"The Old Celts knew, that of all the sounds that mankind could make,
only the pipes could be heard in both worlds."
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Final honors for Dad
July 11, 2013 I had the honor of piping my father home. The story of his 92 years would make Indiana Jones look like a cowardly school boy. To quote my cousin "he was the Dad we all wished we had". Blessings on the Wind, Father. The likes of you will not be seen again.
I ply my craft in the Great Southwestern Desert,as my Little Brother says "midway between sunrise over the haunted Superstition Mnts. and sunset over the desolate White Tank range. For the less poetic that would be Phoenix, Arizona. Ah, but where do I live? High on the Colorado Plateau. Deep with in an ancient forest that turned to stone millions of years ago!
I play bagpipes. Perhaps some still, starry, desert evening you've heard my piping on the soft, warm night air of the vast desert?
You'll know it's me, by the sparing use of ornamentation. I just refuse to guild the lilly. But that's OK! You see, the secret to piping is to play for yourself. If you're having fun, those around you will too. As long as the drones and chanter fill your heart and the hearts of those around you with mirth and joy, the ruckus you raise will be your own reward! Believe me when I tell you that nothing can raise a ruckus like a stand of bagpipes. No wonder the Saxons declared them an "instrument of war"!
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This is something new for me. I’ve taken full advantage of the luxury of
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