Slim Randles' Home Country
Stop the music
Send a link to a friend
If you ask Dud
Campbell, it's all right to take a break from the arts now and then.
Well ... since the arts are a part of a person, that's not quite
right. All right, it's OK to switch arts now and then. Dud had
pretty much beaten himself to death trying to fathom what to do in
the novel about the duchess and truck driver, and it had left him
gasping for ideas.
So he went back heavily to his accordion.
From the early lessons
of squeaking and squawking and driving most of the cockroaches out
of the neighborhood, Dud's playing had progressed to the point that
people actually smiled when they discussed it.
When the cold weather hit, Dud would hurry home from work and
pick up the squeeze box and work diligently on it. Polkas and
waltzes, primarily. A few of the easier Cajun tunes, too. He
concentrated on those left-hand exercises, of course, where hitting
the exact right little black bass button every time is a challenge
known by all stomach Steinway artistes.
He had told the guys down at the world dilemma think tank (aka
the philosophy counter at the Mule Barn truck stop) that he was
ready to go out that weekend and squeeze out some money at a local
night spot with his music.
Monday morning, Dud pulled in to the counter and flipped his cup
back to the upright and fillable position.
"Well?" said Doc.
[to top of second
"How did it go? The music. The accordion. Lady of Spain out on
the town. You know?"
Dud just shrugged and threw some sugar into the coffee.
"Did you make money playing your accordion?" Steve asked.
"Yes," Dud said, glumly.
"So it was a success, right?"
"Well, not ... entirely."
"Went down to the Covered Wagon Saturday night. They had a good
crowd in there. Played some waltzes and a few polkas to get the
crowd warmed up. You know Bill? The owner?"
"He gave me $20 to go play somewhere else."
[Text from file received from
How do you control your feet if you can't
even hear the beat? The hearing test is free. Beltone.