Well, isn't this amusing: Blogger managed to eat my post again, despite my supposedly recovering it (nice feature if it worked)! No one informed me that "Save as Draft" might mean "Flush Down Etoilet."

OK, on to my reconstruction. The band, if such it still is, has begun meeting in its new home, actually that of its sponsoring institution, a school of art/music established within the last ten years in the building formerly housing our town's leading funeral home. It so happens that the other guy in my piping "class" used to work here in his family business; now his HQ is the firm's new facility just down the avenue from my family's house. (In another, goofier coincidence, their competition moved a few blocks to a spot you can see from the other side of our property!) Regrettably our third newly-recognized piper has quit, at least as far as the band business goes. Whether our band will diminish to a club remains a question.

I've finally taken my own initiative with regard to pipe music. One particular copy of a march--"The 79th's Farewell to Gibraltar"--from a sheaf of non-repertory stuff I'd received earlier, included a URL I finally got around to trying. Turned out the author's no longer in his former band but still maintains an online library of tunes. There I found every traditional piece of pipe music I've wished I could play myself--free! This gives me new motivation.

(Strange, the URL's not working as it did before.)

Yes, that's how I found the claim mentioned in my previous entry. Sorry for a little chronological inconsistency.

Here's a quote from my journal so I don't need to compose too much new text about the current situation:

Some kind of transition time for the band. [This] month we’re set to leave the [Masonic] Temple for the [Arts/Music] School, home of our sponsor. There may be financial changes. And there’s the tartan question, which I’ve tried to help with by leaving my tartan book there. PM... says he likes best the MacBain sett, which I pretty much find unacceptable. Our wunderkind piper gave another point in its favor: she reportedly has ancestry from that clan. (The PM had previously offered Russell tartan as a choice-having recently been informed of his own--non-Scandinavian--descent from that line, but he’s declared himself tired of wearing green & blue.) Furthermore, attendance has dwindled; I’ve lately been the only piper showing up at five.

Meanwhile practice meetings are on hiatus.

Congratuations to me! According to this page's author, less than one in five apiring pipers makes it to the stage of actually playing the pipes. I had no idea I was so distinguished.

One other note, partly off-topic, which our boss recommended including in these Chronicles: I pointed out that my book of tartans, in its paragraph on the Kennedy clan, suggested that the name seemed to derive from "an unflattering Gaelic nickname, caennaideach (ugly-headed)." I don't know what connection the Kennedys of southwestern Scotland may have with the famous Irish-American family, but of course this tidbit reminded us of a certain US senator known in some circles for his big head! (FWIW I do know that at least some of us in the band are Republicans, possibly related to a small-business background.)

Not much in the piping department to brag about, but then I didn't start this blog to chronicle the subject, important to me as it is. Come the end of June, our band was set to play at a civic function; only four of us showed up--without our Pipe Major, absent, we were told, due to the passing of a grandfather. I still had to drone, not knowing all the chosen music.

It seemed a low blow when the PM's father died two weeks later. We learned afterwards that he'd long suffered from a chronic, progressive, presumably incurable disease.

Since my previous entry, the Deep Impact project successfully blasted a comet. Also last month, NASA finally got a manned mission into orbit for the first time since the Columbia disaster. Too bad all the eggs were in the shuttle basket.

Now comes word that a possible tenth planet has been discovered--except that, while it appears probably larger than Pluto, it's presumably a "mere" Kuiper-Belt object, as is Pluto! Things aren't so simple these days. On the question of what to call this body, I've favored the name Erebus since I started giving much thought to the matter of a hypothetical tenth planet.

Here's a short but historic account from my journal describing my first appearance in a parade in which I was not merely droning.

