WEBVTT

1
00:00:05.160 --> 00:00:08.560
<v Speaker 1>Hollo, I'm moalcan stories all the time. Glad you are here.

2
00:00:09.160 --> 00:00:10.039
<v Speaker 1>Let's get into it.

3
00:00:10.919 --> 00:00:14.359
<v Speaker 2>Every Thursday at the Rosewood Recreation Center we hold Trivia

4
00:00:14.480 --> 00:00:18.120
<v Speaker 2>Night in the old multi purpose hall. I come early, soft,

5
00:00:18.160 --> 00:00:20.559
<v Speaker 2>will pull over, and my mailmen know where it's at.

6
00:00:20.640 --> 00:00:23.399
<v Speaker 2>Cap in hand, because Eveling claims a good seat is

7
00:00:23.440 --> 00:00:26.800
<v Speaker 2>half the game. The eight foot folding tables are arranged

8
00:00:26.800 --> 00:00:30.320
<v Speaker 2>in crooked rows, pictures of lemonade frosting up in the middle,

9
00:00:30.640 --> 00:00:34.840
<v Speaker 2>pencils in stubby jars. Most folks here are well into retirement,

10
00:00:35.159 --> 00:00:37.719
<v Speaker 2>some like me, through with the business of work, some

11
00:00:37.799 --> 00:00:42.679
<v Speaker 2>who never stopped volunteering. Tonight, the place is noisy with greetings,

12
00:00:43.039 --> 00:00:46.640
<v Speaker 2>that light friction of local gossip, and the careful scrawls

13
00:00:46.640 --> 00:00:50.399
<v Speaker 2>of our team names on the answer slips. It always

14
00:00:50.439 --> 00:00:54.359
<v Speaker 2>starts the same. Marcus reads the first round, everyone laughs

15
00:00:54.399 --> 00:00:58.039
<v Speaker 2>at each other's wrong guesses. Lydia hands out napkins. Then,

16
00:00:58.079 --> 00:01:01.560
<v Speaker 2>as the scores are tallied, a hush for gentle and companionable.

17
00:01:01.880 --> 00:01:05.519
<v Speaker 2>It's during these lulls that it happens. One person, sometimes Eveling,

18
00:01:05.680 --> 00:01:08.799
<v Speaker 2>sometimes someone across the room, Gregg from car club or

19
00:01:08.840 --> 00:01:12.239
<v Speaker 2>a Vonn from city council. Whispers a tune. The humming

20
00:01:12.280 --> 00:01:16.879
<v Speaker 2>is soft, almost automatic, rising unbidden. Another picks it up.

21
00:01:16.879 --> 00:01:20.879
<v Speaker 2>As the first stops, someone else takes over, as if

22
00:01:20.920 --> 00:01:24.439
<v Speaker 2>passing a subtle bat on. I can't place the song.

23
00:01:24.959 --> 00:01:28.760
<v Speaker 2>It's lovely, soothing, familiar in the way a favorite blanket

24
00:01:28.799 --> 00:01:32.120
<v Speaker 2>is familiar, but with no edge or ornament I can recall.

25
00:01:32.719 --> 00:01:36.200
<v Speaker 2>I try games with myself. Is it an old radio jingle,

26
00:01:36.519 --> 00:01:39.920
<v Speaker 2>an anthem from some long ago parade. Sometimes I think

27
00:01:39.959 --> 00:01:42.000
<v Speaker 2>it wants to be a lullaby, or maybe one of

28
00:01:42.000 --> 00:01:45.519
<v Speaker 2>those processional pieces the high school band played, But the

29
00:01:45.560 --> 00:01:49.439
<v Speaker 2>melody shimmers away before I can pin it down. What

30
00:01:49.640 --> 00:01:53.200
<v Speaker 2>lingers is the odd continuity. Every time one hum fades,

31
00:01:53.400 --> 00:01:56.799
<v Speaker 2>another picks up near by. The tune never overlaps, never

32
00:01:56.879 --> 00:01:59.920
<v Speaker 2>quite repeats, as if the sound walks quietly from person

33
00:02:00.200 --> 00:02:03.920
<v Speaker 2>to person. There's no self consciousness in it. No one

34
00:02:03.959 --> 00:02:06.400
<v Speaker 2>seems to notice except me, at least not in any

35
00:02:06.439 --> 00:02:09.000
<v Speaker 2>way they'd remark on. When I try to hum it

36
00:02:09.080 --> 00:02:13.520
<v Speaker 2>myself deliberately, deliberately, I get the shape, but not the sound.

37
00:02:13.919 --> 00:02:16.599
<v Speaker 2>It slips out of my memory even as I concentrate.

38
00:02:17.639 --> 00:02:20.680
<v Speaker 2>This small shared tune shouldn't trouble me, But to night

39
00:02:21.039 --> 00:02:23.680
<v Speaker 2>after we lose our third lightning round and Marcus is

40
00:02:23.719 --> 00:02:26.680
<v Speaker 2>off reading aloud the scores. I resolve I will ask

41
00:02:26.759 --> 00:02:29.680
<v Speaker 2>someone about it. My mouth opens to form the first

42
00:02:29.719 --> 00:02:33.039
<v Speaker 2>few notes to reconstruct the melody, but the effort stalls.

43
00:02:33.599 --> 00:02:36.400
<v Speaker 2>The sound evaporates. As soon as I try to reproduce it.

44
00:02:36.840 --> 00:02:40.400
<v Speaker 2>I squeeze my pencil and make a silent promise next break,

45
00:02:40.599 --> 00:02:42.759
<v Speaker 2>I'm going to get to the bottom of this, or

46
00:02:42.800 --> 00:02:46.520
<v Speaker 2>at least i'll try. When I look around, the humming

47
00:02:46.599 --> 00:02:49.960
<v Speaker 2>has resumed, and I suddenly feel, just for a moment,

48
00:02:50.360 --> 00:02:53.280
<v Speaker 2>as if I'm the only one noticing an invisible thread

49
00:02:53.479 --> 00:02:57.240
<v Speaker 2>drawing us all together. I suppose that's the habit of

50
00:02:57.280 --> 00:03:01.400
<v Speaker 2>a lifelong postal worker. You spend years noticing small things.

51
00:03:01.759 --> 00:03:04.719
<v Speaker 2>A peculiar stamp, the weight of a package that feels

52
00:03:04.719 --> 00:03:07.759
<v Speaker 2>a little too light, the way missus Enngel always writes

53
00:03:07.759 --> 00:03:11.639
<v Speaker 2>her return address at the exact same funny tilt. Even

54
00:03:11.680 --> 00:03:14.639
<v Speaker 2>in retirement, I hung up my royal mail bag three

55
00:03:14.719 --> 00:03:17.520
<v Speaker 2>years ago this March. I think I still sought and

56
00:03:17.560 --> 00:03:20.840
<v Speaker 2>sequenced the world by these little details. I have more

57
00:03:20.840 --> 00:03:24.520
<v Speaker 2>hours to do it now. Rosewood, the town I never

58
00:03:24.599 --> 00:03:27.360
<v Speaker 2>really meant to stay in forever has become the kind

59
00:03:27.360 --> 00:03:30.360
<v Speaker 2>of place I'd puzzle over even if it weren't home.

60
00:03:31.520 --> 00:03:35.039
<v Speaker 2>Rosewood is not large, twelve thousand at last census, if

61
00:03:35.039 --> 00:03:37.840
<v Speaker 2>you count the colicky horses at the Hella Farm. The

62
00:03:37.879 --> 00:03:40.800
<v Speaker 2>streets are quilted, with sycamores and old oaks leaning over

63
00:03:40.840 --> 00:03:44.840
<v Speaker 2>brick bungalows. There's the Depot, of course, now an uncreaky

64
00:03:44.919 --> 00:03:47.520
<v Speaker 2>museum that once was the rail hub for half this

65
00:03:47.639 --> 00:03:51.000
<v Speaker 2>side of the state. There's the old bakery, where Lydia

66
00:03:51.039 --> 00:03:54.319
<v Speaker 2>sits behind her counter in the afternoons, sugar dust in

67
00:03:54.400 --> 00:03:59.000
<v Speaker 2>her hair, serving slices and stories both life here is

68
00:03:59.039 --> 00:04:02.319
<v Speaker 2>a loop of gentle ritual. My own is simple. For

69
00:04:02.439 --> 00:04:05.919
<v Speaker 2>over three decades, rain or summer dust, I carried letters

70
00:04:05.960 --> 00:04:08.840
<v Speaker 2>and lives along the same east west route Depot to

71
00:04:08.960 --> 00:04:12.520
<v Speaker 2>park Park, to old paper mill and every stoop in between.

72
00:04:13.439 --> 00:04:16.720
<v Speaker 2>Nowadays I walk those streets post lunch, not a bag

73
00:04:16.800 --> 00:04:20.519
<v Speaker 2>in sight, enjoying the sense of continuity that only small

74
00:04:20.600 --> 00:04:25.240
<v Speaker 2>towns seem to stretch across generations. People notice things in

75
00:04:25.319 --> 00:04:29.480
<v Speaker 2>places like Rosewood. I'm not alone in that. Evelin, who

76
00:04:29.519 --> 00:04:32.959
<v Speaker 2>anchors my trivia team most weeks, is sharp as attack

77
00:04:33.279 --> 00:04:37.519
<v Speaker 2>and always correcting my misremembered TV themes she did years

78
00:04:37.560 --> 00:04:40.800
<v Speaker 2>as the school music teacher, and still strums a battered

79
00:04:40.800 --> 00:04:45.160
<v Speaker 2>guitar at the rec center's singalongs. Mister Connolly, whom every

80
00:04:45.160 --> 00:04:48.720
<v Speaker 2>one calls the station master, even though the train stopped

81
00:04:48.759 --> 00:04:51.839
<v Speaker 2>running before I got my pension, seems to hold every

82
00:04:51.920 --> 00:04:55.319
<v Speaker 2>detail of Rosewood's history like puzzle pieces in his pockets.

