Oh Susanna

The guys had just returned to the loft and they quickly placed themselves in their usual positions facing their blazing – though not warming on its summer setting - fireplace,

“Every year, Bri,” Justin sighed. “Like – every year….”

“Well it could be worse, Baby,” Brian pointed out. “It could be twice a year. And you did bring home a couple of gallons of spaghetti, which you admit you like pretty much. You’ve often said that Mrs. Mallard’s spaghetti sauce is just about the best you ever….”

“Yeah, it is, Bri,” Justin had to agree, “but I’m still not sure it’s worth it – and I only brought home a quart and a half too. There wasn’t that much left over this year. That damn Lucius ate more than I did. Still though - when we finally devise a plan to get out of this annual boat trip - over the three rivers with the Mallards - we have to figure out a way to somehow keep getting the spaghetti….”

“That’s a job for you, Baby,” Brian laughed. “It’s the kind of stuff you do way better than I do. A job tailor-made for Taylor – so to speak. And I’m sure you’ll come up with something that will work. So - was today the worst of the trips for you? I thought it was a little better than most of these cruises. I didn’t ever feel like jumping off and swimming for shore….”

“Well, Mrs. Herring has always done some folk music,” Justin remembered, “like – every year she sings something or other. But I didn’t know the Herrings had a daughter who was like - a professional folk singer….”

“Specializing in Stephen Foster – and with the name of Susanna too. Oh Susanna – Oh don’t you sing for me…” Brian continued.

“Well that gave today’s little concert a kind of Pittsburgh connection though, BK,” Justin said. “And we got to hear the whole program that she and her boy friend, Lucius, had just put on at the Foster Memorial for the Foster birthday celebration. We missed that….”

“Damn. We did miss it all right. How could that have happened? I wonder how many people went – of their own accord – and like – paid for the privilege, JT? Somebody must have – but it seemed to me like the program took up the whole hundred years or so,” Brian smiled, “but I guess it just commemorated the hundred years since Foster’s death.”

“Just for the record, Mr. Kinney, it was a birthday celebration. July 4th this year was Foster’s 184th birthday – Susanna mentioned that in her intros but I guess you weren’t listening - so it’s even closer to two-hundred years. And they sold out all three performances - and the program was really only about an hour and a half long,” Justin informed him. “Which is just about enough Stephen Foster for one sitting, I guess. I heard some Foster stuff I’d never heard before though. A couple of times I even thought I was getting interested….”

“Geez, Taylor,” Brian acted surprised. “Maybe these annual cruises are beginning to grow on you. Uh-oh. That’s not good news. Maybe you’ll be trying to get us more invitations?”

“Nope,” Justin reassured him. “When they were doing Swanee River, I was still wishing they were there on the real Swanee and we were back here –or maybe vice-versa – and when they did My Old Kentucky Home I felt the same way….”

“And what did you think when they sang I Dream of Jeannie with the Light Brown Hair. Sweetheart?” Brian grinned at him.

“I was thinking that I really dream of Brian with the dark brown hair,” Justin grinned back at him. “With an occasional gray one shining through.”

“Now them is fightin’ words, Taylor,” Brian warned the blond kid next to him. “You trying to start something?”

But the pause in the recapitulation that ensued just then produced no fight at all. Perhaps Brian got a better idea of how he should respond to the provocation – or perhaps he got another conception about what he thought Justin was trying to start. No matter though – there certainly was a pause.

“Did you like Susanna’s voice, Kiddo?” Brian later returned to the discussion. “I thought she was a little squeaky but I thought Lucius was OK.”

“Well Susanna was a little squeaky but maybe that’s how folk-singers are supposed to sound, Bri,” Justin opined. “Actually I think her mother is a better singer – and I got the feeling that her mother thought so too. Lucius was a bit flat but I can see where you might have liked him better…..”

“So I like the flat singers?” Brian asked. “Cause maybe I sing flat too?”

“Well you were a little flat on the sing-a-longs, Kinney,” Justin grinned at him, “but you weren’t quite as flat as Lucius….”

“Bet Lucius wouldn’t sing flat at all if he didn’t eat so much spaghetti, Taylor,” Brian teased.

“Could be,” Justin admitted, “but I don’t think my professional artistic judgment could be based on the fact that Lucius should be a member of Overeaters Anonymous.”

“To which I could offer some repartee,” Brian laughed, “but I won’t. … I don’t think Jim Swann was real happy with the concert, Babe. He likes to smoke those expensive smelly cigars and the singers wouldn’t let him. And he couldn’t give us the benefit of his political expertise during Camptown Races either.”

“But the Trouts seemed to enjoy themselves all right,” Justin replied, “and I think they said they saw the whole thing when they did it at the Foster Memorial…..”

“So If they went to the regular show, they must be real Foster fans,” Brian reasoned, “so I guess they didn’t mind hearing it again all that much. But for us the day is over, Kiddo, - or at least it is for me. The Mallards and the Trouts both have some projects they want you to paint for them – and they’re gonna call you….”

“You managed to hear that, Kinney,” Justin had to smile. “Even when you didn’t like – listen to anything else. You’re something else – you are. But it’s not a problem, Bri, The Mallards were real happy with the painting I did of their boat last year – and I only spent a couple of hours on that. It won’t be great art but they don’t want great art. I can do the family dogs and the prize flowers in less time than that and they’ll be satisfied. Might even get more spaghetti sauce when I stop by the Mallards to do the dog. Lucius won’t be there….”

“Well didn’t Susanna and Lucius mention that they wanted you to do like - a poster of them sitting around a piano – with Stephen Foster looking over their shoulder,” Brian wondered.

“They didn’t to me, Brian,” Justin recoiled. “I didn’t hear that at all.”

“So I’m not the only one that doesn’t listen, Mr. Taylor,” Brian crowed. “On second thought, maybe it was me who mentioned the poster to them….”

“In that case, I guess I’ll have to accept their commission, Kinney,” Justin came back at him. “And I’ll ask them for two tickets to all of their upcoming performances. We’ll never have to miss another Foster birthday party at the Memorial again. Maybe I’ll ask for four tickets. I’m like – a little mad at Jason and Brandon right now too…..”

“Geez, JT,” Brian marveled. “You can be really diabolical when you want to be. I guess you’re madder about the boat trip than I thought. And you got all that spaghetti too….”

“That’s not all I got either, Brian,” Justin grinned at him. “Susanna gave me a CD of today’s program – and I have it hid. We can re-hear it whenever we want to….”

“So since I don’t think I want to hear it again, maybe I should just search you and find it and get rid of it right now,” Brian threatened.

“It’s not on my person, Kinney,” Justin told him. “I’m not that dumb.”

“And you want me to believe that?” Brian laughed.

“Not really,” Justin said.

Seems like the tedium of the boat ride had just about worn off.
 

Return to Fireside Chats