Pathy's Violin A Look Inside The Book

Only a stunning living sky was visible from the floor of the freshly opened grave. On the afternoon in June, when James Faden was carried to his final resting place, a 15 year old girl, Pathy Faden, lifted her innocent blue eyes and watched clouds of white buffalos as they grazed across the southern sky. She inhaled the warm perfumes of sweet flowers and fresh mown grass. The red roses of the casket spray shouted in deep contrast to the sea of dark clothing crowded close about her. Already at her young age, she understood that the living must suffer pain, but in time they heal. Sometimes they go away completely.

Pathy’s grandfather had not been a simple man. He was talented, using his knowledge and his hands, to accomplish the impossible.  He had been a luthier by trade, master craftsman of highly sought after violins.

Most of the people who called him a best friend had passed on. The love of his life, his wife Deborah, died last October.

Sheriff McClung had never seen so many people attend a funeral in Monroe County. It was an extraordinary sight to see several hundred people crowding around the little white washed Potts Creek country church. Most of those attending could not hear the graveside service, yet the mourners were numerous, and they showed their respect for the deceased Mr. Faden. The surrounding green mountains had never before witnessed such a spectacle. Close enough, a fortunate few heard the pretty young girl dressed in black, play her violin. Next, an incredible chorus echoed off the mountains, hundreds of voices lifted in song, as Pastor Mclean led them in singing Mr. Faden’s favorite Christmas carol, Silent Night. The warm June afternoon seemed to accept this out of season display of devotion.

There was some mystery to the life of the late James Faden. He had served his country well in war and peace. He had a distinguished service record. The mystery was that before he left for the war he knew nothing about instrument making. When he returned he immediately began turning out masterpiece violins in his home workshop. He would never talk about where he had gained the skills required to do this. He had worked in a cabinet shop before enlisting in the Marines. People did ask, he just avoided direct answers with a smile, and a twinkle in his eye.

Another lingering mystery about James was that on his death bed he asked for Clara, a name that none present knew of. He asked for her throughout his final hours.

Well known about James, was that after his last tour of duty, he was discharged from the service in Germany, and he spent several months touring Europe by rail and foot.

James returned to America the following June, and on his flight to New York, he sat beside a pretty young girl from Vermont named Deborah Shires. She would later become his loving wife.

James Faden’s family remembered him as a loving father, grandfather, and devoted husband. The other mourners in attendance remembered a man who seemed to be able to pull knowledge and beauty out of the thin air.

Around the world his finely crafted violins were praised by the finest symphonic musicians. This had made him a rich man. They also remembered a humble man who could farm, build, repair, teach, and heal. The farmer, the concert violinist, the banker, lawyer, nurse, doctor, and teacher were all saddened by the loss of Mr. Faden. They lingered long after the service had ended to speak to one another about their remembrances of Mr. Faden.

One particularly scruffy, chain smoking fellow seemed out of place. He eavesdropped on the conversations of strangers at every opportunity.