Posted on December 30, 2014 under News & Updates with one comment

The Western Swingers – Nashville

Photo courtesy of Peter MacDonald

Sorry. No story today folks. Too busy putting on the miles to get to Nashville yesterday. We had a terrific evening down on Broadway. The city is jam packed with people with a big New Year’s Eve event just around the corner and today , there is a U.S. College Bowl Game pitting the Fighting Irish of Notre Dame and the LSU Tigers. Every bar was full and so were most of the patrons, mostly football fans.

Earlier in the day, we were given a tip of a famous eating establishment that specializes in Tennessee barbeque, called Jack’s. It was spectacular. The food was plentiful, cheap and delicious. Right next door was another Nashville landmark, Robert’s bar. We were told that if you wanted to hear some real old fashioned Country and Western and Honky Tonk, this was the place to be. We weren’t disappointed. We ran out of superlatives in our praise of the band. Each of them have been session musicians playing with many of the greats of the past and present. Later in the evening we walked up and down Broadway. Every bar has a live band and none of them could touch the guys we heard.

Tomorrow we will visit the other landmarks in the city including the Grand Ole Opry and head to Memphis the day after. And then it’s on to New Orleans.

Have a great day.

Posted on December 29, 2014 under Monday Morning Musings with 2 comments

Split Crow – Boxing Day 2014

Photo courtesy of Peter MacDonald

 

 

The picture above was taken on Boxing Day at the Split Crow. My daughter, Betsy and her friends have a gig there every Friday from 5-8. The music is eclectic and the musicians are terrific. Go check it out some Friday. I was hauled up on the stage kicking and screaming ( I’m pretty shy, as you know ! ). I did a few tunes with this group and had the pleasure of doing two numbers with Betsy and Peter. We left the pub mid evening and drove to Amherst for an overnighter before heading out on the road.

I love the people of Maine but man, is the landscape bleak, especially at this time of the year. Mind you, in fairness, Nova Scotia doesn’t look much different if you stay on the Trans Canada. We had an absolutely perfect day for travel for December 27^th. It was sunny and the only reason we didn’t know it was summer was that the grass wasn’t green. We put the hammer down and knocked off 1100 km. We plan to be in Nashville later today. We saw one promotional sign that caught our eye just after the border in Calais. You get a free lobster at this auto glass place if you get your windshield repaired. I almost went looking for the nearest flatbed truck that I could follow for a few miles in hopes that an errant rock might hit us.

I have a couple of stories coming up. The first one is a post Christmas tale called “Some Assembly Required.” Every single one of you could have written this story. I have been asked many times how Betty has survived living with me for 32 years. It’s quite simple. We learned early on that there were two tasks that a married couple should never tackle together: dry walling/crack filling and assembling Christmas toys.

The other story is about a recent trip to the dermatologist in Halifax. You would hardly think that this is story material but virtually everything we do is “story worthy.” Stay tuned for “Scott Free.”

I have one other story that I have been considering publishing but it’s very uncharacteristic in that the subject is quite serious. It’s called “The Length of Days” and discusses the topic of how much time each of us are given,  in this thing we call life. The thought occurred to me when I was attending the committal ceremony for a relative of Betty’s this fall. Her great aunt was 97 and lived a full life. I happened to notice the grave beside her. It was that of a 5 year old girl who died in the year that Neil Armstrong stepped on the moon. How is it, that one person got an additional 92 years of living? Whatever we’re given, we have to make the best of it.

A few weeks ago, I notified my clients and informed them that I was retiring from the financial planning  business on June 30^th. of 2015. This does not mean that I am going to retire from the work world. Some people retire well while others struggle mightily. I personally feel that staying active and engaged is the key to the “golden years.”  I hope to spend more time writing. At least that’s the plan. I really still quite enjoy helping people planning their retirements but there is a time for all of us to walk away and for me, it’s best to do it before I get thrown out by my partners.

Hope you have a great week and a Happy New Year.

I really appreciate your support.

Posted on December 26, 2014 under Storytelling with 3 comments

Photo courtesy of Peter MacDonald

 

 

What’s in a number?

There are some numbers that stand out.  What is the first thing you think of when you hear the number 99?  It’s most likely Wayne Gretzky, or you remember sitting on a bus, on a high school road trip, singing “99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall”.  Has anyone ever sung all 99 verses?  The number 13 is normally associated with bad luck, so much so, that most hotels don’t have a 13^th floor.  Retirement is purported to happen at 65 … a pipe dream for most of us.  And, of course, the number 1 is often trotted out by sports teams when they win a championship; “We’re number 1!”

I would like to add my own special number: 39.

If you do the math, it would appear that thirty nine is triple bad luck, but nothing could be further from the truth.  You see, this is the number of the house that I grew up in and I affectionately call it the “house that roared”.  Oh yes, there were times that blood curdling screams have emanated from the walls of this structure as our parents rose to the challenge of raising 8 children.  But above all the din and confusion, one thing stands out about #39.

Music.

We congregated recently at the house to celebrate the life of our beloved niece, Audrey.  The room was filled with people weary from a week of sorrow and anguish.  There was our 89 year old mother and her great granddaughter, 3 year old Anna, and just about every age in between.  It took all of 5 seconds for the pall to be lifted as we belted out “Sound the Pibroch”.  And like fire and gasoline, there was an instant explosion as our grief found relief in song.

The music crossed all generational lines.

“Abilene”, “The Mary Ellen Carter”, Puff the Magic Dragon”

We tend to take our music for granted on the East Coast.  A kitchen party is par for the course and you could go to just about any house after a funeral and have the same experience.  All that was missing from our gathering was a fiddle.  Two of my sisters are learning how to play.  They chose not to debut their talents on this particular night!  I have family on the west coast and they claim that out there, a spontaneous gathering of this sort is as elusive as a sighting of the Loch Ness monster.

“Ring of Fire”,” Song for the Mira”, Twinkle, Twinkle”

We start them when they’re still in the cradle.  Just about every get-together over the past 60 years has featured the young and the old.  It is hard to tell what an infant being nursed thinks about all the racket in the background.  But it becomes obvious over the years that the sounds and rhythms get into their blood.  How else can you explain the following exchange I had with my grand-niece, Grace (she’s 8):  “Would you play a song for me?” she asked.  I was expecting the request to be a nursery rhyme or something from Frozen.  “I would like to sing “Auld Lang Syne.”  I nearly dropped my guitar. She knew every word and sang it flawlessly. If Dick Clark lives long enough, he may have her as a guest on New Year’s Eve from Times Square.

In The Evening by the Moonlight”, “Working Man”, “Baa Baa Black Sheep”

A family friend who is a member of the RCMP sat and watched, mouth agape, as brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, mothers, grandmothers and cousins all took turns singing their favorites.  He wondered aloud if we got together often to practice.  “Only for funerals or weddings,” ran through my mind as we explained that these gatherings are a part of our DNA.  It’s “What’s Bred in the Bone,” as Robertson Davies said in his classic novel.

“Calendar Girl,” “Eight Days a Week,” “Skinnamarink”

Our recently departed niece was ever present as we sang all of her favorites.  Well, maybe not all, as she knew a broad repertoire.  Had we agreed to all of her requests, we would be there still.

Arm in arm, we belted out the refrain from “Good Night Ladies”.  The house fell silent as we made our way back to our homes, which all have a number… just not #39.