The Green Wave

I keep a cheapo tin whistle in my trunk and pull it out in “emergencies” – like boredom or its opposite, that moment when a new tune seizes you by the fine bones of the nose. (It may be just me, but powerful music and emotions seem to thrum there and make me as docile as any bull led by its nose ring, enchanted). This is not fey, but necessary. My mother keeps boxes of Kleenex. Other people keep baggies of carrot sticks or a tin of Altoids. Others, god help them, keep a tiny bottle under the spare wheel. Boredom and excitement are not so different as they first appear, at least in regard to surviving them. Strong and sure methods work best. And so for me, a dented metal pipe with a sweet raspy tone is standard operating equipment. Move over, Altoids.