Hey Diddle Diddle a Bum and His Fiddle

Wednesday is the day Is usually the day write my mom and mail the letter. I drop the letter in the box round the corner of my downtown office. From there I travel East a couple of locks and end catching the train from then Second South Station. I like the change of pace and venue this alternate route gives me. I was making my way to the train Station, I had just finished dropping my letter off and had just crossed 200 West when I noticed what looked like a homeless guy coming down the street in my direction. He was tattered and messed up with wild dark brown hair and beard having a very Rasputin look even down to the “1000 yard stare”.

The street man bearing down in my direction was lugging what looked like good sized case of a sort. I almost had my self convinced that what this lost was lugging a cello or base violin an then I shook my head thinking “naw. That would be totally weird.” I almost fell out of my power chair as the guy got close enough to reveal that in fact what he was dragging behind him was a cello? The instrument case was as disheveled as the person dragging it. As the lost musician passed, I could actually see the wood of the instrument inside of the case. I could not determine what condition the instrument was in but there was an instrument in the case an that was enough to blow mind.

I was twenty feet or so passed the guy when I had the idea that I should have taken this image for my blog. This would have been great. I wanted to stop in my tracks, do a 180 in my chair and ask this guy if I could take his image. I could offer the guy a dollar for his image. Could this vagabond even in gage in meaningful dialogue? If so, would he be offended that I obviously thought him weird or colorful enough to want his image enough to give him a measly dollar for it ? How would I even broach the subject, “ Hi I noticed you dragging this fine fiddle behind you and wonder if I might snap your image, I’ll even give you a dollar so you can make a down payment on a bottle of rotgut down at the liquor store.?” I did not though-I was chicken. I need to get past this hesitancy or shyness or just plain fear. I have lost some great shots.

What was this bum doing on 90 degree afternoon, dragging a musical instrument like a cello in a beat up cello case down second South ? What story does he have to tell, homeless, on the street with nothing but the grimy clothes on his back and one huge cello, which seems to be of enough value at the pawn shop that he could buy smokes and booze for a great summer’s evening? Too weird.

Today is the Summer picnic I’ll try get some images.