83
00:04:56.079 --> 00:04:59.720
<v Speaker 2>There's Lydia of the bakery and the never properly hot coffee,

84
00:05:00.000 --> 00:05:03.079
<v Speaker 2>whose voice carries down Main Street when she gets started

85
00:05:03.199 --> 00:05:07.759
<v Speaker 2>chatting with customers. And then there's Marcus, a little younger,

86
00:05:08.040 --> 00:05:11.879
<v Speaker 2>the djay at the town's mostly oldies radio station, newish

87
00:05:11.959 --> 00:05:15.439
<v Speaker 2>enough that folks still call him the Boston Boy, though

88
00:05:15.439 --> 00:05:19.439
<v Speaker 2>he's lived here seven years. All of us, consciously or not,

89
00:05:19.839 --> 00:05:24.079
<v Speaker 2>participate in the fabric. Tuesdays it's the radio club, veterans

90
00:05:24.079 --> 00:05:27.319
<v Speaker 2>and retarees fiddling with ham sets and reminiscing over the

91
00:05:27.360 --> 00:05:32.759
<v Speaker 2>seventies static. Thursdays it's trivia Night. Saturdays, church bake sale

92
00:05:32.800 --> 00:05:35.920
<v Speaker 2>schedule seem to organize half the week in advance. No

93
00:05:36.120 --> 00:05:40.639
<v Speaker 2>calendar mark is too small, Birthdays, memorial potlucks, even the

94
00:05:40.680 --> 00:05:44.120
<v Speaker 2>celebration of the anniversary of the depot s last true

95
00:05:44.199 --> 00:05:49.240
<v Speaker 2>midnight train. In so many ways, Rosewood is a memory machine,

96
00:05:49.560 --> 00:05:54.560
<v Speaker 2>a community built on remembering itself. Still, even here, something

97
00:05:54.639 --> 00:05:57.399
<v Speaker 2>is shifting. There's a quality to the conversations in the

98
00:05:57.439 --> 00:06:01.079
<v Speaker 2>rec center lately, a kind of heightened warmth edged with nostalgia,

99
00:06:01.639 --> 00:06:04.279
<v Speaker 2>as if we all sense time changing its gait, or

100
00:06:04.319 --> 00:06:07.680
<v Speaker 2>as if we're each searching backward for something known, half lost.

101
00:06:08.160 --> 00:06:10.600
<v Speaker 2>We talk more and more about the how and the

102
00:06:10.639 --> 00:06:14.120
<v Speaker 2>who that came before. If you're paying attention, it's in

103
00:06:14.160 --> 00:06:16.839
<v Speaker 2>the way folks linger at the bulletin board, the way

104
00:06:16.879 --> 00:06:21.319
<v Speaker 2>the annual Depot festival speeches get longer. Maybe this is

105
00:06:21.360 --> 00:06:25.319
<v Speaker 2>what happens when a town has more memories than ambitions left.

106
00:06:26.319 --> 00:06:28.920
<v Speaker 2>This is why the humming bothers me. It's both as

107
00:06:29.040 --> 00:06:31.800
<v Speaker 2>ordinary as weather and as peculiar as a hidden current

108
00:06:31.920 --> 00:06:35.480
<v Speaker 2>in a familiar stream. After that trivia night, I feel

109
00:06:35.519 --> 00:06:39.120
<v Speaker 2>a private sort of charge, some vestigial curiosity that used

110
00:06:39.120 --> 00:06:42.160
<v Speaker 2>to serve me on mail routes. Now a dog quietly

111
00:06:42.199 --> 00:06:46.079
<v Speaker 2>worrying a bone. It's never just a tune. It's a signal,

112
00:06:46.240 --> 00:06:49.639
<v Speaker 2>a sign. Even before I can articulate why, I know

113
00:06:49.759 --> 00:06:53.959
<v Speaker 2>I'll return with questions next Thursday, Before the second round

114
00:06:53.959 --> 00:06:57.480
<v Speaker 2>of trivia. I corner Evelin by the snack tables, triangle

115
00:06:57.519 --> 00:07:02.480
<v Speaker 2>cut cheese sandwiches her handiwork. She's humming, barely audible, chin dipped.

116
00:07:02.959 --> 00:07:06.399
<v Speaker 2>When I ask, what is that tune? I keep hearing it,

117
00:07:06.519 --> 00:07:09.040
<v Speaker 2>but I can't seem to place it. She laughs, an

118
00:07:09.079 --> 00:07:13.720
<v Speaker 2>easy and familiar sound. Oh, that old thing. I wouldn't worry,

119
00:07:13.959 --> 00:07:17.079
<v Speaker 2>she says, flicking a napkin into the bin. It's just

120
00:07:17.160 --> 00:07:19.959
<v Speaker 2>what people hum around here. I think it's always been

121
00:07:20.000 --> 00:07:23.439
<v Speaker 2>in the air. Don't you hum it too? I might,

122
00:07:23.560 --> 00:07:25.759
<v Speaker 2>but I honestly couldn't start it if you paid me.

123
00:07:26.199 --> 00:07:29.480
<v Speaker 2>What's it called? I press? It's not any song I know.

124
00:07:30.680 --> 00:07:33.519
<v Speaker 2>Evelyn shrugs her hands, finding a rhythm as if she

125
00:07:33.600 --> 00:07:38.480
<v Speaker 2>might coax the tune into being, but nothing comes. She frowns. Funny,

126
00:07:38.720 --> 00:07:40.360
<v Speaker 2>I thought I knew it, but I can't get it

127
00:07:40.439 --> 00:07:43.720
<v Speaker 2>going unless it's already well, you know, the way you

128
00:07:43.759 --> 00:07:47.759
<v Speaker 2>pick up a laugh in a crowd. Never alone. Mister

129
00:07:47.839 --> 00:07:50.839
<v Speaker 2>Connolly looms beside us with his usual mug tea not

130
00:07:51.000 --> 00:07:54.639
<v Speaker 2>coffee for his nerves. When I ask if he remembers

131
00:07:54.680 --> 00:07:58.519
<v Speaker 2>any one teaching the melody, he looks mildly alarmed. He's

132
00:07:58.600 --> 00:08:02.079
<v Speaker 2>used to being the towns are answer man. My father

133
00:08:02.160 --> 00:08:04.319
<v Speaker 2>hummed it in the evenings. I think he'd sit on

134
00:08:04.360 --> 00:08:06.959
<v Speaker 2>the porch after dinner, tap the rails of the chair

135
00:08:07.160 --> 00:08:09.920
<v Speaker 2>that sort of do do do thing. He moves his

136
00:08:10.000 --> 00:08:12.920
<v Speaker 2>hand in a looping gesture. Or maybe it was my mother.

137
00:08:13.199 --> 00:08:15.560
<v Speaker 2>Hard to say. I always thought it came from the

138
00:08:15.600 --> 00:08:18.199
<v Speaker 2>old a M radio, you know, after the news and

139
00:08:18.240 --> 00:08:21.240
<v Speaker 2>before the weather. But or was that some church hymn?

140
00:08:21.519 --> 00:08:25.240
<v Speaker 2>He winks, as if noticing his own confusion. It's always

141
00:08:25.319 --> 00:08:29.279
<v Speaker 2>just been there, I suppose, I suppose isn't an answer.

142
00:08:29.600 --> 00:08:33.919
<v Speaker 2>I tease, but he only offers a knowing professional evasiveness,

143
00:08:33.960 --> 00:08:37.759
<v Speaker 2>someone practiced in the gentle art of rendering mystery comfortable.

144
00:08:38.759 --> 00:08:42.200
<v Speaker 2>I find Marcus leaning against the rec center's portable speaker,

145
00:08:42.519 --> 00:08:46.399
<v Speaker 2>scrolling the next music round. Hey Marcus, do you know

146
00:08:46.440 --> 00:08:49.519
<v Speaker 2>what people keep humming in here? I ask? None of

147
00:08:49.600 --> 00:08:54.159
<v Speaker 2>us can pin it down? He laughs, You notice that too,

148
00:08:54.279 --> 00:08:57.159
<v Speaker 2>I get callers whistling it at the station. Drives me

149
00:08:57.200 --> 00:09:01.000
<v Speaker 2>a bit batty, Honestly. I even ran software our play logs,

150
00:09:01.000 --> 00:09:04.039
<v Speaker 2>but no track matches. It's like it's everywhere here but

151
00:09:04.159 --> 00:09:08.720
<v Speaker 2>not recorded anywhere at least know where I've found. I

152
00:09:08.799 --> 00:09:11.559
<v Speaker 2>try to provoke them, give me the first four bars,

153
00:09:11.919 --> 00:09:16.240
<v Speaker 2>or sing a line, any line. Marcus makes a game attempt,

154
00:09:16.440 --> 00:09:19.720
<v Speaker 2>opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, then waves

155
00:09:19.759 --> 00:09:22.840
<v Speaker 2>it off. Weird. I have it in my head until

156
00:09:22.879 --> 00:09:25.840
<v Speaker 2>you ask. You put me on the spot. Puff. He

157
00:09:25.919 --> 00:09:28.320
<v Speaker 2>shrugs and rubs his eyebrow with the corner of a

158
00:09:28.360 --> 00:09:33.360
<v Speaker 2>playlist sheet. Evelyn tries next. It's never the same twice,

159
00:09:33.480 --> 00:09:37.039
<v Speaker 2>is it? She observes, biting lower lip. It's more like

160
00:09:37.200 --> 00:09:40.080
<v Speaker 2>a flavor than a tune. There's that little twist on

161
00:09:40.120 --> 00:09:43.480
<v Speaker 2>the end. She whistles a phrase but dissolves into laughter.

162
00:09:44.600 --> 00:09:47.679
<v Speaker 2>It's everywhere, but no one owns it. I find that

163
00:09:47.759 --> 00:09:52.840
<v Speaker 2>detail both comforting and exasperating. Later, with the game ending,

164
00:09:53.159 --> 00:09:56.559
<v Speaker 2>Marcus spins some faint background music, and there it is

165
00:09:56.960 --> 00:10:00.320
<v Speaker 2>a gentle tide of humming, surfacing, and sinking as people

166
00:10:00.399 --> 00:10:04.240
<v Speaker 2>chat and collect their bags. I watch maybe half a

167
00:10:04.240 --> 00:10:08.159
<v Speaker 2>dozen spread across three generations, each catching the melody in

168
00:10:08.240 --> 00:10:12.000
<v Speaker 2>passing as if linked by a thread no one can see.

169
00:10:12.360 --> 00:10:15.320
<v Speaker 2>I ride that puzzle home, rolling the thought in my

170
00:10:15.399 --> 00:10:17.960
<v Speaker 2>mind as I once did. The mail up the depot

171
00:10:18.080 --> 00:10:22.080
<v Speaker 2>ramp on snow bright mornings, so I treat this humming

172
00:10:22.120 --> 00:10:26.639
<v Speaker 2>as postal work, a small, steady curiosity worth following from

173
00:10:26.639 --> 00:10:30.080
<v Speaker 2>one porch to another. The bakery is first on my

174
00:10:30.200 --> 00:10:34.080
<v Speaker 2>private investigative route. Lydia's front window is steamy from the

175
00:10:34.120 --> 00:10:37.279
<v Speaker 2>early morning batch of cinnamon rolls, the glass propped with

176
00:10:37.320 --> 00:10:42.200
<v Speaker 2>a sign reading slices by the smile. Inside, Lydia herself

177
00:10:42.240 --> 00:10:46.240
<v Speaker 2>presides over her pastry kingdom, short and fair haired, hands

178
00:10:46.279 --> 00:10:49.600
<v Speaker 2>always dusted in flour and sugar. She's speaking with a

179
00:10:49.679 --> 00:10:53.480
<v Speaker 2>knot of regulars. The morning's gossip a little quieter than usual.

