rama wrote:
I now realize what a treasure it is to have so many flutemakers living among us today. To all the flutemakers out there - I salute you!
And, on behalf of myself and my flute-making fellows, I return the compliments! Thank you, rama.
But, interestingly, this cuts both ways. The death of someone you know, especially when they're in the same line of business or have some other parallel to your own life, is surely a time for reflection. I found myself the other day keying a 6-key and reflecting on Mike and some of the nice things people have been saying. Keying a flute is a quiet activity compared to many other tasks. No big noisy machines, no dust extraction, just quietly sitting at the bench, measuring, filing, testing, polishing, sneaking ever closer to a good fit, but careful always not to go too far and ending up with a loose fit. And thinking, always thinking.
And after a while I noticed what I was thinking. How very lucky is the Irish flute maker. To be able to sit there or stand there and make something you really enjoy for someone who you hope will enjoy it too. And thinking that I hope Mike experienced and enjoyed that feeling too.
People love music, and making music for others is a joy. But making musical instruments for others to make music with is a further joy. Look at the old musical instruments in museums all around the world and you'll see a statement of how important they are in our lives. I'm always taken by the Balafons in museums with African collections. Marimba-family instruments made with bars of rough collected wood, acoustically supported with gourd resonators, and the lot lashed together with sticks and twine plaited from grass. Here's the kind of thing:

Our modern flutes are a bit more polished, but I hope the love we pour into our instruments is as much as is evident in the making of this one.
So, as I said, it cuts both ways. We flute-makers salute you all for making our lives possible. Thank you.