More from Maryville

Bluegrass musicians are incredibly friendly, humorous people. Tony McManus, one of the instructors and performers at the camp I attended this week, is from Paisley, Scotland. He had numerous jokes about some of the proclivities of his motherland, namely its emotional aloofness and its notorious stinginess. These are his jokes, not mine. Any offense given to persons of Scottish ancestry is understandable and should probably be taken if it helps.

There was a man in Paisley who loved his wife so much he almost told her.

There was another man in Paisley who took his children each and every Christmas to see Santa's grave.

Tony is noted as a very talented fingerstyle and flatpicker guitarist in the Celtic tradition. If you are a fan of the acoustic guitar, I recommend his Ceol More CD. It is one of his more recent recordings. I listened to it countless times on my longish drive from Maryville back to Winchester today.

Invariably, when bluegrass musicians get together they tell banjo and banjo player jokes. Banjos and banjo players are easy marks. Here are some of my favorites.

What do you call a banjo player without a girlfriend?

Homeless.

What do you call a pretty woman on a banjo player's arm?

A tattoo.

St. Peter was having a monotonous day at the pearly gates. He decided to ask some new and different questions of the prospective entrants. He asked the next three persons in line to tell him their annual incomes. The first two persons incomes were sizable. "Ah," Peter noted, "must be hardworking professionals." The third person reported a rather meager sum. So, Peter asked him, "What kind of banjo did you play?"

This coming week I am changing gears. I move from using my fingertips to the pads of my fingers. I am at Shenandoah's piping school. I am hoping it gives me a head start on my week at the National Piping Centre in Glasgow in July.

That's it for the moment. Peace.