Today I worked on campus, and both during my morning break and at lunch I walked with Seabird. She sent me some photos of birds from the Bronx Zoo, since she knows I love birds.
I walked with Hardingfele during my afternoon break, and she said she had some gossip for me. I asked what, and she said, "You were right." I'm thinking, am I not always right? but I said, "Do go on." So she said during the band practice I couldn't attend because of Anna Banana II's farewell party and the quasi-ELO concert, the bass player "gleefully" (Hardingfele's words) told the rest of the band that our band has been blacklisted, and that nobody will work with us, because of that gig in the high school gym. I said, "But didn't you say you worked with the caller on a gig after that?" and she said she must have been mistaken. So I am wondering how extensive this blacklisting is: are the gigs we used to have regularly, like the Mackenzie Center in the spring and the orchard in the fall, also casualties of this shunning? They told us they didn't want us anymore right after that. They both said they don't do live music anymore, but Hardingfele says they do; they just don't want us. This happened two months before the pandemic, so it wasn't obvious at first because of course we got no gigs during the pandemic, but I did notice things did not pick up for us afterwards. I chalked it up to several of our members being well over eighty and just not playing at the same level we used to play at, though I'm not sure we were ever all that good. I do remember a wedding years ago where it felt like we were really unprofessional with not having our music ready to go easily from tune to tune... and really, why do we still need music for these tunes we have done for years? Neither Hardingfele nor I could remember if we were part of the problem during that disastrous gig, because the big argument was whether or not we should be miked, and apparently the band said no and prevailed, but the caller felt the kids lost interest in dancing because they couldn't hear us. This was in January of 2020 but it feels like a million years ago, and I remember some tension but can't say if I contributed to it or if it was all between our leader and the caller. One fiddler had a broken leg during the gig. All I remember is the caller being short with us, but I wasn't sure why. Now that I go to the Moldy Jam jams, she is in those, and at first she glared at me but I wasn't sure why. She seems to have softened towards me, since I follow all the Moldy Jam rules, so I might try to ask her if I contributed to whatever misunderstanding we all had that fateful evening.
On a lighter note, a piece of that mysterious tradescantia that started growing in the pot with the fuchsia (which has since died) broke off and started growing on the ground, and it's so happy that it's blooming.
Speaking of flowers, I had my post-operative appointment yesterday, and I loved this painting in the exam room.
The surgeon said I have "graduated," and unless I have more issues, she won't need to see me again. She said everything looked good, and I asked if there were anything to explain why I could never get pregnant, and she said nope, no obvious issues, sometimes it's just a mystery. I know I was a little older, but I've known plenty of people who had a kid or two in their forties, so it's not that strange to think I could have too. Guess I was just never meant to be a mother.
No comments:
Post a Comment