I've sat in that living room more times than I can count, on the same piece of carpet...I swear the door jamb has molded to my back a little. There, I am surrounded by people and things that have become familiar and safe. The clicking of keys, the tapping of feet, the call of the loon clock, the sipping of tea, the strumming of strings and the squealing of a happy girl provide the soundtrack of the house.
I had another weekend in Northampton--a weekend spent with some of my very favorite people in the world. I have the privilege of gathering with them and listening to their brilliant writing, their songs that make me close my eyes and disappear into the chords, and their humor during late night "board meetings" at Packard's.
As M said, long live the Merchants of Death!