The Last Dance

Every summer around June 4, I’m looking at the clock at work. As the big hand slowly swings its way to 3:35, I get real antsy. I’m a teacher and 3:35 is when school is out for the summer. Watch out kids…gang way, I’m busting out of the parking lot faster than a Barry...

The Last Mandolin

A long time ago in his work shop far away, a master luthier of mandolins and his wife stood over their workbench. It was late at night and this was a very special day. He had built many mandolins over the years and earned a reputation as the best of the best....

The Last Song

In the past I’ve written a couple of columns on Claude, The “Singing” Dog. I wrote about how Claude was homeless in Oregon, and how he made his way up the driveway of friends of mine, a house on a five acre, tree studded paradise that became Claude’s home for the last...

The Learning Curve

How does one learn to play music? I recall reading somewhere that in Portugal (or maybe Greece?) when a kid gets to be six or seven years old, they put a balalaika in his hand and plunk him down in the band, where his initial dissonant efforts are drowned out by the...

The Leave Behind

I have never had expensive sunglasses or an expensive pen, because pens and sunglasses are easy to lose or break, and the expensive ones break and get lost just as easily as the cheap ones. Of course, I’m not always so intelligent or consistent. Most of my life, I got...