A landmark: I joined the band in a parade for the first time--not to carry a flag, as it turned out, but to "fill a gap" by droning along while pretending to play! We were short on pipers, including our distinguished Major himself; my instructor the Pipe Sgt. had to run this show. The event was an annual celebration of local history at a town a good distance down the road from here. My brother's wife happens to hail from the area. A quote from my journal:

I marched imperfectly on the outside, behind our current commander--whose later words implied he hadn’t actually led a band before!--& ahead of the bass drum, which ran into me once. Naturally I was somewhat nervous about being gawked at...We got rained on, which bothered me less...What perhaps bothered me most was my failure to get the breathing right.

My brother afterwards confirmed that his whole family had been there as witnesses, on "my" side of the street, in fact, though I never saw them.

OK, the most troublesome portion of that bleedin' debt has been temporarily taken care of. Knock down my credit limit, & then raise my rate? We found a way to (ostensibly) screw the bank that pulled these tricks--not my idea, & quite legitimate.

I failed to put in proper piping practice (hey, there's a load of ps) last week & so didn't attend our regular meeting but am trying to make up for this somewhat. As I see it now, my goal is to find the right balance between blowing too hard & not squeezing hard enough!

Piping progresses again, at least in theory. These days I'm learning to play a few tunes with the drones removed & the stocks stoppered.

Meanwhile another area of life seems to have taken one of those proverbial turn for the worse. I, Mr. Frugal, have in the past few years accumulated an unexpectedly large debt--thinking an upcoming business move would soon yield the cash to pay it all off. Wrong! Now I can see that this was an incredible screwup--something shameful, I confess. It would be different if someone else had done this, but for me it's an embarrassing failure, & damned depressing. Now not only my plans for the end of this month are gone, but there's no telling how long I'll be living under this cloud. It sucks, big-time.

This is deficit spending--and, unlike Congress, I can't tax other people to pay for it.

Astronomical news: Last month I found an online article about a camera setup called the Simultaneous Differential Imager which is to be used in an attempt to photograph giant exoplanets orbiting other stars. One of these SDIs has been installed in Chile, while its northern counterpart, interestingly enough, is to go on the MMT telescope on Mt. Hopkins in Arizona.

Meanwhile, more currently, the Big Binoc 'scope of Mt Graham has been threatened by a fire but may be out of danger now.

Piping progress has now been halted. The pipe sergeant decided that my blowstick is too long for me, so he's taken it off for replacement.

Meanwhile I'm pleased to report my satisfaction with the Cassini probe, which successfully went into orbit around Saturn after nearly seven years in space. A quote: As far as I’m concerned, this is the greatest chapter in space exploration since Voyager.

Almost amazingly, I have to report, the second day I tried playing the complete great Highland pipe it actually seemed a little easier! Tune fragments maybe came more coherently, but I can't claim to be comfortable with the effort, & the tenor drones cut out anyway. Took it outside this time while my brother made his own racket in the backyard with a noisy power tool. Evidently my chanter was loud enough (with the door closed) in the house that my aunt, talking to my mother there over the phone, could hear it through the receiver. For some reason she ostensibly thought it was good!

I was warned--oh, yes, I was warned: piping gets hard when you start playing the real instrument with the chanter attached. Well, it does! So far my attempts to play tunes have come across as rather pathetic, while muscles in my fat belly start hurting with the effort of trying to keep enough pressure in the bag, as at least one drone cuts out (which I'm told isn't important at this stage). Yikes. And people march while they're doing all this?

The Charaxian Piping Chronicle now gets a drastically needed update. I now have the bagpipe we'd recently expected to buy. Our band's pipe sergeant bought it from an acquaintance, the pipe major of a Winnipeg band, for US$1000 (which my mother had made in a royal flush on a poker machine & offered for this purchase). Word is it appears to be a Henderson, made in the heroic year of 1943 or '44 & worth twice what we paid for it! Materials are traditional, except for the yellowed faux ivory, & I'm told the bag is rather large. Our PS & others--like his dad, a distinguished piper from the Auld Country--agreed the drones were "sweet."

