Umbrella Musings

A few weeks ago I floated over to Tommy Doyle's in a torrent of rain. By evening's end, the rain had stopped, and it wasn't until I got back home that I realized I had forgotten my umbrella at the pub. I called Liam, who said - even before I could say hello - "Eric's got your umbrella."

I did see Eric a couple more times since that night, but I never did reconnect with that umbrella. Oh well, it probably cost me all of $5.00, and the only time I ever thought about it was when it rained (which has been a lot this month, actually). I figured it would become one of those things where I would think about Eric and the umbrella every time it rained and it would remain a conversation opener for a period of time until the memory of that particular umbrella (but never you, Eric!) faded into oblivion and I eventually remembered to pick up a new one.

But I received a text from David yesterday, on his way to the island from New York (apparently via Boston), which said, "....I've got your umbrella."

Okay, I've said it before: it's not just the great music. It's this ineffable feeling of family; of being connected to an amazing community of people who care about each other's comings and goings, life-cycle events (baby yet, Liam?), concerns, and yes, even umbrellas.

The Greenbriar, January 10, 2011

Glad to be having two weeks in a row off from my travels, and how could I resist another opportunity to get over to the Greenbriar. I amuse myself in thinking I'm now a regular over there, but realize this is only a temporary state of affairs since I will be back on my regular commuting schedule next week. I do love this place, though, and the people - at least one of whom I've known for thirty years, a few I've only come to know in the past year from this and various other venues, and many who now seem like old friends even though my attendance here is sporadic. I enjoy the slow session - and continue to realize that even though I do spend time playing at home on my own (which sometimes feels like practicing, which I'm not crazy about), it is in the context of playing in the group, even tunes I don't even realize I know - stretching myself beyond my comfort level (quietly, so as not to annoy if I really don't have a clue; not so quietly as the tune begins to take shape) - it is in this context that I make the most progress, especially with the subtleties of the rhythms, the heart of the music. I was complimented in my bouzouki playing last night, for playing it softly, though interestingly, I am focusing more and more on fiddle and feel less need to play back-up, especially if there are other back-ups playing. I cringe when I think of how little I knew in the beginning. I expect that I will someday cringe again, realizing how little I knew in January of 2011.

I do love that big table in the front room/regular session, the way it fills up and pulses with music and life, and have started to understand the scheme of things. And while I do appreciate the slow pace of the early session, there's something wonderful about the way the fast pace of the regular session forces me to even more deeply engage with the music. I especially love the way that table feels like a family, and the way that Larry obviously cares about each person there.

I also had the pleasure of Wynter's company last night. I had been working on "her" College Groves, so I had her on my mind when my phone rang, and it was she, inquiring as to whether I was going to the Briar, so it worked out that we ended up traveling together. (And later in the evening when Larry invited Wynter to play a tune and The College Groves was her choice, I think she looked to me to play along - oops, did I mention that I just barely began learning this tune? - sorry, no help at all, which turned out to be of no consequence really, as she played it brilliantly, mostly solo, and to everyone's delight).

Maybe I've mentioned this, but this blog combines the two biggest loves of my life: music and photography; three, actually, if you count writing, though I've been way off of long writing projects for a while now - thanks to eight very recent years of school - with no real desire (yet) to get back to any in-depth writing projects.