That night, One Longfellow Square was packed to the gills, and the two men came out and began to play. The darkened house and the lilting tunes (why is it that Irish tunes are always lilting, and yet they are--) thrummed along until the whole bunch of us were on a hypnotic journey with Martin and Dennis.

My first impression of the album, without zeroing in on any particular song, was the feeling of how each cut built upon the next, with each song expanding the listening experience. It affected me in a way similar to the way I feel when I read a Paramahansa Yogananda meditation. I get a sense of emotional expansiveness.

Empty spools in male heads then begin to knock together causing mild disorders in male brains. The subtle yet continuous impact of the knocking spools creates escalating irritation that causes some males to exhibit more aggressive behavior than others. This may happen because of spool size. Some men assume that their spool sizes are bigger than other men’s.

Kenny White, wearing a fedora and glasses, opened for Cheryl Wheeler with his song, "Out of My Element". He plays the piano with a flourish like Elton John and turns an elegant phrase like Randy Newman; "I'm trying to walk straight but the sidewalk is nervous, / my tears need a curfew, my steps need a purpose."

There was a very tall American standing right in front of them... On the train, her mother - the preacher's wife - said to twelve-year-old Hiroko, "Don't look at him! Put your face down!" She communicated this not with words, but by sending a signal that Americans were demons and devils. After a few moments, the soldier took out a bag filled with candies from his military rucksack, and put the entire bag in little Hiroko's hand-made cloth pouch.

Cheryl Wheeler is a laid back woman. She came out on stage full of bonhomie and wearing an outfit that looked just like my pajamas. Cheryl is a born storyteller and has a mind like Mark Twain. She can make ordinary events seem funny by the way she relates them, but behind the wit is a deep and sensitive heart.

I was honored to be in the midst of great musicians last night. Four masters of their genres, Ragtime Jack Radcliffe; folk song hunter Dale Robin Goodman; bluesman Sherman Lee Dillon; and "sea chanty man" Jim McGrath, from the Wepecket Island record label, were in Portland sharing their talents. When I see musicians of this caliber I'm struck by their skill, love of music and the fun and goodwill that they share with listeners.

National Fiddle Champion brother and sister duo, Tristan, (who also plays cello) and Tashina Clarridge, hammered dulcimer wizard Simon Chrisman and banjo master Wes Corbett, play together like a flock of birds, changing directions and weaving in and out with flawless patterns of coordination and grace.

Yowee, it is hard to categorize cellist, singer-songwriter Mike Block! He opened a show for the Bee Eaters and dazzled the audience with his energetic and humorous style. A wiry guy with bright eyes and quick fingers, he began with some Appalachian folk tunes, a Bach piece and then...

As my daughter, Grace, pointed out (who attended the show with me), it was interesting seeing both bands synthesize in and out of each other. It made the whole evening feel like the music came from the same gene pool.

A lot of Asian music I have heard in the past, such as Chinese opera, is very discordant to me and not pleasant to listen to, but these songs, even with the unusual throat sounds were truly melodic. I found myself crying from the first song, I was deeply moved immediately.

I was 14 years old when I saw the advertisement in a movie magazine for “The first VCR for homes”. Back then, the thing I hated the most was studying. The second most dreadful thing was school. And the third was teachers. Although I played all day long and never studied, I had a private tutor. My tutor was the movies.