Play it Again, Mike

heritageJack’s weekly guest blog
For more than fifteen years I was the lead singer and back-up guitarist in a Celtic band called ‘Heritage’. Although we were never more than middle-weights in the traditional music scene, we had a lot of fun traveling Europe’s musical gig trail.
The glory days are over and we’ve gone our separate ways, yet some band members keep in touch. Our piper/whistler/keyboard player Mike Ward, who still lives in Scotland, came for a month’s visit to the bookshop two years ago.
Mike has always had a special affinity for Brittany (in NW France, one of the seven recognized Celtic Nations) so has kept up with friends there since the tour days. He recently sent a news report about the sad fate of Pontivy Castle, one of the places where we had played. A lengthy downpour undermined a section, and it collapsed.
This sad event led to much reminiscing between us about the various times we’d been to Brittany – including playing the biggest Pan-Celtic festival in the world, at Lorien. Ah, the magnificent sound of Bagad Kemper, with its combination of highland bagpipes, bombardes, binious and drums; hurdy-gurdy bands of women in regional costumes; wonderful food and drink; and the warm hospitality of Bretons toward their Celtic cousins.
Of course Mike, who studied for the priesthood, never lets me forget the time I stumbled in my faulty French through requesting that two young women pose for a photograph ‘au naturel’ (in other words, nude). We recalled the late great piper Gordon Duncan sitting backwards astride a motorcycle, playing the pipes like a child of Pan as the bike roared through the Lorien’s main streets. Perhaps our favorite was the gig at the Palais de Congress, where the sound desk smoked and sparked all the way through. (Or maybe that’s just the gig we’re most grateful to have survived–no, that would be the one where we kept throwing our cigarettes behind us as we played on a German naval boat, only to find afterward that munitions were stored in that space.)
As you can tell from these memories, we were never equal to the Beatles, but we had some fine musicians on board and even merited an article in the US folk music magazine ‘Dirty Linen,’ by Steve Winick. It was Steve that I met for the first time in person, at my birthday dinner last week in DC.
Which is really the reason behind this blog. Who knew that a castle in 1980 would lead to two friends connecting in the US in 2014? Yet there sat Steve with his lady Jennifer, chatting away with Wendy and me as though we’d know each other since birth. I love these connections through my music, and that so many of them continue. Like books, music keeps the world at large turning, and my personal circle of connections turning in very happy ways. I am a blessed man.

An Offer Phil Can’t Refuse

elderDear Punxsutawney Phil,

That does it. I am a fan of fuzzy animals with big brown eyes, but you’ve pushed my last button. Six more weeks of THIS???!!! No. Have you enjoyed living all-expenses paid in your government-protected burrow, buddy boy? Like those meals 364 days a year?

All we needed was one day, Chuckster. One lousy day when you cooperated with us, and you could’ve gone back to your peaceful existence on the state tab. Traitor. You think just because YOU have a fur coat, nothing else matters? Didja cut some deal with the marauding polar bears and their vortexes? Ha! We’re cold, ya little whistlepig weasel, and we’re tired of feeling that way.

And like those Celtic God-princes of old, Prince Phil, we’re tired of you. Yeah, they lived high on the (ground)hog most of their lives, but when the weather went South and the crops failed, you know what happened to them, doncha, Punxy? All those stone slabs lying around the peat bogs….*cue Godfather theme*

I understand there’s a lawyer in Ohio seeking the death penalty against you for “Weather Crimes.” In Wisconsin, a ranger took your forecasting cousin Jimmy into protective custody. And I see some enterprising young man has t-shirts for sale that say “Kill Phil.”Jimmy Me, I think it’s time to convert Punxsutawney to Mulligatawny, and start over next year:

1 whistle pig
2 onions, sliced
1/2 cup celery, sliced
Flour
Vinegar
Pepper Cloves

Clean woodchuck; remove glands; cut into serving pieces. Soak overnight in a solution of equal parts of water and vinegar with addition of one sliced onion and a little salt. Drain, wash, and wipe. Parboil 20 minutes, drain, and cover with fresh boiling water. Add one sliced onion, celery, a few cloves, and salt and pepper to taste. Cook until tender; thicken gravy with flour. (pitch.com)

Say good night, Groundhog.