Enough Said

It was the Mama’s and Papa’s song ‘I Saw Here Again’ that I turned my partner onto because I love it so. It’s their harmony, the momentum built in by the strings and the sheer power of the vocal line reminiscent of a Bach chorale that I love. It flows with so much energy that there is no way not to be affected by it. Enough said. There is a space in the timing toward the end where there is a hesitation, the vocals start, stop, the strings play and then the vocals resume. To me it was as planned as when Bach leaves out a voice in a chorale giving another a chance to shine. That was my reality. My partner differed and said simply, ‘It’s a mistake and they left it so.” It was ridiculous to me and during dinner at The Fab Faux show last week at the State Theatre in New Brunswick, I stated my case and started the conversation with Rennie, Joe, Carl, Bob and whoever else was crammed in the small production office waiting for a chance to grab dinner from the buffet table. Everybody listened again to the song and then friendly fire began about mistake or miss take. Jimmy V wandered by and when I mentioned it’s like a Bach fugue, he commented “I don’t know about fugue but they certainly did feud”. There was a momentary smile and then someone mentioned ask Frank. Frank Agnello is a compendium of knowledge and he can instantly draw upon it, not only regarding music but culture and art. I went off to find him having dinner with Will Lee and interrupted their conversation like a kid at the grown ups table. Frank immediately said it was a mistake and Will asked for clarification having not heard my question. I mentioned the line and he simply said, “It was a mistake, that’s what John Phillips told me.” Enough said. My reality came crashing down in a huge smile. It hadn’t occurred to me that this amazing guy actually worked with John and can clarify in a split second ending any speculation or my rhetoric of nonsense. It was an awesome moment for me to remember there is no mistake in how I feel about the opportunity to work with these guys. It’s Fab. And that’s reality.

Tie-Dyed Yarn

Speaking of yarns, so many stories abound about Jerry Garcia that my friend Tony, who is born under the sign of Gemini, the master communicator, once told me when meeting high profile musicians as an ice breaker he often asks, “So what’s your Jerry story?” And inevitably he gets one! So here is a yarn, tie-dyed to Jerry in reflection but meaningful and serendipitous to me nonetheless. It’s about noticing how the universe aligns and if you pay attention the awareness is awesome.

The first evening of fall in Portland Maine settled in slowly with twilight barely fringing the unseasonably warm grey day. Most of the Fab Faux and crew were on the way but a few of us arrived early and just by chance I had learned about a retreat on the ocean I wanted to visit. Earlier in the week, on my facebook home page, a friend of one of the Faux’s had recommended the Inn by the Sea in nearby Cape Elizabeth. Suffering with the spirit of adventure and a strong desire to see the Maine coast, two friends and I shared the cab ride to the Inn to have dinner and hopefully explore the beach a bit. We arrived a little early for our reservation and as the Dinning Room began to glow with candlelight, outside was beginning to darken. We were greeted by the hostess and on her advice walked out the back porch onto a stone patio, past an indigenous wild flower garden and onto a boardwalk that led to the water. It was amid a natural beach setting with sea grass, flowers and trees that closely edged the wooden planks. It looked cozy in the dimming light and the ocean could be heard calling us ahead to hurry. Walking single file, Bob stopped to take a picture and discovered through the lens pure magic, tiny orbs floating everywhere however invisible to the naked eye surrounded us. Happily I had my camera and now have a snapshot of the memory.

The beach was calm and dreamy, an impressionist moment of sand, water, seaweed and foam. Unable to find a shell I reluctantly settled for a white stone. Later that night in the light of my room, I discovered the stone was flecked with mica and sparkled randomly in the light as beautiful as any seashell in sunlight and waters reach. It sparkled as if it understood how special it was, and is.

The next day as I spoke with one of the crew from the State Theatre and mentioned where I’d been. He told me that the Grateful Dead always stayed at the Inn by the Sea when they were in town. Later in the afternoon I searched the internet for more about the Dead and the Inn, finding a recording of ‘Believe it or Not’. The story is that this tape was found in Jerry’s room after he had checked out. I had never heard it before. I’m so glad it found it’s way to youtube. I think Jerry would have loved youtube and how his music is shared through it while he is far away but close in spirit in ¾ time with a beautiful love song.

