He's Prescient, what can we say?
Just listening to Shelagh Rogers this morning (ah, the CBC - my window into the world of thinking adults while immersed in my world of toddlers, bodily fluids, squabbles, and glee), interviewing some members of a musical group from Newfoundland, and I was reminded of a story. Happened to a friend of mine last summer.
He had accompanied his girlfriend to her Cape Breton home. Cape Breton, where everyone is related to everyone else, and they all play or sing, or at the very least, drink hearty while listening to others play and sing.
Pete was at just such a party. As in most Cape Breton parties, someone pulled out a fiddle and someone else pulled out a flute, and as the beer went round, and round again, the music, singing, and dancing started. Peter is nothing like a shrinking violet. He's having a great time, it's 3:30 a.m., and these guys, hey, they're just great.
When one of them stops for breath, Pete's right there. "Hey, you guys are great!" he tells them. "You could be big!" His praise is met with a wry grin. He redoubles his encouragement. "No, no, I really mean it. Big! Really big!"
Someone taps his arm. "Ah, Pete?"
"Pete, that's Great Big Sea."