(MILFORD DELAWARE, 8/12/05)

I found myself again forgetting countless notes, chords, even misplacing entire passages, perhaps disconcerted by the stern expressions, the crossed arms, the cold eyes scanning my all-black outfit — all of which seemed to be coming from the men in the room.  I felt the urge to run when I stood between pieces to face the audience and introduce the pieces. 

——-

Back at [The] Causey [Mansion] after the concert, Fran, still in her white sundress, schooled me in Delaware standoffishness.  According to her, when it came to [South of the Delaware Canal], most men shared the same mannerisms and dispositions as those from the Deep South, explaining that Delaware, despite once being a Union State, had also depended heavily on slaves to support its farming industry.  Was this true?  I’d never heard of such a thing.  My eyes darted to the barn just beyond my Hyundai [which ove breakfast she’d told me used to be the “slave quarters.”]

Ken chuckled, “Consider Delaware the northernmost county of Mississippi!”

“So people are just more reserved, then?” I asked.

“Men would rather just accept you with a nod and a handshake, is all,” he said.  ”You have to prove yourself to them.  But I think you did that tonight.”

“Still, they’ll keep you guessing,” added Fran.

For all intents, considering my doubts during the concert, I wasn’t guessing by the time it ended.  One man who had scowled with his arms crossed from the first note to the last nearly leapt to his feet clapping.  “That was really good!” he shouted to his wife beside him with a jolly laugh, his face transformed.  ”That was really good!”