“Relax Your Grip”

This was the incredibly helpful advice my ukulele teacher in Hilo gave me. And as I shall endeavor to illustrate here, this advice has some interesting and far-reaching implications.

I took two lessons with Robert Yates, who owns and operates Hawaiian Ukuleles and Guitars in Hilo. He runs the shop with his wife Patricia, and their sons, Dominic and Charley — Hawaiian ʻUkulele And Guitar, 206 Kamehameha Ave, Hilo, HI 96720. Currently Robert gives lessons at his shop on Sundays. (This is a good overview of the ukulele design and crafting Robert and Patricia do at their shop: The HUG Ukulele Story)

I visited this shop on my first full day in Hilo, after reading about ukulele shops and lessons on Oahu and Hawaii The Big Island, before I left Philadelphia. The thing that drew me to The Big Island and specifically to Hilo was a reputation for “realness,” and a more recent history as a working town rather than an overt tourist destination. So I had already sort of made a plan that I was heading to Hawaiian Ukulele and Guitar in Hilo to buy a pineapple ukulele. That first day in Hilo felt sort of like my ukulele pilgrimage. And like a real pilgrim, I carried a genuine physical burden; I had first stopped at the KTA supermarket in Hilo to get groceries, and my backpack was now overloaded with heavy fruits, vegetables, and drinks, with a large dramatic flourish of emerald-green chard leaves waving vigorously out of the side pocket as I walked.

Once I arrived at the shop, I introduced myself, asked about the instruments and learned the price ranges, spent a while trying out a few ukuleles, and said I’d be back to buy a specific pineapple uke. I then trudged home with my groceries, returning the following day to buy that ukulele and to book a lesson.

There is a gallery of vintage ukuleles at Hawaiian Ukulele and Guitar. The second from the right is a pineapple ukulele.

I have been learning to play the ukulele for a while now. Progress, as I mentioned already over on “Extras To Read All About,” has been slow. But by the end of my first lesson, Robert turned out to be a bit of a life philosopher, as well as having a really fun, snappy way with an ukulele.

He said, “Play me a song.” I said, “I got no songs.” He said, “Okay, play along with me,” and he started strumming “Aloha Oe,” the sad tune of goodbye penned by Queen Lili’uokalani, which you will recognize if you listen to it: “Aloha ‘Oe” by Henry Kapono, Israel Kamakawiwoʻole (Bruddah Iz), Cyril Pahinui, Roland Cazimero – YouTube. He named the chords, and I played along — I can follow songs, mirror chords, and I do know a bunch of chords. So we played together for about 4 measures, before he stopped me.

“Let’s look at how you hold the ukulele,” he said.

And he pointed out that I basically had the instrument in a death grip, with tense hands, tight arms, my shoulders up, and even a bicep popping from my right arm.

I was gripping my ukulele as if my life depended on not dropping it. Or as if I’d been tasked specially with making sure it could never escape.

“Ah,” I said. “I do everything like this. I am small but heavy-handed and full of force.” And I told him how, when I was recently painting door frames at the Chalfonte Hotel in Cape May for a volunteer work weekend, the hallway of painters had been silent, but I could hear myself painting as I leaned heavily into each brushstroke. Others painted. I ground the brush noisily into the wood.

“And when we use our hands that way,” asked Robert, “what happens to them?”

“Inflammation,” I responded.

He nodded.

“And arthritis,” I continued, “like the arthritis that has recently arrived in both of my hands.”

Still nodding, Robert showed me how I need to hold my ukulele: loose, shoulders down, hands very relaxed, no tension. And with this approach, suddenly I could shift easily from chord to chord, rolling over the strings, and almost instantly overcoming one of my major challenges to that point. I’d been having a really hard time shifting between chords. And no wonder: it’s hard to get from a C to a G when you are hanging on to that C for dear life.

We played more “Aloha Oe,” and a medley of Hawaiian tunes, and finished with the Israel Kamakawiwoʻole, or Bruddah Iz, version of “Somewhere Over The Rainbow.” (Of course, there is nothing quite like the voice and strumming of Bruddah Iz. OFFICIAL Somewhere over the Rainbow – Israel “IZ” Kamakawiwoʻole – YouTube .)

In my second lesson a week later, we reviewed those songs and practiced more chords, and I left with hugs from Robert and Patricia, and a new piece of blue tape affixed to the back of the neck of my HUG pineapple ukulele, which is where my thumb should be in my new relaxed playing hold.

To recap: in a mere 4 measures of music, Robert had managed to diagnose and correct my playing stance, but he also gave me some huge insights into possible revisions I need to make in my life.

Play loose. Live loose. Focus on the joy of playing. Lean into that joy. And then, let that be the joy that I take with me as I continue to play music, and as I move forward in my life. Build a repertoire of songs, and a repertoire of joy.

And also: Stop hanging on with a taut, closed-claw grip.

Now that could apply to many things.

And so I ask you, my reading friends, as we begin this new year and new chapter, what are YOU hanging on to for dear life with a taut, closed-claw, arthritis-inducing grip?

What could you let go of, or loosen your hold on, to see how your life could perhaps become better?

Good heavens, that started sounding somewhat advice-y and ponderous! And here at Where No Mangoes HQ we know we are definitely not an advice column. That is some other blog.

So I will conclude this post with an update on the incredible impact my renewed ukulele playing has been having. Here is a picture of me after I’d been joyfully practicing in my rental car last week, while waiting for my room to be available at the Green Sands Oasis in Na’alehu. Got my shoulders down, my hands loose.

In the background you can hear many, many dogs barking! Apparently my playing had set them all off, and they were at extremely high volume all across the neighborhood! Which I could not hear at all until I stopped playing.

Already sharing the joy!