Street musicians

It happens less frequently now.

When we first move into our apartment in Paris at the end of the
70s we now and then have a man with his cart who'd come around
and offer to sharpen you scissors and knives. For a fee. His cart had
a grind stone. He eventually left and passed into the history
books. I have not seen his kind again.

It reminded me of when I was a kid in LA in the late 1930s when
we had a man with an old truck who'd come through the neigbborhood
to sell vegetables. He too eventually pass into history. Before
that, in Chicago as a kid, there was a man who came up to our
apartment with a block of ice to put in our ice box. I still
call a refrigerator an ice box. He too passed onto the pages
of history.

Just now, a few minutes while sitting at my computer,
in our apartment three stories above the street, I heard
music below me, an accordion. I don't normally appreciate
that kind of music. But the musician was the first one
on the street of our neighborhood in several years. So
I threw him a 2 euro coin, which he found and eventually
left to play elsewhere.

So the history book on that is not yet closed.
Reassuring in part. Maybe it will continue until
I too pass into history.

On Mar 2, 12:21*pm, Earl Evleth wrote:
It happens less frequently now.

When we first move into our apartment in Paris at the end of the
70s we now and then have a man with his cart who'd come around
and offer to sharpen you scissors and knives. For a fee. His cart had
a grind stone. He eventually left and passed into the history
books. I have not seen his kind again.

It reminded me of when I was a kid in LA in the late 1930s when
we had a man with an old truck who'd come through the neigbborhood
to sell vegetables. He too eventually pass into history. Before
that, in Chicago as a kid, there was a man who came up to our
apartment with a block of ice to put in our ice box. I still
call a refrigerator an ice box. He too passed onto the pages
of history.

Just now, a few minutes while sitting at my computer,
in our apartment three stories above the street, I heard
music below me, an accordion. I don't normally appreciate
that kind of music. But the musician was the first one
on the street of our neighborhood in several years. So
I threw him a 2 euro coin, which he found and eventually
left to play elsewhere.

So the history book on that is not yet closed.
Reassuring in part. Maybe it will continue until
I too pass into history. *

All I hear is at pre-Christmas time. A Salvation Army guy plays bag
pipes. I love. The trumpters are good too. So mine are seasonal.

Next he'll be throwing bananas to children

"Earl Evleth" a écrit dans le message de
...

It happens less frequently now.

When we first move into our apartment in Paris at the end of the
70s we now and then have a man with his cart who'd come around
and offer to sharpen you scissors and knives. For a fee. His cart had
a grind stone. He eventually left and passed into the history
books. I have not seen his kind again.

It reminded me of when I was a kid in LA in the late 1930s when
we had a man with an old truck who'd come through the neigbborhood
to sell vegetables. He too eventually pass into history. Before
that, in Chicago as a kid, there was a man who came up to our
apartment with a block of ice to put in our ice box. I still
call a refrigerator an ice box. He too passed onto the pages
of history.

Just now, a few minutes while sitting at my computer,
in our apartment three stories above the street, I heard
music below me, an accordion. I don't normally appreciate
that kind of music. But the musician was the first one
on the street of our neighborhood in several years. So
I threw him a 2 euro coin, which he found and eventually
left to play elsewhere.

So the history book on that is not yet closed.
Reassuring in part. Maybe it will continue until
I too pass into history.

OUT !

"Earl Evleth" a écrit dans le message de
...

It happens less frequently now.

When we first move into our apartment in Paris at the end of the
70s we now and then have a man with his cart who'd come around
and offer to sharpen you scissors and knives. For a fee. His cart had
a grind stone. He eventually left and passed into the history
books. I have not seen his kind again.

It reminded me of when I was a kid in LA in the late 1930s when
we had a man with an old truck who'd come through the neigbborhood
to sell vegetables. He too eventually pass into history. Before
that, in Chicago as a kid, there was a man who came up to our
apartment with a block of ice to put in our ice box. I still
call a refrigerator an ice box. He too passed onto the pages
of history.

Just now, a few minutes while sitting at my computer,
in our apartment three stories above the street, I heard
music below me, an accordion. I don't normally appreciate
that kind of music. But the musician was the first one
on the street of our neighborhood in several years. So
I threw him a 2 euro coin, which he found and eventually
left to play elsewhere.

So the history book on that is not yet closed.
Reassuring in part. Maybe it will continue until
I too pass into history.

On Mar 2, 7:21*pm, Earl Evleth wrote:
It happens less frequently now.

