With words. With thoughts.

Music. Music. Music. Wonderful music. All on Sunday. Starting in the afternoon. An Irish band. Altan.  At an Irish Fest. On Harriet Island. In the Mississippi River. In St. Paul, Minnesota. So superb.  That we (my Italian true love and her friend Giovanna) came back two days in a row.  To savor, savor, savor. I’d go to Ireland or anywhere to listen to this group. They perform all over the world. Two fiddlers, a guitarist, bouzouki and accordion players and a singer.  Wow! Wow! Wow! I wanted 100 encores. Got only one.  Therefore, we settled for concluding the day. At the St. Paul Civic Center. For concerts by Santana and Rod Stewart. Good. Good. Good. But not as superb as Altan. Meanwhile, the Italians got fully carried away. Everywhere.  They appreciate all kinds of music. That’s the nature of Italians. They get into the flow. And I mean gyrating flow. Two days later they are still gyrating. Rocking and rolling. I’m more subdued. More contained. But still, I’m more emotional.  Than they. With words. With thoughts. –Jim Broede