“Hello. I really enjoyed your concert.
“Thank you,” I replied, trying painfully to say something witty or clever, but failing. “I’m glad you did.”
“My God, Bob, you sing ‘The Worried Man’ like an opera aria. My God, it’s a Southern folk song.
“What do you want me to do, sing like I just had throat surgery, like you do?”
Jerry looked annoyed. “Look, this is what should be done…listen to what Mike Seager or the Carter Family did.”
“Well, damn, I’m not a Carter family or a McSig. If you want to do something like a damn redneck, you can do it alone.
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “I’ve been thinking about this, Bob.”
I was startled. “What do you mean?”
He sat on the table and looked closely at the sound hole of the guitar. Then he looked up. “I mean, it doesn’t swing. I…well, hell! That’s it; it doesn’t swing anymore, not the way I want it to.
“There’s something big to say…why?”
He ran his fingers over the frets and picked out passages from “Man of Constant Sorrow,” pausing to readjust an errant string. “Well, you know what you said about knocking down the ‘walls’? It seems to me that we’ve done a good job for a while; we’ve removed all of them, but there are new ones.
“New?”
“Well, to be honest, I feel like I’m being held back. It’s not that we’re not in tune as a duo, but it’s set now; the fact is… stalled. I want to keep moving forward. You’ve got it written, man, And from what I’ve seen, you’re doing okay…but singing is a pastime for you…and that’s what I want to do anyway. It’s a bit hard to explain, so I won’t go into it, But I feel like we’ve reached a stagnation, or at least I do. “Santy Ano” and “Cotton Fields” are both good, but they’ve only scratched the surface. I’ve been studying, reading…listening, and I’m just starting to see how close they are to the surface. It’s an art, Bob, and it takes a long time to learn, but that’s what I want to do. So…” He plucked the strings and put the guitar down.
“So… I think I get it. Really, it doesn’t surprise me too much. Anyway, good luck to you, you know.
He put his arm around my shoulders. “Thanks.”
I smiled half-heartedly. This seems to be the right thing to do. “Want to go to a cafe or something?”
“No; I have work to start.
“Correct. See you later.
I walked toward the cafe with a vague, empty feeling inside me. Something important suddenly disappeared, replaced by a feeling of confusion. The carousel stopped its music while the horses continued to glide ghostly on their never-ending track.
