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January 26,
2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
Xin Nian Kuai Le!
Happy New Year! And although I didn't plan on waiting until the Chinese New
Year to wish you well for 2009, my wish is no less heartfelt.
Much has happened in the past few weeks. First of all, an update on Mary, the expectant feline who appeared at our house just before Christmas: she's had her babies! Holly, as she has been christened by her foster (and likely permanent) family, gave birth on the afternoon of December 31. As I anticipated, she is reported to be a very caring and attentive mother, exploring the house and lanai from time to time but for the most part staying with her little family of three males and two females.
After
some much-needed R&R, Greg and I participated in the Central
Florida Scottish Highland Games, in beautiful Winter Springs. It was
our first time at this venue, and we enjoyed ourselves very much! We
shared vendor space with Albert
Alfonso, Texas-based builder of exquisite bodhráns (Irish frame drums) and
with Susan and Kelly Amsden, of LaGrange, Tennessee, who build and play a number
of traditional folk instruments. We made lots of new friends and met up
with a few old ones, most notably, Nancy Brace, who dropped in on Sunday
afternoon, guitar in hand, to sit in for a few tunes.
The photo at right is of the main staging area, situated on Lake Jessup. Jessup was a gorgeous backdrop for the main stage, as you can see. What you can't see is the gators -- some of them very large gators -- whose home is in Lake Jessup. As far as I know, they were not the least bit interested in the weekend's events, but I assure you, the rest of us kept a wary eye peeled on these prehistoric monsters. Even I, a native Floridian who should be used to such things, was a bit unnerved by their presence, but Greg spoke to one of the band Albannach, fresh from Scotland, who was absolutely fascinated with them. "Whit dae ye dae wi' 'em?" he inquired. "C'n ye eat 'em?" Yes, Jamesie, you can, but somebody has to catch 'em first. Not for me!
The week after the Highland Games was a flurry of activity, as we prepared for our annual "My Heart's In The Highlands" concert and the 6th Annual Caloosahatchee Celtic Festival. It was an amazing and eventful few days. We took some time away from our work to watch, along with the rest of the nation, as our first African-American President was sworn into office. The rest of our week was spent answering phone calls, attending meetings, and monitoring Greg's Celtic Heritage Productions website as it began to average more and more "hits" with the festival drawing nearer.
I'll write more about the concert and the festival in a later post. I'm sure you can appreciate the fact that I'm still a little worn out from so much excitement packed into so few days! For now, let me just say that I enjoyed myself tremendously -- and, even better, I enjoyed seeing so many thousands of people enjoying themselves!
February
4, 2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
Brrrrr! What a cold night we have in store for us here! Many of you
would laugh at this, as you sit indoors watching the snow pile up outside,
dreading having to go out tomorrow, but ... it's darn cold here in Port
Charlotte! Why, it's the early evening and the temperature has already
dropped into the 40's! Yes, yes, I know ... I know what you put up with
... right now 40 degrees would feel like a heat wave to friends in Maine or
Minnesota.
Hard to believe that, less than two weeks ago, the weather was picture-perfect for the Caloosahatchee Celtic Festival. But I have photographic evidence:
You're looking at, from left to right: two members of
our feature act Albannach, a panoramic view of the enormous crowd (look three
tents to the left of the main stage -- that'd be our Celtic Heritage tent), some
audience members dancing and living it up.
Everything really came together for this year's festival. Months ago, I wrote of our tremendous luck in being able to book Albannach (see entry from 11/26/08). Their addition really rounded out the entertainment line-up, making it the most international, and with the most variety, that we'd ever offered. A beautifully-produced television ad and the cover of GulfCoasting increased activity on the Celtic Heritage website, to the tune of over 80,000 "hits" for the month of January!
As is typical for the morning of this festival, we arose at about 4am and headed down to Fort Myers before the sun was even up. By noon, the time that I, as "emcee," greeted the crowd, I'd already pretty much put in a whole day's work. And then I looked out at all those people. Their numbers were overwhelming. It wasn't stage fright, but just one of those "WOW!" moments -- I could hardly think of anything thing to say! I did manage a "thanks" and a "welcome" but other words failed me, so I launched right into our set -- a whole ten minutes ahead of schedule. Despite our collective fatigue, from having performed at the Haggis Bash the night before, Don, Frances, Ann, Cal and I agreed that we felt positively energized! I can't really think of another festival when I had any more fun performing than I did that day!