180
00:10:54.519 --> 00:10:58.320
<v Speaker 2>There it is the humming again. Isaac, the pharmacist's son,

181
00:10:58.639 --> 00:11:01.240
<v Speaker 2>waits in line with two children in tow, and he's

182
00:11:01.320 --> 00:11:04.919
<v Speaker 2>humming that phrase patches of melody, never a full verse,

183
00:11:05.120 --> 00:11:07.799
<v Speaker 2>but just enough to be unmistakable, or at least to

184
00:11:07.840 --> 00:11:11.440
<v Speaker 2>evoke what's already missing from my memory. Behind him a

185
00:11:11.519 --> 00:11:14.440
<v Speaker 2>man I barely know the furniture. A finisher from the

186
00:11:14.480 --> 00:11:18.480
<v Speaker 2>next town over whistles the same rising motif, only to

187
00:11:18.559 --> 00:11:21.840
<v Speaker 2>abandon it midphrase, as Lydia laughs at something on the radio.

188
00:11:22.879 --> 00:11:26.200
<v Speaker 2>When it's my turn, Lydia bags up two turnovers and

189
00:11:26.320 --> 00:11:31.000
<v Speaker 2>leans across the counter, voice lowered funny thing. I notice

190
00:11:31.039 --> 00:11:34.879
<v Speaker 2>myself doing it just now. She confides that humming never

191
00:11:35.039 --> 00:11:37.919
<v Speaker 2>noticed before. My aunt always did it too, when she

192
00:11:38.039 --> 00:11:42.120
<v Speaker 2>ran this place. She looks momentarily unsettled. I thought she

193
00:11:42.200 --> 00:11:45.240
<v Speaker 2>brought it with her from oh somewhere east, But folks

194
00:11:45.240 --> 00:11:48.960
<v Speaker 2>say it's always been around. She waves off the thought.

195
00:11:49.440 --> 00:11:52.320
<v Speaker 2>Doesn't every one hum something now? And then? Maybe it's

196
00:11:52.360 --> 00:11:56.039
<v Speaker 2>a habit. She changes the subject before I can push further.

197
00:11:56.360 --> 00:11:59.000
<v Speaker 2>But I scribble a note in my pocket notebook anyway,

198
00:11:59.519 --> 00:12:04.440
<v Speaker 2>bakery humming court pattern unclear Lydia claims started after Aunt

199
00:12:04.480 --> 00:12:08.600
<v Speaker 2>took over. I catch the town bus next, an afternoon

200
00:12:08.720 --> 00:12:11.879
<v Speaker 2>errand to the north side Hardware. Marcus happens to climb

201
00:12:11.919 --> 00:12:15.399
<v Speaker 2>aboard too, earphones slotted round his neck, looking over a

202
00:12:15.440 --> 00:12:18.759
<v Speaker 2>courier envelope. As we jolt away from Main Street. The

203
00:12:18.840 --> 00:12:22.159
<v Speaker 2>bus driver, a beefy man with a voice like a foghorn,

204
00:12:22.399 --> 00:12:25.840
<v Speaker 2>belts out a crooked tune into the empty afternoon, humming

205
00:12:25.879 --> 00:12:29.279
<v Speaker 2>as he slows for each bump. I strained to catch it.

206
00:12:29.279 --> 00:12:32.600
<v Speaker 2>It's nothing I'd know, but the contour matches that mystery

207
00:12:32.600 --> 00:12:36.519
<v Speaker 2>melody two seats up. A couple of older women quietly

208
00:12:36.559 --> 00:12:39.960
<v Speaker 2>blend their own fragments out of sink, two threads tangled

209
00:12:39.960 --> 00:12:44.279
<v Speaker 2>but never clashing. Marcus nudges me and, sporting a private smile, says,

210
00:12:44.799 --> 00:12:48.000
<v Speaker 2>I swear every new arrival gets the bug inside a

211
00:12:48.039 --> 00:12:51.759
<v Speaker 2>month I did. At first, you don't even notice. Then

212
00:12:51.840 --> 00:12:54.639
<v Speaker 2>one morning you're humming it when you stir your coffee

213
00:12:54.679 --> 00:12:58.600
<v Speaker 2>and don't remember how it got there. Outside school children

214
00:12:58.720 --> 00:13:02.080
<v Speaker 2>hurry past the windows, their voices high and bright. In

215
00:13:02.159 --> 00:13:05.120
<v Speaker 2>the park, I find a group crowded around the jungle gym,

216
00:13:05.320 --> 00:13:09.159
<v Speaker 2>clapping in rhythm. Their teacher, a city transplant from what

217
00:13:09.240 --> 00:13:12.879
<v Speaker 2>I overhear, soorts teams for a game. The clapping chant

218
00:13:12.919 --> 00:13:16.720
<v Speaker 2>they sing has that same sliding motif, scattered and echoing

219
00:13:16.759 --> 00:13:19.639
<v Speaker 2>the humming. When the teacher returns to the bench, I

220
00:13:19.759 --> 00:13:23.879
<v Speaker 2>wave and strike up a conversation. Funny little tune those

221
00:13:24.000 --> 00:13:28.480
<v Speaker 2>kids have, isn't it, I venture, She nods, half smiling.

222
00:13:29.000 --> 00:13:31.799
<v Speaker 2>I thought they made it up themselves. New children add

223
00:13:31.840 --> 00:13:34.919
<v Speaker 2>their own lines every week. Sometimes I hear it in

224
00:13:34.960 --> 00:13:39.440
<v Speaker 2>the halls. Echoes only, I ask the children, but their

225
00:13:39.480 --> 00:13:43.799
<v Speaker 2>explanations dissolve into giggles and nonsense. It's just a song

226
00:13:43.919 --> 00:13:48.200
<v Speaker 2>for running, one declares, then spins away into the playground throng.

227
00:13:49.320 --> 00:13:52.759
<v Speaker 2>That's the shape of it everywhere. Older residents say always,

228
00:13:53.080 --> 00:13:56.320
<v Speaker 2>but their details differ. Some claim the tunes are folks

229
00:13:56.399 --> 00:13:59.200
<v Speaker 2>song from the ear of the depot workers, something for

230
00:13:59.279 --> 00:14:03.279
<v Speaker 2>passing the time between the arrivals. Others insist it started

231
00:14:03.320 --> 00:14:06.159
<v Speaker 2>as a local bakery jingle played on the radio in

232
00:14:06.200 --> 00:14:09.320
<v Speaker 2>the sixties. When pressed, no two can humme it all

233
00:14:09.360 --> 00:14:12.679
<v Speaker 2>the way through. The melody is a shifting river, already

234
00:14:12.679 --> 00:14:15.919
<v Speaker 2>gone before you can cup it in your hands. In

235
00:14:15.960 --> 00:14:18.919
<v Speaker 2>the small sunlit nook of the Rosewood Library, I try

236
00:14:18.960 --> 00:14:22.879
<v Speaker 2>a new tactic. The local history section is narrow but proud,

237
00:14:22.919 --> 00:14:26.279
<v Speaker 2>with exhibits on the depot, binders about all girl Scout troops,

238
00:14:26.559 --> 00:14:29.919
<v Speaker 2>even a locked glass case containing the music of Rosewood display.

239
00:14:30.600 --> 00:14:34.360
<v Speaker 2>I browse catalogs, flip through photo albums, even search the

240
00:14:34.399 --> 00:14:37.600
<v Speaker 2>few cassette tapes of depot broadcasts and town parades left

241
00:14:37.639 --> 00:14:40.679
<v Speaker 2>in the archives. Not a whisper, not a mention of

242
00:14:40.679 --> 00:14:45.399
<v Speaker 2>the tune anywhere, no title, no Rosewood town song. I

243
00:14:45.519 --> 00:14:51.799
<v Speaker 2>scan the indexes music, folklore, school songs, festivals, railway work songs.

244
00:14:52.120 --> 00:14:56.639
<v Speaker 2>Nothing connects. Frustrated, I start jotting little clues in a

245
00:14:56.679 --> 00:15:01.000
<v Speaker 2>notebook snippets, overheard and partial lyrics half remembered by others,

246
00:15:01.480 --> 00:15:04.600
<v Speaker 2>but they're never quite in agreement. The more I collect,

247
00:15:04.960 --> 00:15:08.200
<v Speaker 2>the less the sum resembles anything fixed. What sung in

248
00:15:08.279 --> 00:15:10.919
<v Speaker 2>the bakery is not quite the same as what's whistled

249
00:15:10.919 --> 00:15:13.840
<v Speaker 2>at the park, yet each recognizes the other in a

250
00:15:13.840 --> 00:15:18.000
<v Speaker 2>subtle dance of familiarity. I try to record the humming

251
00:15:18.000 --> 00:15:22.519
<v Speaker 2>on my phone, casual and unobtrusive. Sometimes it works. I

252
00:15:22.559 --> 00:15:25.360
<v Speaker 2>capture Lydia and a customer weaving the melody around the

253
00:15:25.360 --> 00:15:28.000
<v Speaker 2>closing bell. But when I ask either to hum the

254
00:15:28.039 --> 00:15:32.440
<v Speaker 2>whole thing for me, they falter, substitute silly syllables, or

255
00:15:32.480 --> 00:15:37.279
<v Speaker 2>stumble into a different tune Altogether, the recording loses the shape.

256
00:15:37.519 --> 00:15:40.759
<v Speaker 2>It becomes as amorphous as the scattered memories attached to it.

257
00:15:41.759 --> 00:15:45.840
<v Speaker 2>What's most unnerving is its slipperiness. The tune is there, shared,

258
00:15:46.159 --> 00:15:49.159
<v Speaker 2>but each time I reach for it, it reshapes itself,

259
00:15:49.480 --> 00:15:54.159
<v Speaker 2>as if protecting its secrets by remaining unfinished. The next week,

260
00:15:54.279 --> 00:15:58.000
<v Speaker 2>at the rec center's senior lunch, I try a gentle experiment.

261
00:15:58.639 --> 00:16:01.480
<v Speaker 2>After the meal, when plates are cleared and the tables

262
00:16:01.559 --> 00:16:06.360
<v Speaker 2>linger in semicircles, I propose a sing along friends, Let's

263
00:16:06.360 --> 00:16:08.759
<v Speaker 2>see if we can put that tune together, all at

264
00:16:08.799 --> 00:16:13.159
<v Speaker 2>once beside each other. They laugh, they're game, but when

265
00:16:13.200 --> 00:16:16.320
<v Speaker 2>I ask who will start, the room falls into sheepish

266
00:16:16.320 --> 00:16:20.600
<v Speaker 2>glances and embarrassed smiles. Mister Connolly hums an uncertain phrase.

