Today’s guest post is by Anna.
I will come clean – I like accordion music. I am even, sort of, a groupie. For a handful of seasons, my best friend and I have bought orchestra tickets for a few concerts. An integral part of the evening out is the accordion player in the skyway by Orchestra Hall. He’s always there, upturned hat on top of his case, slightly unkempt hair wrestled back into a ponytail, a smile lighting up his face. Once I happened to find him across from the Ordway on an opera night – walked through Rice Park, out of my way, just so I could put a little cash in his hat (Accordion Groupie behavior, I realized).
The first time I heard the accordion guy, it was a lovely surprise to hear a bit of a musical prelude on the way in to the hall from the parking ramp. Fairly quickly it became part of the evening’s routine to ensure my friend and I had a few singles ready for the accordion player. When one of us is without singles, we divvy up what we have so that we can each put something in the hat. He plays everything from French café music to opera to folk tunes. I have threatened to waltz my pal across the skyway; I have danced a bit on my own. My mother upped the ante one evening when she and I went to the orchestra and she admitted, while I was digging for ones, to singing along with the accordion guy when she was out with friends. (“He was playing ‘Nidälven’, I had to sing along…” Can’t fault her logic, really.)
The skyway accordion guy is as much a part of the concert experience as seeing the orchestra itself – he is a standard character in my Orchestra Night script, and I cannot imagine a concert without him (though once he was only there after the show…he confessed, somewhat sheepishly, that he had been on a date). He is one of a cast of thousands in my daily world; more than a mere walk on role, and still less than a supporting character. There have been others like him – characters in my world that I do not know, or know well, but who enrich the tapestry of my days: Taylor the Worm Man who rode the #3 bus with his plastic bucket, fishing gear and philosophies, departing with a nod and a reminder of his memorable name; the woman who came into the restaurant where I worked one summer who always wore a big pin with a picture of Barbara Streisand, ordered food that had never been on the menu, and refused to be served by the waitress with the white streak in her hair; the older fellow who I often see out for an afternoon walk when I drive home from work, always chewing on an unlit, but well used, pipe. Without this changing cast of background characters, life would have less texture, less color, less life. And no accordion accompaniment.
Who are the walk-on and supporting characters in your world?
Trail Baboon 
There’s June, the lovely and gracious Jehovah’s Witness lady who comes around to my house once a month or so, usually on a Saturday morning. June occasionally comes by herself, but usually she has a second person with her. In the fifteen or twenty years she’s been coming, I don’t think the co-evangelist has ever been the same person twice, leading me to believe that the Jehovah’s Witnesses experience a lot of turnover in the ranks.
My cat Georgia was still with me when June started dropping by. Georgia loved the sound of the doorbell and thought anyone at the door was certainly coming just to see her. June was pretty taken with Georgia, and told me about her cats, TC (short for Thunder Cat) and Pschak (which I believe is a Russian word for fuzzball, though I’m not sure of the spelling). Georgia and TC and Pschak have all gone on, but there are new feline residents in both households to serve as conversation starters.
The only downside is the twinge of guilt I feel for the trees that died to produce the Watchtower and Awake! magazines that get pitched into the recycling as soon as the door closes.
LikeLike
Don’t feel bad about the trees. The trees used to make pulp paper are not magnificent old walnut trees but rather those short little aspens we saw up north. Those grow like weeds after having been cut. When aspens are young they are home to deer and grouse and other critters, so cutting them makes for youthful forests full of Bambi and his friends. The real tragedy in cutting aspen is the energy required to do it, but the ecological impact of the loss of the trees shouldn’t give you pause.
LikeLike
It’s a brain teaser Anna
Nice blog to start the day . So well written and what a cool victrolla.
