It’s not that the new music director is so interesting–these guys want to know about the hammer dulcimer.
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Dulcimer Attention
It’s not that the new music director is so interesting–these guys want to know about the hammer dulcimer.
Catholic Sensibility 
A pony tail? You are such an iconoclast. BTW, I traded a tandem recumbrant bike to a fellow musician health nut for a seriously good hammered dulcimer. One more reason to come to Seattle.
Charles [this is not a commentary on our gracious host, just a demographic observation triggered by your musing]
FWIW, the ponytail is not infrequently encountered among the middle-age/elder male set in Western NY or parts of New England where artists of divers sorts have retreated away from the hyper-expensive urban meccas.
When I was on the road last week with my elderly father in Maine, we went all the way Down East, to the eastern end of Washington County, Maine. There be serious poverty there (actually, it’s the northern, non-coastal half that seriously poor; the coast just looks poor compared to everything along the coast southwest of it – I think of it as an extension of the Maritime Provinces in many ways). And migrant workers busting their backs in heaths of low bush blueberries (it’s the Blueberry Basket of America) – low bush blueberries are like 1′ tall…… And there are also artists there, because it’s cheap to live in such a remote area. I had sought out a gallery in Machias that had the work of a local artist whose work sells in the gilded ports around Penobscot Bay but I wanted the coin (well, check, to save the artist credit card processing fees) to drop locally. I didn’t meet him, but creative types with pony tails are not strange sights in such places.
Hey, my last dream-state of my coif would be to have dreadlocks! How sick is that? As far as the “Harvest of Shame” aspect up north, see Jesus re. “these deplorable conditions you will always have.” What makes my heart ache is that your state, my state, the whole western region will be burning for months. RIP, the firefighters and civilians who’ve perished in their efforts.
Sorry Liam, I wasn’t awake to notice it was your response. I’m a boomer (’51) who grew up in Oakland, I know from ponytails. ;-)
Well, I am 54 (’61) and consider myself leading edge Gen X who had 4 older Boomer sibs (’50, ’52, ’54, and ’56) and a dividend baby younger sib who was being born while his eldest sister was at her high school graduation ceremony….
Yes, to Oakland, of course – I do wonder about the Peninsula, though (Boston and Cambridge are not far behind, btw – we have tall cranes constructing luxury high rises all over the place it seems, with the limiting factor being the FAA’s veto due to Logan Airport being merely a few hundred yards from downtown – I joke with the pastor of my current parish of choice that he should insist to the Boston Redevelopment Authority* on mitigation measure for the new 700′ condo skyscraper going in down the street should have at least 50 % of the residents be active Catholics….). A good friend and former co-housewner of mine lives in the Temescal ‘hood and is active at St Columba’s in Emeryville, but I think I’ve mentioned that a few times before. Repeating ourselves is a joy of getting older.
* While still have such a thing is a mystery, given the city’s core has been redeveloped a couple of times since it was created in the 1950s when Boston wanted to exit a long period of decline and dormancy.
Swam at Lake Temescal every summer back in the day (and Oakland Tech’s pool.) And have sung at Mass at St. Columba’s, big time gospel even then.
“St Columba’s in Emeryville” Oakland also claims St. C as its own … right on the border I think.
St. C is truly one of THE most vibrant parishes in a diocese not particularly known for vibrant worship, vibrant music, vibrant Catholics or a vibrant bishop.
But the weather is usually perfect.
I’ve attended. Many things impressed me (I particularly admired the Gospel-inflected psalm tones), other things less so (at time, too much of the “this is the way we do things here” as to create unnecessary barriers to entry, as it were – not the intention, but the effect).