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Dreamed a dream by the old canal

January 13, 2010

It’s 2010 and the older I get the more I get that whole longing-for-a-past-that-never-existed feeling. It’s like when people say, “You know, like back in the ’50s,” when they try to describe some idyllic neighborhood or family dynamic where all was smiles and pancakes instead of the real 1950s, which had just as much violence and ugliness as any decade. Nothing was all smiles and pancakes. I don’t long for the ’50s, but it seems that almost every day I wish for some vanished something that I know I’ll never get to unless I move to the woods and can figure out how to magically earn an income.

A slower pace, tradition, a respect and reliance on lost crafts and professions, neighborhoods, work ethic, community, products that last, music that lasts, people that last. This is another example of one of those things I can’t fully communicate. Writing it down at least helps, makes it about halfway more understandable than when I try to talk about it. I’m terrible at that whole talking thing. So the whole point here is that I realized the other day that, since the computer’s been swiped, I lost most of my Clancy Brothers and traditional Irish/folk music. And the non-traditional stuff, too, of course. I’ll get it all back soon enough and probably use an itunes gift card from Christmas. And isn’t that quite the commentary.

Even more than getting a few essential albums back, I’d always wanted to be more a part of it. So I’ve gotten my hands on a fiddle, thanks to a certain trusting and generous pal we’ll call Ralphie. I’ve got a couple ideas on learning to play and I don’t imagine it’ll be easy or cheap, but it’s an idea I’ve been kicking around for a long time. I’ve already missed learning in those formative years they always talk about, so I’m a bit behind, but still pumped for it. So gimme a year or two and I might actually be able to play something. I have to do it now, too, since I’ve made the mighty Internet Declaration.

Thanks for reading, you two or three.

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