More photos are posted at the official web page of the Caloosahatchee Celtic Festival: http://www.celticheritageproductions.com/caloosahatchee.htm
February
5,
2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
I suppose it was
inevitable. I'd resisted it for years, but in the end ... well ...
resistance was futile. It was predestined: I am Southern and I am Celtic;
I like historical things; I enjoy puzzles. It consumed -- pleasantly, mind
you -- the energies of my aunt, Margaret Haile, and I see how it dominates the
thinking of my cousin, Norma Morgan. It's addictive. It is fun, but
it is frustrating; it raises as many questions as it answers. It is ...
Genealogy. And if you think it's not important, then it's a fairly safe bet that you are not old enough for it to be important -- yet!
When I was very young, I spent a tremendous amount of time with my parents, especially my mother. We lived on a cattle ranch outside of town (Arcadia, Florida), and neither of my parents was much of a socialite anyway. My brother and I had frequent opportunities to visit our paternal grandparents, who lived a few miles away on a cattle ranch on another side of town. We had occasional visits from my father's aunt, Dexter, who lived in North Carolina. We also often saw our maternal grandparents, and had extended stays with them during the summertime. In short, we spent a great deal of time with family; we were very comfortable around adults -- a perfect opportunity to really know them. But we were too young to even realize what we might want to know about them.
Now my parents and grandparents are all gone, and I suppose it's in part because I miss them and want to feel connected with them, but recently I have spent a lot of time trying to uncover my ancestral past. Poring over old census records has revealed a family structure that is quite unlike anything in our modern experience. Looking at immigration records, I wonder what it was that spurred a family into leaving the country that their kin had inhabited for a thousand years, to risk an arduous journey across the Atlantic Ocean. What would it take to make me do such a thing? In the new land: generations of people who were born, lived an entire lifetime, then died, all within the same small community. Others who began their lives in that community, following the same pattern, but then set out by Conestoga wagon for a new frontier -- another dangerous and difficult adventure -- why?
I'm luckier than most amateur genealogists, in that both Margaret and Norma, on my dad's side, have already done a lifetime of work that I can use as reference. In similar fashion, I have the work of Dr. Guy Funderburk, a distant cousin of my mother's, from which to draw. I'm especially blessed to have memoirs written by my maternal grandmother; though she never did complete the work, it is not only a valuable tool, but a poignant glimpse into my near past; in some ways, it helps me to understand of her -- why?
How? How did the Depression affect my parents and grandparents? How did the Civil War affect my great-great grandparents? How did the American Revolution ... the Potato Famine ... the Highland Clearances affect those generations?
And why? and how? have these events shaped me?
If you're a young person reading this, start asking questions now. Make time; believe me, if you wait until you realize it's important to you, you'll have waited too long. If you're a bit older, perhaps already with grandchildren, don't wait for them to ask -- and don't offer, either, because you'll likely get your feelings hurt -- just write it down; gather those old pictures and mementos, because they'll be of incalculable value to your family some day. Believe me, the memories of trips to Disney World and clowns at birthday parties will pale in comparison to the enhanced memory of who you were.
As for my own search, though it's fascinating, I'll try really hard not to let it take me over! It does seem to be something that can't be done well by "dabblers." It requires a tremendous amount of concentration and concentrated effort. It's almost impossible to stop in the midst of researching a particular individual or family or event; the times I've tried to do so, I've lost ground and had to backtrack. So aggravating! Among the more interesting relatives I've discovered: dispossessed German royalty who, after plots and machinations worthy of Shakespeare, escaped across the Atlantic, only to drown off the coast of the Carolina colony. Talk about a tragedy!
Crowns and castles and dreams of lost inheritances notwithstanding, so far, the prize for Most Intriguing Character goes to a Tennessean named Catherine who, at the age of 16, was wooed and won by a beguiling and worldly stranger. Though her family initially disapproved of the match, they, too, were won over by his artful manner. So completely did they fall under his spell that, when he began to speak in glowing terms of the great opportunities to be had in the new state of Texas, they sold their property and accompanied Catherine and her new husband on a trip westward. Sometime after the birth of her first child, however, Catherine discovered that her new husband was also the husband of another woman. Heartbroken and outraged, she had her bigamist husband put in jail and, despite the fact that she was expecting another child, she set out to return to her native Tennessee. She put her most cherished possessions in a cloth bag, dressed in her husband's clothes, strapped his pistol to her waist, saddled his best horse and rode home. Woe be unto anyone who dared cross her during her journey! Her second husband, by whom she bore six more children, was a casualty of the Civil War. She married a third time and had five more children ... one of whom was my great-grandfather.
