I am indebted to the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation for a most timely and generous grant. Thanks to my editor extraordinaire, Robin Desser, ever tireless and fervent; to Joy Johannessen, who kept shaking the tree till all the rotten fruit had fallen; to Asa DeMatteo, Barbara Dimmick, Jim Hanks, and William Zimmerman, readers who didn’t shy away from pointing out the inadequacies of my writing. I wish to thank Lily Oei, Carlo Togni, and Eric Glassgold for making life easier.
Everything I know about pigeons I learned from Beirut pigeoneers who were gracious enough to tell me their stories. Everything I know about guitars I learned from George Peacock of Peacock Music in San Francisco. Everything I know about maqâms I learned from listening to the inimitable Munir Bashir.
And, finally, this book wouldn’t be what it is without the input of almost every Lebanese I know, and even those I don’t know so well. Lebanon is a nation of hakawatis, and none had to be asked more than once for a story. Actually, most never needed to be asked.
I heard you’re looking for stories. Let me tell you.
You want stories about pigeons? I got pigeon stories.
I’ll tell you a story. You can put it in your book, but you can’t tell anyone. It’s private.
You have to write about my crazy aunt. You just have to. Listen.
Thank you.