Tuesday, December 11, 2012
A few weeks ago I was telling a story about traveling in Scotland, and how I found myself in Inverness. The Youth Hostel had a notice for the 'Inverness Folk Music Club', so I went to check it out. The feature that night was Nic Jones, an English Folksinger with an incredible voice and guitar technique. I bought a copy of his album, and wound up hitchhiking back to England carrying an LP. (I still have it--it's called 'Penguin Eggs, and features several Australian Whaling songs, along with a number of traditional tunes.) Every time I hear the opening chords of 'Canadee-i-o', the first song on that Album, the hairs on the back of my neck rise....
(From the Book of Faces, December 11, 2012 - Thank you, The Story Space.)
Saturday, December 8, 2012
I've gone past the Brigham Young Monument in Southern Vermont numerous times, while riding my bike from Rowe Camp out to Harriman Reservoir and back. It marks his birthplace, and is on the top of a really steep hill. The view is of woods and hills, followed by more hills, and it's quite a ways down to Whitingham, the nearest town. I can see why he wanted to get out and go somewhere else. (Click on photo to see a larger version.)
(Some people like to believe that the last two words in the Inscription above are a veiled reference to the 56 children he had with 16 different wives.)
Friday, December 7, 2012
(From the Book of Faces, December 7, 2012 - Thank you, Laura Packer, and Bella Vida by Letty):
This poster is beautiful and touching. But, somebody has to be the strangest person in the world...which leads to an interesting question. Imagine if there was a Royal Commission, or Quadrennial Contest, to determine just who the Strangest Person in the World was. Would having it be made official lessen the pain for that person, or make it even worse? Would the notoriety and exploitative job offers be any compensation, or would it just be twisting the knife in the wound?