Catherine, my great-great grandmother; she sounds tough -- I like to think that, somehow, she passed some of that toughness on to me. But at any rate, isn't it a heck of a story!
February
15, 2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
Never a dull moment! Was it really only last weekend that we were in Mount
Dora? So much has happened since then ...
Mount Dora was great, as always! It's a charming town, and one of Florida's leading contenders for the "City of the Arts" epithet. The weather in the days just prior to the festival was unseasonably cold; yet just in time, it broke for a glorious two days of sunshine and temperatures in the mid-70's. Perfect! Hundreds of thousands, all seeking relief from "cabin fever," jammed the streets. Lots of my favorite musician friends were there too: Stephan Mikes, classically trained master of the sitar ... Lisa Lynne and George Tortorelli, who produce ethereal and healing sounds on harp and bamboo flute ... Juniper (Frances Pisacane and Jasmine Hart), my "musical best friends." Juniper unveiled an endearing addition to their act, performing "The Ballad Of Eugene James" with Eugene James, now all of two years old, live and in person, playing air guitar to the delight of the crowd!
My friend Nancy Brace, guitar in hand, joined me on Sunday for hours of singin', playin' and smilin'. At dinner afterwards, I discovered that Nancy, too, is a genealogy buff. In fact, I've heard from a lot of genealogists, operating on levels from amateur to expert, since my February 5 post on the subject. Most exciting of all: I've been in touch with two long-lost second cousins -- it has been an eventful week.
And just when you're thinking, "It doesn't get any better than this," -- it does! On Wednesday evening, we were contacted by a marketing director from the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center, regarding the upcoming Leahy concert on March 14. Hasty phone calls to various members of Marcille Wallis & Friends ... numerous e-mails flying back and forth through cyberspace ... and as of Thursday evening I am able to announce to you that ...
Marcille Wallis & Friends will be opening for Leahy at Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center (TBPAC) on Saturday, March 14. Concert time is 7:30pm. For tickets and information, click here. We're so happy to have this opportunity to perform at TBPAC, and happy to share the evening with this octet of brothers and sisters who play "our" music with such virtuosity and enthusiasm. Yeah, that's right, they're the ones you've seen on PBS ...
Friday
night, we performed the "Sounds Of Scotland" as part of Burnt Store
Presbyterian Church's TGIV (Thank God It's Variety) series, to a lively crowd of
over 500. What fun!
If you think it's all work and no play here (but what thrilling work it often is!), yesterday I took part of the day to go on a photographic adventure with my friend Vicki. We enjoyed being tourists, rather than residents, in a visit to Fishermen's Village, and nurtured our mutual love of "all creatures great and small" at the Peace River Wildlife Center. Although I post lots of pictures on this blog, regular readers know that they're almost always pictures from our travels around the US; occasionally there are pictures from other areas of Florida, but never pictures from home. Let me officially correct that with this post. This captivating photo was shot at Punta Gorda's Ponce de Leon Park, on the small beach overlooking Charlotte Harbor. From this Chamber Of Commerce scene, you can easily see why we love to spend our winters here!
February
18,
2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
When was the last
time you tasted a truly vine-ripe tomato? (Hint: even if you buy the ones
called "vine-ripe" in your local grocery store, you may have forgotten
what they really taste like!)
We've got a little container garden going. A few herbs and a couple of tomato plants in five-gallon buckets. Once upon a time, I'd had a little garden in the yard, growing mostly herbs like basil, rosemary and chives; some seasons, there was even some mint in there (and that's not easy to grow in the hot Florida summers). I'd dine all summer using the "fruits" of my labors. Usually, Thanksgiving was the last hurrah, when my family and I would enjoy a turkey seasoned with the rosemary I'd grown; then frost would kill my little garden back to the ground and I'd just start again the next spring.
