Driving back from Annie Arbor to Bloomfield Hills Saturday night, here’s the conversation I overheard between George (who was driving), and Philly (who was navigating).
George: What’s the next road I should be on?
Phil: Huron Road
George: Right. I’m on this road, and I need to know what’s the next road?
Phil: Huron Road
G: I’m on this road now — is that what you’re asking me? What road I’m on?
P: What?
G: Are you asking what road I’m on now?
P: No, why would I do that?
G: I don’t know. Then what did you mean?
P: When?
G: Just now, arrrrrgh — I need to know what road to go on next.
P: Huron Road.
G: Right — I’m on a road now, but what is the next road?
P: Huron Road.
G: I know that!! Okay, look. You see this road I’m on now?
P: Yes.
G: Good. Now when I turn off of this road, I’m on another road, right?
P: Right.
G: Good, and what is that next road?
P: Huron Road.
G: No! I know I’m on this road — I need to know the next road!!
P: What?
G: I just told you what — I need to know where to turn.
P: Huron Road.
G: Argggghhhh. Help!!
We were driving back from the Crossroads Ceili at The Ark in Ann Arbor. Ceili is pronounced Kay-lee, and I think it means a party with music, dancing, and storytelling. It’s an annual event that’s been going on for over 20 years at The Ark, put together by local Irish musicians. It was wonderful. I learned the difference, to the Irish, between songs and tunes. Songs have words and are sung. Tunes are played on instruments: no words.
Hannah Harris was one of the half dozen fiddlers that were on hand. She also has a beautiful voice.
How’s this as a clue for ALBERTA: “Canadian province that’s home to the Head-Smashed-In Buffalo Jump World Heritage Site.” What?
Well, you learn some odd stuff from puzzles. Here’s the scoop, courtesy of Wikipedia:
The buffalo jump was used for 5,500 years by the indigenous peoples of the plains to kill bison by driving them off the 36 foot high cliff. The Blackfoot drove the bison from a grazing area to the “drive lanes,” lined by hundreds of cairns, by dressing up as coyotes and wolves. These specialized “buffalo runners” were young men trained in animal behavior to guide the bison into the drive lanes. Then, at full gallop, the bison would fall from the weight of the herd pressing behind them, breaking their legs and rendering them immobile. The site was in use at least 6,000 years ago, and the bone deposits are 39 feet deep. After falling off the cliff, the injured bison were finished off by other Blackfoot warriors at the cliff base armed with spears and clubs. The carcasses were then processed at a nearby camp. The bison carcass was used for a variety of purposes, from tools made from the bone, to the hide used to make dwellings and clothing. The importance of the site goes beyond just providing food and supplies. After a successful hunt, the wealth of food allowed the people to enjoy leisure time and pursue artistic and spiritual interests. This increased the cultural complexity of the society.
Headline in The Onion: Grandma Who Survived Great Depression Casually Drops That She Once Killed Man For Mayonnaise
The puzzle last Saturday taught us that BANGS, you know, the hairstyle, is called a fringe in England. Fair enough. They are most often cut straight across, but that’s not a requirement. As long as they cover the forehead, they are bangs. This is a young Jane Birkin, a French actress whose style of bangs became known as Birkin Bangs. She passed away recently at the age of 76.
But never mind all that. Have you heard the expression, “bang on the ear?” It’s Celtic and it means an affectionate kiss or pat on the ear or cheek. This is a beautiful song by The Waterboys that makes good use of it. In lieu of a poem today, here are some of the lyrics.
Deborah broke my heart and I the willing fool
I fell for her one summer on the road to Liverpool
I thought it was forever but it was over in a year
But I give her my love with a bang on the ear
The home I made with Bella became a house of pain
We weathered it together bound by a ball and chain
Is started up in Fife, and ended up in tears
But I send her my love with a bang on the ear
Krista was a rover, from Canada she hailed
We crossed swords in San Francisco; we both lived to tell the tale
I don’t know now where she is oh but if I had her here
I’d give her my love with a bang on the ear
So my woman of the hearthfire, harbour of my soul
I watch you lightly sleeping and sense the dream that does unfold (like gold)
You to me are treasure, you to me are dear
So I’ll give you my love with a bang on the ear
It’s good to be back. Tired, though, from the long drive. See you tomorrow.
The Wellington Files 