I do not talk to my harp. I do, however, talk to one of our station wagons. Her name is Bertha, a Swedish Volvo, and she has over 240,000 miles on her and a few quirks. She is the only inanimate object I currently converse with in English. I gave away the rebellious vacuum cleaner because he would not respond to my commands and exhortations and was a pain to live with. His replacement is a well-mannered Miele.
Save your speech for living beings! Besides talking to my husband, and children, and friends, and once in a while, to a few treasured friends in the next life, I am also known for conversing with a certain cat and a dog, and the birds in the backyard and the local park. I mock the crows on long walks. (They have to speak first.) I also talk to my parsley, sometimes, or to any plant that looks like it’s ailing. Right now they are all pretty happy, except for a Christmas cactus in Intensive Care.
We musician-artist types have a right, duty and responsibility to talk back to the crows, rant at the conditions in our lives, and stay on the cutting edge of the creative exercise of Freedom of Speech, Song, Performance and Expression. The rest of the world would be terribly bored without us, and needs to follow our lead.
People got through The Great Depression by keeping their sense of humor and dipping into the well of creativity, and through faith and prayer. Life today in the West is similar.
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