Passing Words: Dudley Kaufman

The soul was lively (you had to give it that); those who took pleasure in the simple things could find something enjoyable even in the wait for the golden gates to open. It was pairing them off, doing a kind of kneecap drumbeat, calling for changes and swaps, and laughing along with them when it got messy. The soul pulled a couple of guardian angels into the mix (and that was no easy thing); one of them had to be coaxed quite a bit for its two left ethereal feet. Some lines were tearful and some heavy with a stony kind of resignation; today's lifted the spirits (both literally and figuratively). "I was afraid you'd pull me in," Peter confessed, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, it's not too late," the soul replied (grinning back). And it started clapping to keep the momentum going until someone else picked up the rhythm and herded the shy souls back into formation. "The angels are quaking in fear," Peter whispered. "Well, it's best to tell the scaredy cats to stay out the barn," the soul nodded (hands on its hips watching the others). "Then again, they might love it." Peter opened the gates, but the soul was too busy to see it at the moment; someone had managed to materialize an accordion.

In memory of Dudley Kaufman, who died at the age of 95 this week. Kaufman was a farmer and a musician who started the modern revival of contra and barn dancing in his beloved New England. Accomplished on the fiddle and the accordion, but remembered also for his strengths as a dance caller, Kaufman received the highest honor for a traditional artist, the National Heritage Fellowship, in 2009; his career lasted over 80 years.