Shanties

In spite of the need to clear cars and shovel snow, in a futile effort to make room for more, we ventured out this afternoon to a sea shanty singalong. This appears to have become an annual event at Mystic Seaport in Mystic, CT.

It's not the obvious family outing, but The Boy discovered the joys of shanties, better known as chanties, via a few cd's we had purchased at the Seaport years ago. We got those cds home and promptly put them in a safe place never to see the light of day again.

Until about a year and a half ago. While on vacation. Out they came. The peace in my head may never be restored.

Be that as it may, those shanty/chanties are catchy little ditties. Long after you've ripped the last hair from your head, they are still frolicking in your brain and driving you to drink. Which may explain the rampant alcoholism is sailors. It wasn't boredom; it was the damn songs.

And yet, The Boy loves those songs. So, because I'm such an awesome parent, when I saw the email from the Seaport, I forwarded it to The Husband with the note that I thought The Boy would enjoy it. The tweet read: "Warm up inside at our Pub Sing & Chantey Blast today from 1-5 p.m. It only happens once a year - don't miss it!"

What the hell. How bad could it be? And if it was awful, they serve beer, right? Right.

But then I did a terrible thing. I forgot about it. Well, that's not entirely accurate. I didn't actually forget about. I just didn't read the flyer very well and thought that the event was in the evening. So I got The Boy home later than I would have from his morning obligations had I remembered.

It's my fatal flaw.

Well, one of them, anyway.

We went. We arrived around 3:30. The room was crowded so we stood for awile. There was beer to be had, but alas, not for me. Some of the music was rollicking, which had The Boy thumping his snow boot in time to the music. Chairs opened up and we sat. I became aware that this was more a communal activity than a concert. Again, if I had read the information, I might have had a clue. Members of the audience piped up with the song of their choice once the applause from the previous song died down. Unless one of the organizers had an announcement to make. There were several such interruptions. They were really quite annoying.

Everybody sang. And it didn't matter if you didn't know the song, because the songs went on forever, the chorus was always the same, and you could just join in once you figured it out. Which we did. Because it was way better than just sitting there without a beer. And, I must confess, it was exciting to hear a room full of people join in and harmonize. It's a spontaneous sound you don't really hear in the his country. Outside of a church.

Eventually, The Boy screwed up the courage to lead a shanty. Until the organizer interrupted him with an announcement just as he started. He's 9; he hasn't learned to project yet. FINALLY (because she took for freakin' ever), one of the other organizers, and an amazing singer in his own right, got everyone to listen to The Boy lead his song. We joined in with gusto on the chorus, while he kept the beat with his snow-booted foot. He did really well (I'm not biased here) and felt really good about it. I have to give him a lot of credit.

We stayed until the end and stopped for really good barbeque on the way home. We made it home well before the snow started again. And now I'm fairly certain that shanties will be the order of the day in the car for weeks to come.

Anyone know a good wigmaker?