The ancient blue box sat on the coffee table smelling musty.  Larry opened
the ratty case with cautious excitement.  A child-like grin curved the corners
of his mouth.  Larry Jones, my step-father, is a tall, burly, black police
sergeant who would intimidate anyone until you stepped close enough to see
his eyes.  They are puppy eyes:  kind, pure, playful.  Larry frequents auctions
coming home with items such as a theater organ, canoe and old automobiles
which makes my Mother groan.
 As he carefully raised the 1940’s Wurlitzer accordion from its dusty
coffin, it unfolded, shrieking like a wounded badger.  A miniature piano
keyboard was on the right side of the beast topped with an ornate plastic
latticework design surrounding the word “Wurlitzer” spelled out in fiery
white rhinestones.  My youngest son asked Larry if they were real diamonds
and Larry replied “Of course,” as he winked at me.  The other end was a
nubby collection of white buttons arranged in diagonal columns surrounded
by gaudy gray and white mother-of-pearl.  Both ends were connected in the
middle by a network of folded black leather bat wings that expanded and
contracted in agony.  Black leather straps jutted from three sides, cracked
from old age.
 After setting up my cameras and tripods on his back deck, only the
problem of actually strapping the thing onto Larry remained.  Aided by a
tattered LP with a black and white photo of a French accordion master
playing romantic music for three women in a Paris cafe, he was suited up in
no time.  After placing Larry into position, I asked him to stretch the bat
wings out.  The whining and wheezing hissed from deep within its lungs.
Birds flew off in terror.  As he pumped the creature in and out and moved his
fingers over the keys and buttons, Larry became uneasy.  This man who
talked entirely too loud in restaurants and stores began to worry about his
image.  After shooting him in a few more various locations, including playing
while standing in his canoe, the film ran dry.
 As I packed up my equipment, Larry dropped the accordion into the
blue case with a puff of dust and the subtle stench of mildew.  “I guess I need
some lessons,” he genuinely admitted, as he snapped the lid closed, giving it
some well-deserved rest.