First Sunday [this month] brought this season’s only band gig that I actually committed to [an event in a town down the road]. Rain still fell [at home], but we were under the impression it was letting up to the west. Well, coming in waves it may have been, but let up it wouldn’t. Eventually the full band occupied a designated Lutheran church basement, where uncertainty gave us plenty of preparation time. Finally we found ourselves lining up for the delayed parade at the intersection outside the church, practically next to a lake (which I probably hadn’t known about) with rain blowing across it. Turned out we were the second unit, & I was placed in the front rank next to the Major--for my first experience actually playing tunes in a pipe band. The route through town proved short enough, which may have been just as well; my performance disappointed me. Never heard complaints afterward, though.

Wearing wool can come in handy.

Have to set down piping progress. Won't say it happened overnight, but my competence appears to be increasing. Lately I've been blowing in the garage rather than on the nearby deck, not just to avoid this season's frequent rain but because it sounds better. At least I can hear the drones more easily.

Friday afternoon I was back out on our deck practicing with my pipes. Lately I've done it facing the house, which may provide some aural benefit--with the further advantage(?) of being able to monitor my reflection in a window. Well, after playing the band's military medley, with more goofs than I would've liked, I heard applause from a spectator I'd failed to notice, though he was standing nearby. Turned out he'd been raking two houses down. His first comment was that he'd been exposed to piping from British troops in Northern Ireland, where he'd been once been stationed during World War II. Wound up an unexpectedly long conversation. He told me of fighting Germans with the 34th Infantry in North Africa & Italy.

Realized afterwards that, like a big dummy, I'd forgotten to thank him for his service.

After missing several weeks of band meetings, I've been back for two. The first saw just a few of us, mostly level-one pipers, & after undergoing the drawn-out tuning process we didn't play together for that long. Evidently trouble with the management has kept us from marching around indoors, so that was it. Fortunately an expected visitor showed up with computer-rendered samples of the new tartan we're hoping to acquire. During our most recent session we students didn't even unpack our pipes. I was able to report progress at home, since I've found I can crudely play tunes I've never seen written. The response: That's the way we want it! As I've failed to point out, word is that pipe music wasn't even written down until not much more than a quarter-century ago.

OK, I've been blowing into my pipes' new bag long enough to appreciate the difference, but from the get-go it wasn't obvious. Yet my immediate family's claimed to hear improvement, even if it was just improved endurance. Playing seems more enjoyable now--but various glitches regularly keep my enthusiasm in check! Still, all three drones are apparently staying in tune now, & they don't cut out.

Today I went outside & had started up with "The Flower of Scotland" when three young blondes, whom I'd noticed walking by earlier, suddenly showed up & approached to investigate, not having a good view of me from the street. They applauded after I quit & insisted they didn't know I wasn't very good at it. They'd never heard of our band; turns out they were here visiting relatives.

Hmmm--bagpipes as a chick magnet?

FWIW I could have mentioned earlier that, rather like a year ago, I spotted an eagle as my mom & I were driving to the casino. The gambling--for me--wasn't so good this time.

More significantly, we just celebrated her 50th wedding anniversary, effective on the day (St. Joe's, I think) when the swallows traditionally return to San Juan Capistrano--& like the original a Saturday this year. This is worth observing.

Well, I've been crowned--so's am I royalty? Nyuk nyuk nyuk! Actually just two of my teeth received their finely-wrought ceramic-noble metal crowns, with a bridge of similar composition soldered in between them. It's nice to be able to crunch on both sides of my mouth after months of limitations. My only complaint, other than the expense--which came at an inconvenient time--is that the necessary modified flossing, with a doodad for inserting the floss under the bridge, hasn't come easily for my clumsy fingers.

And now it's St. Urho's Day.

Finally: The new Goretex bag arrived, our PM tied in the pipes, fitting clamps during the intervening week, & now I've begun playing my instrument again. So far the only definite difference I've noticed is that cutting out--ceasing the sound--seems smoother. Unfortunately the Major didn't like my chanter's reed, so he replaced it with another new, stiff, harder-to-blow one.

