Sunday, August 8, 2010

Don't Matter Anyway

A fun weekend seeing folks I don't see ever so often. No big plans, just go with the flow. Some coming in from out of town and others just across the river, but renewing tails and ties that bind.

After a free musical lesson and showing off the wood boxes, we wandered down the ole retail trail and enjoyed the eye candy. There would be more before the night was over. Showing off the toy store where the owner died and the old theater. New paint on old buildings and the bustle of business before the big festival that will block my usual path. A burger in the 50's with cuteness in short cut off jeans and a punctuated face with a sweet smile.

Off to the string box store to view the wood and listen to the tone. Tons of old traveling memories flood the brain as we discuss the latest inductees. Talk to the professionals and they will offer a bargain too go to refuse. Hope it tunes out to be a reward and not a burden.

On past the wedding party to grab the ice and make the dash across the river, only to loose our way. But never no mind, we'll get their somehow. No to worry. A voice through the air leads us the crumbs to the path into the woods.

So many unknowns, but no fear. You are amongst friends. Dogs and children and familiar faces and those of the vague remembrance appear and disappear as the sun hides behind the tall trees and vanishes into the woods. Food and drink and laughter, but the best is never a harsh word. Some leave and some go as the churn of the bodies continue.

After a few moments with some family small talk, we open the case to reveal our rusty voices. The Beatles are always a favorite, but we mysteriously slip into the blues and if the time had been right, we would have stayed there until the first light.

Frank was right, "Music IS the best." It takes you back and throws you into new places, always an adventure with new discoveries every time you touch the strings.

The mind strains to remember the words, but the magic fingers lead the way out of thought moving to notes only they know. No recording was made, but smiles were.

The blond showed weariness of a long day, so we packed up the band and headed into the darkness as more of the crew moved toward the lighted balls. The master of ceremonies had produced another warm and friendly B.A.R.F.

At home again, I told tales of connections to the tired travels, then packing my bag, waved good bye. I've talked enough.

Refreshed by the cool weather and the community, sleep was not on the agenda. "Thank you" notes written not by pen on paper, but by fingers with callouses from steel against wood and explore some online music, finding another inspiration.

On reflection, no great conversation revealed or ideas changed, but comfort was enjoyed by many who came and some who didn't.

And for those who missed it, it don't matter anyway.

No comments: