This morning I got up to receive and ponder a rather fraught missive on language policy, and then went off to a funeral. I did some errands and went to work out at the gym, where we watched the Polish airplane disaster and the West Virginia mining disaster on television. I came home and painted the house until sunset.
I was listening wirelessly, outdoors, to traditional New Orleans Jazz being broadcast live from the French Quarter. Mail arrived from a Chilean earthquake victim asking whether my parents received the picture of her survival, so I called them. My mother has broken her foot. I started thinking about the miners and the copper bosses.
I looked for coal mining songs, as it is the weekend. I discovered that Sarah Gunning once called Woody Guthrie a “curly-headed…”. I found this amazing version of Curly Headed Baby, with which I send you greetings from the United States.
Axé.
coldhearted scientist وداد 
Those guys play like they breathe.
So much music, so little time!
Aren’t they great? Apparently this was done to while away the time on a 2 hour ferry ride somewhere in NC — I didn’t know they had ferry rides so long there.