But for the past few years we've been on tour during hobby-gardening season. By the time we get home, it's too cold -- yes, even in Florida -- to have a garden. This year, I decided that it would be different. We've planted basil, oregano, dill, parsley, rosemary, and two varieties of tomato, all in pots and buckets. The containers sit on a table on the lanai, nearest an opening where they can get at least some sun every day. Many days, we laboriously haul the tomatoes out into the back yard for maximum sun; occasionally, we have to bring the plants into the house because tomatoes don't like temperatures under 45 degrees (and yes, it's gotten that cold a few times this winter).
We've enjoyed some mighty fine pesto ... salmon with dill ... other culinary delights that have been enhanced by the addition of fresh-cut herbs ... today, we harvested our first tomato. In a ceremony reminiscent of something really grand, perhaps worthy of the opening of a fine vintage wine, we admired the new-picked tomato, we sliced it, each of us (Greg, Jerry, and myself) served ourselves a little portion (with just a hint of salt to draw the flavor out), took one forkful and just let the exquisite flavor fill our senses. We all agreed that we had forgotten what fresh-picked tomatoes taste like!
We have 15 other tomatoes in various stages of readiness, and tiny little blooms promise even more over the next few months. Each one will be appreciated, though perhaps not with today's fanfare. But just that one tomato has made all of the extra effort worthwhile!
February
21, 2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
It was one of those special moments that will stay in my memory a long, long
time ...
Last night we performed at Sun City Center United Methodist Church. None of us knew exactly what to expect, as it was our first time at this venue -- but we were there at the invitation of longtime friend Jeff Jordan, who's a member of the worship team there, so we knew that we could expect big fun. When we arrived to set up, yesterday afternoon, we found a beautiful facility: a gorgeous, spacious (seating about 800) sanctuary, high-tech media set-up, a pipe organ, a Kawai (my favorite brand) acoustic grand piano, plenty of room for Ann & Cal to dance on stage, a large choir room that we would use as our "green room"; in other words, just about everything that we, as performers, could want -- and then some, as I really wanted to try that pipe organ, but it wasn't on our program!
The audience, numbering probably over 500, was most appreciative and game for anything -- they sang, they clapped along on audience participation numbers, they laughed in all the right places, they ooh'ed and aah'ed just when we would've wanted them to -- what a fun and enthusiastic bunch of people!
For me personally, the evening was made even more sweet by the presence of friends I met at the O.D.P.C. FunFest in Evart, Michigan. Though I haven't been to the FunFest in several years, I have made some really good friends there: Steve Eulberg, who ended up performing with our band during last year's St. Paddy's Madness, is one such friend; there's also Chuck Boody, who helped me in preparing "Jesu, Joy Of Man's Desiring" for my last CD. I have some special memories of jamming into the wee hours of the morning with ... ah! Too many people to list, and I don't want to risk leaving anyone out, because every one is special to me.
I knew to expect two of my Evart friends, Sharon and John Skaryd, because I'd received an e-mail from them saying they'd probably be at the performance. When Greg came back stage before the performance, to tell me that Sharon and John were there, and that there were "a few other people from Evart" there as well, I made a quick little change to our program, to include a dulcimer solo, performed shortly before intermission, that I would dedicate to my friends from the FunFest.
What happened at intermission stunned me, though: I was greeted by Martha Kuch, a dear friend and wonderful harper -- another friend made at Evart -- whom not only didn't I expect to see, but she didn't expect to see me either. She and her husband had been brought to the concert by a couple of friends who'd known only that there was going to be a dulcimer player at the performance and, since Martha played the dulcimer, she'd probably enjoy seeing that dulcimer player. What a hoot!
February
21,
2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
We just received
the flyers and posters for our performance at Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center,
opening for Leahy, on March 14!
The full-color poster is really beautiful, but too large for my scanner! So use your imagination -- here's the black-and-white version:
My reproduction is a wee bit small for you to see the details:
Marcille
Wallis & Friends, opening for Leahy
Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center
Saturday, March 14, 7:30pm
March 11, 2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
Lots happening here --
a whirlwind of activity. And it hasn't been all work and no play!
Let's see ... had a visit from my brother and his wife; we looked at old family pictures over Laphroaig ... got a last-minute invitation to a performance of "Face 2 Face," the concert featuring two of my favorite pianists, Elton John and Billy Joel; what some would disdain as "nosebleed" seats turned out to be the best seats in the house, from my point of view, as I was able to look at Elton John's hands while he played ... had a couple of rehearsals with Don Pigeon and Dallas Albritton, in preparation for our St. Paddy's concerts; lots of fun and energy ...
