OUR VISION
At Dwarven Tavern, we see a world where music lifts everyone, no matter their means. We’re building a community hub—right here in Ohio—where free lessons and instruments unlock creativity for the underserved. Imagine a place where every strum, beat, and note forges futures and bridges gaps. That’s the legacy we’re crafting, one song at a time.
OUR STYLE
We blend the grit of a dwarven forge with the soul of a tavern jam session. Think hands-on lessons, eclectic instruments—from guitars and flutes to bagpipes and sitars—and a vibe that’s welcoming yet bold. We’re not polished suits; we’re storytellers and makers, rooted in tradition but always pushing the tune forward. It’s practical, it’s quirky, it’s us.
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OUR PASSION
Music and gaming fuel our fire. We’re driven to share the thrill of a perfect chord or a clutch dice roll with those who’d otherwise miss out. Since 2015, we’ve been pouring our hearts into free education, believing every kid, every dreamer, deserves a shot at mastery. It’s not just notes or rules—it’s joy, connection, and the spark of something bigger.
The Journey
A Song Reborn: Jeff Goins and the Dwarven Tavern
Jeff Goins grew up in a house alive with sound. Raised by musicians steeped in bluegrass, he was handed a legacy of strings and keys before he could tie his shoes. His parents taught him the full roster—guitar, piano, fiddle, banjo, mandolin—each instrument a thread in the tapestry of their Appalachian nights. But Jeff, ever the restless soul, rebelled. He picked up a flute, its lilting voice a departure from the twang of his roots. Then came the revelation: bluegrass, he learned, was a child of Irish folk music, echoing the heritage that ran 96% deep in his blood. Suddenly, those notes weren’t just sound—they were home.
That discovery lit a fire. Jeff’s hunger for instruments became insatiable. He mastered the bass, its low growl a counterpoint to the sprightly bouzouki. Penny whistles and ocarinas danced in his hands, joined by the harmonica’s wail and the soulful calls of alto and soprano saxophones. His curiosity stretched across oceans—China’s dizi, hulusi, and erhu whispered mysteries, India’s sitar and tabla pulsed with rhythm, and the bagpipes of Scotland and Ireland roared with ancestral pride. If it made a sound, Jeff could play it, his fingers weaving a global symphony.
Teaching was in his bones too. With degrees in education, he loved nothing more than lighting that spark in others—watching a student’s eyes widen as a chord clicked. But in 2015, fate threw a curveball. Forestier’s disease crept in, a rare condition flooding his body with excess calcium, sprouting bone spurs along his spine. By his late forties, nerve damage stole the music from his hands. The instruments he’d breathed life into fell silent, and Jeff faced a void where melody once lived.
Then came 2023—a grueling year of six surgeries. Metal and resolve pulled the spurs from his spine, easing the pressure on his nerves. When sensation flooded back—90% restored—he held his breath, testing fingers that trembled with possibility. It wasn’t perfect; the stage was a dream he’d have to let go. But it was a second chance, and Jeff Goins doesn’t squander those.
“Want for Nothing but adventure. The most important ingredient in every recipe is hunger, the most important factor of learning is curiosity.”
Jeff Goins
Founder
He turned his gaze outward. In Ohio, where he’d rooted his life, he saw kids and dreamers with no path to music—held back by empty wallets, not empty hearts. Inspired, he dusted off a name from his past: the Dwarven Tavern, a gaming review outfit he’d launched in 1993. Once the Foundation for Spiritual Research, it had simmered quietly since 2015. Now, in 2024, he rechristened it, fusing his loves—music, education, gaming—into a nonprofit with a mission: free lessons for the needy.
Jeff hit social media, offering lessons in guitar, flute, even the sitar he’d once wrestled into song. The response was a tidal wave. From Toledo to Cincinnati, people clamored—a waiting list formed, a testament to the hunger he’d tapped. He couldn’t play onstage, but he could teach, weaving bluegrass and bagpipes into lives that needed them. Volunteers started knocking; the Tavern’s doors creaked wider. For Jeff, it’s more than music—it’s a legacy reborn, a second verse to a song he thought had ended.
