Martinmas Concert

My Dad invited us to a pot luck at his church where he'd be performing a few folk songs. It was, in hindsight, a lot to ask my oldest daughter to hang with: Dad is 75 and he is far from any sort of elder status in this group. I don't know names, but growing up at this church, I recognized a couple of dudes who were scary old men when I was Em's age.

Anyway, the thing really took me back because when me and my brother were squirts, Dad would sing folk songs for us at bedtime. His choice of repertoire was questionable: play The Wreck of the Old '97 to a couple of preschoolers (includes the line "he was found in the wreck with his hand on the throttle, scalded to death by the steam") and don't be surprised if the lads have trouble settling down to sleep.

He'd follow that up with the Hobo's Lullaby, if there was ever a song designed to radicalize your children.

The occasion was the Feast of St. Martin of Tours, or Martinmas. Actually, I'm a little hazy on this, because from both the program and what I found Googling the subject, the feast is actually November 11, not March 11, but who wants to pass up a chance to eat?