First things first: yesterday was Groundhog Day, and Punxsutawney Phil did in fact see his shadow. We now have six more weeks of "winter". Maybe that means that we'll actually have a real winter sometime in the next few months.
Now it's time for a random, amusing little thing that happened as I was leaving church. My brother decided to only look in one direction as he turned left out of the parking lot onto Winton Road, so he ended up clipping a large SUV. He and the other driver pulled over into the St. Barts parking lot to decided what to do. The oldest two of my younger sisters and I were left in the car as he talked to the other person. The hazard lights were on, so there was a ticking noise in the car - one that could even be described as a Mysterious Ticking Noise, if you so desired. I turned around and told my sisters that it was pipe bomb that had been planted by Lord Voldemort, not expecting them to know what I was talking about (if you don't know what I'm referring, go to YouTube and type in "mysterious ticking noise"). Much to my surprise, Allison (the younger one) immediately did a perfect imitation of the puppet Snape.
Allison: "What is that mysterious ticking noise?"
Me: "It's kind of catchy though. Snape. Snape. Severus Snape. Snape. Snape. Severus Snape."
Rachel: "Dumbledore!"
Me: "Snape. Snape. Severus Snape."
Allison: "Ron. Ron. Ron Weasley."
and so forth
We re-enacted the entire thing, but it was a little hard with just three people when Hermione and Harry were added into the mix.
After we had finished our unexpected burst into chant, I turned around to see how my brother was doing with the other driver. Much to my surprise, the other person was Ms. Mascari, the director of TX (St. X's theather program). It was really quite odd. I'm glad she didn't recognize me, because it may have been hard for me to find something pleasant to say to her and vice versa. We were not always the best of friends.
Anyway, that's it for my story today. Unfortunately, it's just not the same to type stories as it is to tell them orally. Why has the art of storytelling been lost in our society? I think it was a wonderful little talent, and truly an admirable one. While we may have people that like to tell what happens to them in dramatic and interesting ways, the days are long gone when troubadours, bards, and minstrels roamed the land, welcomed in the halls of lords and kings as they told tales both new and old of laughter, sorrow, heroism, and the like. If someone wandered the countryside today, offering to sing ballads and arias, someone would call the police in a heartbeat. Okay, so I'd probably be a little uncomfortable if a bard came to my front door, but if only we lived in the days when such happenings were commonplace. The times when patriarchs' stories were the bread and butter that sustained a little hamlet through the winter months and the word of a poet was worth more than the verdict of a king. Sure, life was harder then. To reach forty years of age was no small feat, with threats of all sorts lurking about your very doorstep. Illness, famine, war, bandits, beasts, bipolar rulers, consistently cruel rulers, crop failure, kelpies, dragons, imps - take your pick.
3 comments:
I would like to note no fewer than two and no more than four comments on the epilogue:
First, I would like to point out that I have long listed my profession as bard-minstrel.
Second, I pick war, the one true Sport of Kings. There is always use for a bard-minstrel in wartime.
Third, our Historians tell us that the coming of Modernity with printing by movable type, in addition to the proceeding spread of literacy, spelt the doom of oral culture. Goethe writes, “[The harper] brought feelings near and distant, emotions sleeping and awake, pleasant and painful, into a circulation, from which, in Wilhelm’s actual state, the best effects might be anticipated” (-Wilhelm Meister-; Book II, ch. XIV). Wilhelm here is exerting his autonomy by embracing the past rather than surrendering to the Modernity that he is supposed to embody, just like you. Fight the power!
Bildungsroman!
It is a good thing we have television now.
I LOVE that video. One of my friends showed it to me in a studio and the two of us and another ended up doing it throughout most of the class, much to the annoyance of other classmates. (But it's ok, because the only ones that were annoyed were the ones we didn't really care for.)
Well I'm relieved that I know a professional bard-minstrel. The other day I used the word "minstrel" and was asked what it meant. I tired using the synonyms "bard" and "troubador", but they didn't mean anything to the person either. It was tremendously saddening.
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