UP early, as always. Sunrise found me splitting wood with an ax to feed the day’s fire.
In recent days, I’ve been trying to get things in order here before the advent of the imminent whup ass. Most I won’t get to, I’m sure. I need to knock a couple of new bearings into the blade arbor on my table saw, ’cause the saw’s going to Vermont first thing in the spring. I’ve got a couple of lifts of salvaged redwood to mill into boards with two straight edges.
On the reading front, the usual three or four books going at once. I’m reading Twain this week, and Michael Ondaatje, and P.G. Wodehouse. As I promised—seem to think I promised?—I’ll plan to write something about the Phantom origin myth one of these days soon. It’s being published as we speak on this day 3 of 12.
To get in the spirit of writing that seaborne adventure, I discovered a Canadian lad whose repertoire includes a cappella sea shanties. He sings the harmony on separate tracks.
If I had the hammers, anvils and stirrups of a competent sailor, I would have disappeared on ships out of the port of Philadelphia half a century ago. It’s been my good fortune that I don’t! I’m grateful for the life my landlubberdom landed me.
Here are a few of the tracks I like most. (Hopefully these clips don’t open with ads on your screen. My AdBlock buries them here.)
You might remember this one from Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World. I sent it to my buddy Chuck Burghardt a few weeks ago. He’s a great fan of Patrick O’Brian’s novels on the adventures of Captain Jack Aubrey and Dr. Maturin.
No sea here, but a mighty river. Iron piggy and I have spent quite a lot of time up around the headwaters of the Missouri, in Montana. This makes me want to be there.
Finally, this young mom whose recording studio is a stairwell. Her channel has a nice collection of sea shanties.
No shanty this, but a dark tune beautifully rendered by her gift.
Tony DePaul, January 29, 2025, Cranston, Rhode Island, USA
Tony, sending hugs and love. J
Thank you, Jody. Hi to Mike.
I hope your treatments go well and fast. Thanks for the Jesse Ferguson concert. I loved Shenandoah and when I saw that he sings Danny Boy, I couldn’t resist listening. Beautiful.
I missed that one, Ellie. Thanks!
May you be granted a refuah shlema, and spend many more years between the iron piggy and the Phantom.
The only thing better than a refuah schlema would be a refuah schlema delivered by Douglas Wambaugh—Douglas Wambaugh for the defense, Your Honor!
Who woulda thunk a concrete bunker of a stairwell could produce such a beautiful sound? Thinking of you, Tony. Prayers up.
Thank you, bud. I’ll keep an eye out for that updated FDX file on your google drive. That’s a wonderful story you wrote. I’m eager to give it a second read.
Good luck on the next treatment. A lot of people are pulling for you.
Thanks, man. Ride safe out there.
Thanks for the Sea Shanties, and especially the eerie stairwell recording. The echoey sound in the stairwell was absolutely on point. Do you know the lady’s name?
Brenda!
Her name is Lauren Paley. I think she calls herself The Stairwell Siren. Here’s one of her sea shanties.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9kYkjB0BkU&ab_channel=LaurenPaley
Harbingers abound just in the visuals of this origins tale, Tony, the Walker coat of arms on the bulkhead of the captain’s quarters, the blond and bearded Kit, and the syntax of the words spoken by Kit in the last panel of day 3. Curious as to the odd piece of wood placed diagonal in p3 of day 2 though, it seems bizarrely hanging in mid air with no purpose.
I’m not sure what that object represents, Roger.
I do like that bit of Tudor language from Kit. It would be hard to sustain for two weeks, but I thought I might fully indulge it there just to set the tone, put the sound of that sort of language in the reader’s ear.
I think it works, too, because it reveals Kit’s naivete and thus serves a narrative purpose.
As always, thanks for reading! Both here and there.
Wodehouse is bound to be a good time. It’s very tough not to picture Fry & Laurie as Jeeves & Wooster.
This is my first Wodehouse. It’s Meet Mr Mulliner, a volume sent to me by a friend in Michigan.