Sacred earth emanates energy that draws one in and to appreciate the Serendipity here is to understand how I knew nothing of this place 5 days before and now I hear more clearly how the universe sings. Uni Verse. One verse that holds meaning for me in the connection and song.

Jerry still has a part in creating stories, simple but lovely as it may be and for me that’s what a long strange trip it’s been.

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.....

Bertha, Eddie and My Brother

Today my iPod was cued to ‘random’ when Los Lobos’ version of Bertha caught my ears by surprise. It was from that moment and song that this recollection showed up.

My brother and his friend Eddie loved the Grateful Dead and in the early 80’s when the Dead where playing a run of shows at Brenden Byrne Arena in the Meadowlands they had tickets. Each night the preshow parking lot was filled with Dead Heads, gypsies, fans and over night entrepreneurs from East Rutherford cashing in on the influx of The Following, making grill cheese and flipping veggie burgers. Both Eddie and my brother had been celebrating for hours, not that these two needed a parking lot full of helium balloons, pot brownies, grill cheese makers or the make shift vendor village to celebrate. They grew up in the suburbs at a time when kids roamed after and created fun. It was real life social networking and they never lacked in finding or providing it themselves. It flowed naturally within the geography of the Meadowlands infiltrating the surrounding towns and had far reaching effects on character building. And these two were characters. On a recent camping trip, they had spent all day canoeing and exploring the Delaware and all night with another famous and historic liquid, beer, which they consumed until they were toasted by the campfire. My brother was the only camper who did not sleep in a tent preferring a hammock under the stars. Around 3 am when the sky opened up and the monsoon arrived, he twisted out of the hammock, stumbled to the canoe, found his life jacket, put it on and went back to sleep in the hammock. Eddie had watched this peering out from his tent and would explain to Michael the next morning when he wondered aloud why he woke with his life jacket on. On the night of the Dead show however, once inside the arena, Eddie and my brother found their seats, way up in the balcony. So now these two, who were quite high are way up in the balcony. I felt the need to point out the obvious there. At some point after the music started they separated and soon after the Dead began to jam on Bertha. It was during the jam that Eddie heard his name being called over the microphone. Alone and believing he was being paged; he began a long spiral descent through dancing and twirling dead head women, concert folk and security from the balcony toward the lower levels of the arena. He was stopped by security but managed to keep going toward the stage insisting that his name was being called and his friend was missing.

He reached the seats on the floor of the arena just when the song was ending. It was at that moment he stopped hearing his name being called and he found my brother who had earlier meandered down into the crowd. He also found out that the lyric Jerry was singing was actually, “Bertha don’t you come around here, any more”. My brother had to explain to Eddie Moore that he wasn’t being paged he was just hearing the song as…...Bertha don’t you come around here, Eddie Moore…….

I’m sure those two shared more stories that I’ll never know. They shared friendship, the love of camping and canoeing; countless beers and ultimately they shared pancreatic cancer. When my brother was too sick to be left alone, his wife had to work and my Dad on occasion couldn’t come by, Eddie would keep him company not knowing that he too had the same disease that would be diagnosed three months after my brothers death. That’s a long sentence but it’s not my fault. The universe made it that way, not me. Within four months of each other they each left beautiful daughters who were just shy of their teenage years in this parallel universe filed with stories, forget-me–nots, Love and tears. Happy Birthday Michael. This picture is from the first time I ever saw you, when Mommy brought you home.

I’m sending Love and Light to you and Eddie and I’m going to play the Dead’s version of Bertha and dance like angels are with me ;) and all that because I may very well be a character too………

POWDER & PAINT

She was a delicate woman with a powerful voice.

On a sunny afternoon in San Francisco, her performance at Hardly Strictly Bluegrass attracted the other musicians who I watched leave the green room or walk from other parts of the park to hear Hazel sing. I met Jorma and Jack walking on their way from their tour bus to hear Hazel. I watched Steve Earle, Emmy Lou Harris and Alison Brown sit stage right as she performed. All were in awe of Hazel and it was my friend Assunta who knew her and cued me into what all the musicians knew. Hazel was the Real Deal. Assunta began to cry as Hazel sang Black Lung, a song written for her brother. The crowd was hushed as she performed, held captive by her songs and in respect of this woman who was a national treasure.