267
00:16:20.960 --> 00:16:23.879
<v Speaker 2>Evelyn jumps in with a similar but clearly different version.

268
00:16:24.200 --> 00:16:27.279
<v Speaker 2>Then six others chime in, each diverging by a note

269
00:16:27.279 --> 00:16:31.879
<v Speaker 2>here an unexpected skip there. The sound, instead of harmonizing,

270
00:16:32.080 --> 00:16:37.080
<v Speaker 2>drifts into a gentle jumble, pleasant but scattered. After several tries,

271
00:16:37.360 --> 00:16:40.240
<v Speaker 2>every one gives up trying to pin it down. We're

272
00:16:40.320 --> 00:16:43.679
<v Speaker 2>like a pack of stray cats. Someone jokes, all me

273
00:16:43.759 --> 00:16:47.600
<v Speaker 2>owing in key, none of us together. Afterward, I walk

274
00:16:47.639 --> 00:16:50.919
<v Speaker 2>over to the local middle school, seeking out Miss Hernandez,

275
00:16:51.159 --> 00:16:55.759
<v Speaker 2>who took over music instruction from Evelin. She is crisp attentive,

276
00:16:56.120 --> 00:17:00.159
<v Speaker 2>a lover of folk harmonies and old field recordings, constantly

277
00:17:00.279 --> 00:17:05.400
<v Speaker 2>cataloging student creations for the annual pageant. Listening to my question,

278
00:17:05.559 --> 00:17:08.599
<v Speaker 2>she's thoughtful. It reminds me of folk tunes that have

279
00:17:08.680 --> 00:17:12.440
<v Speaker 2>no canonical form. Over time, every group morphs them. A

280
00:17:12.519 --> 00:17:15.720
<v Speaker 2>song for wheat threshes becomes one for railway workers, then

281
00:17:15.759 --> 00:17:19.200
<v Speaker 2>for schoolyard skipping ropes. The melody is the same, but

282
00:17:19.240 --> 00:17:22.559
<v Speaker 2>the details fray and bend. The ones that truly persist

283
00:17:22.640 --> 00:17:26.119
<v Speaker 2>never stay still. They change to fit new hands and voices.

284
00:17:26.559 --> 00:17:29.960
<v Speaker 2>Maybe your town tune is like that, not nostalgia, but

285
00:17:30.039 --> 00:17:35.160
<v Speaker 2>an ongoing habit. She considers other legends, like your ral

286
00:17:35.279 --> 00:17:39.359
<v Speaker 2>bell stories are rooted in fixed events. This melody seems

287
00:17:39.359 --> 00:17:42.720
<v Speaker 2>to float. It's not about remembering the past, but about

288
00:17:42.720 --> 00:17:47.119
<v Speaker 2>making something together, each time a little different. I walk

289
00:17:47.160 --> 00:17:50.920
<v Speaker 2>away from our conversation feeling newly uncertain. The humming is

290
00:17:51.000 --> 00:17:53.920
<v Speaker 2>less a song than a social custom, a living thing

291
00:17:53.960 --> 00:17:58.400
<v Speaker 2>in sound. It adapts, bends, accepts newcomers, without manual or

292
00:17:58.480 --> 00:18:01.480
<v Speaker 2>rule book. Perhaps this is why none can hum it alone,

293
00:18:01.720 --> 00:18:04.960
<v Speaker 2>or start it. If the melody resists becoming an artifact,

294
00:18:05.160 --> 00:18:08.559
<v Speaker 2>then what is it? A communal impulse, some kind of

295
00:18:08.599 --> 00:18:12.000
<v Speaker 2>echo of the town itself, refreshed with every new resident

296
00:18:12.160 --> 00:18:17.519
<v Speaker 2>and every passing day. This possibility, quietly magical, haunts me

297
00:18:17.799 --> 00:18:23.000
<v Speaker 2>in a pleasant way. The curiosity refuses to rest. One afternoon,

298
00:18:23.119 --> 00:18:27.279
<v Speaker 2>back at the library, I ask about deeper archives. The librarian,

299
00:18:27.480 --> 00:18:31.599
<v Speaker 2>whose encyclopedic recall is slightly sharper than Evelind's offers, a

300
00:18:31.599 --> 00:18:36.279
<v Speaker 2>battered community binder from the miscellaneous music shelf, tucked between

301
00:18:36.359 --> 00:18:39.720
<v Speaker 2>scrap books of garden club winners and picnics from before

302
00:18:39.720 --> 00:18:44.240
<v Speaker 2>the war. Leafing through yellowed pages, I find it a neat,

303
00:18:44.480 --> 00:18:48.319
<v Speaker 2>undated piece of sheep music, handwritten at the top for

304
00:18:48.480 --> 00:18:52.640
<v Speaker 2>later days by Marian Haverford with a blacking note, a

305
00:18:52.759 --> 00:18:56.240
<v Speaker 2>tune for Rosewood's end of day gatherings. May it drift

306
00:18:56.319 --> 00:19:00.599
<v Speaker 2>and change as needed. The melody line is unmistakeacably kin

307
00:19:00.680 --> 00:19:04.359
<v Speaker 2>to the town tune, same gentle arc, similar phrasing, but

308
00:19:04.400 --> 00:19:08.279
<v Speaker 2>not identical. A few intervals land. Strangely, some verses are

309
00:19:08.279 --> 00:19:10.920
<v Speaker 2>scribbled out and replaced in at least three different hands,

310
00:19:10.960 --> 00:19:15.160
<v Speaker 2>several dated decades apart. In the margins, pencil scrawls read

311
00:19:15.559 --> 00:19:19.240
<v Speaker 2>add refrains for Deppo workers in one script below another

312
00:19:19.599 --> 00:19:23.960
<v Speaker 2>for Anne's picnic new verse. Even the lyrics, fragmented at best,

313
00:19:24.160 --> 00:19:28.039
<v Speaker 2>don't quite match what I've overheard in spoken snippets. The

314
00:19:28.119 --> 00:19:31.880
<v Speaker 2>tune stretches and creaks across pages lined by the history

315
00:19:31.920 --> 00:19:37.759
<v Speaker 2>of hands, revising, forgetting, and reimagining. My fingers shake as

316
00:19:37.759 --> 00:19:40.839
<v Speaker 2>I balance my note book atop a volume of Rosewood

317
00:19:40.880 --> 00:19:46.000
<v Speaker 2>memoirs copying passages. Who was Marian Haverford, I asked the

318
00:19:46.039 --> 00:19:52.359
<v Speaker 2>librarian quietly, she smiles, Oh, Marian, legendary music teacher, taught

319
00:19:52.400 --> 00:19:56.440
<v Speaker 2>three generations, led song circles on the depot lawn, back

320
00:19:56.480 --> 00:19:59.599
<v Speaker 2>when the town was still bustling. Music was her answer

321
00:19:59.599 --> 00:20:02.319
<v Speaker 2>to every kind of trouble, or so the stories go.

322
00:20:03.519 --> 00:20:06.200
<v Speaker 2>A little digging brings me to a series of interviews

323
00:20:06.200 --> 00:20:09.079
<v Speaker 2>with her students held on deposit in the reference room

324
00:20:09.599 --> 00:20:13.599
<v Speaker 2>elderly alumni. I recollect Missus Haverford's circles, where every one

325
00:20:13.640 --> 00:20:17.240
<v Speaker 2>got a turn and every verse was new. She believed

326
00:20:17.559 --> 00:20:20.839
<v Speaker 2>famously that the role of music wasn't to preserve, but

327
00:20:20.960 --> 00:20:25.799
<v Speaker 2>to bind day by day. There's another detail. For decades,

328
00:20:25.960 --> 00:20:28.759
<v Speaker 2>the Haverford family ran a music box shop on Maine,

329
00:20:28.920 --> 00:20:32.599
<v Speaker 2>closed only fifteen years ago, where it said visitors could

330
00:20:32.599 --> 00:20:36.119
<v Speaker 2>request a tune tailored for the moment. The shop's few

331
00:20:36.200 --> 00:20:40.720
<v Speaker 2>surviving music boxes, according to local legend, played haunting melodies,

332
00:20:41.160 --> 00:20:44.039
<v Speaker 2>none ever quite the same, but all reminiscent of that

333
00:20:44.240 --> 00:20:48.720
<v Speaker 2>old Rosewood tune. I realize, as I scrawl my final

334
00:20:48.759 --> 00:20:51.240
<v Speaker 2>note of the day, that the melody's source is neither

335
00:20:51.279 --> 00:20:55.400
<v Speaker 2>lost nor fully remembered. It was borne, intentional, crafted for

336
00:20:55.440 --> 00:20:58.359
<v Speaker 2>the gathering, the gathering then feeding into it with each

337
00:20:58.480 --> 00:21:03.519
<v Speaker 2>new performance. With every generation, the tune was altered, expanded,

338
00:21:03.759 --> 00:21:07.440
<v Speaker 2>forgotten in places, and remembered anew in others, until its

339
00:21:07.519 --> 00:21:12.200
<v Speaker 2>source was only partly discernible beneath the patchwork. The town's

340
00:21:12.240 --> 00:21:15.240
<v Speaker 2>melody is not a static inheritance, but a living tradition,

341
00:21:15.839 --> 00:21:21.039
<v Speaker 2>a gentle, ever changing act, half ritual, half improvisation. Each

342
00:21:21.039 --> 00:21:25.000
<v Speaker 2>of us carries a fragment, and together, unknowingly or otherwise,

343
00:21:25.279 --> 00:21:27.880
<v Speaker 2>we keep singing the song that never quite ends or

344
00:21:27.960 --> 00:21:31.759
<v Speaker 2>quite repeats. I pack up my note book, the line

345
00:21:31.759 --> 00:21:35.599
<v Speaker 2>from Missus Haverford's notes echoing, may it drift and change

346
00:21:35.640 --> 00:21:39.720
<v Speaker 2>as needed. The mystery remains, but it's no longer opaque.

347
00:21:40.000 --> 00:21:43.279
<v Speaker 2>Now it feels almost like a mirror, reflecting the town's

348
00:21:43.319 --> 00:21:48.279
<v Speaker 2>own continuous act of belonging. Missus Haverford's phrase, may it

349
00:21:48.359 --> 00:21:51.920
<v Speaker 2>drift and change as needed, rattles softly in my chest.

350
00:21:52.200 --> 00:21:54.680
<v Speaker 2>As I pocket my notes and step into the late

351
00:21:54.799 --> 00:21:57.920
<v Speaker 2>afternoon bustle of main Street. It's as if a veil

352
00:21:58.000 --> 00:22:00.920
<v Speaker 2>has shifted. Even the sound of the the town's traffic

353
00:22:01.000 --> 00:22:04.759
<v Speaker 2>feels briefly musical, the rumble of a distant delivery truck

354
00:22:05.079 --> 00:22:07.839
<v Speaker 2>almost blending into the slow arc of the melody I've

355
00:22:07.920 --> 00:22:12.680
<v Speaker 2>hunted these past weeks. The mystery isn't solved, not cleanly,

356
00:22:13.079 --> 00:22:16.240
<v Speaker 2>but I taste the first edge of understanding the song.

