Wednesday the fifteenth held in store quite an emotional and touching experience...
Unwittingly I made my way to Launceston amongst the early morning commuters. Suffering the frustration and occasional spouts of road rage that now go hand in hand with my weekly trips, traveling at 80k an hour and dreaming about the day I am no longer on my P plates.
Arriving on time and having booked early to secure the best busking spot and time slot, I started up. Though it did not seem overly busy I seemed to be raking in the donations and the atmosphere was great! Many people came up to talk to me, making comments like
"The music of angles."
"You've made my day."
"Keep it up."
as they made their donations, big and small. I heard one man say to his son as they walked by "It's just like a guitar, but standing up." to which I couldn't help myself but call out that "no, it really isn't."
Another little snippet I gleaned was from a son berating his father for, "Only" having a dollar to put in the box.
Such interactions may seem trivial, but they really make this buskers day.
And as such brief interactions go, I was about to have the most heart wrenching one yet.
An old gentleman came up to me, we had a brief conversation about the style of music I play, and his love of Irish tunes, referring to me as "Ma'am" the whole time.
What I remember most clearly about him was, his clothes, black jeans, black shirt.
He was wearing a belt, and carrying a newly purchased one also.
The VIBE he gave off was so... well it seemed as though he was seeking, and lonely.
After a couple of minutes I started to pluck away at the stings... then he asked me to play him a traditional Irish tune. I chose one of my favourites, called Chanter, which he knew well.
Feeling good about the day and thriving on the atmosphere I dare say I played it well, taking to heart the saying "To play a wrong note is insignificant, to play without passion is inexcusable."
After finishing, he was thoughtful for a moment.
Then said
"Thank you so much, you've eased my mind... I was a bit worried about myself earlier..."
when I asked why, he told me
"I've been diagnosed with terminal cancer."
He proceeded to drop a tenner in my box, and walked away...
Later I felt so sad for not knowing his name.
I continued playing after that, feeling grateful for my life and quite nostalgic. I really got in to the music, and hardly noticed as the next person came up to me. He caught me just as I finished a really nice piece. Open face, palms together in the typical (hippie) gesture of gratitude, blond hair and tattooed skin.
He thanked me for playing with such feeling and passion, said he could see my love of the harp and had felt at piece while listening.
As often I do when meeting someone interesting who seems to appreciate what I do,
I offered him a go.
Taking the opportunity to snap some shots of the meeting.
I learned that he had traveled from Canada to the mainland not long ago, and in one day decided to make his way to tassie, with no contacts here, little money and no idea what to expect or where to go once here.
As he finished playing, I glimpsed an instrument case over near his pack and after questioning him about it, he offered to play a song of his own.
He gathered quite a crowed as he played and sang, something just for me made-up on the spot.
Our little meeting completely made my already amazing day, just that bit better, and vastly more memorable.
We wished each other well, he insisting we would meet again, the charmer, blowing me a kiss as he left, hefting his pack, music case in hand.
Two days later, back in Launceston busking, and he puts a little poem in my box.
Here is a little snippet of that poem I feel I can share with you.