The reeds are hardly original, & they presumably make playing easier. So far I've been instructed in sounding the instrument without its chanter. The PS says I'm the only student he knows of--after himself--who's started on all three drones! There does seem to be something natural about playing the thing. Now, besides chanter practice, I'm supposed to just blow the drones every day, & the former endeavor is coming along: By now I've more or less memorized a set of 4/4 marches.

This "piping progress report" actually involves a lack of progress. Earlier this month I routinely washed my practice chanter, including the reed--which I've since been told was a mistake--after which it just sounded hideous. Despite acquiring replacements, I couldn't seem to get it playing properly. Since then there's been one regular band meeting & a special teaching session. Now my instrument's almost working normally. Meanwhile I'm anticipating a full set of pipes in the near future: A rather intimidating prospect, I'll admit, though one I've obviously been working toward.

Piping progresses. It's a gradual process, but I sometimes surprise myself with the results: Practice is producing its desired effects--& I'm not even putting in nearly the recommended amount! At this point I've roughly memorized a few marches and am playing pages of more tunes, which definitely makes the effort more enjoyable.

An update: months after being hauled to its Mt. Graham observatory, the first Large Binocular Telescope mirror has finally been installed--more or less.

Some time ago I found an online photo showing me--at the haggis fest a few months ago. The quality's so poor I'm not really identifiable, & neither is my tartan. It's not even obvious I'm brandishing a sword. Maybe the anonymity's just as well.

As my mother & I were driving through the countryside a few days ago, en route to one of our favorite area casinos, we saw a bald eagle take off near the roadside. It's hardly uncommon to glimpse these birds along our rural highways, but this seemed an interestingly close look.

The gambling, by the way, wasn't bad.

Might as well mention that, on this last day of March, I noticed one or two robins in the backyard. Come next morning's twilight, I could hear the species up to their old spring twittering.

Made a brief astronomical observation during a nighttime power outage that affected most of our town & darkened our clear skies beyond the usual clarity. Glimpsing an unfamiliar fuzzy patch, I realized I must have seen the Coma Berenices cluster for the first time as the ancients knew it.

Well, this is an interesting time astronomically in more publicized ways, what with Mars rovers, a newly-discovered planet-like object in a strange orbit way out there, & a previously-unknown little asteroid making the closest terrestrial approach on record!

First I must apologize for taking so long. This entry is meant to describe events which took place a month ago now. [Plus a few more weeks by the time I finished this entry!]

It seems I failed to record in advance the band's plan to put on a traditional Scottish Burns Night as a fundraiser. The concept's a standard in some places, but to our knowledge it had never been done in this town. Well, we did it, packing the local Elks' Club with a sell-out crowd: success. As a brother of mine pointed out, there's nothing going on here in late January to compete with it. (Yes, the Cornells showed up; I knew they wouldn't be afraid of haggis.)

The occasion, of course, officially commemorates Robert Burns, known as Scotland's national poet. The more literate may recall perhaps his two most famous lines, which I might quote if this project wasn't so far behind: One literally about a mouse, the other a louse (with lessons drawn for us humans). Besides dinner, our production included a dancing outfit I didn't know much about, plus pipes & drums from out of town to bolster our little band. We imported a few other guys to help out, including the MC, who it seems in fact was born in Glasgow. (He surprisingly asked if I was wearing the Black Stewart tartan; I don't think my Old Sutherland looks much like it.)

I'd previously offered the use of a basket-hilted sword from my disorganized collection of archaic weapons & exotic blades, having learned one was needed for the requisite ceremony. Well, just this day I found out that the gal who was going to carry it wouldn't, since the old member who was going to lend her his kilt reneged for some reason--so our management asked Yours Truly to "guard" the haggis being paraded in. (Some of us agreed this wouldn't be hard--who'd try stealing this stuff?) My name had already been printed in the program for this segment, anyway. Thus, when our pipe major came out playing, our pipe sergeant following with a haggis tray, I marched behind them holding my sword, which wasn't sharp anyhow. We stood at the head table while the MC recited Burns' famous address to Scotland's national food. Didn't realize this performance meant I'd be slugging down a shot of whisky. (I like booze in general but am not a Scotch drinker & don't take most liquor straight; it wasn't as big a deal as all that, except that I wasn't careful to drain the glass at once--& then there was the acquaintance "cheering" me on from my family's table.)

