Three Czech Innovators

photo by Martin Stehlik from Patek's Site

I'm thinking of all things Czech because my in-laws have headed back to beautiful Prague in the Czech Republic and my wife has headed off to be the keynote speaker at a conference in Italy, and I'm still here in muggy Toronto.

I've posted before about this guy, but not with a pic of the the inventor of Patek-style banjo standing with the inventor of bluegrass banjo. Ray Powell, from Arizona USA, writes (to Patek), "Hi! I just thought that you would like to know that your style of Banjo playing was represented by me in the 16th Annual Phoenix Folk Traditions Music Festival this past weekend... I was the only performer there who played a 4-string Tenor Banjo 3 finger picking style... " I removed the all caps and the exclamation marks. I think though that Mr. Powell was really happy to be the only fellow Patek-style banjoist in Phoenix.

And here's what bluegrass sounds like in Czech. Or what Czech sounds like in Bluegrass. I also keep tabs on Prague through three trusty Prague expat blogs that have nothing to do with the banjo. The first one allows me to check the weather on the Charles Bridge.

And, ahem, speaking of Czech innovators that have nothing to do with the banjo (well, ahem), my wife's film Seeing Is Believing, airs 4 times this month on the Sundance Channel: on the 12th at 7 p.m, on the 15th (for insomniacs) at 5 am, and on the 25th at 7 p.m.

My third Czech Innovator is Gaston, who doesn't play the banjo either. He was a beloved sea lion in the Prague Zoo who escaped and swam down the Vltava and the Elbe during the Prague flood of 2002. He was followed across the border into Germany, playing with his pursuers all the way, but then, when he was finally captured, he died of exhaustion on the way home. The entire country mourned his passing and then, several months later, rejoiced to find he'd left something behind with his mate in the Prague zoo - a daughter named - er - perhaps Lida can fill us in here. And then, last year, he was the subject of a German play called SWIM, GASTON, SWIM. They call it a children's play. But everyone knows, or at least suspects, that children's plays have the potential to be the very best kind of plays.

That's all for now, but if you're ever in Prague, give my regards to Lida and Jiri up in Troja, above the curve of the river, above Stromovka and the zoo from which Gaston swam. And of course to Dr. Patek, who lives in the opposite direction, apparently.