Meanwhile I kept a dental appointment of an hour & 40 minutes, though it may have lasted longer. In preparation for a bridge, the outer 1-2 mm of enamel had to come off two teeth--a scary prospect, maybe, but perhaps not so much as extraction. Wasn't too bad. Crowns evidently offer advantages, too. At the moment mine are temporary.

Yet again I'm late with my chronicling!

Last month's final weekend saw our band put on our second Burns' Night. This time we staged a more detailed program, & for this cause I actually stayed all the way through several practice sessions in order to get it down like everyone else. It was mostly droning again, but there came a point during the intermission when we three official new pipers had to really play, performing "The Flower of Scotland" with the pipe major as we'd rehearsed for some two months--except that, to avoid tuning complications, only three of our nine drones were allowed to sound. I wasn't impressed with myself/us, but who complained?

We may not have attracted quite the crowd this time (I didn't see the Cornells), but word was, simply, there was no comparison with last year, & maybe I'll leave it at that--except to note the action seemed to fade away more quickly this night.

Early this month the leftover haggis & accompanying mash were put up for grabs, & I took my share--only finishing it the day before this entry's date!

HURRAY FOR HUYGENS!!!

Halfway through this first month of the new year, & that's obviously the most significant event. It may in fact prove difficult to soon eclipse.

Meanwhile I finally attended one of the band's annual parties; its location in this instance was too close to turn it down, even though I'd been invited to another, simultaneous party, involving my family's business, for the first time in the last few years. To quote myself--the original text altered here because too many brackets seem to mess up Blogger/HTML:

We were supposed to bring food based on available Scottish recipes; I noticed one for herring & potatoes &, with a little help...& inspiration from my days with my late Finnish friend, who'd introduced me to pickled herring with potatoes, made a cheap imitation...The party included an official meeting, during which I & two others were awarded certificates for completing level-1 piping.

Asking the PM later, I learned this merely meant I'd been cleared to play the real pipes.

OK--on to "real" history. The Huygens probe has landed on Titan. Though its mission ran only a few hours, & some doofus failed to flip a switch, compromising a second data channel, I consider this the greatest day in Solar System exploration since Voyager 2 left Neptune behind. This is not to minimize the Jovian contributions of Cassini's durable predecessor Galileo, nor the balance of Cassini's own Saturnian mission, which is to last at least a few years. Nor do I wish to overlook the two rovers currently operating on Mars--as orbiters investigate that world from above. These twin rovers, in fact, still rolling around the Red Planet after a year now, are champions in their own right. I happen to be more interested in the outer Solar System, truth be told, & Titan's been described as the last unknown real estate, its exotic atmosphere hiding a no-doubt fascinating surface. Already Europe's lander appears to have spotted liquid-carved channels, though the presence & nature of any liquid there remains uncertain.

FWIW, when I was in high school, some 30 years ago, I came up with a sort of comic-book/cartoon series featuring a character, based on myself, who served as governor ("Satrap") of Saturn under a science-fiction-style interstellar empire. Naturally his HQ was on Titan. In those days I had little better than a Chesley Bonestell painting to go by when depicting this moon; we didn't yet know it was blanketed in smog!

I'd thought I'd updated more recently than in actuality. Just another failure to apologize for!

The main event I wanted to record here is an operation of sorts I underwent two weeks ago. OK, no one needs to read it--& maybe no one will anyway. It's easiest to quote my journal.

I had something else to deal with, a condition I’d noticed apparently at least since the World Series, when I may have begun to suspect a jaw-clenching problem...

By the middle of November indications suggested a localized gum inflammation, if not something worse. Unsure whether this required dental attention, I methodically flossed & found it gradually improving. Then, on Finnish Independence Day, I lost a piece of filling. (This seemed to fit with a theme of recent days, that of stupidly breaking things by accident.) Phoning the good old dental office, I learned my guy was on vacation, but an associate would see me in what proved to be two days: first time I’d been to a female dentist. She took one look & told me the tooth in question wouldn’t support the filling because this molar had split down the middle--yikes! Expressing understandable surprise that it hadn’t afflicted me worse, she declared #14 beyond saving, & a matter for an oral surgeon. She did prescribe an antibiotic, though.

