Handeguy
Happy to be here
- Joined
- Dec 12, 2020
- Posts
- 566
So, it's only Wednesday, but that's not going to stop me from looking forward to Friday and Saturday. And you know what would make this a REALLY good Friday night? A ceilidh.
For the uninitiated, a ceilidh (pronounced KAY-lee) is part concert, part social dance, part musical variety show, part hang out with your friends, neighbors, and family. And they are one of life's truly great experiences. And I mean truly great. The name is a Gaelic word that simply means "gathering", and it's a tradition that goes back to who knows when in Scotland, where folks have cozied up in kitchens, parlors, and pubs for a bit of music, friendly banter, maybe a little dancing, and yes, even a wee dram since time immemorial. They brought the ceilidh with them to Atlantic Canada, and now it's part of the fabric of life from Goose Bay, Labrador to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. Some people there call 'em "kitchen parties." The best ones happen in small towns like Cheticamp, Nova Scotia where once a week or so, a church hall, community center, or school gymnasium will fill with everyone from babes in diapers to nonagenarians. Uncle Roger will bring a fiddle, Aunt Judy will step up to the piano, cousin Freddie will uncase the guitar, and various assorted other friends, neighbors, and relatives will roll in and out throughout the evening with bagpipes, mandolins, a bodhran, and step dancing repertoires that will knock your socks off. If anyone named Beaton, MacMaster, Ross, MacDonald or AuCoin is slated to appear, cancel your other plans and get there. You'll be very glad you did. Dancing is encouraged (but optional). Foot stomping is strongly encouraged (to the point of being *almost* mandatory), and the occasional well timed whoop and whistle during an especially raucous tune is always taken as a sign of appreciation by the musicians. However, you should never, ever clap in time to the music. I couldn't tell you why. I just know that if you do, you will get the hairy eyeball from Myrtle, and if you happen to be sitting next to a particularly brusque local, they are likely to gently suggest that you kindly consider refraining. These are Canadians, after all.
If you go to the early "family" show - starts promptly at 7 PM - the church ladies will be sure to have free homemade oat cakes and tea at intermission. If you go later to the "adult" session (after 9 PM), there is BYOB whisky to be had. The music, dancing, and whisky only get better after 10 o'clock. Or so I'm told.
You know what else is cool about a ceilidh? You won't find anyone, not even the purple haired high school freshmen or most jaded millennial scrolling on a cell phone. Heck, you won't even see a celly. Everyone's too busy having a good time to be distracted by a screen. One of these years, I think I'm going to spend a month of summer driving around PEI, Nova Scotia, and who knows, maybe even Newfoundland or Labrador with my itinerary determined a little bit by salmon rivers but mostly by the ceilidh schedule.
If you could take in a concert or musical show this weekend, what would it be?
For the uninitiated, a ceilidh (pronounced KAY-lee) is part concert, part social dance, part musical variety show, part hang out with your friends, neighbors, and family. And they are one of life's truly great experiences. And I mean truly great. The name is a Gaelic word that simply means "gathering", and it's a tradition that goes back to who knows when in Scotland, where folks have cozied up in kitchens, parlors, and pubs for a bit of music, friendly banter, maybe a little dancing, and yes, even a wee dram since time immemorial. They brought the ceilidh with them to Atlantic Canada, and now it's part of the fabric of life from Goose Bay, Labrador to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia. Some people there call 'em "kitchen parties." The best ones happen in small towns like Cheticamp, Nova Scotia where once a week or so, a church hall, community center, or school gymnasium will fill with everyone from babes in diapers to nonagenarians. Uncle Roger will bring a fiddle, Aunt Judy will step up to the piano, cousin Freddie will uncase the guitar, and various assorted other friends, neighbors, and relatives will roll in and out throughout the evening with bagpipes, mandolins, a bodhran, and step dancing repertoires that will knock your socks off. If anyone named Beaton, MacMaster, Ross, MacDonald or AuCoin is slated to appear, cancel your other plans and get there. You'll be very glad you did. Dancing is encouraged (but optional). Foot stomping is strongly encouraged (to the point of being *almost* mandatory), and the occasional well timed whoop and whistle during an especially raucous tune is always taken as a sign of appreciation by the musicians. However, you should never, ever clap in time to the music. I couldn't tell you why. I just know that if you do, you will get the hairy eyeball from Myrtle, and if you happen to be sitting next to a particularly brusque local, they are likely to gently suggest that you kindly consider refraining. These are Canadians, after all.
If you go to the early "family" show - starts promptly at 7 PM - the church ladies will be sure to have free homemade oat cakes and tea at intermission. If you go later to the "adult" session (after 9 PM), there is BYOB whisky to be had. The music, dancing, and whisky only get better after 10 o'clock. Or so I'm told.
You know what else is cool about a ceilidh? You won't find anyone, not even the purple haired high school freshmen or most jaded millennial scrolling on a cell phone. Heck, you won't even see a celly. Everyone's too busy having a good time to be distracted by a screen. One of these years, I think I'm going to spend a month of summer driving around PEI, Nova Scotia, and who knows, maybe even Newfoundland or Labrador with my itinerary determined a little bit by salmon rivers but mostly by the ceilidh schedule.
If you could take in a concert or musical show this weekend, what would it be?
