I thought long and hard about perks, did a lot of reading about the pros and cons, how a campaign works with or without perks.
The conclusion I came to is, this project simply doesn't fit with the perks approach.
For one thing, it will be a long time before I have a finished product to offer. It won't be available soon enough that I could treat the contributions as orders for the product, which is one of the main ways crowd funding campaigns structure their perks.
Since I can't offer the product itself as a perk, I would have to improvise items people might like to receive. That would sidetrack the project. I might be able to raise a little more money, but it would create an extra workload and bog down the process of getting affordable GREAT whistles to as many people as possible as soon as possible.
There are also tax implications. If I offer perks, for tax purposes, that is considered a sale of merchandise. Then a percentage of the contributions would have to be paid out in taxes. However, without perks, the contributions may be considered gifts that are not taxed.
I appreciate your understanding here. I've struggled to find a way to approach this, and finally came to the conclusion that it just doesn't fit with what we're trying to accomplish.
Absolutely. I'll keep everyone up to date as the work progresses, and of course, I'll announce whenever there's important news.
I started tweaking whistles in 2003. Our oldest daughter was
learning to play flute in sixth grade music class, and I worried I would get
left out if the family got more involved with music. Arleen, my better half, is
quite musical, plays guitar and piano. I had sung in choir (badly) but never
taken up an instrument. I was vaguely aware of whistles and thought penny
whistle might be a good instrument to learn. I found out more about them, got a
few cheap whistles and started learning to play.
One of the things I found out was, players have always taken
these cheap whistles, which are considered an important voice of Irish
traditional music, and “tweaked” them to make them play better. I became
fascinated with this and began experimenting. After some months, I became known
among an online community of whistle enthusiasts as
someone who had a knack for tweaking whistles.
At the time, no one had worked out the best way to tweak a
Generation whistle (the most popular brand of the mass produced whistles). An
excellent tweaked Generation whistle was considered the “holy grail” of
inexpensive whistles. Someone among the online group offered to buy me as many
new Generations as it would take for me to work out how to do it.
He sent seventeen new Generation whistles and I went to work. I
don’t know how many I wrecked before I made “the breakthrough,” a reliable
way to make an important adjustment to the internal geometry of the mouthpiece,
but after an intensive week or two of experimentation, I had whistles good
enough to sell.
At the time, I had another business, reconditioning and selling
mobile homes, but I needed the extra income from the whistle work, which
eventually developed into a modest business. In 2008, we moved from rural
upstate New York to Connecticut. I couldn’t move the mobile home business, so I
shut it down and became the world’s only full time, professional penny whistle
tweaker. The rest, as they say, is history.
Long ago in a farmhouse far away ...
There was a crunching sound in the pantry.
After a day or two of this, Arleen beckoned me into the
pantry and said, "Do you hear that?"
I knew I was in trouble.
I flew into action. Jumped in the car and rushed out to get
mouse proof food containers. Got back home and packed all the pantry contents
neatly in the mouse proof containers. Proudly showed Arleen I'd solved the
problem. I was a hero. I had saved the pantry from the mouse.
Well ...
Mouse gotta eat, mouse proof containers or no mouse proof
containers.
The next morning, Arleen showed me where, during the night,
the mouse had chewed a hole in her purse and eaten her chocolate.
Now I was in SERIOUS trouble.
The only solution, I determined, would be to train the mouse.
My workroom was on the same floor as the pantry, so I
figured if I fed the mouse in my workroom, he'd stay out of the pantry and out
of Arleen's purse. I set a tray on the floor a few feet away from my chair. On
the tray, I put an empty, but not washed, peanut butter jar. Soon, the mouse
discovered the jar and set about cleaning up the remaining bits of peanut
butter. This was a big job for a mouse, and it took several days.
The children named him Ralph.
He was a vole, or meadow mouse. Ralph would keep me company
every night, working on his peanut butter jar. The children ate a lot of peanut
butter, so there was always a jar for Ralph to work on. From time to time, he
would emerge from the jar, stand on his hind legs and make eye contact. Ralph
was good company.
One day, after several weeks of this, I heard a familiar
crunching sound in the pantry.
I thought, "Ralph! We talked about this. I thought we
had an understanding!"
The crunching seemed to be coming from some flattened boxes
that were going to be recycled. I picked up the top box, expecting to see a
mouse scurry away. No mouse. The crunching continued, only interrupted for a
few seconds by my rustling the boxes.
I picked up all the boxes. The crunching stopped, but no
mouse scurried away.
All that was left was an empty Cheerios box that had been at
the bottom of the pile. I thought, "He couldn't be in there."
I picked up the Cheerios box and looked inside. There was a
wax paper bag inside that had held the cereal. I thought, "He couldn't be
in that bag."
I pulled the bag out of the box, and there, standing on his
hind legs with his forepaws against the side of the bag, was Ralph, gazing
calmly at me from inside the bag.
I drove Ralph to the park and let him go in the woods.
I left the tray in place to lure any new mice away from the
pantry and Arleen's chocolates.
Only a few days passed and another mouse showed up, this
time a deer mouse.
That was Ralph II, the greatest mouse I ever knew. Ralph II
kept me company as I worked into the night for several months until I began to
see signs of another mouse and had to catch both of them. I was heartbroken
when I let Ralph II go in the woods. (It's Ralph II whose picture is on every
Freeman whistle.)
After Ralph II, there was Gus, another vole. Gus was only
with us for a week or two, but he was the hardest working mouse of all. He
would show up, not just at night, but in the middle of the day, working two
shifts at the Global Pennywhistle Tweaking Research and Production Consortium
Headquarters. Gus was so tame, the children could creep close to him, and he
wouldn't scurry. He'd stand on his hind legs and make eye contact, to their
delight.
And then there was Mouse, the last rodent on the GPTR&PC
Headquarters staff.
By the time Mouse came around, the arrangement had lost its
novelty, and I didn't pay much attention to him. He was a very shy animal, and
I rarely saw him. An online friend had sent a supply of sunflower seeds for
Mouse, which I left for him on the tray.
But Mouse wouldn't stay and eat. All night long, he would
haul sunflower seeds, from the tray to his secret cache somewhere. Back and
forth, back and forth, over and over again, while I worked on whistles.
My online friends and I wrote a song for Mouse:
Gotta haul dem seeds,
Gotta haul dem seeds.
I'm a working MOUSE,
Gotta haul dem seeds.
One day, in the spring, I was looking for something in my
workroom closet. I noticed a pair of shoes I hadn't worn much and wouldn't
likely wear again. I thought, "I'll give these to the thrift store."
I picked up one of the shoes, and out popped Mouse! As he scurried away, I
looked inside the shoe.
There, inside the shoe was a cozy (and warm) little mouse
nest, made of about 50% dryer lint and 50% ...
my whiskers!
All winter long, as he was hauling seeds back and forth,
whenever Mouse encountered a whisker that had fallen from my beard, he picked
it up and tucked it into his shoe nest.
(I've wondered about this. Why would a mouse make his nest
in a shoe and insulate it with human whiskers? Well, to cover his own scent. "No
mouse in here! I'm a big scary human, so you'd better not come near!")
Best wishes,
Jerry
(Note to self: Gotta get a phone that records better quality video.)