[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.He drove a little VW bug that chugged to life like a lawn mower engine.“I appreciate you doing what you’re doing,” I said.“How did you feel about your performance?” he said.“You looked pretty comfortable up there.”I shrugged.“I guess it was all right.I was nervous at first, but then when the music took over, I was okay.I could have been better with a little more practice.”Buzz smiled.“Do you think you could do that in front of a bigger crowd? say, a few hundred people?”“If I can do it in front of people who hate the music I’m playing, I guess I could do it for just about anybody.”He flicked on the radio and tuned it to the local country-and-western station, WDGW.There was a Don Williams song on and Buzz said he liked the man’s music.“There’s something so smooth and clean about his recordings,” I said.“The voice lays into his songs just right.”The signal got stronger and he pointed out the antenna.“I know the manager of that station.He actually hired another one of our students to work there.”It was a white metal building that looked like it could have been a sausage factory or a warehouse.I’d been past there a hundred times and never really noticed the antenna.He flipped to another station and we listened to Kenny Rogers’s scratchy voice.I gave Buzz directions, and as we passed neighbors’ houses, I got that bad feeling when you know somebody from the outside is going to look in at your life.Buzz parked next to the road because our driveway was a mud hole.Mom’s car was in the grass by the back door.I took him around back because of all the laundry still hanging up on the front porch.“Where have you been, Billy?” Mama said.“I was worried sick.”“Mama, this is Bu—uh, Mr.Gibson.He’s one of my teachers.”Mama wiped her hands on her apron and shook his hand.“Nice to meet you, Mr.Gibson.Is there something wrong?”“Not at all,” Buzz said.“I kept your son after school working on a project.Do you mind if I come in and talk about it?”“Not at all,” Mama said, backing up the cinder blocks.“Can I get you something to drink? All we have is Diet Shasta.”“Love it,” Buzz said.Mama got him a glass bottle and he sat at the kitchen table.I’d never noticed how many cracks in the walls there were, how the linoleum was turned up in the corners, and how the wood was rotted around the doorjamb until somebody new sat in the house.“Can you stay for supper?” Mama said, cracking open the bottle.“I would love to, Mrs.Allman, but I have a dinner date with my wife tonight.I can only stay a few minutes.I want to talk to you about your son.”Her face fell and she sat down on the one chair with the rooster painted on it.“He’s done something wrong?”“Your son isn’t in any trouble,” Buzz said, reaching a hand out and patting my mother’s.“He brought his mandolin to school today and played for the class.He’s very good.Exceptional talent.I invited a friend of mine to listen to him who has a gospel group.The Gospel Bluegrass Boys.”Mama’s eyes lit up.“Is that so?”“They’ve been around a few years,” Buzz said.“They travel all throughout West Virginia, Ohio, Kentucky, and a little into Tennessee.”“I’ve heard about their records,” Mama said, masking a smile.“But I never thought a teacher in Dogwood was part of them.”“No, you don’t understand.I’m not part of the group.But Vernon is—he’s in our church—and when I heard Billy, I invited him to hear your son.”“I see,” she said.But I could tell she didn’t.Her mind wasn’t all there at times.Part of that was all she’d been through and part of it wasn’t.“They play mainly in local churches and revivals.But they have done shows as far away as Cincinnati and they’ve opened for some name bands.It’s not just a hobby; it’s serious, but the music is a ministry.It touches lives and encourages people.”“I’ll just bet it does.”“Teaching is a love of mine.Helping kids learn and grow is a passion.And when I see somebody with Billy’s talent, I try to help them channel that in some positive direction.”“Well, I appreciate all you’re doing.”“I tell you, Mrs.Allman, your son has something special.A gift.And since all good gifts come from the Father of lights, I don’t think we should hide it under a bushel basket.”Mama sat back, relaxed, like someone had given her a full-body massage.“Well, what do you think about that! I knew from the moment he was born, he was special.It’s just good to hear somebody else come around.”“You have reason to be proud,” Buzz said.“You’ve done a fine job raising a son who’s respectful and attentive.”“His daddy taught him the mandolin,” Mama said.“And he’s good at electronics, too.”“I know you’ve been through a difficult time in the past few years.And I want to make you a proposal.” He smiled and sat back.“Not that kind of proposal.”Mama chuckled and covered her mouth with a hand.Being a woman of the hills, her teeth were not in the best shape.“Billy made a tape of himself playing along with the band’s songs.I want to take that to my friend.They lost their mandolin picker a few months ago and haven’t replaced him.”“And if they like me?” I said.“If they approve—and I don’t have any reason to believe they won’t—I think they’ll ask you to join them.Come to practices.And eventually go on the road with them.Vernon has to be at the church on most Sundays, so usually it’s Friday and Saturday nights that they’re gone.”My mouth dropped open.Mama turned to me with a smile that didn’t fit the situation.“Well, that would pretty much take him away every weekend.”“Eventually.But he would be able to choose when he wanted to go and when you’d want him to stay.Now, their ministry is not-for-profit, so they don’t actually pay their players, but they use the money from record sales and their honorarium to buy clothes and instruments and sound equipment.They’d probably get Billy some new clothes and maybe even help out here at the house with repairs you might need [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl centka.pev.pl
