Okay, so one of my favorite bodhran jokes is the one that goes "What happens if you leave a bodhran in your car in the wrong neighborhood?   Somebody might break in and leave another one beside it..."

Yesterday I had my favorite drum stolen from my car, and I have to admit I'm really, really sad about it. The car was locked, it was broad daylight, right in front of City Hall in San Francisco. I was at a concert across the street at the Herbst Theater and when I came back the window was smashed and my old friend was gone.

That drum had been with me through years of sessions, concerts, camps, workshops and great evenings with friends in my livingroom. It was the one I played on Rick's CD, at festivals with Alasdair, and with Shira on Wild Wood. It's worn in all the right places and I know every little tone on it's skin. One of the sticks in my drum
bag was hand-made for me by a friend, and the other was a gift from Dave, made from a piece of purple heartwood from an old ship.

They also got a silver whistle (another prezzy from El Swanno) and a sweet little free-reed keyboard that I loved learning tunes on at sessions. They were just things, but they were MY things... ya know?

And somebody out there has it all, and it means nothing to them. I'm sure they threw the stuff in a dumpster when they realized there was no money in the bag, or tried to pawn them, or whatever. They were expensive instruments, but I doubt if they'll be worth much to anybody.   And my old buddies are out there somewhere this morning in a dusty pawn shop, or a pile of garbage, or some creep's stash of stolen crap in his house, and I'm just sick about it.

Oh yeah, they also got a box of 10 Wild Wood CDs! A reporter for the Irish Herald was walking me out to my car when I discovered the break-in, and he says he's going to put an item in his column this week about it... something like "If anybody tries to sell you a Kammen & Swan CD on the street report them to the police!"   Cracked me up... THAT ought to be good for our image!   Better yet, maybe Shira or I will get arrested trying to sell one of our own discs...

I keep thinking, there are folks out there who have nothing... they laid down in the street to sleep last night, and woke up this morning with nothing to eat. I have a dear husband, a safe happy life and a job that allows me to replace things I lose. I really shouldn't be whining about this.

But if you'll forgive a little BS rant, after a morning full of talking to police ("WHAT kind of drum??") insurance adjustors ("Fill this out in triplicate and wait three weeks.") car repairmen ("By the way, you'll also be riding the bus for a while.") and drum shops ("We can't possibly have anything ready for you in time for your next gig.") I just needed to come to the Mudcat and commiserate with folks who could understand the true nature of losing instruments that were old friends.

*sigh*
p.j.