On the Eve of a Starship and a dark Moon, it's no Little Feat

Tomorrow will be the 4^th summer concert of my favorite job EVER. Each year Dakotah Blue Music handles the entertainment for a private beach party that takes place rain or shine. Hosted by the nicest couple in their magnificent waterfront back yard, it’s all BBQ and beach fun for a hundred of their closest friends. In the past the guests have been surprised with Southside Johnny, Felix Cavaliere’s Rascals, America, Don Felder of the Eagles, Mark Farner of Grand Funk Railroad and Dave Mason. Sometimes the road cases are borrowed from other bands and that leads to speculation however it’s a closely guarded secret until the band takes the stage.

Tonight I’m recuperating from an asthma episode so with inhaler in hand I will be leaving tomorrow at 9 to idle in Parkway traffic. I’ve washed stage towels, packed up my bag of tricks and picked out something to wear, kind of. That said something came to light this afternoon about one of the bands having a guest and I can’t help but believe life is just a serendipitous karmic spiral. Once upon a time when I was 16, I started working at a hotel in a nearby town. I worked 4 nights a week first as a hostess then graduating as soon as I was legal at 18 to a cocktail waitress. I meet many musicians throughout the 70’s because it was the closest hotel to the The Capital Theatre in Passaic. I served dinner to Van Morrison, meet Dickie Bettes who sat in with the house band one night, The Dead arrived and took over a floor in the hotel for several days, and yes I was the only one who worked at the hotel to be invited up by BOBBY. That’s another story. Poco was the band I loved and attended every show but never saw them though they stayed as well. I did become friendly with one of the Roadies, Paul Schoenburg. We shared the same birthday and went to the city to celebrate one winter afternoon by bus. By the time we got back the band had left and the crew was frantic waiting for him so they could leave. Life before cell phones allowed for that type of spaciousness that allowed you to have an experience and friends, not knowing your whereabouts, actually waited for you while you had dinner and polished off some fine French wine. I digress.

Last year I met a guest at the party and as we spoke he mentioned a Clifton connection. After the event and pictures were posted on facebook I noted the hostess Maiden name was the same as the family who owned the hotel chain I worked for.

This afternoon my partner texted me that one of the bands wanted to bring their manager as their guest. Way back in the 70’s he had been a promoter and his business had a direct effect on shaping my early years and on my best experiences at the hotel. I believe even today in the work that I do, my background in hospitality has made this a natural fit for me as did the frequent exposure to talent.

In this twisted turn of events where as luck would have it, I have walked a tiny bit along a path he blazed, I am thrilled now at the chance to meet the man, though he’ll be walking the backyard with little feat. Tomorrow I’ll be looking for the starship to rise towards the dark moon in Leo, a sign of creative self expression and entertainment. For me it’s been a long walk from Passaic and the all too small lobby painted black at The Capital Theatre but as above, so below. You can find me in Monmouth Beach, wrapped in a dark moon blanket of expansive serendipitous starlight.

Can you hear my smile?

a gypsy in the shadow of THE HOUSE OF SEVEN GABLES

Last Friday, on my way to work a Fab Faux show, I stopped in Salem, Massachusetts. I was in one of the Wiccan Shops when I noticed on the counter a pack of 'Gypsy Witch Fortune Telling' cards. They are the exact same pack that my Mom had bought me. Actually the difference is this pack has a bar code however the rest is identical. It was so long since I had thought of them but they came up in my blog last week and a couple days later they materialized. I was totally surprised and after purchasing the cards I had to sit on a bench outside that was flagged with a witch saying 'sit for a spell', open the pack and check them out. Across the street was a local bar called In A Pig's Eye. There was some great acoustic music spilling out onto the street so the place called to me and I stepped in for a recovery Guinness. As you may know, Guinness is a medicinal and highly recommended brew from the remnants of my Celtic childhood. Soon as I take a sip the lead guitarist begins to play the melody of Gasoline Alley, one of my favorite Rod Stewart songs from an album released the same year I got the cards, 1970. It’s one of my favorite songs about going home and quickly turned into a powerhouse rendition taken by not one but THREE guitarists. It was like being haunted by Crazymaker, Sweet Thing and Keeper of my Heart. It was too much synchronicity, happiness and good medicine. Started to cry in The Pig's Eye.....

THREE O'CLOCK SON

Crazymaker, Sweet Thing and Keeper of My Heart sat at my country French kitchen table in the late afternoon. The three o’clock sun streamed through the lace curtains and spilled onto the black and white tiled floor where the dog lay sleeping. Crazymaker, who recently learned that his Mother occasionally read tarot cards, dominated a conversation that was speckled with laughter regarding the cards. It had been her deep secret. Long ago as a child her own Mother, Crazymakers Grandmother, had surprised her with ‘Gypsy Witch Fortune Telling Cards’, much to Mothers happiness. She would read them but as she became more adept, Crazymakers Grandmother began to warn her of becoming too attached to the clues and direction given in the cards. Grandmother, rooted in her Pisces habit of giving mixed messages, next gifted her eleven-year-old daughter with a ouija board. Right from the beginning it seemed more of a novelty, something that incited skepticism. The child worried that cousins and friends who may have wanted a certain response were directing the spelling of the answer. More than that, she was superstitious and secretly concerned that something unseen in the room would assert itself, so she was a bit afraid and did not trust the board. The cards were different. The pictures intrigued her and sparked her imagination. An inner admiration of readers who could provide insight and comfort began to form in the child. The cards invited inner dialogue between the seeker and the reader on a level that Mother, even as a child would normally be unable to access. Trust could be found in a candlelight room, in the symbols from esoteric astrology books or the revelations of the cards. Trust was in the element of Air, perfumed with the smoke of incense, in which thought itself lives and creates magic when it shape shifts into form.

The world of Crazymaker was rocked by the knowledge that Mother read cards. It was evident with his loud voice comically mimicking his vision of Mother on a moonlit night reading. He had his audience in Sweet Thing and Keeper of My Heart and he was not taking any prisoners. No one really knew what Crazymaker believed in or trusted but it was not his Mothers’ world. He alone gave Mother reason to reach for the cards or as it happened for the cards to reach for Mother.

Over 40 years had blown by and the fortune telling cards kept in a corner desk by Mother as a child were long forgotten. On a winter’s day near her birthday, hearing Mother was ill, a friend stopped by with a small paisley bag, a thoughtful gift from a beloved friend. Mother opened the bag to find a new pack of tarot and the ghost of an old memory, the warning to be careful with the cards. She was delighted but the memory created a bit of reluctance to handle them. She did welcome the cards in her heart yet kept them in the beautiful bag in her closet. Everyday she saw them but at first was too sick and then too busy. One day she was healed enough to be in the kitchen to cook and while reaching for a pot, the cards called to her. She had been thinking of the dinner she was preparing when she became aware that she needed to get the cards and ask a question. It was such a strong feeling that she left her stew simmering on the stove and walked directly into her own heart. That is the creative genius of the cards, to allow one to use intuition and think with the heart. Since that moment the cards have again called to Mother. The third reading enabled her to use the Celtic cross pattern during the reading and through that pattern weave a story of present and future.

Crazymaker, Sweet Thing and Keeper of My Heart mirror each other and reflect a world different from the world Mother experiences. It is not necessary to be of the same world only to appreciate and provide illumination, just as the three o’clock sun illuminates the room with the conversation of the three sons, silhouetted in soft light, shape shifting the present conversation and future thoughts where nothing is really black and white, not in my kitchen anyway.