357
00:22:16.559 --> 00:22:21.640
<v Speaker 2>Rosewood's tune is part artifact, part daily improvisation, a humming

358
00:22:21.680 --> 00:22:25.359
<v Speaker 2>made by many hands and never held by one. And

359
00:22:25.480 --> 00:22:28.559
<v Speaker 2>now a new question pushes forward when that's less about

360
00:22:28.599 --> 00:22:32.319
<v Speaker 2>origin and more about meaning. The tune shifting nature feels

361
00:22:32.359 --> 00:22:35.319
<v Speaker 2>both deliberate and precious, And as I trudge away from

362
00:22:35.359 --> 00:22:38.160
<v Speaker 2>the old library doors, I realize that what I want

363
00:22:38.200 --> 00:22:41.279
<v Speaker 2>most is to hear not just the melody itself, but

364
00:22:41.319 --> 00:22:44.400
<v Speaker 2>the full shape of all its variations. What does it

365
00:22:44.440 --> 00:22:46.559
<v Speaker 2>add up to if no one can give me the

366
00:22:46.640 --> 00:22:49.400
<v Speaker 2>real version? What would happen if we all sang what

367
00:22:49.440 --> 00:22:52.960
<v Speaker 2>we remembered all at once? With that seed in mind,

368
00:22:53.240 --> 00:22:56.440
<v Speaker 2>I find myself that night's sketching out names, times dates,

369
00:22:56.839 --> 00:22:59.640
<v Speaker 2>a postal worker's ledger for a very different kind of delivery,

370
00:23:00.119 --> 00:23:03.079
<v Speaker 2>phoning a few friends. Evelin, who picks up before the

371
00:23:03.119 --> 00:23:05.720
<v Speaker 2>second ring I knew you'd be calling about that song,

372
00:23:06.160 --> 00:23:08.559
<v Speaker 2>is delighted by the idea of a gathering to sort

373
00:23:08.599 --> 00:23:12.559
<v Speaker 2>out the tune. Marcus is game too. He's keen to record,

374
00:23:12.599 --> 00:23:15.160
<v Speaker 2>and even offers to bring portable kit from the station

375
00:23:15.640 --> 00:23:18.960
<v Speaker 2>for posterity, but also for the pure pleasure of chaos.

376
00:23:20.039 --> 00:23:23.640
<v Speaker 2>Lydia insists on baking something for the occasion and laughs

377
00:23:23.680 --> 00:23:26.319
<v Speaker 2>heartily when I ask her not to hum while making

378
00:23:26.400 --> 00:23:30.079
<v Speaker 2>cinnamon rolls in case she leaks a bias into the dough.

379
00:23:31.119 --> 00:23:34.480
<v Speaker 2>By Saturday morning, word has spread up and down Rosewood's

380
00:23:34.519 --> 00:23:37.240
<v Speaker 2>Gentle grape Vein. No one can agree what to call

381
00:23:37.279 --> 00:23:40.839
<v Speaker 2>what I've convened evelin posts fliers for a song circle.

382
00:23:41.200 --> 00:23:44.680
<v Speaker 2>Marcus dubs it a tune scavenger hunt on his broadcast,

383
00:23:45.000 --> 00:23:47.240
<v Speaker 2>and some of the radio Club crew just refer to

384
00:23:47.279 --> 00:23:51.079
<v Speaker 2>it as that humming test. We reserve the park's picnic

385
00:23:51.160 --> 00:23:54.359
<v Speaker 2>green close enough to the old depot that its ghostly

386
00:23:54.400 --> 00:23:58.440
<v Speaker 2>presence looms at the edge of vision. Folding chairs bloom

387
00:23:58.440 --> 00:24:02.359
<v Speaker 2>in crooked clusters, eyes and Thermosies pass from hand to hand.

388
00:24:02.839 --> 00:24:07.160
<v Speaker 2>Children and great grandparents settle on checkered blankets. There's good

389
00:24:07.279 --> 00:24:12.559
<v Speaker 2>natured skepticism, excitement, a little self consciousness, the sense that perhaps,

390
00:24:12.680 --> 00:24:14.759
<v Speaker 2>just this once, we will get to the root of

391
00:24:14.759 --> 00:24:18.799
<v Speaker 2>a thing we've all inhabited without naming. I open with

392
00:24:18.880 --> 00:24:23.119
<v Speaker 2>a few words, honest, practical, stumbling a little with my hands,

393
00:24:23.559 --> 00:24:26.480
<v Speaker 2>nervous because suddenly I am not chasing the story but

394
00:24:26.640 --> 00:24:30.880
<v Speaker 2>shepherding it. We're here, I say, because something about the

395
00:24:30.920 --> 00:24:33.559
<v Speaker 2>way we hum together keeps tickling at the edge of memory.

396
00:24:34.039 --> 00:24:36.960
<v Speaker 2>I'd like us to try, just for fun, to hear

397
00:24:37.000 --> 00:24:39.640
<v Speaker 2>what the song sounds like when we all let ourselves

398
00:24:39.680 --> 00:24:43.160
<v Speaker 2>remember it at the same time. No right way, no

399
00:24:43.319 --> 00:24:47.640
<v Speaker 2>wrong way. The laughter that follows is warm, the kind

400
00:24:47.640 --> 00:24:50.400
<v Speaker 2>that comes when a group recognizes its colluding in something

401
00:24:50.480 --> 00:24:54.079
<v Speaker 2>slightly silly. But when Evelin encourages everyone to give it

402
00:24:54.119 --> 00:24:58.519
<v Speaker 2>a go, the response is immediate. Voices rise, soft at first,

403
00:24:58.759 --> 00:25:02.640
<v Speaker 2>a little disjointed, but earnest across the lawn, a rippling

404
00:25:02.720 --> 00:25:06.880
<v Speaker 2>of melody zigzags. Children sing in claps and skips. Elders

405
00:25:06.960 --> 00:25:09.920
<v Speaker 2>hum with deeper, measured notes. A few out of towners

406
00:25:09.960 --> 00:25:13.000
<v Speaker 2>attempt to whistle along, chasing by ear what they hear

407
00:25:13.119 --> 00:25:17.279
<v Speaker 2>around them. It starts as a jumble, then wonder of wonders.

408
00:25:17.319 --> 00:25:21.160
<v Speaker 2>It transforms, merging in and out, stumbling but never stopping,

409
00:25:21.400 --> 00:25:24.400
<v Speaker 2>as if a current of sounds stitches together disparate threads,

410
00:25:24.640 --> 00:25:28.759
<v Speaker 2>everyone listening and adjusting to each other. Key phrases crop up,

411
00:25:29.039 --> 00:25:31.680
<v Speaker 2>a line about ending days, a longer note in the

412
00:25:31.720 --> 00:25:34.880
<v Speaker 2>style of the depot's old work songs, fragments about bread

413
00:25:34.920 --> 00:25:38.359
<v Speaker 2>at dawn or every window's lamplight on the street. There

414
00:25:38.359 --> 00:25:42.720
<v Speaker 2>are accidental harmonies, laughter when verses collide, but no embarrassment.

415
00:25:43.720 --> 00:25:47.680
<v Speaker 2>The collective sound isn't perfect, but it is unmistakably alive,

416
00:25:48.039 --> 00:25:50.720
<v Speaker 2>weaving through the shouts of the youngest and the tired

417
00:25:50.799 --> 00:25:54.160
<v Speaker 2>humming of the oldest. No one can remember starting it,

418
00:25:54.559 --> 00:25:57.599
<v Speaker 2>no one claims to finish it. When the energy ebbs,

419
00:25:57.839 --> 00:26:01.519
<v Speaker 2>it fades away with a collectively drawn breath, a warmth

420
00:26:01.640 --> 00:26:05.799
<v Speaker 2>lingering as everyone smiles at the resulting oddity. Do we

421
00:26:05.880 --> 00:26:09.960
<v Speaker 2>even sing the same tune? Asks Yvonne, to general hilarity.

422
00:26:10.000 --> 00:26:14.519
<v Speaker 2>But Marcus, headphones on, having recorded the whole affair, grins

423
00:26:14.559 --> 00:26:20.319
<v Speaker 2>in satisfaction. Not the same, he says, but perfectly Rosewood.

424
00:26:20.640 --> 00:26:23.960
<v Speaker 2>Later he plays clips into his little field mixer, inviting

425
00:26:24.039 --> 00:26:27.559
<v Speaker 2>anyone to listen through his headphones. The effect is astonishing.

426
00:26:28.079 --> 00:26:32.119
<v Speaker 2>Each recording played in sequence or mashed together, reveals both

427
00:26:32.160 --> 00:26:37.039
<v Speaker 2>difference and coherence. Some groups insert lines of nostalgia Mammer's

428
00:26:37.079 --> 00:26:41.799
<v Speaker 2>Morning Song or evening Moon Round, while others, notably the children,

429
00:26:42.079 --> 00:26:46.039
<v Speaker 2>stick to skips and refrains invented on the spot. A

430
00:26:46.119 --> 00:26:50.640
<v Speaker 2>trio of younger adults recent arrivals layer phrases about trains

431
00:26:50.720 --> 00:26:54.160
<v Speaker 2>leaving slow and picking out a house with a red mailbox.

432
00:26:54.960 --> 00:26:59.039
<v Speaker 2>Lydia with her bakery crew warbles something about rolls rising

433
00:26:59.160 --> 00:27:02.440
<v Speaker 2>warm that no one can place, but which earns appreciative

434
00:27:02.440 --> 00:27:07.559
<v Speaker 2>applause anyway. Marcus, ever, the experimenter, invites folks up to

435
00:27:07.599 --> 00:27:10.839
<v Speaker 2>the microphone, cuing them to sing your version, no judgment.

