Grandma Miller's Fiddle

This is my Grandma Miller's fiddle. When I was a kid in Tacoma, WA, she was the only grandparent I ever saw. She would come and visit once or twice a year, I thought she was a grump. She would go in the back bedroom and play her fiddle. I would hear the squeeks and moans of the instrument.

That sound was my sign that I did not have a babysitter watching me and I took off.
The choice of where to go was hard. Do I go to the swamp, the big willow tree, the Indian Hospital, Under the railroad bridge, On the railroad bridge, go play on the freight cars, go to the city dump or just run with the dogs.

I had a great life as a child... That fiddle brings back so many memories.