My starting cast of characters each day is you all
My kids my dogs my cats my fish my goldfinches who are very gold this time of year
Then on to the ragtag mix that varies from day to day. The violin guy at the twins game the bucket drummers at the Vikings the guy at one of my old customers who delights walking through the room whistling a tune only to return an hour later to find he has planted the earworm and it is
spreading. My smiling welcoming banker.I have a Wednesday breakfast group Wednesday lunch group two roundtable groups where we solve the worlds problems over coffee . The doorman at the Ordway the lady where I exercise who greets me as she takes my card
Old friends I keep up with on the Internet sports parents of my kids teams past and present milkmen at the dairy company in the warehouse next door where I work, the stoic manager and beaming woman at the subway I frequent it really is a rich quilt of people and critters that make it a day thanks for the tweak to point it out anna Nicely done
LikeLike
my goodness, tim. whatever inspired all your Capital Letters today? and paragraphs!
I am Very Curious.
LikeLike
my laptop died and i am blogging from my cell phone where capitals are a huge effort to live without. it is a free verse kind of thing i do and if i have to focus too hard on presentation i loose it. its not a statement of preferrence more a statement of resignation. thanks for asking. all things in moderation, especially moderation is my motto
LikeLike
was,,,now i am back to my beloved laptop once again
LikeLike
Rise and Shine Baboons!
I’ve had a number of Walk-on/Supporting Characters in my days. A favorite was a man who popped up when I was in graduate school and struggling with some of my own self-esteem (or lack there-of) demons. Almost every day the man was posted at the East end of the Washington Avenue Bridge on the East Bank of the U of M campus. I lived on the West Bank, so every day I encountered him as I hiked over the bridge to Ford Hall where the School of Social Work was at that time. He stood there in a tin foil, cone-shaped hat and a sandwich board printed with unreadable messages. He was always waving his arms and yelling some gibberish that appeared terribly important to him and not understandable to anyone else.
I came to love this guy in all his craziness. He made my day with his earnestness about the mystery message was that he received through the tin foil hat. Finally, one day while I was crossing that bridge, anticipating seeing him, I realized that maybe some unknown somebody on that bridge might enjoy seeing me, too. That I might be important to someone else in an interesting, anonymous, day-brightening kind of way, was a new thought that became the seed of feeling significant in a daily, “Hey-I’m-alive-on-the-planet-too” kind of way. In many ways the Sandwich Board Man signaled the beginning of my life as my own person who might have a bit to offer the world.
That bridge with a Sandwich Board Man became a wonderful metaphorical daily exercise of learning to accept myself in that day, in that moment, in my life. A Supporting Character with color and significance and texture.
LikeLike
That’s really wonderful, Jacque!
LikeLike
It sometimes seems that people who are suffering from some kind of delusion or emotional problem have a message for us. I guess they somehow touch us in a way that lets us look at the world differently.
LikeLike
I think there is a reason that in days of yore these people were considered seers or “touched by god.” They do have something to teach us.
LikeLike
thank you.
LikeLike
The pets, the neighbors, the people who walk past when we garden and stop to chat, coworkers,. What a nice way to start the day today, Anna. I think baboons have become walk-on and supporting characters, too. OT- the dew point and humidity are such that today we have dense fog and all the usually hidden spider webs are visible and glistening.
LikeLike
In the circumstances of my life these days, my walk-on/supporting cast characters are all virtual. When I fire up my computer, it goes through an extended routine to line itself up with the digital universe and launch my initial programs. One of them, Skype, is the last to load and the most fun. When Skype is connected and feeling good, it makes a percolating bubbling sound that always makes me grin.
Then Garrison stops by to try to interest me in a poem he’s just discovered. I’m often charmed by what he picks, although sometimes I shake my head and say, “Garrison, what where you thinking?”
Then my friend Dave Mech, often called the world’s most prominent wolf researcher, stops by for an e-mail visit. Each day, Dave shares several stories from the previous day’s newspapers about wolves. I learned today, for example, that a famous sumo wrestler in Japan has collected 83,000 signatures from folks who want him to restore wolf populations to areas of Japan, using wolves from Mongolia. I’m just starting my first cup of coffee, and I already have been entertained by the curious notion of a sumo wrestler returning wolves to Japan. Cool!
