When the wind has been bowling you like a pin and the tales from life are spininng you like a top; you become more appreciative of the just being on board, whether the wind is blowing fair or in a gale. Some dear friends may have moved away and maybe others aren't singing as much, but you're hove to in the rough; and in the clears, with friends, a microphone, a little wine and a basement or a church or a bar you do your best. heh
   And wasn't it a fair wind that brought to us Finbar, Kate and Seamus last month, all the way over the whale road from Culdaff, Ireland.
Or maybe they flew, but anyway they are fine folk and great musicians with their songs about skyscrapers and Spanish towns. Remember Finbar and that kid he was a kicking while Sunday morning was coming down? At least that is what he sang while Tuesday evening was coming down and didn't we all laugh. Inner City Blues with a touch of Donegal and then she cries. Dinty jumping out of his shoes. Another night with the boys.
  And on another night Jimmy Ryan rode with us to Marblehead, it takes one to know one he said, and why he wrote a song about Santa Fe.
  And it was just the other week we took Laura Cortese up to Vermont, where she and Anais sang the hell out of some Gram Parsons and then Anais sang God's song with Dinty. We were in heaven wearing a greasy coat, listening to wade on in and perfect Tuesdays. That what she said.
   Back in Cambridge Sean and Jimmy were standing, mandolin dueling at the table, trolling around for melodies catching Yoshimi and letting the hard times go. Not everything is easy except when we have J-Po and Sarah Borges, Thomas Juliano or Scudder sawing away. Rose Cousins and Little Maggie too.
    When the barometer's drops, we'll be on board and looking for you.
But we'll batten down the hatches when election season comes, because that ain't nothing but a greenback typhoon, a moolah monsoon, a tsunami of soggy bills clogging the airwaves day after day. Ugh.
Don't forget to vote.