We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Who's gonna throw those minstrel boys a coin? Yes, Garrett is indeed haunted in the best sense. I noticed it when I met him. He is inside himself. But who is the invisible retard on bass?
In the good old days before recorded music, everybody made their own music at home. A home is a little empty and dead without it. Everybody in the family was supposed to play something, however ineptly, and it is a delight to hear somebody struggling with a piece on the piano in the living room. The wrong notes are sentimentally memorable. It's the sound of home. Homemade music is the best, and second best is live music. Music has gotten too easy to have. Maybe it's just a Maggie's view, but I believe that music, like sports, is more wonderful to do than to watch or listen to. My musical and singing talents have been elusive, to say the least, thus far, but there is always hope.
Sitting around playing with friends is a ton of fun. Sadly, other than my Dad, I'm the only one that has any kind of musical bent so it never was all that important to the rest of the family.
My kids though - they had to learn at least one instrument and learn how to read music - not to the point where they can read a piece down like I can, but at least noodle out what a tune would sound like.
Funny thing is, there aren't a lot of instrument players in the complex which is disappointing so I'm kind of stuck playing by myself or open mike night at a bluegrass joint over in West Columbia. I don't care for bluegrass but any port in a storm as they say.