Not so stupid, I suppose, but pretty naive: A young reporter from a paper in Pittsfield, Mass, was interviewing my wife and me for a story on Folk-Legacy. I had explained that we were able to start the company because Lee Haggerty, our partner in the enterprise, had a small inheritance that he was willing to invest (read: throw away on folk foolishness). I, on the other hand, had some experience collecting folklore in the field and running tape recorders. Fair enough, says I, we pooled his resources and began producing records. The young reporter then says, "Did you call the company Folk-Legacy because you had the folk and he had the legacy?" I'd have thought that was clever, except he wasn't making a joke; he was dead serious.

A few years ago, Caroline and I spent a week at an "arts conference" on Star Island put on by the Unitarians. We sang traditional songs, ballads, new songs that reflect the styles of the old, etc., for about five hours a day for five days (proudly repeating none except when there was a request). After all this, and some background talk about our sources, the elderly lady who played "pop" piano before the dinner hour asked, "Don't you know any real songs?" I didn't offer to croon "Red Sails in the Sunset" for her, but I imagine she would have liked it. (Art's version: Red snails in my sunsuit...)

Sandy