ongaku is music in Japanese.

So Gabe is off for another year of adventure, and duct-taping bananas to trees, on the sylvan grounds of Guilford College, and I sustained another 13 hour round-trip driving marathon. In addition to his regular tutor, he is under agreement with me that we will Skype twice a week for the purpose of studying semester 3 Japanese.

Gabe packed simply. I came downstairs the morning we were to depart to discover, in the front hall, one duffel full of clothing, one large throw pillow, and one laundry basket full of odds and ends. Gabe had agreed to organize his things there for easy car-loading in the morning, and that, evidently, was the extent of any needs he perceived. With some prodding from me, we filled one more basket before departing. But he’s been doing this for two years now. I guess he knows how simply he subsists.

Among the additions I suggested was his Nakama 1 Japanese textbook. Based on a study of the college bookstore website I had ascertained that Nakama 2 was the needed text for third semester, but I proposed to Gabe that he might want to refer back to concepts found in his first textbook, and he agreed. Un-kudos to me that I didn’t also throw in his matching workbook, because it turns out (now that I have downloaded the course syllabus,) that they will be beginning the semester with the final two chapters of Nakama 1. This necessitated two moves: One--I quickly bought THAT way overpriced set of texts from Amazon so I’ll know what to study, and two--I shipped him his workbook today, along with one jacket and one winter coat.

Gabe is living in a small wing in the walk-out basement level of what is otherwise an all-freshman dorm. Also in that wing will be residing 8 or so other sophomores who, presumably, also have the inclination to submit their housing applications late. Perhaps they will be a compatible and cohesive group.

Meanwhile, I am giving myself pep-talks. I CAN remember some Japanese and be useful as a study partner, right? I’m not always feeling sure about this. Between refreshing the Japanese, and studying some basic music theory this year, I feel at risk of brain implosion.

UkeFesting

It’s amazing what you can find on the internet, but you probably knew that. What I found is a four day ukulele camp for adults at the Strathmore Music Center, and I signed up.

I don’t love commuting to Washington, DC for anything, but I’m kind of used to it by now after clinical studies at Georgetown University and NIH. On the best of days, you’d better allot an hour’s driving time, but there aren’t many best of days in the vicinity of the DC beltway, so this morning--the last day of the Ukefest--was closer to an hour and a half.

Cathy Fink, who led most of the sessions I signed up for, is a ridiculously accomplished musician, but also an entertaining group leader with patience for the fumblings of those such as I, who squandered our childhoods and didn’t hone our musical wiring when the honing was good.

While I could not impress anyone with my musical prowess, collectors did notice and admire my 1927 Gibson uke. I am not worthy of a venerable instrument, but there--it’s got me.

Cathy Fink may start to think I’m stalking her, as I’ve just signed up for an 8 week songwriting class she’s teaching, starting in September. (More commuting to DC, and--in a note of exceptional coolness, there will be a guest lecture by Tom Paxton, writer of The Marvelous Toy...zip when it moves, and bop when it stops...) She’s also appearing at the 2 day Virginia UkeFest in Richmond, at the beginning of November, and I’ve got my sights set on that one as well. I’m not stalking her though--I just see a path that interests me and she happens to be standing smack in the middle of it. No worries though. I am eminently ignorable, and I’m sure she’ll manage just fine.