The definition of a Gentleman:

One who knows how to play an accordion but doesn't.


I'm not sure what that makes me. I don't know how to play my new concertina -- but that doesn't stop me from trying to play it.

A concertina looks like an accordion:

but it's less complicated and smaller, and mine was a thoughtful birthday gift from my husband -- whose capacity for suffering seems to know no bounds.


And when the concertina is traveling in its handy-dandy carrying case:

it raises eyebrows and causes much consternation among the minions who monitor the airport security x-ray machines, at least according to a story told by Steve Gillette and Cindy Mangsen.


We saw the two of them in concert at Bernie's a few months ago, and that's when I decided that I really needed a new musical instrument that would tax my middle-aged brain to the absolute limit: 20 buttons...40 notes....in-out...argghh!

When it's played right, the concertina has a sweet, long-ago kind of sound -- perfect for Irish songs. Right now I'm working on "The Wild Rover."

Here's The Dubliner's version. It really ought to come with a pint of Guinness, but I'm still waiting on that technology:

Heart Shaped Stones

I think of this song as another gift from the Sacramento River. I was walking on the shore at Anderson River Park, navigating the river rock, when I began a story song about a woman who collects Heart Shaped Stones.

I originally thought about making her a victim of unrequited love – filling her pockets with heart shaped stones and dramatically throwing herself into the river.

Yuck. I hate singing Poor-Pitiful-Me songs. I much prefer to sing about powerful women, so I came up with a more enjoyable storyline.

In true country music tradition, it includes the requisite elements: love, loss, revenge and a pick-up truck.

My kids consider this song “twisted” and “creepy.” I like that.




Heart Shaped Stones
words and music by Erin Coombs Friedman © 2004

She hoped for hearts and flowers, maybe wedding bells
Instead she got the valentine from hell
A year has passed, but it she pictures it like yesterday
The way he laughed, got in his truck and drove away

She walks down by the riverside collecting valentines
Heart Shaped Stones aren’t hard to find
Everyday she fills her pockets up
With stones that remind her of
The hard-hearted man she used to love

The river wields a mighty power all its own
Making pretty things from shapeless sand and stone
She washes out her wounds and heals her scars
Strolls along the shore searchin’ for hearts

She walks down by the riverside collecting valentines
Heart Shaped Stones aren’t hard to find
Everyday she fills her pockets up
With stones that remind her of
The hard-hearted man she used to love

They found his pick-up wrecked beneath the overpass
His battered body in a pool of blood and shattered glass
The case remains unsolved – motive unknown
But the cause of death was Heart Shaped Stones


She walks down by the riverside collecting valentines
Heart Shaped Stones aren’t hard to find
Everyday she fills her pockets up
With stones that remind her of
The hard-hearted man she used to love

A woman with an ax to grind
Can pitch a pretty mean valentine
Those Heart Shaped Stones work every time

Good Morning, Cottonwood

During those long weeks of dark, heavy skies, I promised myself that if the smoke ever lifted, I would NEVER take the glorious Cottonwood skyscape for granted.

Delightfully easy to keep that promise this morning.