436
00:27:11.359 --> 00:27:15.680
<v Speaker 2>The collection grows, each take distinct yet sharing in commoner motif,

437
00:27:16.160 --> 00:27:20.359
<v Speaker 2>something fluid, adaptable, yet instantly recognizable as belonging to the

438
00:27:20.400 --> 00:27:24.799
<v Speaker 2>same family. One child, coaxed up nervously by her grandmother,

439
00:27:25.160 --> 00:27:28.559
<v Speaker 2>improvises a wordless melody that echoes more in rhythm than

440
00:27:28.599 --> 00:27:33.440
<v Speaker 2>in notes. The whole park listens, learns, and adapts. After

441
00:27:33.480 --> 00:27:36.200
<v Speaker 2>the picnic, Marcus proposes airing a mash up on his

442
00:27:36.279 --> 00:27:40.480
<v Speaker 2>Sunday program. It takes some convincing privacy is important, and

443
00:27:40.519 --> 00:27:43.279
<v Speaker 2>some are shy, but soon enough we have a three

444
00:27:43.359 --> 00:27:48.000
<v Speaker 2>minute audio montage on air. Snippets flow one to another, railway,

445
00:27:48.079 --> 00:27:51.440
<v Speaker 2>verse to bakery patter to children's chant. The lines are

446
00:27:51.519 --> 00:27:55.359
<v Speaker 2>rough in places, but the whole is moving. Listeners call in,

447
00:27:55.640 --> 00:27:59.319
<v Speaker 2>recognizing pieces as their own. That's my wife's aunt's line

448
00:27:59.319 --> 00:28:03.599
<v Speaker 2>about the lampler, or else, admitting be amusement. That wasn't

449
00:28:03.599 --> 00:28:06.200
<v Speaker 2>how it went in my house. Some say the song

450
00:28:06.279 --> 00:28:09.480
<v Speaker 2>left them when they lived elsewhere, but came back without asking.

451
00:28:09.759 --> 00:28:13.319
<v Speaker 2>After a month at home. A few self identified skeptics

452
00:28:13.319 --> 00:28:16.480
<v Speaker 2>called to say they've never learned it, and yet, when prompted,

453
00:28:16.839 --> 00:28:19.119
<v Speaker 2>managed to hum most of a phrase over the phone

454
00:28:19.240 --> 00:28:23.200
<v Speaker 2>before dissolving into laughter at their own confusion. The distinction

455
00:28:23.319 --> 00:28:28.759
<v Speaker 2>between learning and remembering blurs until it becomes moot. Doctor Lynn,

456
00:28:28.960 --> 00:28:32.839
<v Speaker 2>the new psychologist in town here only one year, here's

457
00:28:32.880 --> 00:28:35.880
<v Speaker 2>the broadcast, and reaches out for coffee with me and

458
00:28:35.960 --> 00:28:39.359
<v Speaker 2>mark Us. The following week, we meet at Lydia's, where

459
00:28:39.359 --> 00:28:42.240
<v Speaker 2>the subtler trace of the tune curls around the clatter

460
00:28:42.279 --> 00:28:46.400
<v Speaker 2>of mugs. Doctor Lynn is young, with an analytic manner,

461
00:28:46.680 --> 00:28:50.200
<v Speaker 2>but kind aware of how deeply ritual roots itself in

462
00:28:50.319 --> 00:28:53.960
<v Speaker 2>towns like this. She listens to a half dozen recordings

463
00:28:54.000 --> 00:28:58.240
<v Speaker 2>I supply, then suggests a new tack. This isn't a

464
00:28:58.240 --> 00:29:01.319
<v Speaker 2>song in the traditional sense, she says. It lacks a

465
00:29:01.359 --> 00:29:06.079
<v Speaker 2>canonical structure. For one, what it has remarkably is modularity.

466
00:29:06.559 --> 00:29:11.079
<v Speaker 2>The melodies a framework, welcoming variation, not resisting it. It

467
00:29:11.160 --> 00:29:15.279
<v Speaker 2>reminds me of cognitive earworms, songs that persist not because

468
00:29:15.319 --> 00:29:18.960
<v Speaker 2>they're catchy, but because each listener unconsciously adapts them to

469
00:29:19.000 --> 00:29:23.920
<v Speaker 2>fit their own circumstances. Marcus adds. And because no one

470
00:29:23.960 --> 00:29:26.880
<v Speaker 2>ever sings the whole thing alone, it always waits for

471
00:29:26.920 --> 00:29:30.920
<v Speaker 2>you to join in. It's the perfect memory puzzle, familiar

472
00:29:31.119 --> 00:29:35.200
<v Speaker 2>but never complete. Evelin summoned by Lydia from the back

473
00:29:35.279 --> 00:29:39.240
<v Speaker 2>room with an apple turnover for moral support smiles. It's

474
00:29:39.279 --> 00:29:42.519
<v Speaker 2>like a patchwork. Each new voice fills in a square,

475
00:29:42.880 --> 00:29:45.599
<v Speaker 2>but the whole blanket only appears when you stand back

476
00:29:45.640 --> 00:29:50.759
<v Speaker 2>and squint hard enough. Intrigued, doctor Lynn continues. From a

477
00:29:50.799 --> 00:29:54.400
<v Speaker 2>psychological view, the tune may act as a social glue.

478
00:29:54.759 --> 00:29:58.319
<v Speaker 2>Its uncertainty forces you to listen, to match, to hesitate

479
00:29:58.480 --> 00:30:01.240
<v Speaker 2>just long enough for someone else to go contribute that

480
00:30:01.440 --> 00:30:06.839
<v Speaker 2>collectively unfinished feeling, its community in action. The more we talk,

481
00:30:07.160 --> 00:30:09.559
<v Speaker 2>the more I realize that the failure of the town's

482
00:30:09.559 --> 00:30:13.559
<v Speaker 2>melody to be locked down, standardized, or even properly named,

483
00:30:13.920 --> 00:30:17.839
<v Speaker 2>is precisely what allows it to flourish across generations. Its

484
00:30:17.920 --> 00:30:22.160
<v Speaker 2>very shapelessness is an asset. Within this framework, people can

485
00:30:22.200 --> 00:30:26.359
<v Speaker 2>participate without anxiety, knowing that their version is as correct

486
00:30:26.400 --> 00:30:30.240
<v Speaker 2>as anyone else's, that mistakes will be woven seamlessly into

487
00:30:30.240 --> 00:30:33.839
<v Speaker 2>the evolving pattern. Even those who claim never to have

488
00:30:33.920 --> 00:30:37.599
<v Speaker 2>learned it invariably slip into the rhythm when surrounded by others.

489
00:30:38.200 --> 00:30:41.440
<v Speaker 2>Those who have moved away carry only a ghostly remnant,

490
00:30:41.839 --> 00:30:45.759
<v Speaker 2>but upon return, the melody finds them again, settling back

491
00:30:45.880 --> 00:30:49.480
<v Speaker 2>like the shape of an old jacket. In the following days,

492
00:30:49.519 --> 00:30:52.319
<v Speaker 2>I follow a growing impulse. Now that I see the

493
00:30:52.359 --> 00:30:55.000
<v Speaker 2>song more as a living, breathing thing, I want to

494
00:30:55.000 --> 00:30:59.119
<v Speaker 2>gather as many forms as possible, an amateur folkloreist's dream.

495
00:30:59.359 --> 00:31:02.680
<v Speaker 2>At trivia night that week, I pass around blank pages,

496
00:31:02.920 --> 00:31:07.240
<v Speaker 2>inviting brief lyrics, scribbles, or descriptions. Don't worry about the

497
00:31:07.319 --> 00:31:10.720
<v Speaker 2>tune I write at the top, Just offer how it feels,

498
00:31:11.039 --> 00:31:15.599
<v Speaker 2>memory image line. The responses are an anthology of small

499
00:31:15.640 --> 00:31:19.359
<v Speaker 2>town intimacy. Mamma called us in with it. Dad tap

500
00:31:19.440 --> 00:31:23.480
<v Speaker 2>the steering wheel, last train whistle, like an exhale taste

501
00:31:23.480 --> 00:31:27.119
<v Speaker 2>of honey. Sunday mornings, sunset at the depots steps. When

502
00:31:27.200 --> 00:31:30.319
<v Speaker 2>lights come on, I see that the song is now

503
00:31:30.400 --> 00:31:33.519
<v Speaker 2>less event than process, less an enigma to solve than

504
00:31:33.559 --> 00:31:37.200
<v Speaker 2>a history to be witnessed in action. There's no central owner,

505
00:31:37.480 --> 00:31:41.599
<v Speaker 2>instead a constellation of reference points, each guiding the next.

506
00:31:42.200 --> 00:31:45.400
<v Speaker 2>Everyone expects someone else will finish it, mark us notes,

507
00:31:45.839 --> 00:31:49.880
<v Speaker 2>so it never ends. That's the trick. Curious as ever,

508
00:31:50.240 --> 00:31:54.279
<v Speaker 2>I email several musicologists, professors I find, with little effort

509
00:31:54.559 --> 00:31:58.519
<v Speaker 2>attached to state universities, specialists in folk and communal music.

510
00:31:59.039 --> 00:32:03.200
<v Speaker 2>I send them recordings, lyric sheets, stories. Responses trickle in.

511
00:32:03.920 --> 00:32:06.960
<v Speaker 2>Most say, after polite apologies, that the melody is not

512
00:32:07.079 --> 00:32:10.759
<v Speaker 2>featured in any documentation of regional folk music or rail

513
00:32:10.880 --> 00:32:15.279
<v Speaker 2>works on collections. Its apparent modularity, writes one, is its

514
00:32:15.319 --> 00:32:20.720
<v Speaker 2>defining trait, its reminiscent of field chants or chain gangs songs,

515
00:32:21.039 --> 00:32:24.720
<v Speaker 2>but not conclusively. It may simply be an emergent tradition,

516
00:32:25.279 --> 00:32:28.599
<v Speaker 2>a tune that thrives on forgetting as much as remembering.

517
00:32:29.720 --> 00:32:33.759
<v Speaker 2>I search, too, for analogs, paging through our digitized town papers,

518
00:32:33.880 --> 00:32:37.119
<v Speaker 2>looking for clues. There a nineteen fifty six piece in

519
00:32:37.200 --> 00:32:40.920
<v Speaker 2>the Rosewood Review mentions locals whistling the depot tune at

520
00:32:40.920 --> 00:32:46.400
<v Speaker 2>shift's end, but nothing more, no formal arrangement, no charted lyrics,

521
00:32:46.440 --> 00:32:50.200
<v Speaker 2>only the implication that even then it was considered background weather,

522
00:32:50.559 --> 00:32:53.759
<v Speaker 2>not worthy of recording, perhaps because it was always about

523
00:32:53.759 --> 00:32:57.759
<v Speaker 2>the act rather than the artifact. Meanwhile, Lydia and I

524
00:32:57.799 --> 00:33:00.599
<v Speaker 2>make an expedition to her late aunt's attic, hunting for

525
00:33:00.640 --> 00:33:04.079
<v Speaker 2>one of the original Haverford music boxes. The place smells

526
00:33:04.119 --> 00:33:07.319
<v Speaker 2>of moth balls and flower sacks and unsettled dust. We

527
00:33:07.400 --> 00:33:10.680
<v Speaker 2>find a plain wooden box, lacker faded, its winding key,

528
00:33:10.720 --> 00:33:14.079
<v Speaker 2>a little stiff, but still working. We listen. The tune

529
00:33:14.079 --> 00:33:17.079
<v Speaker 2>that issues forth is cousin to the Rosewood melody, but

530
00:33:17.160 --> 00:33:20.839
<v Speaker 2>with differences that jump out. The opening notes familiar, the

531
00:33:21.000 --> 00:33:25.559
<v Speaker 2>ending diverging half a phrase earlier than expected. Lydia lights up.