Now I turn to real letters in my e-mail box. A friendly baboon often writes. A friend who is an artist in New Jersey often writes. And always, my friend who was my co-worker in 1966 writes; indeed, we write each other every day. The letter I prepare for her is the first job of my day.
And then I come here. There is always something here I had not expected to find, some treasure of wit or information, some new slant on old truths.
LikeLike
For accordion junkies:
http://accordionworld.org/
LikeLike
Okay now I want to go buy an accordion and take lessons…I bet Daughter’s music teacher at school would help me out (he plays accordion on many days as “welcome” music when the kids are coming into school in the morning).
LikeLike
When I was in grade school, my best friend Sandy and her sister both took accordion lessons, and practiced an hour a day so they got very good, even competed and placed in a national championship. Sandy taught me the basics of the buttons, and since I already knew keyboard, I could do the right had just fine. I learned a few simple tunes and was very proud of myself. But it was so much work, I liked my piano better.
LikeLike
accordians can be gotten resonably on enbay. lessons taught via accordian link or check with mahler music in st paul. i love accordian. dan newton is everywhere and dan chenard plays beautifully too
LikeLike
Good morning to all,
I am thinking of two people who I know who are not close friends, but stick out more than other people who I know who aren’t close friends. Over the years I am sure there have been some other people that fit the supporting actor role in my life that don’t come to mind right away. Of course, there are a lot of people I know who I guess are lesser supporting actors who stick out a little, but not in a major way.
There is a vegetable farmer that was a customer for my consulting service who I am always glad to see. Some how I have a special connection with this farmer that I don’t have with the other vegetable farmers that used my service, although I Iike all of them. I am sort of part of his family without being a family member or even a close friend. He kind of lets it all hang out and is more open with me than most people I know. He isn’t the best farmer and isn’t always the easiest guy for others to work with. but I always found him very friendly and some how we have a special relationship.
When I was subbing I met another sub teacher who sticks out. I saw her many times because, like me, she would take any subbing job in any grade or subject. She always had a big bag that contained all kinds of supplies and materials that she had found helpful for sub teaching. I also had a bag of similar things, but not as big as hers. She seemed to enjoy subbing and so did I. She is another person who kind of lets it all hang out and is very friendly and follows her own path which is a little different from most people.
LikeLike
This is a great question, Anna, and I’ll spend the day thinking of who else fits this description, Anna. There was a post office clerk I liked a lot, and would be glad when I got her window, though she’s no longer there. A little sense of humor – remember those Uncle Sam’s jat stamps? I asked once to see the selection of stamps, and she ended the show with “And then we have these lovely hats!” which you could see she was SO tired of… We had a good laugh.
On the accordion topic, I’ve just finished “Accordion Crimes” by Annie Proulx, a collection of fairly dark stories that follow the travels of an accordion made by an Italian immirant imagrant imigrant ( how the h*** do you spell it?) in late 1800s… Not pretty, the vignettes described, but wonderful descriptions of the various kinds of accordion music and culture that have been around…
LikeLike
I have read that book by Proulx, BiR, and much much liked it.
LikeLike
Terrific writer that Annie Proulx.
LikeLike
“ACCORDION, N. An Instrument In Harmony With The Sentiments Of An Assassin.” Ambrose Bierce.
But then Bierce did not like anything. I grew up in a house full of accordion music, the Whoopie John and Lawrence Welk variety, which did not charm me re the instrument. I have Cafe Accordion on my MP3 (or did; it just an hour ago finally fully died. Now I am completely without music on my bike rides. Thank you MPR.) . But do not play it a lot.
I too am thinking about this excellent question on a very nice blog starter. I mentioned a few days ago how the social element is almost gone from my life as is often the case with FM. I went to a Bible study this morning for the first time in weeks. I would just rather not; raises my pain level and anxiety, which raises my pain, etc.
In this apartment building we know only one other person, and then there is Audrey, a one-year old who calls me “Ho Ho.”
Later, after helping my wife with several things, I will tell you about people-watching at B & N coffee shop.