The evening after she performed, many of the musicians were meeting at one of the hotels for drinks. I was standing on the sidewalk with Assunta and Molly O’Brien when a cab pulled up and the petite Hazel Dickens stepped out. I was introduced to her and during the course of ‘small talk’ one of the women commented on how pretty she looked. Hazel quipped, “Powder and paint, makes you look like what you ain’t”. It was so illuminating for me, the juxtaposition of this prolific woman who paved the way for the likes of Alison Krause and Emmy Lou Harris sharing her bit of women’s wisdom with a smile that was part inside joke yet something we all knew to be true. It was a moment in time I will always smile about.

I am sorry to write that she lost her battle with pneumonia and died last week. Thank you Hazel for crossing my path and bless you wherever you are among the stars.

Walking Girl

This morning I went for a walk with a couple of the Taylor siblings, kind of. A bracelet Sister Kate made for me was on my wrist, James was on my iPOD and I was present in the moment. Something in the way he sings is entirely comforting to me as is the rhythm of walking. My neighborhood is laced with an occasional sidewalk but primarily I am in the street or on the dirt. There is a great benefit to walking and being aware of your local geography. It opens up your perspective when walking, a different understanding of the landscape rather than to zip by in a car at 40 miles per hour and believe you know your way home.

So many ancient and indigenous cultures recognize sacred geography and in their alignment with spirit lived, prayed and communed in sacred earth. The land where I live belonged to the Ramapough and I have been told is charged by a vortex that emanates from the Ramapo Mountains. That’s the little I know about the background of these meandering roads however I know a bit more of sacred geometry, which I learned from my seashell collection. I’ve always had a love for the sparkle of a seashell tossed within my reach on the shoreline. My affinity with American Indian art translated early on to seashells and jewelry. I have two beautiful bracelets of wampum. Friends gave me one and it is an intricate silver cuff with a deep purple shell made by a traditional artist. The other bracelet is made of sea glass and beads by Kate Taylor. I had seen her work in a magazine article about artists on Martha’s Vineyard following an award she had won. I instantly loved her way of combining the shells with resin and sea glass, in contemporary design, creating necklaces, bracelets, belts and unique pieces.

I kept the article for years and then one night, at a ‘meet and greet’ following a Fab Faux show at Radio City Music Hall, I walked into the room filled with 300 people and noticed a woman in velvet, lace and wampum, the very enchanting Kate Taylor. We met and it was easy to reference what I knew of her art since she was wearing several exquisite pieces. She was lovely and it was a conversation that STILL MAKES ME SMILE. Her warmth and beauty clearly evident in her art and it was at that time that we exchanged email and I was able to commission a bracelet. Two months later she was touring in NJ opening for the band America when much to my happiness I met with her again to pick it up.

Originally, it was as Sister Kate that I remembered her opening for America in the 70’s. My Rolling Stone collection from back in the day verifies it as well. Since then I’ve heard her perform in the city and I remain in amazement at what the Universe has brought to my own landscape. To have read of her and kept the Rolling Stone , to find out of her talent with wampum jewelry keeping the article out of admiration and then to meet her by chance while at work, I just can’t help believe it’s not serendipitous or part of the sacred geography of the path I walk. Hopefully it will continue to take me hOMe.

Ramble On

A couple of hours ago I was making two pies, a zucchini and lemon meringue. Right from the beginning the lemon meringue was instilling fear in me. At times the meringue turns out ‘Greek Diner Happy’, an impressive and beautiful thing as only witnessed in a diner showcase but other times it is temperamental and can lose it’s height quicker than Jersey girl hair without hairspray. The zucchini is always reliable and really good. It’s considered a mob hit in my family, especially when it includes thin slices of pepperoni, which it does today. So now these two distinctly different pies, one a side dish and one a dessert, are on my counter being evaluated to see if I should bring them both to Levon’s Ramble tonight. I’m worried about the lemon meringue making the trip to Woodstock and arriving with the integrity of the meringue intact especially since it’s raining out. It’s intimidating to cook for a group that probably has its share of excellent vegetarian potluck food cooked and given with love in honor of The Ramble. Mine are made from scratch however outside of cooking for my own family I don’t have any real cooking expertise so the idea of placing my pies on Levon’s table heightens my sense of insecurity. Or at least it was, until I was informed this afternoon that I’d be stopping by John Sebastian’s house first. ……. There’s been a seismic twist in my perspective and I now have a sheer and luminous sense of just plain old inner happy. I’m smiling randomly around my kitchen and thinking the pies will probably be all right and that maybe I really can share every homemade Lovin’ Spoonful.

