The first musical instrument I ever learned to play was the banjo-uke. My Dad’s a cabinet-maker, and one of his early projects was to make a couple of the miniature banjos for my Uncle Bert, who was an avid George Formby fan and damn good banjo player. Growing up hearing him play impressed upon me that it’s pretty tough to remain in a bad mood when you’re playing a banjo. I got my first one when I was twelve.

A banjo-uke is the near-cousin of the ukelele, which has been enjoying something of a renaissance on the internet of late. One of the weirdest, warmest and wackiest homages to the uke—as well as to music, to politics and to humour—is neatly wrapped in a “Benefit Concert for Warren Buffett”: two guys play every song in the Beatles library (164 songs, for the record—pun intended). Full details are available at this Ukulelia blog post but the best part is the dénouement. Our boys deliver a brown paper bag with bills and coins representing “hundreds of dollars” to Mr. Buffet, himself. The video of that exchange is a treat, and is reproduced below.

Happy Birthday, Uncle Bert.

Like watching Toronto beat the Islanders from George Gross’s fabulous greens. Right on the rail—with narry a soul in front of you and a perfect perspective on the whole ice surface—these might be the best seats in the house. And they’re greens. There’s a lesson there somewhere.

We got it all last night: a win, some great scoring chances and goals, some wild hip-checks (courtesy of Ryan Hollweg), and a fight (courtesy of Ryan Hollweg). Let’s face it. His win percentage might be low, but Hollweg always shows up. There’s a lesson there somewhere, too.

It was a two-door coupe with a mint interior. What a beauty.

And it was also the perfect car to do bad James Dean impersonations in front of…

Wikipedia has a great entry about my first car.

Some of the more interesting optional items available for the first generation Chieftain included a radio with seven vacuum tubes, tissue dispenser, under seat heaters, and a Remington Auto-Home shaver.

Ah, those were the days!

Mind you – mine never looked this buff:

]]> http://www.jessecollins.com/2008/10/06/my-first-ride/feed/ 10 http://www.jessecollins.com/2008/08/30/back-to-africa/ http://www.jessecollins.com/2008/08/30/back-to-africa/#comments Sun, 31 Aug 2008 03:34:07 +0000 Jesse, himself. http://www.jessecollins.com/?p=132 As much as I’d like to make this an evocative epic post, I’ve only just finished packing, it’s late and I feel like the past two days have been pretty much a blur. And the fyorenol I took this afternoon is beginning to wear off. But at this time tomorrow—we’ll be in a 747 bound for Zambia.

We hope to get one night in the Kalahari sleeping under the stars as we make the move across the country. We’re not quite as hardy as the locals, whom we have visited briefly on our journey through Kwai. The San Bushmen are regarded as one of the world’s oldest cultures, having lived as hunters and gatherers for over 20,000 years. From Wikipedia:

“Genetic evidence suggests they are one of the oldest, if not the oldest, peoples in the world — a “genetic Adam” … from which all humans can ultimately trace their genetic heritage.”

While there, I’m going to try and sketch out some blog posts by hand, and get some accompanying photos. many thanks to photographer Paul Eekhoff for the loan of an extraordinary camera body, the Olympus E-330, and Tony Delitala for his lens. I’ll gloat about the gear later also. For now, I’m prepping for two weeks offline, in a world where we camp like this:

Lion in Camp

The best part: Carol and I are taking Liam for his first trip to Africa. This will be the most special one yet.

More — much, much more — to come!

Enjoy.

In her Iowa stump speech, Clinton also said, "We used to say in the White House that if a place is too dangerous, too small or too poor, send the First Lady."

Say what? As Sinbad put it: "What kind of president would say, ‘Hey, man, I can’t go ’cause I might get shot so I’m going to send my wife…oh, and take a guitar player and a comedian with you.’"

Sinbad Unloads on Hillary Clinton – The Sleuth

Gus O’Connors, Doolin, originally uploaded by ahowes1343.

A conversation today with Murph got me thinking about Doolin. Somewhere, we must have some photographs (although I think at the time we were mostly videotaping) so I’ve snagged this one from Flickr—tip of the hat to ahowes.

Even in the absence of snapshots, the images in my head are crystal clear: singing Galway Bay with my father in the front garden of the house we’d rented overlooking Doolin and the Bay; going down to the pubs and hearing the music, smoking rolled cigarettes, and drinking the best Guinness I’d ever had. One of the nights we were there, my brother Len and I had gone down to the pub on our own, leaving my Mom & Dad, Carol and Anne, and Liam, just 4 months old, at the house. It was brilliant — great fun, great music. After a night of listening, we were walking to the car when an old farmer politely asked for a ride up the hill. As we drove, he told us he was a musician. We had seen him in the pub, just listening intently; he seemed shy but friendly, and was glad for the lift. He let us drop him close, but wouldn’t allow us to go out of our way, assuring us his farm was not far beyond the turn to our rented place. We guessed that he was going the last mile at least on foot.

After Murph dug up a Russell Brothers LP he had brought from Doolin, we wondered aloud if it was one of the brothers. I realize now that the Russell Brothers are quite rightly the stuff of legend. Their music is celebrated still today, and a generation of folk musicians count them among their heroes. By all accounts, their talent was huge and their nature unassuming.

Doolin, the Burren, the Cliffs of Moher—the whole place was infused with a kind of magic. And the music from the pubs provided a soundtrack that was breathtakingly Irish. That we might have passed some time with one of the its grand old men was a myth too massive to resist. Now, after reading this biography of Gussie Russell at the Micko Russell Festival website, it became even easier to imagine that Gussie Russell was the man we met that night in Doolin:

Of the three Russell brothers, it can be said of Gussie that his was the life that was least changed by the music, though he lived and breathed it as much as Micho and Packie.

He continued to farm the small family holding. He also worked in the quarrying of the flagstone in Doonagore. He fished off the rocks near the Cliffs of Moher, and he travelled out on his Honda 50 motorcycle.

His musical instruments were the tin whistle and flute, which he played with great accomplishment. His repertoire of tunes was as extensive and varied as his brothers, though his natural shyness and self-effacement meant he was often the ‘forgotten’ brother.

Yet his talent was much admired. Where and when he felt comfortable and at ease he played but otherwise people did not intrude in his privacy. As often he preferred to simply sit in on the music sessions and listen; his upper body swaying to the music, his eyes transfixed in some concentration of the tune as if he was playing. Gussie Russell died May 18, 2004.

Read more abouth the brothers at the County Clare Library site and the Micho Russell Weekend (just passed this February, 2008) web site.

Hilary Clinton is running fear-mongering ads suggesting that only she is capable of answering the "Red Phone".

As if there are no advisors, no military strategists, no diplomats in the Oval Office when that phone gets answered. Just one, lone, tough Leader. This is the problem: an overemphasis on the dictator and an underempahasis on the democracy. Leadership is about listening, consensus-building, a respect for the enemy as much as a fear of him. 

Put Obama in there. He’s ready. Ready to listen, ready to act—ready to lead. 

Very cool.