City - My room State - IN THE DARKNESS OF CENTRAL ILLINOIS (L-IH-NOY) Country - United States
About
Years and years ago I was the MC (Master of Ceremonies) at the Ladd 100 and/or something year celebration of the founding of the town of Ladd, Illinois. While backstage, I met a young lady and she played the violin, and I had never ever been so close to that instrument… and I asked her what the bow was made of. And she told me, “Horse hair.” And I touched it. And she said, “You are never suppose to touch it.” And I said, “Sorry.” And she said, “That’s ok.” Over the ensuing years, all three of my children learned to play instruments. Mike (the oldest) played the saxophone. Nathan (middle child) played the coronet, trumpet and French horn. Elizabeth (third and final child and only girl) plays the flute, piccolo, piano, cello and saxophone. My wife, the Lovely Mary Margaret, plays accordion, guitar and piano. I, me… myself… play nothing but the radio and CD’s. Today reality in the form of mortality suddenly confirmed made me sit up and say, “I need to learn an instrument before I die.”
och aye.. the pipes the pipes are calling.. as a retired guitar player (I have two Gibsons and SG Electric and a Blue Ridge Custom Special acoustic) I must sell the SG as it is seldom (never) played... on retirement (from Rio that is) I thought I should get Nimmitybelle (the name of my acoustic) out and try and relearn all my old songs I used to play.. I have written my own sheet music (for I canna read music) me Phil John and Ian used to put out an album every year (on cassettes) which I must find a way of transcribing to disc... all a bit silly really trying to claw back the past.. Yesterday as I was designing the entry form for the 2009 Muswellbrook Open Art Prize I even began thinking about getting back into art making.. something that also fell by the wayside may years ago.. and I used to be good at… one year I won every local art prize.. and Highly Commendeds all over the place… photography has just become a huge consuming beast of a thing.. beast being the operative word.. its like it HAS to be the solution to every thing and its a pain in the neck. I love the "touching" references too BTW it reminded me of a seminar I went to at the Art Gallery of NSW (Bill Henson was there I shook his hand wow) but Joesph Liebovic was there too..lecturing and he handed out to the audience (amongst other things) about six daguerreotypes! I held one and marvelled too at its heritage and wondered how many others flecks of DNA were on the thing of beauty... touch
at the last moment,every one will realizes that there is a lot of things in his or her life,were not be fulfilled,so hurry my friend,and do as much as you could,from the things that you bypasses throughout the rushing years, it was my same wish,that I can't fulfill,I have compensated it by listening to the music a lot,but it will still a wish that I hope to be granted, my best, Saad.
Hey, just remembered this: in 1998 I and Nathan (middle son) were standing in a hall at the palace of Versailles in France. With us was Nathan's friend, Mike. Now Mike had two perfectly good and properly functioning eyes but he had to touch EVERYTHING to see it. The three of us were gathering about at Versailles when from the far end of a very echoy (echo-ie???) hall came, "NOOO!" Seems Mike actually touched something and from yards/meters off the guard saw it. I know exactly what you are saying. I ran my hands over and across an F-117 Nighthawk stealth fighter. Sight, sound, smell... and touch.
Great detail, both foreground back ground too. The bagpipes take an awful lot of breath ( or so I have heard) good luck with it. I play flute and have just begun learning piano, I am always fascinated with people and their instruments. Great stuff. regards, Jacqueline
Bagpipes... good thing you don't have any neighbours.
Years ago I took a class called "The History of the Book". Very cool class. One day the prof brought in a 2500 year old clay tablet (a shipping manifest, written in cuneiform on wet clay and left to dry). When he wasn't looking, I whipped off my cotton gloves and held it in my hand. Totally not something I was supposed to do. But you know... I can still feel its texture against my skin, and the connection I felt in that instant, between me and some some forgotten scribe in the days when Rome was still just a collection of mud huts next to the Tiber River. Amazing...
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