I had a great time yesterday in Jersey, as we celebrated my great nephew's 16th birthday. Ronnie has become quite proficient on guitar in a short time. He has three, an Epiphone acoustic, and a Fender and Gibson electric. Of course, he favors classic rock, although he also likes the blue grass his dad, an excellent banjo player, prefers. He was going through riffs like lightning, using a lot fuzz. At one point I asked him to mellow the sound, and he accompanied as I played a blues progression on the acoustic. He knows most of the Led Zeppelin riffs. I stumped him on the main line from How Many More Times? He got it quickly. He showed me the irresistible riff from Johnny Rivers' Secret Agent Man, which I'd never been able to figure out. It's alternate notes are the open high E. I played the main parts of the Allman Brothers' Sweet Melissa and Ramblin' Man, America's Horse with No Name, the Eagles' Hotel California and One of These Nights, and Elvis' Good Luck Charm and All Shook Up. He picked them up immediately, unfamiliar only with the D Minor in One of These Nights. Later, he joined his dad and one of the guests around the kitchen table for a little hoedown. He had no trouble keeping up. I always marvel at how long real musicians can play without getting bored. 30 minutes is my average. They can go for hours. They also have an innate understanding of music. It is a complete mystery to me, which is why it's so hard for me to play with others. It's going to be interesting to see where music takes Ronnie. Like me, his dad is on the periphery of the arts' world. His band, Pastimes, has cut four CDs, and played weekend gigs until the economy slumped. Recently, at a local festival, he sat in with every band on the schedule. Imagine a kid from Brooklyn going Country.
I also learned a little about my sister's life in Italy, recounted by Isabel, her oldest daughter, who lived there for 30 years. She and her friends would baptize their dolls and then put sugar on bread and pretend it was the celebratory cake. She was a teenager when she arrived in America.
I thank the kind folks who bought books today on Bay Parkway, especially Bad News Billy, who is fighting a wicked cold. The poor guy - it's always something.
Shortly, I will be off to the annual Super Bowl bash at Adam and Sharon's. I used to work with them at the Exchange. Adam is one of the 20% of the staff that remains since electronic trading was instituted. I can't wait to catch up on the latest news about our mutual friends and acquaintances, and our love of movies. And I only have to walk around the corner to get there. Back to back parties - look out waist line and cholesterol count.
Go Big Blue!
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