.He drove a little VW bug that chugged to life like a lawn mower engine.“I appreciate you doing what you’re doing,” I said.“How did you feel about your performance?” he said.“You looked pretty comfortable up there.”I shrugged.“I guess it was all right.I was nervous at first, but then when the music took over, I was okay.I could have been better with a little more practice.”Buzz smiled.“Do you think you could do that in front of a bigger crowd? say, a few hundred people?”“If I can do it in front of people who hate the music I’m playing, I guess I could do it for just about anybody.”He flicked on the radio and tuned it to the local country-and-western station, WDGW.There was a Don Williams song on and Buzz said he liked the man’s music.“There’s something so smooth and clean about his recordings,” I said.“The voice lays into his songs just right.”The signal got stronger and he pointed out the antenna.“I know the manager of that station.He actually hired another one of our students to work there.”It was a white metal building that looked like it could have been a sausage factory or a warehouse.I’d been past there a hundred times and never really noticed the antenna.He flipped to another station and we listened to Kenny Rogers’s scratchy voice.I gave Buzz directions, and as we passed neighbors’ houses, I got that bad feeling when you know somebody from the outside is going to look in at your life.Buzz parked next to the road because our driveway was a mud hole.Mom’s car was in the grass by the back door.I took him around back because of all the laundry still hanging up on the front porch.“Where have you been, Billy?” Mama said.“I was worried sick.”“Mama, this is Bu—uh, Mr.Gibson.He’s one of my teachers.”Mama wiped her hands on her apron and shook his hand.“Nice to meet you, Mr.Gibson.Is there something wrong?”“Not at all,” Buzz said.“I kept your son after school working on a project.Do you mind if I come in and talk about it?”“Not at all,” Mama said, backing up the cinder blocks.“Can I get you something to drink? All we have is Diet Shasta.”“Love it,” Buzz said.Mama got him a glass bottle and he sat at the kitchen table.I’d never noticed how many cracks in the walls there were, how the linoleum was turned up in the corners, and how the wood was rotted around the doorjamb until somebody new sat in the house.“Can you stay for supper?” Mama said, cracking open the bottle.“I would love to, Mrs.Allman, but I have a dinner date with my wife tonight.I can only stay a few minutes.I want to talk to you about your son.”Her face fell and she sat down on the one chair with the rooster painted on it.“He’s done something wrong?”“Your son isn’t in any trouble,” Buzz said, reaching a hand out and patting my mother’s.“He brought his mandolin to school today and played for the class.He’s very good.Exceptional talent.I invited a friend of mine to listen to him who has a gospel group.The Gospel Bluegrass Boys.”Mama’s eyes lit up.“Is that so?”“They’ve been around a few years,” Buzz said.“They travel all throughout West Virginia, Ohio, Kentucky, and a little into Tennessee.”“I’ve heard about their records,” Mama said, masking a smile.“But I never thought a teacher in Dogwood was part of them.”“No, you don’t understand.I’m not part of the group.But Vernon is—he’s in our church—and when I heard Billy, I invited him to hear your son.”“I see,” she said.But I could tell she didn’t.Her mind wasn’t all there at times.Part of that was all she’d been through and part of it wasn’t.“They play mainly in local churches and revivals.But they have done shows as far away as Cincinnati and they’ve opened for some name bands.It’s not just a hobby; it’s serious, but the music is a ministry.It touches lives and encourages people.”“I’ll just bet it does.”“Teaching is a love of mine.Helping kids learn and grow is a passion.And when I see somebody with Billy’s talent, I try to help them channel that in some positive direction.”“Well, I appreciate all you’re doing.”“I tell you, Mrs.Allman, your son has something special.A gift.And since all good gifts come from the Father of lights, I don’t think we should hide it under a bushel basket.”Mama sat back, relaxed, like someone had given her a full-body massage.“Well, what do you think about that! I knew from the moment he was born, he was special.It’s just good to hear somebody else come around.”“You have reason to be proud,” Buzz said.“You’ve done a fine job raising a son who’s respectful and attentive.”“His daddy taught him the mandolin,” Mama said.“And he’s good at electronics, too.”“I know you’ve been through a difficult time in the past few years.And I want to make you a proposal.” He smiled and sat back.“Not that kind of proposal.”Mama chuckled and covered her mouth with a hand.Being a woman of the hills, her teeth were not in the best shape.“Billy made a tape of himself playing along with the band’s songs.I want to take that to my friend.They lost their mandolin picker a few months ago and haven’t replaced him.”“And if they like me?” I said.“If they approve—and I don’t have any reason to believe they won’t—I think they’ll ask you to join them.Come to practices.And eventually go on the road with them.Vernon has to be at the church on most Sundays, so usually it’s Friday and Saturday nights that they’re gone.”My mouth dropped open.Mama turned to me with a smile that didn’t fit the situation.“Well, that would pretty much take him away every weekend.”“Eventually.But he would be able to choose when he wanted to go and when you’d want him to stay.Now, their ministry is not-for-profit, so they don’t actually pay their players, but they use the money from record sales and their honorarium to buy clothes and instruments and sound equipment.They’d probably get Billy some new clothes and maybe even help out here at the house with repairs you might need [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]