I want to thank everyone who posted or emailed good wishes yesterday. I am so happy to have you in my life. I know I owe you all personal responses, but once again I am rushing out to hit the road this morning--heading to Dover-Foxcroft for Sid Stock, a big show in honor of Sid Stutzman, founder and front man of the Doughty Hill Band and well-known local singer-songwriter. So many of us who have played with him over the years are regathering at the Center Theater for a night to celebrate him and his music. For me, it will be old-home day in the homeland, and of course I'm a bit nervy about my fiddle skills, after such a long hiatus.

In central Maine, and maybe elsewhere, too, playing in a band is traditionally a man's world. Women do sing, do play fiddle or bass or mandolin, but the bulk of the guitarists, banjo players, and drummers are men. Tonight, out of maybe fifteen different performers, only two of us will be women. I've enjoyed getting to know the local guys via this particular language. We're not engaged in their usual small talk: Trump or snowmobiles or ice fishing or farming. We're discussing the minutiae of harmony singing and the emotional tug of a ritardando. Music is an outlet for feeling, and playing in a band with a bunch of local guys is a way to live in that world alongside them--a world they often otherwise do not reveal publicly. It's very moving, really.

So tonight will be sweet and probably tearful, and very likely my last public performance. I don't have a musical circle in Portland, and I am not good at seeking such things out. Maybe I will accidentally overlap with someone, someday, who will want to play a few songs with me. But this might be it.