LikeLike
Thanks, Anna, for getting us off on this track this morning. I, too, love the accordion, but can’t resist telling this favorite musician’s joke. “What do you call it when you toss an accordion into a dumpster and it lands on a banjo? Perfect pitch!” Ba-da-bum!
First and foremost, the person who delivers my daily newspaper must be counted in a supporting role despite the fact that I rarely see her. On a recent morning I saw her twice, once as I was leaving my house to go let Helen’s hens out of their coop, and then a few minutes later when she handed me the paper on Helen’s front porch.
Some years ago, when I was working in downtown Minneapolis, the parking lot attendant where I parked my car each morning was a delight. Always cheerful, this fellow English major had chosen a low stress, and undoubtedly low paying, job so he could concentrate on reading and writing. He’d send me off each morning with a pithy comment, a wave and a smile.
Let me not forget the various growers and vendors at the Farmer’s Market. I know only a few of their names, but it’s a diverse cast. The little old lady who has such a bad case of osteoporosis that it hurts to even look at her. Her offerings are meager and pretty pricey, but I make it a point to always buy something from her. Then there’s the herb man, who, in addition to farming, holds down a full time job at UPS. Most of his teeth are missing, but in no way does he let that get in the way of high spirits. Dave, the smoked fish man, is another favorite. As a special treat for me, he once visited the Danish butcher in Frederic, WI to buy me some medisterpølse. Now I ask you, where else do you get such personal service? There’s the sheep cheese woman who also has a Sunday pizza service on her Love Tree Farm (http://www.lovetreefarmstead.com/home.htm. Might be a fun destination for a baboon field trip.) My favorite baker is a former marine. Semper Fi! There are the Hmong farmers who have introduced me to lemon grass and bitter melon and vastly expanded the variety of greens available. The list is too long to give details on everyone, but I think you get the picture. My life would not be the same without these hard working folks.
Last, but certainly not least, there are the baboons. You know them better than I do, so I won’t elaborate. Suffice it to say, I’m glad to be on the trail with you.
LikeLike
Some of my favorite people are the folks at the small farmers market that I frequent on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Some have been vendors there since the market began and we recognize each other, smile, and chat – but we don’t know each other’s names.
LikeLike
Morning everyone!
Yes, this is a fun group. Thanks for being here.
What a fun column Anna! My first thought was the people at the Kwik Trip where I get my coffee and paper every morning. And the other regular customers that come through. We don’t know each other but I know who to expect when. And I can tell if I’m on time or late by who’s there.
Some of the school buses stop there as well and I know a few of the drivers. One guy, ‘Mr. Bob’ was a para in the elementary school where our daughter was 6 years ago. Now he’s a para on the buses. He’s a great guy; always a big ‘Hello Ben!’ and then he’ll introduce you to whomever he’s talking with. Big friendly guy with a mustache and tattoo’s, I’ve gotten parts of his history: he ran some restaurants, divorced, plays guitar at the local farmers market on occasion. And it’s great to see him interact with the kids; he’s got nicknames for all of them and they all love him.
I email with my friend Paul every morning. He’s here in town and we see each other frequently, but we always start the day with an email to each other; just filling in the details of the latest theater job or family.
Enjoy the day everyone!
LikeLike
Such fun to read the descriptions of the characters in your worlds. This started being mostly about Accordion Guy, and then as I wrote about him, it got me thinking about all the other folks – ones I didn’t mention like the man who cleaned the offices 2 jobs ago who started his own movie rental business (with delivery service direct to the office – predating NetFlix by a few years), the other #3 bus character who rode on the ride home (Taylor the Worm Man was the morning route) and always made note of the condominiums for sale on a particular block, the gal at our local grocery store who calls Daughter “Green Bean” (which dates back to when Daughter was an infant and liked to carry a fresh green bean in her grubby little paw while we shopped – sometimes she’d chew on it, but mostly she’d just carry it along). The list goes on. How much richer life is with regular visits from the Jehovah’s Witness, tinfoil hat man, Dave the smoked fish man, little girls to give nicknames like “Ho Ho,” Mr. Bob…and everyone else.
