appropos of very little

July 7, 2010

There are few noises in the world that please me more than the banjo. In that category are also the mandolin, cello, and a well-rasped fiddle. There is, I think, much to be said for the vibrations of strings in the universe.

I’m working on writing down some of my family history, in addition to my own exploits. I don’t know exactly how I got elected for this job, but my parents, their siblings, and many of their old friends seem to agree that I’m the one suited to get these things down on paper before they’re lost. The family adventures are grand and plentiful, it’s true, but I’m not the only writer in my family, not even in my generation of it. Both my sisters write. At least one of my cousins does. Why am I entrusted with this? I don’t know all of the stories– some of them I’ve had to get second- or third-hand, and some of them are only very carefully alluded to, but never told outright. I’m not the most informed, and I’m not convinced I’m the most capable.

I do, however, appear to be the only one with this much free time on my hands. For now, at least.


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