Had a GREAT Peace River Celtic Festival last weekend! The weather was beautiful, and the crowd was probably the largest we've ever had at this event. The day concluded with the best jam we've ever seen. Normally, I don't get to participate in the jam, and I'd tried to arrange things a bit differently this year so that I could participate ... but it wasn't to be. My reward, however, was getting to observe a rare sight: a guitarrón (mariachi bass) in a Celtic session! What a terrific addition he was: perhaps we've started a new trend! Other guests included a wonderful Scottish tenor who sang a heart-rending version of "Wild Mountain Thyme," and a button-box player from Kerry (Ireland) who sat in for three songs.
Now we're full steam ahead pointing toward St. Patrick's Day.
And going to the Beacon Theater in New York every night, to see The Allman Brothers Band in concert. Huh?
Yes, we've subscribed to a service called "Moogis" which, for a nominal amount (that is actually less than a single concert ticket), brings the Allmans and their guests into our home via Internet. We get all 15 concerts live, plus we can see them "on demand" for the next few months. This, my friends, may be the future of music: of course, nothing could replace the palpable energy of being there in person, but imagine the possibilites! La Traviata (an Italian opera) live from La Scala in Milan (arguably, opera's most famous venue) ... The Rolling Stones live from the O2 Arena in London ... Marcille Wallis & Friends live from The Villages on St. Patrick's Day ...
So, we aren't on Moogis yet -- but then, neither are the Stones, nor the opera -- so join us in person at Lake Sumter Landing on March 17 and be part of Florida's largest St. Patrick's Day party! A parade, and the fountains spout green water, and you can sing and dance all evening long.
March
21,
2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
It has been a power-packed week, and I
am just now starting to feel normal again!
The Celtic Heritage version of "March Madness" began on Friday, March 13, at the First Baptist Church of St. Petersburg. It was to be Dallas's first full performance with the band, and one would've thought that any mishaps would've been on his part, due to nerves. But at the end of the evening, Dallas was the only one unscathed; chalk it up to Beginner's Luck if you will, or figure the rest of us to have suffered the curse of Friday The 13th. You're welcome to ask, if you like, the next time I see you, but there's no way in the world I can recount, in print, the hilarious miscues that seemed to plague all (except Dallas) of us that night! You had to be there! Despite the small disasters that began to be reminiscent of an episode of "I Love Lucy," we had a grand time -- we love First Baptist of St. Pete! It was a terrific way to begin our concert series, among such supportive friends.
The next night marked our debut at the Tampa Bay Performing Arts Center (TBPAC), opening for Leahy. We figured to get to TBPAC nice and early -- 3pm for a 7:30pm performance -- but the brothers and sisters of Leahy beat us there by a couple of hours! For all the grief I've gotten over the years from people who couldn't understand why a sound check had to take place at least an hour (if not longer) before the performance ... for the times that I, myself, have secretly resented hustling to arrive early when I knew very well that there would be lots of idle time ... it confirmed the wisdom of the adage that one should treat every gig as if it were the pinnacle of one's career. We got ourselves settled in our dressing room (yes, we had our own dressing room, and our own bathroom complete with shower; we didn't have to change clothes behind the dumpster!), did our 4pm sound check, had plenty of time for relaxation and reflection; consequently, it was one of the most relaxed performances I've ever given -- and certainly, in a venue that size, there was ample reason for a gigantic case of nerves! Everyone in our band seemed completely at ease, and on top of his/her game.
It was a night to remember, though I do hope there'll be more such nights at TBPAC! We received many compliments on our set, and then were treated to an energetic Leahy concert. I watched part of it from the front of the house, and part from backstage. It wasn't my first time backstage in such a large venue, nor even my first time performing on such a stage, but it was my first time as a hammer dulcimer player with her own band. What a thrill!
The next day, we played at the charming and beautiful Siesta Key Chapel. I've visited some mighty impressive houses of worship -- St. Paul's Cathedral and Cathédrale Notre Dame de Paris among them -- but despite their massive stained glass windows, centuries-old histories, and illustrious lists of royal patrons, there's a lot to be said for a place that strongly encourages worshippers to celebrate the beauty of God's creation. They affectionately refer to the sanctuary as "God's Tree House," and their website describes the construction as being "built of pine and rough-sawn cedar: plain, natural and strong. Windows of clear glass overlook palms, oaks, cedars, and towering pines." I do believe I smiled every time I looked out from the stage.
