that does not mean that it will not create history. I intend to pass this instrument down to my children, and grandchildren, in hopes that it will journey through the lives of many more, creating memories and history as it travels through the ages.