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I was 11 when we moved into an aging farmhouse in the woods. That day, my brother climbed an apple tree onto the roof with his violin, and played the first two lines — lively, yet melancholy — from Fiddler on a Roof.
To our amazement, the next two lines echoed off the mountainside. Downstream, a stranger with a trumpet was welcoming us to the neighborhood.
Let’s get to know THAT neighbor, I thought. (And we did.)
I’m thinking of Tevye today: “You may ask, ‘Why do we stay up there if it’s so dangerous?’ We stay because Anatevka is our home.”
Not “Somewhere over the Rainbow”? Where the trumpet player gets so frustrated that he can’t remember the next part that he jumps off the roof, then hears the ambulance coming…
I think that was one of Glenn’s jokes.