One of Siesta Key's best moments, for me, came in an intermission-time conversation: a young woman revealed to me that she had been brought to tears by one of Don's songs; she had long ago forgotten about the little ditty that her grandmother used to sing, and hearing it again brought a flood of sweet memories.
On the night before St. Patrick's Day, we gave our annual "St. Patrick's Eve" concert at Fishermen's Village. It's nice to be close to home, and nice to see what a loyal following Don and Ann & Cal have merited over the years. I may be the "home-town gal," but my band-mates have been warmly adopted here. Dallas, in his first appearance in Punta Gorda, earned his share of admirers, too, as much for his outstanding playing as for his refusal to let some first-set equipment issues hamper his determination to put on a first-class show.
Five concerts in five consecutive days. Who (except, maybe, for B.B. King) keeps such a punishing schedule? Our final night was in The Villages, which has come to be Florida's top venue for live entertainment -- and I'd venture that it's by far Florida's largest St. Patrick's Day party, with its two squares each jammed with thousands upon thousands of revelers. Our staging area was the "cozy" (30' X 90') confines of the Lake Shore Stage tent in Lake Sumter Landing; Greg and I arrived at 1pm to find that every available seat inside the tent had been claimed in advance of our 5pm start time -- and hundreds more lawn chairs, in rows six or seven or eight deep, encircled the tent! That size audience can be intimidating, but we were all brimming with confidence after four good shows, and determined to finish our run in style.
That
was one terrific audience! There was one lady who seemed to know every
word to every song Don sang ... several couples from the province of Nova Scotia
who danced to our jigs and reels ... the enthusiasm for Ann & Cal's dancing
was almost palpable, and more than once I heard them described as
"inspiring." Don never stopped smiling the whole time. And
Dallas, the rookie? Oh, he was absolutely brilliant on this evening: over
the five days' performances he'd made the transformation from serious student of
the violin to top-notch showman. He really challenged Don and me, and took
command of the crowd. It was a sight to behold!
We closed with all of our band playing/dancing to the "Irish Washerwoman" and then inviting the audience to join us in singing the "Irish Lullaby." Afterward, when all of the instruments were cased and all of the equipment secured and we'd all said our goodbyes, I felt as if I'd been through an old-fashioned wringer-washer! But it was a tremendous amount of good, old-fashioned fun.
Now our household is embroiled in NCAA March Madness, and the (mostly) good-natured banter surrounding bracket selections, of which I spoke in my December 11, 2008 post, has begun. I'm only one off the lead, as of this post. Wish me luck!
March 31, 2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
Unbelievable!
The NCAA Men's Basketball champion will not be crowned until Monday night, but I
have already won our family "March Madness" pool!
April
17,
2009 (Swannanoa, NC)
On the road agin' ...
We're back in our favorite
"home away from home," Swannanoa, North Carolina. Our
summer/fall tour schedule is a little different this year, and did not bring us
to this part of North Carolina for work, so we decided to start the tour a bit
early and come here for play! So far we've done the all-you-can-eat wing
buffet at the Wild Wing Cafe; I got sick (no reflection on the Wild Wing; I have
an extreme sensitivity to MSG) but rallied just in time to see one of my
favorites, Susan
Tedeschi, in concert at The Orange Peel. And I have a new favorite: Nikki
Talley, who opened for Susan. For a one-woman show, Nikki and her
guitar sure produce a lot of sound: all bluesy and folksy and real.
Despite the fact that my stomach was still fluttering and I had to keep drinking
ginger ale most of the evening, I had a great time!
Today has been a day of relaxation at our campsite. Maggie Muggins has petitioned for many walkies, and we've enjoyed getting reacquainted with this spot. Upon our arrival here on Tuesday afternoon, Greg and I thought that they'd made an awful lot of changes to the campground -- then we realized that we'd never been here in the winter, nor so early in spring, and we were merely seeing things that are usually hidden by trees in full leaf! The last time we were in this spot, it was fall, and the leaves were in their glorious fall covers. Now they're mostly bare, but I expect to have a lot of fun watching spring unfold.