Stayed into the evening but had to leave early, evidently missing the fancier piping heard there afterwards. My main point, however, is this: Haggis ain't half bad.

A new year, & now the first piping session in nearly a month. The band's sergeant, who's responsible for my current instruction, didn't show, though I heard he'd been out fundraising. The other student near my supposed level claimed my grace notes were better than hers--but then I noted one of the current first-year students apparently playing along with more experienced members to music I hadn't even looked at yet! The pipe major now presented me with the band's entire repertory.

I inattentively let the centennial of powered/winged flight go by without online acknowledgement. How easy is it now to believe the airplane is 100 years old? I recall learning the date at age ten and probably never forgot it: One of the great set-pieces in the history of progress--& the progress of history.

In the past few weeks I unintentionally managed to omit here any reference to the 40th anniversary of JFK's demise. (My recent reference to LOTR could have served as a reminder, had I been thinking; Tolkein's pal C.S. Lewis happened to die on the same date.) I'll say this much about JFK: He was the first President I remember. In fact, a few months earlier my family had actually visited DC, & I have a dim memory of our driving by the White House & my wondering whether he was in. (The famous March on Washington had evidently just taken place, but I knew nothing about this.)

Anyhow, I've noticed commentators referring to how the nation lost its innocence then. I find such remarks a bit exaggerated, though they're understandable from the Boomer generation's viewpoint--& I'm officially a member. One could perhaps make a more valid claim of lost innocence regarding Pearl Harbor--or Ford's Theatre--or First Manassas, for that matter.

Meanwhile I find myself at the same age as JFK when he bought it.

Just saw a _National Geographic_ program about _The Lord of the Rings_, confirming something I once saw alluded to somewhere about the author. It seems he did know Finnish; _NG_ stated that J.R.R. Tolkein taught himself the language in order to study the _Kalevala_, Finland's national epic. Not knowing this years ago, I did have occasion to notice certain similarities between Turin's & Kullervo's stories; so, as I suspected, they weren't coincidental.

This revelation would have been exciting news to my girlfriend, whom I introduced to his works in the mid-80s, reading the whole trilogy to her two or three times at her request. The daughter of Finnish immigrants, she would have greatly appreciated this knowledge--& so, perhaps, would I. I didn't come to Tolkein's works myself till about age 20, a few years after the Master's passing. Then I could see a few curious resemblances between his work and my own--suggesting, in my view, a certain amount of truth to the concept of the collective unconscious. Anyhow, my late friend conceivably already knew of J.R.R.'s learning Finnish, having gone transluminal herself three years ago.

Funny this should happen on Finland's Independence Day, when I lit a candle in a window as she taught me to.

A few unusual things have gone on lately around here. The big deal is a construction project proceeding in our street: it's getting city sewer. We're not directly involved, since our position adjoining the city limits allowed us to petition for annexation years ago, clearing the way for our own connection in back. The commotion's been considerable, of course, though by now the action's moved on down the block and most of the noise is from dopey dump trucks.

After what seemed like near two months of not having to mow the lawn because of scant rainfall, I went at it again as the street was dug up. Suddenly a small mammal popped up, alerting me to a hole stuffed with baby rabbits: Perhaps the epitome of cuteness. We'd noted holes in the yard before, though without any obvious occupant. (The presumed mother had been hanging around here recently.) Evidently there were four bunnies, including one that had run away but stationed itself on a nearby dirt pile as if intent on the giant backhoe operating close by. Next day the fertilizer guys showed up unannounced to treat our lawn; just one rabbit remained for them to see. One of them got permission to take it home, explaining that his family had experience raising rabbits.

Well, I started this post before the new work week opened, finding the sewer crew moved on so far down the street even the "dumb trucks" don't bother us.

Meanwhile I'm packing for my first vacation in two years, which I'll probably insist on reporting on afterwards. Off in a few days.