The chalk and crayon marking the plain maple surface might resemble a compass to the uninitiated, but it was supposed to be a means of focusing our psychic energy.
A friend of ours called it spuddling - not getting on with the task, working feebly.
Hidden among the cobwebs in many family attics are the ghostly remains of Granpa and Granma's wild past.
I did not fit in too well at grad school. I was brash, a guitar-playing Folkie.
A sense of proportion is always helpful. I have been offshore in an aircraft carrier and a ketch. You are uncomfortable on the carrier in a big blow, while you could fear for your life in the ketch.
Sooner or later, you come down to discussing with your guitar serious stuff: "I need a note, and you ain't giving it to me."
each autumn, I'd turn serious and carefully consider my options for finding warmth and security for the coming winter. Please no grasshopper/ant comparisons!
That's right. I was there. In the very cheap seats, it's true. But I heard the Man make the shift from acoustic to electric.
It was called an Art House. But actually, it ran B movies, some little smut, and old Sci-Fi.
I frequented a Charles Street Coffehouse in the sixties that opened around noon with a limited menu of well-prepared French cuisine. I could afford to order coffee there; lunch was beyond my means.