We're listening to my all-time-favorite radio station, WNCW. Just beyond our campsite, though, I hear a good many birds: scolding blue jays and honking Canada geese and the busy rat-a-tat of a woodpecker, plus other beautiful bird song that I can't really identify. A very hungry duck has boldly come begging for food a couple of times; first with her wary mate, and then alone. Guess her hunger made her throw caution to the wind. I think maybe she's trying to fatten up before producing offspring; soon she'll probably have a bunch of baby ducks swimming along behind her, and she'll no longer come to our campsite for visits. Maggie, of course, does not care for this at all, but she does sit quietly and watch the duck -- always safely out of reach -- probably all the while wondering, "What in the heck is my mom doing? Feeding a stranger! Woof!"
April
20, 2009 (Swannanoa,
NC)
I've been trying to
figure out this whole "social networking" thing. Last week's
race between Ashton Kutcher and CNN was mildly interesting, as they vied to see
who could be the first to amass one million followers on Twitter. Dave
Matthews and a handful of other celebrities, I understand, also use Twitter;
heck, Oprah Winfrey's now into it, racking up some 130,000 followers her very
first day. Along about
the same time, a friend and fellow indie music pro told me that she --
reluctantly, but out of perceived necessity -- was creating a Facebook page.
Is it necessary?
For almost two years now, I've been a member of the MySpace community. MySpace has been a great networking tool and it's actually landed me a few gigs. Aside from that, it's great fun, and I've met a lot of new friends from all over the world through it; it's also helped me to reconnect with a few people that might otherwise have been lost to me forever. But with the addition of each new Friend comes a slight sadness, as I realize that there's a danger of these friends becoming a collection, rather than a real connection. Now they tell me that MySpace is really passé, that Facebook is the preferred online community. When I ask why, all I get is a vague, "Oh, well, it's easier to use." When pressed, though, no one seems to be able to tell me in what way it's easier to use. I can't take a look around Facebook unless I join up, and I'm hesitant to get myself committed to Just One More Thing. So for now at least, I'm still exclusively dedicated to MySpace and my really cool network of friends.
MySpace divides its members into People, Musicians, Comedians and Filmmakers. Facebook has its People, Celebrities, Bands and Businesses. Twitter, on the other hand, according to Ashton Kutcher and its other devotees, is the only networking tool that is completely democratic: there are no arbitrary divisions among its users, and you can stay connected to all of your followers in real-time. On the surface, those are attractive notions. I'm not so sure, however, that I want to know Oprah Winfrey's every move in real-time. She may find Twitter useful to immediately squelch the latest gossip on her that appears in the National Enquirer; I'm not so sure I give a lot of credence to that gossip anyway, so she needn't trouble herself for my sake. As to the "democratic" nature of Twitter, let's face facts: Oprah, or any other celebrity, amongst one's followers is going to garner a larger share of attention. It's only natural, and very understandable. And for a really harsh dose of reality: you may be waiting for Oprah's next "tweet" -- but she's not waiting for yours. She's got hundreds of thousands of followers, and she's a very, very busy woman. Even if she spent only 10 seconds per "tweet," there simply aren't enough hours in the day for her to read every one, over and above accomplishing all of the things that make her Oprah.
Which leads me to one of my biggest concerns. If you try to stay connected, in real-time, to a vast network of Friends/Followers/What-Have-You, are you able to live "in the moment?" If you're hiking the Appalachian Trail, can you receive the full benefit of the experience if you take time away from it to Twitter about it? I already shy away from movie theaters because I want to watch the movie, not listen to the person in the row behind me telling someone about the movie via cell phone. It saddens me to see a person walking through an attraction with his/her head down, their attention being completely absorbed by whatever's coming across on the Blackberry.
Old-fashioned I may be, but I'm sure I'm not alone. Heck, just today I spoke with an 18-year-old who's proud of the fact that he's never sent nor received a text message. How old-school is that? But, as he's a tremendously accomplished individual, there's strong evidence that he's spent his time DOING rather than TALKING about doing. (Just like Oprah.)
I'd really like to hear others' thoughts on this. If you have any opinions on the matter -- especially if you disagree with me -- I'd appreciate your insight.
April
22 -- Earth Day,
2009 (Swannanoa, NC)
My cousin Norma has lived in Western
Carolina all her life. She says this is one of the prettiest springs she
can remember.
The south bank of the Swannanoa
River,
as it runs through the KOA Campground.
April
25, 2009 (Swannanoa,
NC)
Today is considerably
warmer than it's been here recently. It's a near-picture-perfect spring
day, and the warmth makes it a lazy one, ideal for just sitting and watching the
white puffy clouds roll by in the Carolina-blue sky.
