Last year my old man sent me up here to Newfoundland to work for the Baccalieu Company, see if I can get the fishermen drinking more of our good Screech Owl rum. So here I am in the land of salt fish, my cuz, acres of it drying in the fog. You got to hand it to the people for perseverance, trying to dry anything in air so damp it’s practically part of the ocean. Can’t sell enough of our company’s good stuff to please my daddy, though. And honestly, it’s a little lonely here. People friendly and all, but close-knit, and I’m a come from away. Whenever that song “Mood Indigo” comes on the radio, I sure do feel homesick. Duke knows what it is. Hey, are you still plucking away on that bass of yours? I sure was envious when you bought that. Now what I wouldn’t give to hear you play again in that little band you put together with that skinny, tall kid in Kingston. What was his name again? Martin something. Man, he could fling a lick on them guitar strings. You making music these days?