Capricorn Moon

The first New Moon of 2011 will be tomorrow, January 4. At 4:03 am a solar eclipse will occur in 14 degrees Capricorn. Wherever Capricorn is in ones chart the eclipse will deliver you there. For me it’s in my first house, so issues of personal growth, independence and self will be in the forefront along with a new way of bringing myself to the world, forging a stronger identity. Sounds like emotional bootcamp especially since I have Venus sharing the first house, a regular people pleaser who asserts indirectly. I'm not sure if I like this roller coaster but I'm on it. Anyway, it is a hardcore indicator of new beginnings for all as each of us have Capricorn placed somewhere in our soul contract called a natal chart. There is an excellent free site at www.astro.com where you can have your chart drawn if you’re inclined and brave enough to look into Saturns hold on you. Meanwhile all this New Year New Moon inspiration re minds me of a beautiful song Susan Werner wrote which I was lucky to hear live at last years APAP Conference as she shared a Showcase with Vance Gilbert. She’s alone here but with it I wish you all Happy New Year with a song that has a timeless echo in each of our hearts…….Go ahead and hit play, it may have been written with Venus in Susan's heart...... but it's for you.

DRIVE MY CAR

The moment I became aware that Los Lobos would be ringing in the New Year at City Winery I wanted to go. It’s been almost three years since Dakotah Blue presented the band at WPU and I had a craving to hear one of my most favorite bands live. Traditionally I spend New Years Eve with friends and when I mentioned going to the city to see the show no one was able to commit. In early December the Fab Faux decided to play 4 dates in the week between Christmas and New Years. Tickets went on sale December 12^th and the sold out shows in City Winery’s intimate setting were amazing. It was a bit of a shuffle for Jack who was also playing at the Bowery Ballroom, in Patti Smith’s band. The close proximity of the venues and the earlier timing of the Faux gigs made it possible for me to pick him up after sound check at the Ballroom getting him to the Faux gig in time despite the mountains of snow throughout SOHO (or should I say SnowHo?) After the Faux encore, car service was running him back to the Ballroom. I was the back up plan in case the car service didn’t show up so by 8:40 we were checking out side for the car. The service did arrive and the first night after speaking to the driver, Rennie went inside as they were finishing the encore to be there to escort Jack out to the car. I remained outside by myself thinking how beautiful the night was. I was alone on the street just outside City Winery’s huge oak doors listening to the music spill onto the street. I noticed someone negotiating the snow bank and the melted snow pond forming on the corner and I looked over to see David Hidalgo of Los Lobos walking right toward me. Two women were accompanying him. I quickly said hello and re introduced myself letting him know that I work with the Fab Faux now. It turns out David, his wife and their friend were coming to hear the Faux so I brought them in. The show had just ended but they joined everyone in the dressing room. I was elated to have met up with them and I overheard Jimmy asking if they’d be able to come back the next night. It was all left up in the air when they left however the air in Manhattan is apparently filled with magic. The next night just before the show started, with the room filling with people, I saw them back, this time with Conrad and his wife and grandchild. We got them seats and I took off to look for Denny Laine who was arriving late after his own car issues. Needless to say David played during the encore, along with Denny who was a scheduled guest. My very first story here, written last December was of the surprise chance to work with Los Lobos and now I close out the year with another tale of wonder, or is it all just Serendipity? Either way it’s brought me so much happiness.