Everywhere I see new growth, and the colorful azaleas and dogwood dress up even the most ordinary scenes. Birds are singing; dogs are barking off in the distance; every once in a while, I hear the "lonesome whistle" of the freight trains as they roll between Asheville and points east.
April
29,
2009 (Swannanoa, NC)
Today's the birthday of Duke
Ellington. If you're from my parents' generation, you know of him because
of his immense popularity before and after World War II; if you're from my
generation, you know him because your parents listened to the music; if you're
from the generations immediately after me, you know of him through Stevie
Wonder's tribute, "Sir Duke."
If you're from a very recent generation, I'm not sure how you may know of Duke Ellington. But I'm sure that you should spend some time finding out, because he had a tremendous impact on American music. Here's a head start: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duke_Ellington
My thoughts today were inspired by a comment I heard from a radio announcer: basically, that if you're a kid whose parents force you to take piano lessons, don't resent it, because you never know, you could end up like Duke Ellington. Not a bad way to end up! I won't be the Duke Ellington of my generation, but I am very thankful for the piano lessons I was "forced" to take.
I started piano lessons at age six, about the same time that I began attending school. I took formal lessons for ten years, before making the conscious decision that I did not want to pursue a career in music. (You can laugh here, if you wish; the irony doesn't escape me either.) During those ten years, there were moments of great frustration in which I would scream at my mother, "I'm quitting!" She always very calmly responded that, if I wanted to quit, I certainly was free to do so. Once I had time to get over myself and my teen-age tantrum, I must've realized that I'd be missing out on something really valuable, because I never carried out my impulsive threats.
What frustrated me? All sorts of things. My teacher, Rose Hahn Dirr, lived only two blocks up the street, so most of the time I walked to lessons. Along the way, I'd come into earshot of another piano teacher's house (her rambling, wood-frame home had no air conditioning, so the windows were almost always open) and her students were playing "popular" pieces like Moon River. Meanwhile, I'd been practicing Bach's Minuet in G or Beethoven's Fur Elise. "How boring!" I thought. "No one wants to listen to that old stuff any more!"
Or those times that I'd come to my lesson and Mrs. Dirr would set an unfamiliar piece of music in front of me. I'd struggle to play those pieces to the best of my ability, but rarely were they subsequently presented as my next piece to learn. I assumed that it was because I didn't play them well enough, so I would strive harder and harder to play them better and better, in hopes that I could prove that I had the aptitude to play those pieces.
Mrs. Dirr was an exacting task-master. She always insisted that I play my scales and my Hanon exercises; she demanded that I use correct fingering; she'd make me break the music down into short passages that I had to perfect before going on to the next passage. "How chopped-up is this piece going to be, if I'm constantly focusing on little parts, rather than the whole?" I'd think. And Mrs. Dirr could always, always tell when I hadn't practiced enough!
Perhaps you've seen the method in what I used to consider Mrs. Dirr's madness, but if you haven't, let me explain. The precision that I learned through the study of piano's great masters enables me to play, not only their works, but Moon River, and practically anything else, as well. The kids who'd studied Moon River? For the most part, they can still play that piece and the other specific pieces that they'd learned, but they struggle through anything new -- if they're still playing the piano at all -- because they didn't develop an essential body of skills. I learned how to "sight-read," a critical and highly prized ability, through all of those musical "pop-quizzes" administered through the pieces that I saw only once and (mostly) never again. In short, I suppose one could say that I "learned how to learn" music, which over the years has helped me with not only the piano but the organ, the guitar, other musical instruments -- and of course the dulcimer.
Mrs. Dirr taught me so much, not only about music and the piano, but about teaching. I now realize that it's not always necessary, nor even possible, for students to comprehend "why" they must perform certain tasks in certain ways, but it's very important that their teacher understand "why" and really stick to tried-and-true methods, knowing all the while that kids complain because it's their nature to do so, and hoping all the while that they'll be thankful for it later. Music ... mathematics ... reading ... the same general approach applies.
Every discipline has its Duke Ellington, though few of these "Dukes" will attain the status of legend among the general populace. And behind every one of those "Dukes" is one or more "Mrs. Dirrs."
Happy Birthday, Duke Ellington! ... And here's to you, Mrs. Dirr!