Posted on April 29, 2026 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with no comments yet

Gigging once more

 

“I’m back in the saddle again,

Out where a friend is a friend”.

Back in The Saddle Again – Gene Autry

Music still feeds my soul.

As I lurch (hurtle) towards 75, music remains a crucial part of my fabric.

My granddaughter is doing a project for Heritage Fair, tracing her musical roots. We sat down one day over lunch at school, and I tried to explain the different branches of her family tree. Music permeates her lineage.

I have never felt that music was a curse, even the odd time when I have an “ear worm” and have a song stuck in my head for days on end. If I’m not playing music, I’m listening to music or I’m humming a tune on my way to school. I don’t bake as much as I once did because I have this tendency to eat everything I make, even when I try and trick myself by freezing cookies. While I’m baking, I listen to classical music. Bake with Bach?

Because of my unfortunate fall from grace in the parking lot at Sobey’s a year ago, I haven’t been able to play my guitar. My arm hasn’t fully healed but good enough that I’m back playing again. Those of who play understand that a long hiatus from playing leaves you without callouses on your fingertips, so the first order of business is playing a little bit everyday to “toughen the tips”.

It’s not exactly a Bruce Springsteen tour but it looks like I’m back on the retirement home/nursing home circuit once again. I love playing for the old folks, especially those who have been robbed of their memories. I love seeing their faces light up when an oldie ignites something in their hippocampus, the part of the brain associated with memory. It has struck me that before too long, Vera Lynn and the Andrews Sisters are going to be swept aside at these sessions and replaced by Elvis and The Beatles as our cohort begins to inhabit these facilities with more regularity.

At the other end of the spectrum, I often play at school. Even when the music is not familiar to them, it seems to have a calming effect. It is also a very effective way to bribe them to get them to work.

Several months ago, a lifelong friend of mine, Dan O’Connell, passed away. Dan and I went all the way through school and university together and got our first teaching gig at the same school in Northern Alberta. We played a lot of music together. Over the years and the miles, we stayed in touch and music was a recurring theme. A few days before his sudden death, I spent an hour with Dan reminiscing about the good times.

Dan spent a good deal of his life in Halifax where he played tunes with a collection of fine musicians. One of his closest friends got in touch with me about a month ago wondering if I would be interested in taking part in a musical event to honor Dan’s memory.

Danfest was born.

On July 9^th. Dan’s musical buddies will congregate at the Legion in Antigonish at 7:00 p.m. for an evening of playing many of Dan’s favourites. Last week, several of his cronies gathered in Antigonish to start practicing.

It had already been a long day. I’m an early bird (5:30 a.m.). I taught all day long. Normally, I go home after school, collapse in a heap, and have a 35–40-minute power snooze. The boys started rehearsing at 1:00. I agreed to meet up with them after school, a 30-minute walk from school.

To be very honest, I wasn’t much in the mood to sing until I entered the house of our host and heard the music emanating from the basement. I removed my coat and boots and rushed down the stairs to throw in a third part harmony to the song they were singing.

It didn’t take me long to revive, being in the presence of some of the most talented musicians one could assemble. These gray and grizzled veterans still had their groove. A horn player had already rehearsed his pieces and had left before I arrived. There were guitar players, a bass player, drummer, mandolin and my absolute favourite, a wizard on the pedal steel guitar. Locals will know exactly the person of whom I speak.

It was exhilarating to be part of this group and to be with old friends.

Of course, interspersed amongst the tunes, were “Dan” stories.

So, folks, if you want a nostalgic trip through time, join us for Danfest on July 9^th.

“Those were the best days of our lives.”

Summer of ’69 – Bryan Adams

Have a great weekend.

 

 

 

Posted on April 22, 2026 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with one comment

 

SPRING

 

I stare out windows, gray and grainy,

It must be April, dark and rainy,

The trees are bare, the sky is dull,

“Will spring arrive?” on this I mull.

 

Day after day, it’s pale and gloomy,

Waiting for daffodils and crocuses bloomy,

Poking their heads up from sodden dirt,

A bit of sunshine wouldn’t hurt.

 

Robins peck in the grass for food,

Their chirping, a gift for improving mood,

People are walking throughout the town,

Grass turning green after months of brown.

 

The temperature, it is slowly rising,

Spring must be here, we’re all surmising,

Two inches of snow suddenly dulls our senses,

We’re not quite ready for painting fences.

 

A long, harsh winter is finally behind us,

The hope of nicer weather binds us,

We’re tilling the soil and planting seeds,

Soon we’ll be complaining about the weeds.

 

The mosquitoes will come back and black flies too,

And those annoying ticks which hikers rue,

Butterflies return amidst great anticipation,

Finally, winter’s emancipation.

 

We’re praying for sunshine to arrive,

Too many more rainy days, we won’t survive,

Until summer arrives and the joy it brings,

We celebrate the arrival of spring.

Posted on April 15, 2026 under Wednesday’s Words of Wisdom with no comments yet

 

“Who are you?

Who, who, who, who?”

Who Are You – The Who

 

I grew up in a Catholic town,

In a family of ten,

A university nearby, cap and gown,

My parents named me Len.

 

Our house was busy and very loud,

And one bathroom for us all,

Missing your time was not allowed,

When we got our mother’s call.

 

I was young and blond with curly hair,

We played in forests tall,

We didn’t really give a care,

In summer, spring, or fall.

 

In winter we played in snowbanks deep,

Made tunnels underground,

The fresh air really helped us sleep,

We hardly made a sound.

 

My teenage years were active ones,

I was an athletic sort,

Golf, hockey, badminton,

I played almost every sport.

 

Music was in my DNA,

My family loved to sing,

We also had to kneel and pray,

It was one of those Catholic things.

 

I went to X and made the grade,

And soon became a teacher,

In olden times, a different trade,

I might have become a preacher.

 

Got married and raised a family of four,

They had creativity and sing they did,

How could a father ask for more,

Than these remarkable kids.

 

I played tunes, wrote, walked and ran,

The years passed by so quickly,

Luckier than almost any man,

Blessed that I wasn’t sickly.

 

And now I’ve arrived at the final stage,

With many folks to thank,

I’m doing well at this tender age,

There’s still something left in the tank!