I am not a huge fan of Valentine's Day, but considering the awful events of recent weeks, a bit of "love", however contrived, was a welcome break from the daily diet of depressing news. So this week, it feels like an appropriate time to dwell on matters of the heart, as long as it is not a cardiac arrest.
One suspects that with the virus scare there may not have been quite as much kissing or canoodling as usual. Kissing is not the most hygienic of pastimes as anyone familiar with Bobby Gentry's hit I'll Never Fall In Love Again will be aware:
What do you get when you kiss a guy?
You get enough germs to catch pneumonia
After you do he'll never phone ya
I'll never fall in love again.
I love the rhyming of "pneumonia" and "phone ya". Absolute poetry.
The message is that kissing can be unhealthy. Certainly, if you can taste what he or she had for lunch you know you are in trouble, especially if it's garlic.
Many authors have tried to define love, most of them unsuccessfully. Somerset Maugham was not far off when he observed: "Love is what happens to a man and a woman who don't know each other." Perhaps the most accurate comment on this topic, but not particularly encouraging, was journalist HL Mencken's view: "Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence".
Heavenly piano
Speaking of love, spare a thought for Canadian classical pianist Angela Hewitt who absolutely adored her unique hand-made Fazioli piano, valued at US$200,000 (6.2 million baht). Imagine her distress when she was informed the other day that it had been accidentally destroyed after being dropped by professional movers in Berlin where she had been recording. The extremely heavy piano was being lifted onto a trolley when it crashed to the floor and was smashed to pieces.
Hewitt, a highly regarded concert pianist known particularly for her Bach interpretations, was in a state of shock when she first learned the fate of her beloved instrument. "I adored this piano. It was my best friend, best companion. I loved how it felt while I was recording," said a tearful Hewitt.
Her attachment to the instrument was reflected in her Facebook comment that "I hope the piano will be happy in piano heaven".
Micawber and Lucy
Among musicians who are known to be very fond of their instruments are blues and rock guitarists who invariably give them a nickname. The colour of the guitar often plays a role with Neil Young referring to one of his favourites as "Old Black", while an early Eric Clapton guitar was simply "Blackie".
On a more sentimental note, Jimi Hendrix named one of his first guitars "Betty Jean" after a high school sweetheart. A guitar Keith Richards is particularly fond of is named "Micawber" after the ever-hopeful character in the Charles Dickens classic, David Copperfield. A Dickens fan, Richards said he chose Micawber because "it is such an unlikely name". The guitar was given to Richards on his birthday in 1970 by Eric Clapton.
It was also Clapton who also presented George Harrison with what became his favourite guitar, a red Gibson Les Paul. Harrison named it "Lucy" after the red-headed American comedienne Lucille Ball. It's the guitar he played on his famous composition, While My Guitar Gently Weeps.
From the horse's mouth
Willie Nelson is so fond of his ancient guitar it reportedly has its own bodyguard. The guitar is named "Trigger" after Roy Rogers's horse. Nelson has played this guitar since 1969 and it carries autographs of dozens of celebrities and despite its battered state must be worth quite a bit.
Nelson is so fond of the guitar he told Rolling Stone magazine: "I don't know what I would do without Trigger. We're both pretty old, got a few scars here and there, but we still manage to make a sound every now and again."
Lucille
Perhaps the most famous nickname for a guitar is "Lucille" given by legendary blues guitarist BB King to all of his guitars. It is quite a tale.
In December 1949, King was playing at a dance hall in a place called Twist in Arkansas. While he was performing, two drunken customers got in a fight, knocking over a large kerosene stove and sparking a major fire. Everyone fled the hall including the musician. But once outside he realised he had left his precious Gibson guitar on the stage and raced back inside the collapsing building and at considerable risk retrieved the instrument. Two people died in the incident.
The next day, King learned that the men were fighting over a woman called Lucille who worked at the hall. So he christened the guitar Lucille to remind him never to go into a burning building again. He said later "I've had many guitars and I always call them Lucille. She has taken me a long way … most of all she's kept me alive." He even wrote a song called Lucille in which he relates, "She took me from the plantation, you might say brought me fame."
Original sin
In reference to last week's item concerning palindromes, my thanks to a reader who pointed out I failed to mention what must have been the very first palindrome -- "Madam, I'm Adam" -- which brought the palindromic response, "Eve".
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