532
00:33:26.599 --> 00:33:29.960
<v Speaker 2>That's almost it, except it falls off like the box

533
00:33:30.039 --> 00:33:34.119
<v Speaker 2>can't remember the last line. We laugh, a machine caught

534
00:33:34.160 --> 00:33:38.440
<v Speaker 2>in the same amnesia as its makers. One afternoon, a

535
00:33:38.519 --> 00:33:41.960
<v Speaker 2>railway enthusiast passing through hears our story at the depot

536
00:33:42.119 --> 00:33:45.960
<v Speaker 2>and shares his own. Finds field recordings of old trainmen's

537
00:33:45.960 --> 00:33:50.640
<v Speaker 2>work chants distant echoes perhaps related, but none matches Rosewood's

538
00:33:50.680 --> 00:33:55.279
<v Speaker 2>melody precisely. Patterns converge all across the region, he says,

539
00:33:55.640 --> 00:33:59.000
<v Speaker 2>but yours is slipperier than most like it refuses to

540
00:33:59.039 --> 00:34:04.440
<v Speaker 2>be archived. Later, Evelin's friend brings her granddaughter, a city child,

541
00:34:04.680 --> 00:34:09.039
<v Speaker 2>sharp and skeptical, to trivia night. I ask, experimentally, care

542
00:34:09.079 --> 00:34:12.079
<v Speaker 2>to try humming the town tune. She wrinkles her nose,

543
00:34:12.199 --> 00:34:16.280
<v Speaker 2>listens to others, then produces her own refracted melody, warbling

544
00:34:16.360 --> 00:34:20.639
<v Speaker 2>and bright, punctuated with brand new phrases. I'm just guessing.

545
00:34:20.920 --> 00:34:23.440
<v Speaker 2>She giggles, but it felt like that's what every one

546
00:34:23.480 --> 00:34:29.239
<v Speaker 2>else was singing. The process repeats itself. Newcomers improvise long

547
00:34:29.320 --> 00:34:33.000
<v Speaker 2>tim as half remember. The thread holds together through variation

548
00:34:33.480 --> 00:34:37.760
<v Speaker 2>rather than imitation. At some point, I begin to suspect

549
00:34:37.760 --> 00:34:41.239
<v Speaker 2>that the tune cannot be, and perhaps never was, an

550
00:34:41.320 --> 00:34:44.280
<v Speaker 2>artifact to be captured, no more than a shadow can

551
00:34:44.320 --> 00:34:47.760
<v Speaker 2>be scooped up and preserved in a box. Its coherence

552
00:34:47.840 --> 00:34:52.920
<v Speaker 2>lies in adaptability. Its survival paradoxically depends on its refusal

553
00:34:52.960 --> 00:34:55.519
<v Speaker 2>to settle. What would it mean if our attempts to

554
00:34:55.519 --> 00:34:58.960
<v Speaker 2>define or record only serve to mask its deeper function.

555
00:35:00.119 --> 00:35:02.440
<v Speaker 2>I turned for another angle to those who have left

556
00:35:02.480 --> 00:35:05.719
<v Speaker 2>and come back. Mister Connolly, when pressed, reveals that as

557
00:35:05.719 --> 00:35:08.000
<v Speaker 2>a young man, he spent a decade in the city

558
00:35:08.039 --> 00:35:12.000
<v Speaker 2>away from Rosewood, the tune he muses over tepid tea,

559
00:35:12.239 --> 00:35:15.599
<v Speaker 2>staring out the rec center window. I forgot it completely

560
00:35:15.639 --> 00:35:18.960
<v Speaker 2>after I left, ten years, not a hint, moved back,

561
00:35:19.039 --> 00:35:22.760
<v Speaker 2>months went by, still nothing. Then one night, passing the bakery,

562
00:35:22.840 --> 00:35:25.400
<v Speaker 2>I started humming. It was like it found me again,

563
00:35:25.519 --> 00:35:30.000
<v Speaker 2>like I'd never left. Maybe that's how Rosewood remembers itself,

564
00:35:30.440 --> 00:35:34.400
<v Speaker 2>holding on, but only for the ones who return. Other

565
00:35:34.559 --> 00:35:39.480
<v Speaker 2>returnees echo the same strange pattern absent from Rosewood. The

566
00:35:39.559 --> 00:35:43.159
<v Speaker 2>song fades, memory of it, going from specific to blank.

567
00:35:43.599 --> 00:35:46.039
<v Speaker 2>Not until after a week or more do they pick

568
00:35:46.079 --> 00:35:49.760
<v Speaker 2>it up, usually by accident hearing another hum the phrase.

569
00:35:50.920 --> 00:35:54.599
<v Speaker 2>I guess it's a town thing, says Yvonn, returning after years.

570
00:35:55.119 --> 00:35:59.000
<v Speaker 2>It isn't anywhere but here. This pattern of forgetting and

571
00:35:59.079 --> 00:36:03.480
<v Speaker 2>rediscovering feels important at a regular gathering. Evelin and I

572
00:36:03.559 --> 00:36:07.079
<v Speaker 2>review the rec Center's collection of elder interviews. Many allude

573
00:36:07.079 --> 00:36:11.199
<v Speaker 2>mid conversation to Rosewood's tune as if assuming all would understand.

574
00:36:11.679 --> 00:36:15.559
<v Speaker 2>Some hesitate, almost bashful when prompted to sing. The phrase,

575
00:36:15.639 --> 00:36:19.440
<v Speaker 2>when voiced is always a little different. Good night station lights,

576
00:36:19.920 --> 00:36:22.679
<v Speaker 2>or when the bakery bell rings time for home in

577
00:36:22.760 --> 00:36:27.719
<v Speaker 2>gentle counterpoint, but always whatever version, the melody commits to

578
00:36:27.800 --> 00:36:31.679
<v Speaker 2>no single form, never quite settling long enough to be standard.

579
00:36:32.719 --> 00:36:35.280
<v Speaker 2>I ask Evelin about when in town life the melody

580
00:36:35.360 --> 00:36:40.480
<v Speaker 2>is loudest. She lists the depot, festival, trivia, Lulls Bakery closing,

581
00:36:40.679 --> 00:36:44.760
<v Speaker 2>Sunday sunset on the Green. It's about transition, she says.

582
00:36:45.199 --> 00:36:48.440
<v Speaker 2>When something ends or almost does, people fill the gap.

583
00:36:48.800 --> 00:36:52.440
<v Speaker 2>We mark the handover with a hum. This, I begin

584
00:36:52.519 --> 00:36:56.280
<v Speaker 2>to think is the true tradition in Rosewood. The act

585
00:36:56.280 --> 00:37:00.199
<v Speaker 2>of changing, arriving, departing is buffered with a melody that

586
00:37:00.320 --> 00:37:04.559
<v Speaker 2>both links and lets go. Doctor Lynn, whose intellect blends

587
00:37:04.599 --> 00:37:08.800
<v Speaker 2>acute questioning with a gentle presence, speculates the song isn't

588
00:37:08.840 --> 00:37:13.639
<v Speaker 2>about nostalgia or performance, but about continuity. Its very formlessness

589
00:37:13.719 --> 00:37:17.519
<v Speaker 2>keeps it from being corrupted or forgotten. It's a social mechanism,

590
00:37:17.880 --> 00:37:21.840
<v Speaker 2>usefulness hidden in ritual. If the town feels itself changing,

591
00:37:22.159 --> 00:37:25.239
<v Speaker 2>or when a gathering breaks up, the tune prompts everyone

592
00:37:25.280 --> 00:37:28.440
<v Speaker 2>to recall, if only briefly, what it means to belong.

593
00:37:29.599 --> 00:37:32.880
<v Speaker 2>I walk the railway path to the library, holding these thoughts,

594
00:37:33.079 --> 00:37:37.599
<v Speaker 2>and ask to revisit missus Haverford's letters. Formidable, looping handwriting,

595
00:37:37.920 --> 00:37:41.199
<v Speaker 2>yellowed with time, they are chatty and wise, full of

596
00:37:41.239 --> 00:37:45.599
<v Speaker 2>meditations on music as community practice. One line stands out

597
00:37:46.079 --> 00:37:49.679
<v Speaker 2>songs that connect without being the same, letting each person

598
00:37:49.719 --> 00:37:52.880
<v Speaker 2>add their day's voice, a melody etched in the doing,

599
00:37:53.039 --> 00:37:56.559
<v Speaker 2>not the memory. In a later note, she writes about

600
00:37:56.599 --> 00:38:00.880
<v Speaker 2>traveling to other towns, experimenting with music circles else and

601
00:38:00.960 --> 00:38:05.119
<v Speaker 2>finding that a few had echoes community songs that similarly

602
00:38:05.159 --> 00:38:08.119
<v Speaker 2>shifted away from the page as soon as anyone tried

603
00:38:08.159 --> 00:38:12.320
<v Speaker 2>to record them, but none apparently became as woven into

604
00:38:12.320 --> 00:38:16.519
<v Speaker 2>the fabric of daily life as Rosewood s. As the

605
00:38:16.599 --> 00:38:21.360
<v Speaker 2>depot reminiscence event approaches one of the towns small big occasions,

606
00:38:21.880 --> 00:38:24.559
<v Speaker 2>I joined the crowd, milling in its shadow under the

607
00:38:24.599 --> 00:38:28.960
<v Speaker 2>tall arched windows and heavy wooden eaves. Lawn Chairs dot

608
00:38:29.000 --> 00:38:32.960
<v Speaker 2>the platform, Children play tag between benches, while a podium

609
00:38:33.000 --> 00:38:36.199
<v Speaker 2>is set up for speeches that will eventually dissolve into

610
00:38:36.239 --> 00:38:40.679
<v Speaker 2>toasts and laughter. Midway through the afternoon, as the mood

611
00:38:40.719 --> 00:38:45.039
<v Speaker 2>becomes languid and sunburned, someone, on Evelin's suggestion, proposes one

612
00:38:45.159 --> 00:38:50.599
<v Speaker 2>last try at reconstructing the old tune. Three groups break off, retarees,

613
00:38:50.719 --> 00:38:54.639
<v Speaker 2>parents with children, and a handful of recent arrivals. Each

614
00:38:54.719 --> 00:38:57.840
<v Speaker 2>group gathers under different tree, and, spurred by a sense

615
00:38:57.840 --> 00:39:02.800
<v Speaker 2>of performance, attempts to remember the song together. What emerges

616
00:39:02.880 --> 00:39:06.199
<v Speaker 2>is less a song and more a series of quilted motifs,

