Fiddle-dee-dee

A 6-year-old and a 4-year-old are upstairs in their bedroom. “You know what?” says the 6-year-old. “I think it’s about time we start cussing.” The 4-year-old nods his head in approval. The 6-year-old continues. “When we go downstairs for breakfast I’m going to say hell and you say ass.” “OK!” The 4-year-old agrees with enthusiasm. Their mother walks into the kitchen and asks the 6-yearold what he wants for breakfast. “Aw hell, Mom, I guess I’ll have some Cheerios.” WHACK! He flies out of his chair, tumbles across the kitchen floor, gets up, and runs upstairs crying his eyes out, with his mother in hot pursuit, slapping his rear every step. The mom locks him in his room and shouts “You can just stay there ’til I let you out!” She then comes back downstairs, looks at the 4- year-old, and asks with a stern voice, “And what do YOU want for breakfast young man? “I don’t know,” he blubbers, “But you can bet your ass it won’t be Cheerios!”

That corny joke was part of my introduction to Zeke on a cold winter evening at Mount Tabor Playhouse. He told the joke. Janet Kellough had asked me to help out at a Fiddle and Frostbite concert. Don’t get excited, I’m not musically gifted, I sold tickets at the door. She mentioned she’d introduce me to the “fiddler” since he was the only part of the “cast” I hadn’t met. According to Janet, Zeke wasn’t just any ordinary fiddler. She obviously loved his music. What she didn’t mention was the corny jokes, but she seemed pretty enthusiastic about this guy. I trust Janet’s taste as regards regional music and storytelling so, I was going to meet a guy named Zeke. I actually googled “Zeke” before the concert. There really wasn’t much on the Internet five or six years ago about the guy, although he did seem to have some awesome connections, people I was familiar with and a couple I’d actually seen in concert. But what I found was mostly odds and ends about his life as a musician and his musical connections, here and there. It was a well known fact, at the time, I needed to get out a bit and the taking and selling of tickets at Mt. Tabor wasn’t the worst thing I could have been doing on a cold winter night just days after Christmas.

Heck, who wouldn’t want to drive all the way from their warm home in Picton to a drafty old church building in the heart of Milford? Who wouldn’t want to do that? Did I mention it was a dark and icy night? By the time I got to Mt. Tabor, I was shaking with cold (my Rolls-canhardly takes a bit of time to warm up) and just wanted to go back to my comfy couch and wondered what the H E double hockey sticks I was doing in the middle of—geez, I almost said “nowhere.”

Oh ya, ticket selling. I sold tickets. And, I ripped tickets in half and told the audience to keep their ticket stubs because there was going to be a draw and I sold 50/50 tickets to raise funds for the Playhouse. Oh my, did I sell tickets and when we ran out of tickets (and seats) I had the pleasure of telling a small horde of cold and disappointed people the show had sold out. Many of the ticketless actually plopped themselves down in the “lobby” and waited to find out if everyone who’d reserved tickets was going to show up—hoping to snag a seat left vacant by someone who either couldn’t start their car or had forgotten about the concert. For my one hour of work, I got to stand by the ramp entrance and listen to the show. I wasn’t disappointed. That evening was my introduction to Fiddle and Frostbite and to Zeke Mazurek. A corny joke as an introduction and an evening of amazing music (absolutely no Christmas music was the promise), great stories and, you guessed it, more corny jokes. Zeke was an important part of the good things that happen here in The County. He was a gifted musician, a close friend to many and a teller of bad jokes. He shared the stage with the other performers and with the audience and with his friends and family.

Zeke wasn’t a close personal friend of mine, but he was a friend. Anytime I saw him around the County he had a big goofy grin, a hello and the inevitable corny joke. His passing has left me wondering, “Why do good people die young?” And, “Why do bad things happen to good people?” And, do clouds really have a silver lining? The logic I know is that it isn’t just the good people who die young, but it’s always too soon with the “good ones.” And, bad things happen to everyone. Of course, we all wanted Zeke’s cloud to have a silver lining.

So, where the H E double hockey sticks am I going with this? Well, did I mention the part about a gifted musician, a good friend and a teller of corny jokes? Zeke was the “good thing” that happened to a lot of people. He really didn’t have a “best before” date. And he most certainly was the silver lining in a lot of clouds. He was the “Fiddle” and everyone else was the Frostbite.

At Zeke’s request, there will not be a memorial service. He did suggest donations could be made, in his memory, to the Blue Skies Youth Fiddle Orchestra, c/o Elinor Rush, 4515 Wildlife Lane, RR#1, Battersea ON, K0H 1H0.