A historian, former ceremonial bugler, and Marylander (like Your Humble Narrator) explains the origins of “Taps.”
All is well, safely rest. …
A historian, former ceremonial bugler, and Marylander (like Your Humble Narrator) explains the origins of “Taps.”
Mad Blog Media 
Some of us will sleep one night, other for a longer time. My Dad, a WW II Pacific theater vet, couldn’t listen to it. I have heard it enough.
I heard it a lot on Randolph AFB in the Sixties, when I was learning how to sleep through the sound of aircraft engines. I’d toss and turn until “Taps” played from the Taj Mahal’s loudspeaker, and then it was “All is well, safely rest. …”
Even though I must have heard “Taps” a thousand times, it was performed by Marines, live, at my fathers funeral (WW2 Vet), and it suddenly meant something beyond whatever I had ever thought it was for.
The old man’s military funeral at Fort Logan National Cemetery gave me an appreciation for ritual and ceremony that church services somehow never provided.
Most of that guy’s “history” is correct, but Taps was first played in present form at Berkeley Plantation on the James River in Virginia, home of the presidential Harrison family, and shortly adopted by both sides. That was also the site of the actual first English Thanksgiving celebration in the New World. The Pilgrim Johnny-come-latelys were still in England at that point. Most of the history books were once written by Union veterans of the War Between The States, and they were not about to give the South credit for anything. That old adage about the victors writing the history is quite correct.
I played 3 Memorial Day services this weekend (snare drummer in a pipe band) and thankfully nobody botched it badly. Those phony bugles usually sound pretty good. Our bass drummer is a (real) bugle playing funeral director; he told me today that once in a while the battery dies in mid-tune. Too many people think it’s a good idea to play the two bugle echo version of Taps. That’s great if perfectly executed, which doesn’t happen all that often, in my experience.
It’s good to remember our previous generations and what they went through to get us here.
My dad was an Army Engineer in the Philippines in WWII. He said that when they saw the Tagalogs (local aboriginals) celebrating up on the ridge lines that meant they’d captured another Japanese soldier. His understanding was that said locals were still into cannibalism at that point.
Maybe it’s early, third cup of coffee hasn’t kicked in yet, but not sure what you mean by “not about to give the South credit for anything.”
Jari Villanueva, interviewed by NPR in the above link, wrote the page on the actual Berkeley Plantation website.
http://www.berkeleyplantation.com/taps.html
“War Between the States,” my ass.
My Dad did his final retirement in 2012. We share many things Mad Dog, bikes, military fathers, both Cold War military brats… a “been there” appreciation for classic rock and blues…
O, lord, it’s an itty-bitty world, isn’t it? You’d be astonished (or maybe not) to learn how many military brats wound up in the journalism biz. There’s something about that paripatetic lifestyle that gives one the ability to sidle up to total strangers and start grilling them like Memorial Day burgers.
I was astonished to learn that cold war military brats had drug and alcohol usage identical to combat vets, and later diagnosis of PTSD identical to combat vets after that became a recognized thing in the DSM. We weren’t weak, just self-medicating.
Thanks for that link, O’G. I didn’t know the history. Read the Berkeleyplantation piece, too. Here is that earlier call, “tattoo”
When I return to the source, “The Parting Glass” will be the song they play at the memorial party. And, I do mean party complete with Guiness stout, Pilsner Urquel, and Fat Tire kegs tapped, yea, tapped, and ready to go. Some St. Pauli Girl N/A will be on ice as well. “ So fill to me the parting glass. Good night and joy be with you all.”
I’m a big fan of “The Parting Glass.” Most of the versions I know shift to a minor key for “and joy be to you all.” But not the one that closes “Waking Ned Devine.” A truly joyous adios.
I play a simplified version in the key of Am. It uses Am, G, C, Dm chords. The line of “Goodnight and joy be with you all” is simply Am and G with the G on the word joy and back to Am on the word all. Finish it with a Asus2 and a E shape barred on the 5th fret, a A, and you sound like you know what you’re doing, especially if the audience is in their cups. I’ll E mail it to you. You can play it easy and impress Herself this evening. No specific rhythm, and I just use single down strums. And, you can skip the fancy shit at the end and just finish on the Am.
I need to pull the git-fiddle outen its case and try to regrow the pads on my pinkies. I haven’t made any music in a while now.
Of course, what I call “music” causes Herself to seek quietude at estate sales and Miss Mia to hide under the bed. But still.
Well now, since music has appeared once again (as it should) in the blog- I wonder how many of you have listened to Radio Paradise over the years? If you like uninterrupted, non commercial music you can stream in hi def RP is a great place to land. No charge. But you could front them a few bucks if so inclined as I do.
Radio Paradise, hey? This is the first I’ve heard of it. I’ll have to lend it an ear.
When I listen to music it tends to be our local NPR affiliate, KUNM-FM. The weekend program “Singing Wire” is a real departure from the honky norm. On weekdays “Performance Today” is a morning must-have, but of course you can grab that from a variety of sources.
I loved KRCC-FM in Bibleburg, too, especially Our Friend and Neighbor Vicky, who hung up her headphones in 2021. Herself still streams the old hometown station in her Duck! CIty office.
Ok, ok. Since music it will be I’ll see if I can find the old bow saw tucked away out in the tool shed with the spiders.
https://duckduckgo.com/?va=v&t=ha&q=youtube+music+bow+saw&iax=videos&ia=videos&iai=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fwatch%3Fv%3DXRMPoZ7gUyA
With respect to mobile devices with shaped leather couches to rest upon and require input to motivate toward a destination, I discovered that mine had been treating me with considerable patience. After a couple of noticeable chain jumps under load, I highly suspected (an engineering term for definitely does) that I was in need of a new chain. Upon removal, I hung the used chain on my trusty wall based chain worn out-o-meter and discovered that “Yup”, my steed had been very nice to me. Whew, I didn’t know a chain would work with that much extra length. Do you wanna know how much longer the chain was? Really? Do you? Naw, I think we should watch some more bow saw music. A little One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest perhaps?
But without further bow saw patience, about 28.5mm. In more impractical but friendlier American units, approximately one and one-eighth of an inch extra length. I don’t believe I have stretched (ignored) a chain for that long, pun intended.
Now of course, I need to change out the cassette. Fortunately I’m still running octo celeritatem and replacement cassettes don’t cost 47 Starbuck’s Grande Latte’s with tip as do some of the single ring gear platters.
Bonum musica !