A pleasure I've returned to in this recently-adjusted life is that of hearing live music on my street, especially during summer when people play in their yards, or with every door and window flung open. Many a morning I've awoken to my lovely friend/neighbor -- the venerated banjo player Candy Goldman --
-- on her porch plucking at strings. I've had the treat numerous times of drifting off to sleep with my bedroom window open, a party at Candy's still in full-fiddle. Sometimes a trio or quartet of musicians will spill onto the driveway or parking strip, and it's a veritable symphony of old-time music, free for the listening. It's heaven.
So imagine my surprise when Candy called me this week to say that she'd heard what sounded like Italian music coming from my house. My house?! I tried to recall what I've been listening to, and scratched my head. I had no idea what she was talking about.
"T.," she said, "it was you playing the concertina. Felt like a I was in a Fellini movie."
Um, well. I do recall practicing my key of C, and then some messing around with improvised tunes. But Candy was listening to me play music?!! This was quite the turn-around.
I was stunned. I thought, I can do this?!
Needless to say, she made my day. My week, actually.
And yesterday, my Handbook for English Concerina arrived in the mail.
Looks like I have some practice ahead.