We offered to get Molly a Smartphone for her birthday next month, but she politely declined. She’s been consistent in her loyalty to old school forms of communication, and only reluctantly hauled a lap top to a summer writing program she attended in Boston.
“I found a perfect study spot,” she told me — not texted — in a phone call from campus. “It’s a field of lavender.”
If she’d have had her druthers, she’d have packed parchment, quill and ink and calligraphied her assigned work.
“Don’t they have computer labs on campus? I could use that if I need one,” she said, to her older brothers’ collective horror.
“You’re not going to be THAT kid,” Charlie said. “Pack the lap top.”
So, it surprised none of us when she asked for with sincerity and received with pure delight … a used accordion we’d stumbled on while visiting her grandmother in Illinois.
Sold by renaissance resident Nick, who spends a good chunk of his winter maintaining a family of snow people outside on the terrace, plays a mean piano and happily fashions balloons into just about anything, the accordion had Molly’s name written all over it. Figuratively, of course. In reality, it has Nick’s name carved into the body and his notes written on the music books inside.
These touches endeared the instrument even more to Molly and, the minute she figured out how to open the case, she spread it all out and began to play.
I’d like to think that accordion will have a good long run in Molly’s hands.
Until then, if you’re passing by our house during this window-open season, be sure to give a listen.
You might catch a Gatsby glimpse into days gone by.
An’ a one, an’ a two…