617
00:39:06.679 --> 00:39:11.800
<v Speaker 2>shared beginnings, diverging middles, parallel endings that all nevertheless resolve

618
00:39:11.880 --> 00:39:15.039
<v Speaker 2>into a collective feeling. When one group stirs up a

619
00:39:15.079 --> 00:39:19.239
<v Speaker 2>particularly plaintive verse, laughter breaks out as elderly and young

620
00:39:19.280 --> 00:39:24.199
<v Speaker 2>alike realize how much their lyrics disagree. But then something happens,

621
00:39:24.519 --> 00:39:27.039
<v Speaker 2>a pattern I've watched a dozen times but not fully

622
00:39:27.119 --> 00:39:31.880
<v Speaker 2>understood until now. Each group, whatever melody, whatever idiosyncratic wording,

623
00:39:32.199 --> 00:39:35.480
<v Speaker 2>ends their attempt with a collective slodom, a single drawn

624
00:39:35.480 --> 00:39:38.760
<v Speaker 2>out note, sometimes wordless, sometimes a phrase like for the

625
00:39:38.840 --> 00:39:41.599
<v Speaker 2>day that's done, or lights come on, time to rest,

626
00:39:42.119 --> 00:39:45.320
<v Speaker 2>And when every one listens, heads cocked, eyes humor bright,

627
00:39:45.679 --> 00:39:48.960
<v Speaker 2>they all nod at ease. The ending's being different, Yes,

628
00:39:49.119 --> 00:39:53.079
<v Speaker 2>but the feeling of resolved togetherness common. It hits me

629
00:39:53.119 --> 00:39:56.559
<v Speaker 2>with a sudden, profound clarity. The song's power isn't in

630
00:39:56.599 --> 00:39:59.760
<v Speaker 2>the tune at all, nor the words, nor memory, nor tradition.

631
00:39:59.840 --> 00:40:03.079
<v Speaker 2>As such, it is at root an act of shared

632
00:40:03.320 --> 00:40:07.360
<v Speaker 2>creative uncertainty, many people holding and releasing the same idea

633
00:40:07.440 --> 00:40:11.559
<v Speaker 2>at once, forgiving of error, open to renewal. The tune

634
00:40:11.639 --> 00:40:16.119
<v Speaker 2>lives in the doing, never in the archive. Its unfinishedness

635
00:40:16.280 --> 00:40:20.960
<v Speaker 2>is its magic. By refraining from completion, Roseward's song ensures

636
00:40:20.960 --> 00:40:24.239
<v Speaker 2>that no moment of togetherness is ever truly over, and

637
00:40:24.280 --> 00:40:29.199
<v Speaker 2>no one's contribution is ever wrong or obsolete. It's Marcus

638
00:40:29.239 --> 00:40:31.599
<v Speaker 2>who puts a finger on this as we gather afterward,

639
00:40:31.960 --> 00:40:34.920
<v Speaker 2>perched around a small table with doctor Lynn and Evelin

640
00:40:35.320 --> 00:40:39.480
<v Speaker 2>while the depot event wins toward night. It's really not

641
00:40:39.559 --> 00:40:42.800
<v Speaker 2>about the melody at all, he muses. It's that every

642
00:40:42.800 --> 00:40:45.840
<v Speaker 2>one expects some one else will finish it. One person

643
00:40:45.920 --> 00:40:49.000
<v Speaker 2>starts off, another catches it. They drift in and out,

644
00:40:49.360 --> 00:40:52.000
<v Speaker 2>so it never really ends. You just pass it on.

645
00:40:53.280 --> 00:40:56.920
<v Speaker 2>Doctor Lynn smiling, finishes her apple turnover and sets her

646
00:40:56.960 --> 00:41:01.039
<v Speaker 2>fork down carefully. It's a vessel, not for memory, but

647
00:41:01.119 --> 00:41:04.320
<v Speaker 2>for connection, a way of being with others, carried along

648
00:41:04.400 --> 00:41:07.440
<v Speaker 2>by not knowing who's got the right answer. You lean

649
00:41:07.480 --> 00:41:12.320
<v Speaker 2>into uncertainty, but the group carries you evel in half whimsical,

650
00:41:12.400 --> 00:41:16.320
<v Speaker 2>half wise ads. It's a kind of forgiveness too. We

651
00:41:16.440 --> 00:41:19.320
<v Speaker 2>forgive each other for forgetting, for drifting, for being not

652
00:41:19.440 --> 00:41:23.119
<v Speaker 2>quite together but always still together. That's how we hold

653
00:41:23.159 --> 00:41:26.800
<v Speaker 2>on listening. I realize at last that the song cannot

654
00:41:26.800 --> 00:41:30.519
<v Speaker 2>be captured, solved, or even wholly understood, not in the

655
00:41:30.519 --> 00:41:34.320
<v Speaker 2>ways I'd first wanted. Nor is this a deficiency. The

656
00:41:34.320 --> 00:41:37.199
<v Speaker 2>town's unity is not built on uniformity, but on a

657
00:41:37.280 --> 00:41:42.880
<v Speaker 2>ritualized space for difference, hesitation, improvisation. In Rosewood, memory is

658
00:41:42.920 --> 00:41:46.519
<v Speaker 2>not a wall to be scaled, but a garden constantly receded.

659
00:41:47.000 --> 00:41:50.400
<v Speaker 2>Every voice, old or young, offers up its own shade

660
00:41:50.400 --> 00:41:53.960
<v Speaker 2>of the same ongoing tune. I walk home from the

661
00:41:54.000 --> 00:41:58.039
<v Speaker 2>depot in the enveloping dusk, a gentle satisfaction. Humming quietly

662
00:41:58.119 --> 00:42:01.440
<v Speaker 2>under my sternum, there's a subtle change in how I feel,

663
00:42:01.719 --> 00:42:05.239
<v Speaker 2>not eager to solve or catch the melody anymore, but

664
00:42:05.360 --> 00:42:09.000
<v Speaker 2>drawn instead to listen for its continued life, its invitation

665
00:42:09.199 --> 00:42:12.880
<v Speaker 2>to collectively make meaning from confusion, It's a gift now,

666
00:42:13.039 --> 00:42:17.199
<v Speaker 2>not a frustration, the presence of something living, incomplete and

667
00:42:17.280 --> 00:42:21.239
<v Speaker 2>open to all. From that evening, I find myself tuned

668
00:42:21.280 --> 00:42:24.159
<v Speaker 2>to the low buzz of the town's strange harmony on

669
00:42:24.239 --> 00:42:27.599
<v Speaker 2>the bakery's front steps, after closing at the lonesome corners

670
00:42:27.599 --> 00:42:31.320
<v Speaker 2>of park benches, as the depot clock's hands sweep past seven.

671
00:42:31.880 --> 00:42:34.079
<v Speaker 2>The melody lives as much in its lapses as in

672
00:42:34.119 --> 00:42:38.079
<v Speaker 2>its performances. Each time I sense it near by, I smile,

673
00:42:38.360 --> 00:42:41.360
<v Speaker 2>buoyed by the knowledge that my own memory matters only

674
00:42:41.400 --> 00:42:44.199
<v Speaker 2>as much as my willingness to join in and adapt,

675
00:42:44.639 --> 00:42:48.360
<v Speaker 2>to build with others a community that never quite repeats itself.

676
00:42:49.280 --> 00:42:53.360
<v Speaker 2>The people of Rosewood, acquaintances and friends alike, appear richer

677
00:42:53.400 --> 00:42:56.760
<v Speaker 2>to me now, not as puzzle pieces hiding secret answers,

678
00:42:57.039 --> 00:43:00.280
<v Speaker 2>but as collaborators in a work in progress archetect of

679
00:43:00.280 --> 00:43:04.280
<v Speaker 2>a gentle, ongoing creative project that never aims to be completed,

680
00:43:05.039 --> 00:43:08.639
<v Speaker 2>And I, retired mail carrier, become a humble courier, not

681
00:43:08.719 --> 00:43:12.039
<v Speaker 2>of messages to be delivered and archived, but of questions

682
00:43:12.039 --> 00:43:15.559
<v Speaker 2>meant only to be passed along, transformed by every new

683
00:43:15.639 --> 00:43:19.480
<v Speaker 2>voice they meet. One evening, returning from a late visit

684
00:43:19.480 --> 00:43:22.760
<v Speaker 2>to Lydia's. I pause by the empty dappot. The tough

685
00:43:22.800 --> 00:43:25.559
<v Speaker 2>old doors are locked, and the windows mirror the first

686
00:43:25.599 --> 00:43:29.079
<v Speaker 2>traces of the moon. The air is still scented, faintly

687
00:43:29.079 --> 00:43:31.840
<v Speaker 2>of the bakery's last batch, and the metallic memory of

688
00:43:31.880 --> 00:43:36.079
<v Speaker 2>trains long departed. Somewhere close but not visible, perhaps near

689
00:43:36.119 --> 00:43:39.639
<v Speaker 2>the shadowed benches. I hear a low, overlapping hum, not

690
00:43:39.719 --> 00:43:42.920
<v Speaker 2>a perfect match, but as surely related to Rosewood's song

691
00:43:43.000 --> 00:43:47.800
<v Speaker 2>as family is to kin. It ripples, undulates, pauses, resumes.

692
00:43:48.480 --> 00:43:51.800
<v Speaker 2>I try, almost without thinking, to recall the melody in

693
00:43:51.840 --> 00:43:55.039
<v Speaker 2>my head, searching for a complete phrase to hum back.

694
00:43:55.639 --> 00:43:58.719
<v Speaker 2>It slips from my lips as soundless breath, just the

695
00:43:58.760 --> 00:44:02.280
<v Speaker 2>shimmer of a note unf finished, sufficient only to remind

696
00:44:02.320 --> 00:44:04.639
<v Speaker 2>me of what it feels like to mean something together.

697
00:44:05.719 --> 00:44:09.000
<v Speaker 2>For a long moment, I stand in that ambiguity, wondering

698
00:44:09.000 --> 00:44:12.159
<v Speaker 2>what other songs we make in company, without ever fully

699
00:44:12.199 --> 00:44:15.760
<v Speaker 2>knowing how much of belonging comes from the mysteries orchestrated

700
00:44:15.760 --> 00:44:18.559
<v Speaker 2>between us, not in spite of but because they'll never

701
00:44:18.639 --> 00:44:23.280
<v Speaker 2>be fully drawn. The melody swells, a shifting presence, neither

702
00:44:23.360 --> 00:44:26.679
<v Speaker 2>captured nor lost, and I know without doubt. The most

703
00:44:26.679 --> 00:44:28.800
<v Speaker 2>comforting knowledge is that it need never.

704
00:44:28.800 --> 00:44:33.800
<v Speaker 1>End, and that is the end. Thank you for listening,

705
00:44:33.880 --> 00:44:44.320
<v Speaker 1>and I will see you in the next one.