Bohemian Rhapsody

December 18, 2023 Sally7 Comments

“Does this picture inspire you to write something?” — Sadje’s question for the What Do You See prompt (WDYS)

Immediately Bohemian Rhapsody was playing in my mind —

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality
Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see
Freddie Mercury, Queen

And then I went on to listen to song after song by Queen.

A friend asked me the other day what my favorite music was. Sometimes a question just stops me in my tracks. This was one of those questions. I stopped to ponder.

“I listen to Celtic folk music all the time,” I told her, which I do. The Corries, the Sorries, Dougie MacLean, Old Blind Dogs, North Sea Gas, Celtic Rovers, Malinky — and the list could go on. Whenever I hear another group I like, I just add them to my Celtic playlist.

But if I was stranded on a desert island with one piece of music to listen to for the rest of my days it would be Dvorak’s New World Symphony. I decided that years ago and it still holds true. Bucket list item: hear that symphony played by a full orchestra.

I told my friend that.

That conversation led me to think about a top five or top ten that I would take to that desert island.

This morning’s dive in Queen made me fully aware that Queen would make the list. Man, oh man, Freddie Mercury could sing, couldn’t he? And the lyrics are rich and full and hard to get to the bottom of, right?

Would I choose Bohemian Rhapsody? I don’t know, but I do know I could listen to him sing forever.

Andrew Peterson would make the list. I’d have a tough time choosing one of his songs, too. He would make it for different reasons than Freddie Mercury. Andrew is one of the most genuine, sincere, kind, generous people I have ever met. His songs reflect that. And he knows my name — which is pretty huge to a hide-in-the-background-stay-behind-the-scenes kind of person. He has no reason to know my name, but he does. Or did at one point — which counts, right?

When it comes to the Celtic music, I would choose a song, not an artist. Dark Lochnagar is based on a poem by Lord Byron and speaks to a longing for the wild freedom and beauty of Scotland.

… England ! thy beauties are tame and domestic
To one who has roved on the mountains afar:
Oh for the crags that are wild and majestic !
The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr !
Lord Byron

Yep, love that song no matter who sings it.

Sadje asked if the picture inspired me to write something. It inspired me to fall off the edge and delve deep into the music that I love.

Rabbit trails are crazy like that, aren’t they? Photo of an illusion —> Bohemian Rhapsody —-> Freddie Mercury —> music on a desert island. Makes sense, right?

From Bluegrass to Opera

July 16, 2023 Sally5 Comments

~ a stream-of-consciousness post ~

~ aka blather ~

For the record, I had a great week despite it starting off with a high level of anxiety.

I had had one of my hare-brained ideas — and this one involved taking a group of seniors to a bluegrass festival.

My contact person at the festival was one of those people who, like Bartholomew Cubbins, wore at least 500 hats. In addition to being the Office Manager, Contract Coordinator, Vendor Coordinator, Logistics Manager for that festival, she also coordinated a bunch of other events. One day when I called her she was out purchasing food for a camp or something. Another time I tried multiple to times to call her only to learn that she had dropped her phone in a lake where she was working and it was gone, gone, gone.

It stressed me out because I had trouble reaching her. I wanted confirmation of these tickets and didn’t actually get that until the morning of. Because it was my first time going and I didn’t know the lay of the land, I was worried. Add to that a couple of octogenarians, a bunch of septuagenarians, a few people with mobility issues — well, you can imagine how I asked myself many times, whose dumb idea was this?

A week ago I was out for a walk. Sometimes, when I exercise, it’s like the idea generator turns on in my head. I start having ideas — admittedly most of them dumb — but one idea leads to more ideas that lead to more ideas.

I have a friend that I haven’t seen since the last high school reunion I didn’t attend (he sought me out at home). While walking, a song he wrote popped into my head. Idea! Must get him to come sing that song for my seniors! When I got home I immediately reached out to him.

Over the course of a bunch of text message, I learned that he was going to be at the festival to which I was taking this group. To make a long story short, I called him the next day and he told me more about the festival. Then he met me shortly after I got to the festival. While my charges were eating gyros and bloomin’ onions, my friend showed me the lay of the land. Later in the afternoon, when folks were happily settled in various tents listening to or participating in sessions, we sat together and talked.

Have you ever been hungry for good conversation? I left that day feeling full.

The next day I went to the opera — La Boheme.

If you want two diametrically opposed musical experiences, go to a Bluegrass Festival and then go to an opera.

I listened to the orchestra warm up, the clarinet, french horn, and violin all skittering up and down the scales.. I love the orchestra. I could listen to them all day. Even when they’re just tuning before they begin, there’s something magical about it.

The orchestra violin? Just the day before everybody had been calling it a fiddle.

The opera musicians were all dressed in their orchestra black and sat unobtrusively in the orchestra pit.

The day before the musicians were on stage wearing t-shirts and hats and sunglasses. One mandolin player bobbed his huge mop of hair in time with the music. Sometimes the band members were barefoot.

The opera audience listened from their seats, clearly loving the amazing music, but also following the protocol of an opera, where you listen and then clap at appropriate times.

The bluegrass audience danced and clapped and cheered and sang along.

Which did I enjoy more? I would be hard-pressed to choose musically.

But the full day bluegrass experience definitely fed my soul.

