A Typical Session

kbsitepicsession021The Tuesday Fergus sessions have been going on for ten years now.  I’ve spoken about them already, haven’t I?  A good healthy mix of people and music.  And when things were at their hardest these folks made me feel welcome (something my old town never bothered with even when I was out on the street, too busy singing songs about how they were making their world a better place and publicly preening over being such a cool place to be–behold the comfortably middle-class folkie of the deep left, who wouldn’t recognize kindness if it bit them, nor a genuine poor person if they tripped over one, I honestly wish it weren’t so, but there it is).  So, yeah, I continue to go a little out of my way to support these Fergus sessions, and I usually tag along for the monthly field trip to one of the local retirement villages.  Nice people doing nice things, no big deal.  Kind of what healthy looks like.  (Oh, okay, sorry, you’re right.  That’d be at Delaney’s on Highway 6, on the left as you’re coming into town from the south, starts about 8 and runs to 11.  Now you know.)

But don’t get me wrong, it’s not gratitude that keeps me coming back.  Nor is it loyalty, although both of those things are certainly present in me as I walk in the door.  No, these sessions really are good fun for their own sake.  How so?  Well, let’s see, how can I explain?  Okay, try this.  The other night was a fairly typical mix.  After a few warm-ups we wandered through a bunch of oldies but goodies, then a couple of things from the ‘hey, that’s cool’ department, after that a bit of dealer’s choice, then we found ourselves in a bit of ‘here’s one I wrote’ territory.  Oh yeah, and one from the rare but treasured ‘this is a little something I rescued from my friend’s wastepaper basket’ category.  No kidding.  Was a good song, too.  We should all have friends like that–the rescuer, I mean.  So yeah we’ve been around the block and are having a good time.  And then it comes back around to the new kid.  For his first turn he’d suggested a song but he didn’t know all the words.  Turns out someone had them, passed them over and we all had a good time while the kid led.  Most excellent.  So, anyway, after all this it comes around again and he says, ‘Here’s something I did a while back.  I put some music to one of Shakespeare’s sonnets.’  Cool enough.  But here’s the thing–no one snorted in derision, no one groaned, no one left the room, no one tittered in embarrassment, no one razzed him, no one complained ‘that’s not folk music’, no one took the opportunity to have loud conversation with their friends because it wasn’t their turn and this was gonna be awful anyway.  Nope, we listened, we played along, and we enjoyed it.

Repeat after me.  It was…

No.  Big.  Deal.

And that it was no big deal, my friend, is simply beautiful.  All welcome, all good.  A truly co-operative sport.  And that, I suppose is the biggest single reason why I keep coming back.

Well, that and the fact that the owner treats Tuesdays like a reason for celebration instead of something to be endured until a better idea comes along.

Okay, full disclosure.  Just after he told us what number the sonnet was I couldn’t help myself, just fell out of my mouth. ‘Oh yeah, B-flat, right?’

For a heartbeat I think he believed me.

Still, the moment was his.  And that too was a beautiful thing.

Yay team.