Can’t wait to see what other characters might arrive as the day progresses!
LikeLike
thanks, Anna – you are an excellent writer! and thanks, All – for the interesting comments.
LikeLike
Thanks for a great question to consider today, Anna. Very nice story about the accordion player and the impact he has on your life.
I had two horses when I was a girl between ten and fourteen years of age. I boarded them at a small farm across the road from our place on Cannon Lake. The farm was about 80 acres, 20 of which were pasture with a pond. The farmer’s name was Mr. Christie. He was 75 years old and thin as a bean pole. He had lost his wife some years earlier, his kids had grown and moved away, his brother had quit farming and he was all alone. He was very, very kind to me – very patient, with twinkling blue eyes. He must have been aware of my complete lack of experience with horses and my parents inability to help me. He taught me many things, mostly self-confidence, and enriched that part of my young life in a way no one ever had before. He also let me try and fail on my own before he stepped in to help me. I remember feeling uncertain about tightening the cinch strap on my Arabian horse, Ben’s, first saddle and watching him walk away from me with a bushel of grain in metal containers on each shoulder, the farm cats at his heels.
His favorite TV show was Hogan’s Heroes and he’d invite me in to watch it with him. That was the only time I was allowed to watch a show like that. I’d sit with him and pretend to watch, but really I was looking out the window toward the lake, watching the colors of the daylight changing from bright to golden, the way the shadows were gathering between the rows of corn and the way the slanting sun sparkled on the lake.
He passed away when I was in my early twenties. I hadn’t visited him in years and I felt bad – like I had neglected someone who was very much a part of me.
More recently, there is the UPS driver that makes deliveries to our rural office. I told him it would be okay to make deliveries intended for Waterville Fisheries to me at my home during the shutdown, so that he could get his required signature, and he did. He’s very serious about his job and doesn’t smile much but he recognizes me and I think I’ve been able to get him to relax a little bit when he stops here.
There is an interesting cast of characters here in Waterville. Some of them have never been very far down the road, not even to Faribault or Owatonna, and never to the Metro area. The owner of one of the two hardware stores in town, Ron the Con, is a case in point. If you’re ever in Waterville and need hardware of some kind, stop into Ron’s Hardware Hank. You’ll see what I mean.
LikeLike
I meant to include this Congress of Baboons. You all have come to mean much more to me than you know.
LikeLike
And if you’re ever in Waterville and in need of some friendship…or friendship bread….stop into Krista’s.
LikeLike
When I was a substitute librarian, there were always a few patrons at each branch that you looked forward to seeing (or, conversely, devoutly hoped wouldn’t come in that day). Some that stand out in a good way are the frail 89-year-old who was teaching herself French using Rosetta Stone on the Internet computers, the teenaged anime fanboy I used to exchange recs with (I still see him every so often at Anime Detour), and the lonely young African-American boy from a small town who spent most of his time in the library playing computer games and/or Yugioh cards. I’m sure that I must have been a supporting character for a lot of other people in that job and at the bookstores I worked in. I always tried to be alternative AND approachable, and my hope is that I showed a kid who needed it that it was okay to be different, but I’ll probably never know.
LikeLike
My wife could go on forever about library patrons. Libraries do collect them.
LikeLike
Sandy and I go to the mall 2-3 days a week so she can use her walker for some exercise in the thin crowds. I sit in B & N and wait for her. Thus I get to watch the characters there.
A regular group assembles, which is a very mixed group of ages and types, so nice to see. Problem is that they sit all over one end of the cafe and talk over everyone’s heads. They are quite a cast: a suave 40-year-old with blonded hair and beard with a handle bar mustache, an aged bubbling hippy woman, a tiny 80-year-old man who brings his very expensive bike in with him, two or three other oddly-dressed men, and two or three college age women. They talk about everything intelligently and with humor–and loudly.
