Playtime
When I was growing up—being poor country people—we younguns had little to play with except for the stuff we created for ourselves or someone else made for us. At hog killing time, my uncle would bring me the hog's bladder, blow it up, and I had a balloon that would last an hour or so. For musical pleasures, we played the swinenet. We would take a hair from a horse's tail and stretch it across a live pigs butt and blow on it. Actually wasn't as much an instrument as it was something with which to annoy the adults. I believe it annoyed the pig more than anyone else. From time-to-time, the pig evened things out a little by reversing the flow of air. That music had character.
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Thanks, Cathy, for putting up with my nonsense. The balloon part is factual.
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