When we first move into our apartment in Paris at the end of the
70s we now and then have a man with his cart who'd come around
and offer to sharpen you scissors and knives. For a fee. His cart had
a grind stone. He eventually left and passed into the history
books. I have not seen his kind again.

It reminded me of when I was a kid in LA in the late 1930s when
we had a man with an old truck who'd come through the neigbborhood
to sell vegetables. He too eventually pass into history. Before
that, in Chicago as a kid, there was a man who came up to our
apartment with a block of ice to put in our ice box. I still
call a refrigerator an ice box. He too passed onto the pages
of history.

Just now, a few minutes while sitting at my computer,
in our apartment three stories above the street, I heard
music below me, an accordion. I don't normally appreciate
that kind of music. But the musician was the first one
on the street of our neighborhood in several years. So
I threw him a 2 euro coin, which he found and eventually
left to play elsewhere.

So the history book on that is not yet closed.
Reassuring in part. Maybe it will continue until
I too pass into history. *

they play accordions in the trams in Brussels everyday

Terry Bull wrote:
On Mar 2, 7:21 pm, Earl Evleth wrote:
It happens less frequently now.

When we first move into our apartment in Paris at the end of the
70s we now and then have a man with his cart who'd come around
and offer to sharpen you scissors and knives. For a fee. His cart had
a grind stone. He eventually left and passed into the history
books. I have not seen his kind again.

It reminded me of when I was a kid in LA in the late 1930s when
we had a man with an old truck who'd come through the neigbborhood
to sell vegetables. He too eventually pass into history. Before
that, in Chicago as a kid, there was a man who came up to our
apartment with a block of ice to put in our ice box. I still
call a refrigerator an ice box. He too passed onto the pages
of history.

Just now, a few minutes while sitting at my computer,
in our apartment three stories above the street, I heard
music below me, an accordion. I don't normally appreciate
that kind of music. But the musician was the first one
on the street of our neighborhood in several years. So
I threw him a 2 euro coin, which he found and eventually
left to play elsewhere.

So the history book on that is not yet closed.
Reassuring in part. Maybe it will continue until
I too pass into history.

they play accordions in the trams in Brussels everyday

We get some accordion players in our little town quite a lot, although
it seems they're Russian, judging by the music they play.
And last week there was a troupe of Peruvian whistle players.

On the subject of knife sharpeners, our one hasn't been seen round here
for a while either. He came round on a bicycle which he turned upside
down and turned the crank, somehow he had a grinding stone rigged up to
the back wheel. People tell me he covered a huge area on that bike of
his, half the state.
What we do get recently is a guy driving a truck round collecting
scrap metal. He has some kind of electronic keyboard and plays a few
notes to get people's attention.

T

Earl Evleth wrote:

It happens less frequently now.

I think they have "Flomax" available for that now.



Just now, a few minutes while sitting at my computer,
in our apartment three stories above the street, I heard
music below me, an accordion. I don't normally appreciate
that kind of music. But the musician was the first one
on the street of our neighborhood in several years. So
I threw him a 2 euro coin, which he found and eventually
left to play elsewhere.

Are you sure you didn't hit him on the head? He's down there right
now bleeding into the gutter, his crushed squeeze box battered
under his ample French belly. You should take the lift down and
give him a Xanax. But not if his organ grinder monkey is still
around.




--
He and Evie soon fell into a conversation of the "No, I didn't;
yes, you did" type--conversation which, though fascinating to those
who are engaged in it, neither desires nor deserves the attention
of others.
-+E.M. Forster, "Howards End"

On 2/03/09 22:01, in article
, "Terry
Bull" wrote:

they play accordions in the trams in Brussels everyday

That's true also in Paris and they are boring, "Oh how we danced
on the night we were wed" has been played and replayed.

Them I don't give money to.

On 2/03/09 23:39, in article , "Bill Bonde { No
matter what happens, it's caused by global warming )"
wrote:

Are you sure you didn't hit him on the head?

Yes, he had to look around for the money and found it about
10 feet from where he was standing.

And I yelled to him "merci".

On Mar 3, 9:42*am, Earl Evleth wrote:
On 2/03/09 22:01, in article
, "Terry

Bull" wrote:
they play accordions in the trams in Brussels everyday

That's true also in Paris and they are boring, "Oh how we danced
on the night we were wed" has been played and replayed.

Them I don't give money to.

ours come from Eastern Europe....I don't think they know that one.....