Friday, April 8, 2011
IN THE KEY OF "G!"
Greetings everyone. Another Friday and I'm starting to miss my Earthly Angels Friday. Once again I'd like to thank all my old and new friends for leaving such heartfelt comments. They mean so much to me.
Today's post is different from what I had originally planned. I wanted to create something magical for a saddened friend, to whom I dedicated this post.
Off a winding cobblestone street, a violin cries. Its echo is heard throughout eternity. A dim gas light sputters next to a rundown taverna as the scent of onions and meats perfume the air and waft effortlessly along an unexpected breeze.
Tattered men and women dressed in once bright garments, gather in front of the town’s only eatery. Glints of gold flash from ears, wrists, and necks as they step across the splintered wooden threshold, during the last vestiges of daylight. The raucous laughter extinguishes the delicate instrument for a brief moment.
Clambering for tables and expectations of ale, the single instrument struggles to sing over the cacacophy.
“Quiet!” The man behind the bar yells.
Silence falls over the tiny, dark room as the nimble fingers and flying bow of an elderly man wearing a red kerchief on his head plays on. His youthful green eyes flash from a lit candelabra, hanging slightly overhead. Brown leather skin crinkles as his brow furrows.
With eyes half open, he smiles a toothless smile, rapture evident in each note. An exquisite agony serenades the crowd as tears fall from the patron’s eyes.
On the final note, an applause that could wake the dead erupts. After a single bow, he continues to play a more festive song. The gypsies bang on the tables and join in with the chorals.
Of course, I lavished on the time frame here, but I went to a similar establishment in Budapest, Hungary. The gypsy violinist did make that violin cry. It is, to this day, the most emotional piece of music I have ever heard.
This is dedicated to Roland Yeomans and his dearly departed friend, Gypsy. Please all say a silent prayer for our dear friend, Roland.