DianeB

@FTB23 Hi there! Congrats on a good start. Like many wise teachers, Steve starts the course with very small bites to give the student a sense of progress. As you can tell from previewing the rest of the course, there are no more small bites with "Session" in their title. The sessions will now be more substantial and it will require significantly more time to complete them. Do not be deterred. Create your own small bites. Ignore the "recommended times to complete", as they are unrealistically brief for most students. It will take as long as it takes. Keep your attention on the process, not the goal, and you are in for a long and happy guitar journey.

@Colleen Hi, Colleen. You might find the videos for 3 & 4 at Crowd Guitar. Another option is to call Legacy Learning Systems (615-515-3600 or 615-515-3605) and see what they can do for you.

Also among the casualties, as many are already aware: CAAS 2020 and Summer NAMM.

From Kaufman's website: It Is With Deep Sadness That We Must Announce The Postponement Of The 25th Steve Kaufman’s Acoustic Kamps, Which Was To Be Held June 14-20, 2020 And June 21-27 At Maryville College, Maryville TN. New Dates Are June 13-19, 2021 For Old Time And Traditional Week And June 20-26, 2021 For Bluegrass Week. Our Primary Consideration In Making This Decision Is The Safety And Health Of All Our Kamp Students, Staff, Our Community And The College Staff. Given The Significant Uncertainty About The Progress Of The COVID-19 Pandemic, It Appears Increasingly Likely That The Crisis Will Continue Through June And Beyond. Considering This, We Believe The Safest Option Is To Postpone This Year’s Kamp And Begin Working Towards Making 2021 The 25th Steve Kaufman’s Acoustic Kamp And The Best Year Ever!

@Strings In the Fingerstyle course lesson book, there are basic, intermediate, and full versions of "Ode to Joy". If you're interested, let me know, and I'll send it by private message. I don't think Steve would mind.

The Udemy course is an unauthorized copy. It was brought to my attention by another forum member about two weeks ago. I alerted Steve, and he and Legacy took steps to have the course removed.

My desk doesn't look so different. To one side rests a folder holding the statements for my tax return. Notes and homework for my music theory course are spread across the blotter. On the other side sits my appointment calendar. But none of this is quite as it should be. The tax returns would normally be done by now. The notes for my course were not taken in the classroom, they were created by our teacher during a Zoom video chat. And the calendar reminds me only to put out the trash. Like almost everyone now, I have nowhere to go. I sneeze and cough and wipe my nose. This cold is the last thing I brought home with me, probably from bowling, before the pandemic struck. Obviously I have no business going beyond my sidewalk. Yet I am lucky, so very fortunate when so many are nearing the end of their rope as I write this in mid April. I have food and medicine and a home. I have neighbors to check on me. I have a background in biochemistry to help me make sense of it all. In January, after I put Christmas away, I read the latest in a string of books I've devoured on practice and self improvement. Anything to keep me from chopping up my guitars in frustration and feeding them to the fireplace. It mentioned the 1955 announcement of the success of the first field trial of the Salk polio vaccine. This piqued my attention because I was born in 1953, and the fear of polio was still palpable during my childhood. What really roused my curiosity was the account of Jonas Salk's speech that day. His failure to acknowledge his coworkers' contributions tainted his reputation for the rest of his life. As a scientist, and as one who remembered polio, I wanted to learn more. I found the source, the Pulitzer Prize winning Polio: An American Story. I followed up with the HBO movie "Warm Springs", which dramatized Roosevelt's experience. Then I read The Cutter Incident, about the contaminated lots of hastily produced polio vaccine that sickened, paralyzed, and killed hundreds of children and adults later in 1955. In February, I watched "Contagion". I know what a strand of RNA can do. Nothing since has truly surprised me. I can’t meet my young guitar tutor for our weekly lessons. He needs income, and I need to avoid people, so he made a grocery run for me. I paid him hazardous duty rate and more. For all I know, he might have saved my life. My music stand holds a stack of songs. I chip away at the exercises and scales. During pauses, I glance up at the photos of the gang from Gatherings past. Most of us aren't spring chickens anymore. My imagination turns feverish. I see myself looking up at a nurse in hazmat gear. They’ve taken my glasses. She – or he – is blurry. I’m terrified of drowning, alone, in my own pleural secretions. The first molecules of propofol reach my brain. The lights go out. I shiver. I stand up, put the guitar down, and walk to the kitchen and fix a snack. I munch a while, flip through a magazine, and go back to my guitar. I play my heart out. These days are all we have.