Spent today with Mom’s side of the family, such as can be found in the Portland area.
It’s appropriate for this holiday since it is on her side that I am descended (sooo far descended!) from two of the Governors of the Pilgrim colony, William Brewster and William Bradford.
And here I’ll bet you never knew they were married.
Thank-you.
The day was good.
The Kid was spoiled into little pieces by his Great-Aunt, Great Uncle, and Great Cousin whose name I might as well reveal is Hans Ogren since I’ve added him to my blogroll. Hans is a freshman in one of the local colleges out here and is the single best guitarist I have ever heard outside of a paying venue.
He played hours worth of classical guitar as we ant-hilled around with food, Kid-wrangling, and catching up. It was soothing and beautiful and so impressive to watch as he achieved that thing performers work their whole lives to attain: The illusion of effortlessness.
I asked him how long it took him to learn this one classical Spanish piece he’d just done. I think the English translation was “Memories of Al Hambrah.”
“Six months.”
As one whose creative process has for the past three years been measured in cycles of six days, I just had to nod and wonder. Six months honing a piece of work is as perfect a definition of Love and Artistry as any I can think of.
In a just world this kid catches a few breaks. He’s recording stuff to CD tomorrow. If I can post a link here I will.
Lots of non-musical beauty up here as well. My Mom has her car radio pre-set to the local all-classical public station. I never mess with another’s car radio settings so that’s what I’m listening to as I run errands and visit my Grandmother across the Willamette River. The sun (when it’s out) is low even at noon. The sky is often iron-gray and the leaves are done changing color or gone entirely. The air is clean and cold and “rush-hour” here means you may have to wait for one turn of the traffic light.
The Safeway looks like a gourmet food store and the employees smile genuinely at you as only people not waiting for their Big Break can.
It is a place where I could live happily if I were a better person, unencumbered by certain dreams and the geographic requirements they entail.
A nice place to visit, but I’m not good enough to live here.
This year.
Happy Holidays.
