I logged on to the computer this morning planning on posting more photos of current works.
But I've been hit by the news of the death of my favorite singer/songwriter, Bill Morrissey.
I've now spent a few hours listening to his music. Which I can easily do as we have nine CDs by Bill. All wonderful in their own ways.
And tonight I'll start rereading his book, Edson. By the way, if you have this book, the girl working in the store, Martello's, isn't me. But I did work in the real store. See, Bill's book, like much of his early music, was inspired by my hometown.
When I was a teenager, being too young to legally get into the Stone Church, I would sit outside on the steps of the Historical Society next door. Especially on hoot nights. What amazing stuff I heard. That's how I first heard Bill play.
His voice wasn't a great instrument, but that raspy bass was perfect for his own songs. And it is his lyrics that kill. He captured the essence of working class New England in song. He sang of pain and loss and then could turn around and make you laugh.
IF any of you are interested this is a link to Bill's website. There are some tributes. And some links. Go take a listen. You won't regret it.