When I was in Kingston last week, for the sad event of my friend Paul's funeral, something rather wonderful happened, something unexpected, which in my opinion often goes hand in hand with unexpected.
I was only going to be Kingston for that one night, and it was a Tuesday night and I know people have lives but still, it was a lovely evening and I have it on very good authority (as in my own) that they have beer in Kingston. So we all know what that means.
So I ended up agreeing to go downtown and have a beer (or forty) with my nephew Ken. My plan was to do some patio surfing, really the only sport that I can claim Olympic caliber skill at doing. When I left Ed's house to go down to the waterfront, it was not quite dusk and I ambled along, not thinking much about a traffic light being out, then another, then another ... Yes, I am indeed an idiot savant but one of those words applies to me far better than the other. I realized that the power was out. Power was out all up and down Princess St., Kingston's main drag, and for blocks all around.
When I finally met Ken down at the water, our plans seemed to be pretty much fucked up. We hit a few bars but nobody was serving; cash registers weren't working, those little bar computers weren't running, there weren't any lights. Damn. As we wandered back up Princess, Ken thought of Ben's Pub, a little place just off the strip. "If any body's serving" he said, "Margaret will be."
Indeed, Margaret was. Ben's Pub is a little place and as the name suggests, sort of British in theme, not uncommon in Kingston, not uncommon in a lot of places in Canada I guess. They had candles set up on the tables and the draft kegs were working. When we came in, the bartender asked us if we were OK with only beer and Ken and I looked at each other and said "Duh"
As we settled down we noticed a few people sitting at the tables with fiddles. Apparently Ben's has a regular Tuesday night caleigh. As time went on, they acquired about half a dozen fiddlers, three people on guitars, a lute and an Irish pipe. The lack of electricity meant nothing to the players, in a way they were in their element, playing celtic and gaelic music in an environment very close to how it was originally heard.
I wish Collette had been there. My first "date" at her house involved a room full of musicians like this, playing and jamming and feeding off of one another. I am always in awe of this kind of event. That night at the pub, a fiddler would begin playing then the others would jump in, playing along with lively skill, everyone on time and at the end of the song someone would lean over and ask "What was that one?" They didn't know the song but were still able to join in as if they had. That frankly amazes me.
There were a few songs where everyone just really clicked, where the instruments played in perfect harmony, the music layered and complex and in no need of vocal accompaniment. Combine that with the darkness and the candle light and the lack of TV, electric lights etc ... it was kind of a special thing. Even Ken, who's musical tastes run more to rage and snarling, appreciated the moment.
I guess it's a black out cliche to not how we find alternate ways to connect with another, to engage with each other. What is interesting of course is that they tend to be very old ways, as in a night of acoustic music, lit by candles, flavoured by ale as it would have been a couple of hundred years ago .. OK, so the beer was cold but that is one comfort I will allow myself.
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