“Trust me,” she’d said, “there’s many the musician who canna read paper. If ye have th’ music in yer blood, it’ll show in yer playin’ ...n’ I can tell, ye have it in yer blood.”“I was never overly fond of music,” he’d replied. “It was something that I listened to on the radio. But I do really enjoy playing it.”“Then don’t let t’ paper be a problem. Ye have a good ear. Use it.”While it was true that he was far better than he had any right to be, Ken never went to sessions with Fionna and Cindy. What was that smell? I "knew" what it was but was unable at the moment to name it. My mind flashed back over the years, twenty, thirty forty years and more, back to a time of innocence when Kennedy was President, gas was cheap, and I was 10 years old.I shrugged to bring my mind back to the present. That wonderful aroma was still faintly wafting through the air but fading fast. I rose from my desk and followed my nose. I knew that what ever it was, its source had to be with the woman who'd. More

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