As my records there showed, I’d complained as early as last year about unexplained sensitivity (to cold at least) on that side...

I’d been able to get in with an oral surgeon the next week on a colder but sunny Monday... The doctor performing this extraction evidently was junior enough that his name didn’t appear on the establishment’s stationery. Not wanting a repeat of what happened last time, I’d ruled out general anesthesia but asked for gas, & it had some effect. Gathered that if the molar wasn’t dead, it was as good as. He suggested that draining through the gumboil might have relieved symptoms. That the tooth wasn’t of the “wisdom” variety presumably rendered the operation simpler & short, but I won’t deny its abhorrent nature. Was surprised no stitches were required.

Next day I confirmed that I didn’t need the prescribed analgesic....

Meanwhile, in unrelated news, most of us pipers are off for the time being.

Back at Wal-Mart I noticed Satan Klaus immobile & silent, though someone was trying to push a button on his base. On the way out I realized a there was a tall Nutcracker figure standing next to him, holding a poleax or halberd. I suggested he might find a use for it.

Actually the holiday lights showing up these days seem more reasonable, now that there's snow on the ground.

Marched in my first cold-weather parade--droning in the snow. Yes, it was chilly without an overcoat, while we waited for the action to get underway, but piping is warm enough work that it didn't last. Noted sweat streaming down our pipe major's face. Unfortunately we only mustered two pipers, in total, who could or would play fully functioning instruments. Just trying to keep two drones going while faking the tune seemed enough distraction to interfere with my staying in step. To tell the truth, I never intended to play in the band.

Meanwhile the go-to guy for parts has been unavailable, so I'm still fumbling with the original unwieldy bag.

This is a bit late, as the event described happened a week ago. I just wanted to note my disgust at retailers' trying to force the holidays on us way too early. Now, last month (I believe) my mother complained about finding the season's sights & sounds in some store; I wasn't sure what to think. (Years ago my brother & I came upon a small area in a suburban Target given over to an Xmas display--in October.) But this month we were shopping at the local Wal-Mart. On the way out we were forced to pass a gyrating mechanical Satan Klaus belting out out "Winter Wonderland"--as if it had even snowed here yet. Revolting!

Even NBC's Conan O'Brian objected to the decor already in place last week at Rockefeller Center. Good man!

Piping has gotten a bit bumpy these days. First, I'd taken off & set aside the chanter, then managed to knock it onto the floor with the bass drone while setting my pipes down--after which the damaged chanter reed wouldn't play! Missed a session before our PM got to look at it. Immediately discarding the reed, he took some time selecting a replacement. But now he discovered that the blackwood chanter itself was warped! Maybe I left it in the sun too long. He quickly found a plastic "band" version to substitute for it. Then he declared that I ought to look into acquiring a smaller bag. We knew this one was big, but I hadn't realized how much of a hindrance it was. Our PM himself--who, in his own considered opinion, is probably the best piper within 100 miles or so--said he wouldn't be able to play this instrument for more than ten minutes because of the awkward angle it forces the arm into--unless you're tall & thin with long arms, which none of us guys is. He had me try out his pipes--OK, I'm convinced!

On the other hand, memorizing repertory has gone better than I'd realized.

After nearly a month of not blogging in, I have a second parade under my brass-buckled kilt belt, & this time it was a home-town affair. Not too spectacular on our part; again we were short on personnel. Did the same droning & faking as before & didn't impress myself. The parade ended in front of my town's old high school, which has stood vacant for a few years. The drum sergeant's wife reported liking its facade.The structure's still not out of danger of demolition but may yet see conversion to other use. Its newer companion building, not so sentimentally regarded, was flattened this year except for its gymnasium.

The band gathered again at the popular park next to the State U campus, where it seems extraneous events were synchronized with the afternoon's football game. The big attraction: free food & beer. We gave a little concert when the U band took a break.