One 70 something woman, looks like retired prof, of which we have many here, insists one table is hers. She used to kick people out of it, but the staff stopped her. So she sits like a vulture and waits for it to get open. She moves nearer if a closer table comes open. It’s fun to watch the dance. She sits nowhere near the discussion group but members of it go over to visit her each in turn.
Another group gathers in a loud voice talks about how awful teachers are for awhile, and then the angry fundy matron of the group tells everyone how to live their lives.
A middle-eastern woman, doctor I would guess, who opens up her lab top and talks in some foreign tongue, not loud enough to tell, for 2-3 hours. She is a beautiful 50-year-old of amazing eyes and skin color. I always wonder what is the business she is doing, just curiosity.
Grandmothers and grandchildren are common, but school will stop that.
Bookish HS kids, which will also stop now.
And now the college kids. The fun game is to guess which of the three colleges, most often which seems obvious, but then I do not ask.
An 80 something couple. He is about 6′ 3″ and she is about 4′ 10″ and cannot weigh 80 pounds. attentive to each other.
LikeLike
Clyde, since you see some of these people at the mall regularly, does it ever make you want to get in on any of the conversations? (it would me)
LikeLike
No. I’m just not like that. But I’m not in the mall, only B & N. So many stores have to stink today, so I cannot be in the mall itself.
Just got back from there. Watched the lady work her way to her table in two steps. But clearly B & N, at least here, is making another major change in their marketing. They again reduced the art books by about half, cannot be 30 art books of all kinds left. Why bother. Travel essay is down to 1/4 of what it was a year ago. Nature is about gone. Those are my three sections, so getting about pointless to go there for me. About 10% of their shelves are empty. So wonder–does this somehow push me to their book reader? but aren’t they reducing the books that aren’t on their reader? are they going out of business? Will they be bringing in groceries?
LikeLike
it easier to make them available by mail order than stocking in all locations i am afraid. i fear for bookstores. the art books are so expensive tha thte availability online will make them impractical for twenty feet at the mall. check out the used bookstore on university and is it haline. great section on art. i will check travel essay and nature and report back.
LikeLike
Midway Used Books, University and Snelling. Not a good time to go right now – between State Fair and construction. But later.
LikeLike
BTW, we have an old accordion downstairs in a closet at my house. A big one; big suitcase size, weighs 40lbs I bet. I get it out to scare the kids once in awhile… I think maybe my sister played it once upon a time…
Also cleaning out my mother-in-laws house, up in the attic found a small “Beaver Brand” button accordian. The back was off the bellows and it’s missing some buttons, but I have it here in my office thinking when I learn what kind of glue to use I’m going to glue the back on again. Just for fun if nothing else…
LikeLike
I volunteer at Highview Alternative School, help them out in the office when needed. Not only is there a steady stream of every kind of kid you can imagine coming into the office for a variety of reasons (some of them even legit), but the teachers are a varied and colorful group as well. The office people are like my colleagues, but all these others play supporting roles in my version of the school.
LikeLike
A manager at an organization where I volunteer once gave me a card that read “Volunteers do not necessarily have the time; they just have the heart.” A good volunteer gig is a way of keeping your heart wide open. Plus you then become a walk-on part in someone else’s world.
LikeLike
Yes.
LikeLike
I just finished reading yesterday’s blog. You guys were hilarious last night! Linda, you are a rare talent!
Steve and tim, how can I say no if you guys want to go to all that trouble of bringing your printer down to me at Rock Bend. That is very nice and I appreciate it. If it’s too much trouble, I do get to St. Paul now and then though. Thank you both so much.
LikeLike
my favorite charachters are the ones i meet every day and have a three minute exchange with. they know i am only here and gone and i know i am popping in and having a 3 minute relationship while i am n my way to the next stepping stone of life that i go through from dawn until dusk on my way to whereever. my kids used to give me flack but have come to understand there is something very cool about touching people rather than quietly passing by with no comment. i do that too, i am not on at all times and the stories and smiles come from interaction not the distance. i am not the sandwhich board guy but i am not the quiet lurker either. lots of opportunities for choice. tnaks for the fun day anna and the wonderful writing
LikeLike