But that was Yesterday

And yesterday's gone.

Columbus Day is a legal holiday in Ohio, no mail, closed banks, the lot. Lots of folks don't take the day off, many of whom look on Columbus, the state capitol, as more the home of Ohio State than seat of government. Others look on Christopher Columbus, and the celebration of Columbus Day, as the beginning of European oppression of native peoples.

For many years now what this day is in my universe is the anniversary of burying my last blood relative, my Aunt Eleanor. It was sweetly convenient to be able to bury her on Columbus Day - her step granddaughter came down from Michigan to represent the married-into family and it was a day as gorgeous as we've had the last few days. Yet, there were so few to mourn her at the church; she'd outlived nearly all her friends, and those of my generation tended to be flung all over the country. I mused over this a bit on Saturday as I attended the memorial for Pete Smakula , the founder of Goose Acres.

Goose Acres was where you went in Cleveland for folk music instruments, recordings, music books, instruction, concert tickets and large doses of Pete's curmudgeonly opinions. I was gratified to see how the old place was filled with people who came to pay their respects, tell stories, play some tunes, lift a glass, eat some food. I got there from work in time to hear much of the stories people told. The most poignant point for me was the closing of the formal part of the day when his son Bobby led the place in "Will the Circle Be Unbroken." So often, the near maudlin old time gospelish songs come near to parody, right up there with "Danny Boy" for the rolling of the eyes and wishing you were elsewhere. Have you ever felt that you're hearing a song in JUST the way and JUST the situation where it completely, utterly belongs? That was the way this song went. Voices raised to support Bobby singing of watching his father's body put into the grave.

When Eleanor died, most of the people who came out most to support me were my song circle friends and musicians. A song that had become a staple of our song circle was the key one we used. I sang it a few times to Jocelyn over the phone, and at the funeral, what we usually sang acapella now had harp and flute backing. So much of those sad old songs about coming death and reaching heaven are starting to feel more substantial to me as I get older. I'm not ancient yet. I just did the numbers and realized at the age I am now, Eleanor was dealing with a 9 year old me, and she seemed far from old then. But ever I "hear times winged chariot." I do. And the tune that chariot will be playing?

There are Angels hovering 'round...