A fisherman’s journal amid a pandemic
A stocked brown trout from the Blackberry River in North Canaan, Conn. The state has stocked the stream several times in recent months.
Photo by Patrick L. Sullivan
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Paul Ramunni, owner and operator of New England Accordion Connection and Museum, with a small portion of his accordion collection.
David Carley
In the spirit of preservation and the creation of new memories and stories, Ramunni’s vision for the new expansion of the museum is a place for people with any instrument to get together and jam. The inspiration for this was about a year ago when two students from the Yale Summer School of Music and Art in Norfolk came to the museum wanting to see an accordion.
Ramunni asked where they were from; one was from Iran and the other from Israel. He recalled, “At that moment, what was going on is what’s always going on over there: their families were in the middle of battles. He said ‘Paul, when we met here for the first time, there was something that connected. It was music. We both agreed that we would never let anything come between us that would ruin that bond.’”
After they left, Ramunni said the idea for a community room struck him. Regardless of background or beliefs, he said, music can bring people together.
Ramunni has more than 650 accordions in his collection, each with its own story to tell.
“When we started collecting,” said Ramunni, “I didn’t think much of the backstory. I was thinking, ‘Hey, that’s a cool little one.’” He soon found out that “there’s a lot of memories packed into each one of these things, because you only played them when you wanted to make other people happy.”
The new “Community Music Room” at Canaan Union Station.David Carley
42 years had gone by since Ramunni first picked up the instrument, and he found himself in the garage of a collector with more than a dozen accordions. He was sending them to a Holocaust Museum in Glen Cove, Long Island. “Those came out of the camps at Dachau during World War II,” Ramunni explained.
“That’s what got me going when I went around looking at accordions, I’d look for the stories. This is history here. It’s not just bottle caps that we’re collecting here. This is what people did with these things, and sacrifices they made. It’s important to preserve,” he stated.
Even the origins of the accordion, according to Ramunni, came from a desire for community. “Since the birth of the country, these things were being made in people’s shops because they wanted music… So, they came up with the first accordions,” which were smaller, wooden contraptions called flutinas, originally patented in 1829 in Vienna, Austria.
The beginning of the 20th century is when the instrument took its modern form with a larger body and piano keys. From 1900 to 1960, millions were made in the United States, and competing companies would distinguish their product with intricate case designs and impressive craftsmanship.
Perhaps more important are the stories imbued within, and as Ramunni shared, “They each have their own personality.”
Bidders at the Sharon Historical Society's annual fundraiser auction consider options of unique cakes arranged on a display table Thursday, July 3.
David Carley
It was the second year in a row that the event had been afflicted by bad weather. Despite this, enthusiasm was unaffected.
As bidders gathered under the tent with the sound of rain above, cakes were brought out by auctioneers Brian Ross, Chris Robinson, Danny Tieger and Barclay Collins. Tieger described the event as “whimsical” and how he hoped to “bring a bit of whimsy” himself.
The 28 numbered cakes spread across multiple display tables in the museum showcased a wide range of styles.
The first cake set the bar and was bought for $1,000, which was rather fittingly named “40 Carat Cake,” baked by Mary O’Brien and donated by Mo Dore.
Cake No. 20, "Red, White & Bloom."David Carley
Cake No. 20, titled “Red, White & Bloom: Connecticut in Full Flower,” baked by Nicole Parker King had flower decorations with incredible realism in red, white and blue Fourth of July spirit, bringing “fireworks to the desert table–minus the pyrotechnics,” as written the accompanying label.
Cake No. 19, "Let Them Eat Bread."David Carley
Right beside it, Cake No. 19, “Let Them Eat Bread,” by Myra Plescia, extended the definition of what a cake can be: “The humble rustic loaf of bread is back,” the label declared.
Cake No. 16, “Covered Bridge” by Jonas Coats was a cake diorama inspired by the covered bridge in West Cornwall.
Cake No. 16 was a recreation of the covered bridge in West Cornwall. It was aptly named "Covered Bridge."David Carley
Cake No. 10, “Ode to Mudge Pond,” was made by Sharon’s three selectmen. Baked by Lynn Kearcher and decorated by Casey Flanagan and John Brett, the card said it “evokes the natural wildlife and tranquility of Mudge Pond.”
Each were sold from the range of a few hundred dollars to a couple thousand, showing immense support for the historical society and its importance to the community.
Noah Sher created custom insect artwork at the David M. Hunt Library workshop Wednesday, July 2.
Copey Rollins
Crofut came prepared with bug shapes cut from plywood and painted a neutral color, assorted acrylic paints and brushes, and a box full of old shirts for smocks. (A Brooks Brothers label was attached to one of them.)
Crofut told her young artists that they had options. “We’ve got some happy bugs. We’ve got some grumpy-looking ones.”
She encouraged the children to try for realism with their bugs.
“Bugs hang out where?” Crofut asked.
The answers came back. “Leaves. Bark. Awnings. Your face.”
“They try to camouflage themselves,” concluded Crofut. “So design your camouflage for your bug.”
Eli Sher created custom insect artwork at the David M. Hunt Library workshop Wednesday, July 2.Copey Rollins
Crofut was assisted by Alesia Curletti of Housatonic, Massachusetts, and a student at the Berkshire Waldorf School in Great Barrington. Curletti said she has been helping Crofut on a major piece of sculpture destined for the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge.
Crofut and Curletti watched carefully as the artists got down to business, painstakingly painting their bugs one color at a time, in order to keep the process orderly.
“I don’t care if you get paint on my drop cloth,” Crofut said. “That’s what it’s for.”
At one point the entire group paused at the sight of a couple of fawns messing around in a grassy area across the street from the library lawn.
“Where’s the mama?” wondered Crofut.
Everyone held their breath as a car approached, and let out a collective sigh of relief when the fawns fled into the woods instead of wandering into the vehicle’s path.
