My puir 'ead is still spinning (well, I guess that's a baseline condition) with all the hoots and grins. The spontaneous shanty circle in the retreat center, the late night Blues jamming until dawn on one night, the wild-fire old-time jamming the last night in, the AMAZING job that those who came to the DooWop session did to make it sparkle, watching Lonesome EJ belt out Runaround Sue like a pro, hearing Big Mick's falsetto...then there was the Great Flamingo and Duckliong Dogie Round Up, in which we heard the Great Irish Baritone of the Mudcat singing Ghost Riders in the Sky--something I shall never forget, unfortunately...in SPITE of the bourbon...due to the peculiarity of the circumstances...the rip-roaring Jugband Music and Jim's AMAZING facility on the washtub base and about fifteen other instruments of percussive inspirtation simultaneously...the amazing blues harps solos cutting through the night like a C&O Cannonball...the harp and fiddle duets wafting over the greensward like a visit from angels...the boats at sunrise (or was it sunset? I get confused at these events...Dotty's ukelele-accompanied torch music... Chance's amazing fingerings... Barry's salt-coated solos and that wonderful Massachusetts accent...Don's beautiful voice...the list goes on and on and on. Can't we stretch these out to, say, a month at a time?

I have to extend my deep and heartfelt thanks to the producers and organizers, Charlie and Rita and all those who sweated long into the evening and over the weeks to make it all come off just so...

...and, I suppose,...

reluctantly,...

to the fiendish machinations and satanic inspiration demonstrated by Madcap Mary and her Demon Damsel crew in engineering the most ridiculous event in my long and colorful life.

A

I just wish it could have gone on all week.