Month: October 2009

  • In today's mail: A Violinist in the Metro

    A Violinist in the Metro

    A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

    Three minutes went by and a middle aged man noticed there was musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried up to meet his schedule.

    A minute later, the violinist received his first dollar tip: a woman threw the money in the till and without stopping continued to walk.

    A few minutes later, someone leaned against the wall to listen to him, but the man looked at his watch and started to walk again. Clearly he was late for work.

    The one who paid the most attention was a 3 year old boy. His mother tagged him along, hurried but the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. All the parents, without exception, forced them to move on.

    In the 45 minutes the musician played, only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32. When he finished playing and silence took over, no one noticed it. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.

    No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.

    Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats average $100.

    This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of an social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?

    One of the possible conclusions from this experience could be:

    If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?

  • From Tio Zopilote's Cocina, Cóctel de Cangrejo Fácil y Rápido

    Fast and Easy Crab Cocktail

    This one doesn't use real crab, but uses steamed Alaskan pollack or whitefish flavored to taste like crab. Two brands of this "crab" are Louis Kemp and TransOcean's Crab Classic. I prefer chunk style, but it's also available in flake style and imitation crab legs.

    Put the "crab" in a bowl, top with your favorite cocktail (red) sauce and voila, a crab cocktail!

  • Call for favorite stories.

    Call for favorite stories.
     
    I am looking for your favorite stories told by you, your parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc.
     
    Please email the stories and short bios of the storytellers through the xanga TioZopilote blog or as either a wall entry or private message/email on Facebook.
     
    Let me know whether I may attribute the story and bio to you or its source.
     
    Thanks
     
    Gerald Busby

  • Call for favorite story songs or songwriters.

    Call for favorite story songs or songwriters.
     
    I am looking for songs that tell a story, such as Red Sovine's Teddy Bear or Phantom 309, or Gordon Lightfoot's The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.
     
    They may be trucking, seafaring, railroading, or any other type of song, as long as it tells a story.
     
    Please send me your favorite song titles (and songwriters if you know them) through this blog or through my Facebook page.
     
    Gerald Busby

  • I Awoke in the Night

    I awoke in the night to the sound of rain on the roof. The wind was playing in the eaves and the animals hunkered down whever they could find shelter. I turned over, adjusted the covers and drifted back into a fitful sleep, dreaming again of her.
     
    Over twenty years have past since I lost her. Twenty years of living alone but not lonely, for my dreams are populated with the people of my past - childhood friends, family, shipmates and others visit me nightly. We talk, remember, laugh and cry together, contemplating things done and not done.
     
    I hear the rain on my Grandfather's tin roof, the low chuckle of his chickens in the background. Baseball games and playground pranks, sea stories and foreign ports of call return to me again and again. Times of adventure and of boredom, of missing family events and favorite places are all part of a sailor's life.
     
    Life is a collection of memories, each as real as today.
     
    My life's collection is rich, tasty to the tongue, pleasant to the ear, filled with the sights and aromas of the past.