Wow what a great series and what a wonderful post. The thought that
popped into my head when I saw the first image was "Mark Twain" , and
then I find out he is a writer and a story teller . . .
I loved all the pictures and while I really like the B&W's I think
the color one is gorgeous too.
Thank you for doing this post. Have to admit it brought a tear to my
eye but then a flood of great memories of times and places with my
Dad. He used to write poetry (for the fun of it . . . little ditties
really) and one of his hobbies was caligraphy and so he copied all
his poems into caligraphy. Last year for my Mom's 90th we had them
copied and bound into a book for my Mom's 90th birthday. I will spend
some time reading some of his poems today!
I'm so happy to learn about your Dad's love of poetry, as I love it as well. It sounds he was a caring and compassionate man! With Mom's getting so much press..it's so nice to give Dad's their due. I've always thought of Dads as the rock..and Mom as the one who softens the edges..makes for a nice foundation for kids! Sounds to me like you got your Dad's kindness and compassion!
For you Bob..A story Dad wrote about his uke. The banjo was from when I was a child. He then went to guitar, and now the uke. Hope you enjoy it.
Looking for folks with an itch for ‘leaping flea’
Written by P.G.
April 18, 2008
I’m staring at the computer, trying to remember a word I want to use in a story, when peripheral vision detects the hourglass shape of a leaping flea at the corner of my desk.
We’re good friends, the leaping flea and me. When I’m stuck for a thought or a word, I pick up the flea – it’s kind of small – and I begin to pluck its vocal chords like The Beatles might: I hit a C and begin singing, “Yesterday, (Bmaj7) all my (E7) troubles seemed so (Am) far away…”
By the time I get down to “Oh, yesterday, came suddenly...” the word I’m looking for also leaps into consciousness. I return the flea to its cradle and begin typing again, happy.
Sometimes when I listen to the agonizing CNN repetition of so-called news (there’s nothing new about it the eighth time around), I hit the mute button on the remote. Enough already with Obama and Hillary and mankind’s screw-ups and woes and the world’s self-aggrandizing “best political team.”
I cradle the flea in my arms once more, put a smile on my face and dream of peaceful times strumming my four-string on my front porch swing in Margaritaville, happy.
What’s a leaping flea? The Hawaiians spell it like this - Ukulele – and it is pronounced OuKouleyley, which in Hawaiian means, leaping flea.
Just once, I’d like to see – and hear – one of the frequent-flier speakers at the Town Council meetings sidle up to the microphone with a “uke” and rather than moan and wail about what a rotten world we live in, offer a happy tune on the ukelele, something like, “Carolina In the Morning” or “Old Cape Cod.”
The “uke” has surprising links to Massachusetts and Cape Cod. It may be Hawaii’s child in the popular history, but it was designed there by a Portuguese master craftsman named Manuel Nunes and his instrument makers, Joao Fernandes and Augustine Dias, who arrived in 1879. That’s a link to the Portuguese fishermen of Provincetown and the Cape’s Portuguese-speaking Brazilian community.
Portuguese sailors (whalers perhaps) had preceded Nunes to the islands where they entertained themselves with a stringed instrument called a "broughina." As they did, the sailors danced and jumped, appearing to the islanders as "leaping fleas," or – in Hawaiian, "ukulele,"
This story was told by Leslie Nunes, the great-grandson of the uke designer, at an annual Ukelele Expo held in 1996 in -- of all places – the sleepy town of Montague in western Massachusetts. Even "Tiny Tim" was there tiptoeing through the tulips. So were ukulele bands with brief names like "Humuhumunukunukuapa'a."
One would think the ukulele hall of fame and museum, founded in 1996, would be located in Hawaii or Portugal. Not so. It’s right in the Bay State’s town of Duxbury.
Another link to the state: When Babe Ruth wasn’t swinging a Red Sox bat, boozing and schmoozing, he too would pluck a uke, but, we are told, not too well.
Similar to the "lute" of yore, the "uke" has receded in popularity since the 1930s but reportedly is making a comeback. You’ll marvel at some world-class players on YouTube if you search for “ukulele.”
I got my first fleabite when I arrived at an overseas air station to take my Navy post in a P2V patrol squadron back in ’52. One of the crewmen being replaced was having difficulty stuffing a small (soprano) ukulele into his sea bag and, in a fit of benevolent #@&&@ impatience, graciously offered it to me.
I enjoyed that little instrument for a year then parted with it the same way, offering it to a replacement. For all I know, some airdale (Navy airman) on the isle is probably still strumming it. I got the flea itch again recently and bought one of Hawaiian Koa wood to replace an aging guitar.
It would be pleasant to get together with uke aficionados in Barnstable, if there are any, and, rather than complain about recession, depression, obsession and taxation, smile at our neighbors and municipal officials, release the stress, laugh the doomsday spoon-fed fears of terrorists and foreclosures away and contemplate the joyous realities of life.
"Oh we ain't got a barrel of money
Maybe we're ragged and funny
But we'll get along
Singing a song
Side by side."
….Yep!
Again thanks!
--
Bob Corson
Some of my photos:
http://bcorson.zenfolio.com/