Blather · Music

Music from My Childhood

May 6, 2023 Sally5 Comments

Last night I went with one of my sons and his wife and daughter to a concert by Le Vent du Nord, a French-Canadian folk music group from Quebec. It now ranks among the few times I wished I had stuck with French instead of switching to Latin in high school.

Side note: our French teacher taught us by having us memorize dialogues in French. To date, I have yet to say to ANYBODY, “Regarde cette belle neige com el tombe,” whereas Latin words seem to commonly crop up/creep in. Caveat emptor, cogito ergo sum, and all that.

Such joy on that stage! Oh my goodness! Laughter doesn’t need a language any more than music does.

When one of the band members first pulled out his accordion, I was transported back to Bosnia 2017, when one of men there had started playing his accordion after dinner and soon everyone was singing along. I told my daughter-in-law about that experience and she had had a similar one in Switzerland. I have yet to go to dinner at anyone’s house in the USA, have someone start playing the accordion and people start singing along.

When I saw Linda Hill Stream of Consciousness prompt for this week — “a song from your childhood” — I immediately thought of an album, not a single song. If I had to choose a single song, it would be The Beatles’ “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” which is the first song I distinctly remember hearing and wanting to hear over and over. I was four years old when that came out.

The album from my childhood that I thought of was an album of folk music my father gave me when I was in 5th grade. It was assorted artists and assorted songs. Do I distinctly remember any of the songs? No. Well, I do remember “Mrs. Murphy’s Chowder” but it certainly wasn’t my favorite song on the album. It’s kind of a strange song, if you know it. When they listed the ingredients of the chowder, it went something like, “Ice cream, cold cream, benzene, gasoline, soup beans, string beans, floating all around. Sponge cake, beef steak, mistake, stomach ache, egg puffs, ear muffs, begging to be found…” Clearly I listened to it waaaay too many times. And, like I said, it wasn’t my favorite song.

I think that album was like a packet of assorted wildflower seeds that was sown in my heart and took root. Goodness, I love folk music. It is my absolute favorite.

These days, I listen to Scottish folk music all the time. If you walk into my office, you may hear a little skirl of bagpipes playing softly in the background or some sad homesick song about Scotland.

I loved the Québécois music I heard last night. In fact, let me end my blather with a song from Le Vent du Nord, “Ma Louise.”

Check out the foot-tapping guy in the background. I could have listened to that all night.

All I understood was “Au revoir, ma Louise.” I looked up the translation of all the lyrics. Of course, it’s a sad song with happy music.

A to Z Blogging Challenge · family · Music

Blessed are the Homesick

August 23, 2019 Sally3 Comments

Blessed are the homesick for they have a home.

My father’s music of choice is Scottish — so I hear it all the time. A thread of homesickness runs through their music.

The other day, as I listened for 793rd time to John McDermott singing, My Ain Folk, I found myself thinking about how blessed I am that I understand this song and this homesickness. Now that I have traveled a wee bit, I know even more what it is to long to be home.

The fjords of Norway are breathtaking, Sarajevo is hauntingly beautiful, the beaches of Normandy are sad and inspiring — but whenever and wherever I travel, I miss my home.

I love Cooperstown —- have I ever mentioned that here?

I rewrote My Ain Folk (see the video at the end if you aren’t familiar with the song) for my own family —

Far from my hame I wander but still my thoughts return
To my ain¹ folk over yonder — and it’s for them yearn
I see the tree-lined streets there, and I look out o’er the lake
At the Tower² and the Lion³, and my heart begins to ache

And it’s – Oh, but I’m longing for my ain folk
Though they be but quiet simple⁴ plain folk
When I’m far away from home — wherever I may roam
I’m missing Cooperstown and my ain folk

Recalling Mom there in the kitchen⁵, my father in his den⁶
My husband in the pasture⁷, mowing it again
My children coming through the door, excited ‘bout their day
The cashier at the grocery⁸ who talks of family while I pay

And it’s – Oh, but I’m longing for my ain folk
Though they be but quiet simple plain folk
When I’m far away from home — wherever I may roam
I’m missing Cooperstown and my ain folk

1. Ain = own

2. Tower = Kingfisher Tower

3. Lion = the Sleeping Lion a “mountain” at the end of the lake. You have to squint and use a lot of imagination to see a lion, but that’s what it’s called.

at the edge of Otsego Lake looking toward the Sleeping Lion and Kingfisher Tower

4. Simple = in the sense of enjoying simple pleasures: the dew on the grass, the hummingbirds diving in and out of the bee balm, the colors of the maples in autumn, the sparkle of snow

5. Mom in the kitchen = it’s where I remember her most

6. Dad in the den = okay, so my father doesn’t have a den per say, but he loves to read and work on puzzles. If he had a den, he’d sit there.

7. Bud in the pasture = I don’t think he has missed working as a dosimetrist one whit. He has worked hard on the property here — mowing and clearing brush — so that it’s beautiful just to look out the front door.

8. Cashier at the grocery = I really love that she knows my name. Her name is Linda. And the produce guy is Mark. And the deli lady — I wish I knew her name — always brightens up and greets me when I stop there. It’s a small town thing, I suppose, to know the people at the grocery store so well.

Yes, yes — blessed are those who know homesickness because they also know home.