One of the pieces on George Winston's new CD is a sentimental, slow arrangement of that sentimental old song "Good-night, Irene." It reminds me of my parents...I have a cousin Irene and every time we would visit her and her family (my dad's sister and her husband), one of them would at some point sing "Goodnight, Irene" to her. How embarrassed she was. (Irene used to play the accordion. It fascinated me; I couldn't figure out how she made one hand do one thing and her other do something different. I also couldn't figure out how she hefted the darn thing up--I thought it weighed a ton!)

I remember their old house in Peabody, Massachusetts. It was a ranch and was the very first house with heated floors I was ever in. The refrigerator was "built-in" in a way that it looked like cabinets--you would open what looked like the door to get to the soup or the cereal and the light would go on and you'd find the milk instead. They had a pool in the backyard, a real inground pool, that was great fun to go in in the sweltering summer months.

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 9:07:00 AM

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