The Scripture According to Patti Smith

For a couple of days after the Lennon Tribute, I tried to write something that would convey how Patti Smith’s performance blew me away. I was boring myself to tears and frequently using the delete key, with one syrupy recollection and rendition of the rehearsal and show after another. The show had awesome musical highlights that can be read about in various reviews however it wasn’t until Patti hit the stage that the show took a turn from music, entertainment and respect for John to SPIRIT. In an email addressing last minute performance concerns it had been suggested to the artists not to speak for more than 30 seconds because of the tight schedule. Outside of Claudia Marshall’s performer introductions I am unaware that anyone did speak, until Patti. She walked out onstage with a book of Kerouac and recited from The Scripture of the Golden Eternity. She then spoke about her own loss of her husband and how she looked to Yoko in finding meaning in her life, for herself and her children. She created magick with Strawberry Fields Forever and with Oh Yoko, welcoming Tony Shanahan to weave his voice with hers. Lucky for us that she’s not good at following directions or she doesn’t check emails or maybe that she just did what she wanted because every word she spoke conveyed a sharing of the spirit of Lennon’s life and music. She was awesome, lighting up the room with her presence that lifted the show to another place. I had never seen her perform before and her power was inspiring and true. It reflected a woman who is filled with quantum awakening in our universe. I believe somewhere out there is a constellation named after her……. Anyway, you may not find these thoughts in any of the reviews of the show, in which case, people need to open their eyes. People have the Power J

Thank you Patti Smith for sharing your light and I will hold dear the memory of sharing some Green and Black’s organic chocolate candy with you at rehearsal the day before, unaware how little my gesture was and much you would give to me the following night.

In honor of Patti, I’m posting a song that is a collaboration of another awe-inspiring quantum awakener in our universe, (got that? One Verse), John Trudells work with Annie Humphrey, ~Spirit Horses ~ and then I’m going out to buy my own book of Kerouac.

Project Bagism

bagism

John Lennon and Yoko Ono's concept of a peaceful world. If everyone wore a bag over them there wouldn't be anything to hate about them.

John : What’s Bagism? It’s like...a tag for what we all do, we’re all in a bag ya know, and we realised that we came from two bags, I was in this pop bag going round and round in my little clique, and she was in her little avant-garde clique going round and round, and you’re in your little tele clique and they’re in their...ya know? and we all sort of come out and look at each other every now and then, but we don’t communicate. And we all intellectualize about how there is no barrier between art, music, poetry... but we’re still all - I’m a rock and roller, he’s a poet... so we just came up with the word so you would ask us what bagism is, and we’d say WE’RE ALL IN A BAG BABY!

Out of the bag of the urban dictionary is the definition of Bagism that leads into my story. Early last Summer my friend Karen arrived at my house with a bag she made out of an advertisement for the Fab Faux Radio City show. It was very cool, very crafty and very unique, a genuine conversation piece. Soon after I was asked to become involved as Director of Artist Relations for the 30^th Annual John Lennon Tribute held last Friday night. Along with my responsibilities I felt I wanted to try to figure out some way to gift the artists with something memorable. It was a personal desire however I’ve been involved with enough shows to know that many times artists are gifted by fans and promoters with things that get left behind. It’s not because the gifts are not thoughtful but I think more because it can be a hectic night, dressing rooms get packed up quick and it becomes routine to be given………Anyway, I tried to think of something that artists would take and knew for a fact it should involve chocolate (or food in general) and be ‘Unique’. In thinking of who the performers were and as more were added to the bill it was apparent to me that many of them I had grown up listening to and loving. Some of them I love and had shared their own influences with my own music background. Although I studied classical music my bible was my Rolling Stone Magazines most of which I still have~except for the couple my sister stole when I moved out. The Rolling Stones became the focus of my BAGISM. For Jackson Browne, his bag was a picture with a review of a Capital Theatre Show in 1974. Shelby Lynne’s bag pictured Kris Kristofferson, Keb’ Mo’s featured Buddy Miles, Claudia Marshall received one of the few color bags, a Rolling Stones advertisement for Exile on Main Street. One of my favorites was for Bettye Lavette. It featured a great shot of James Brown, in a red jumpsuit. The review was titled, “Out of the Brown Bag”. When I gave it to her I received a hug and it really was one of my many happy moments of the evening. The bags were all given individually, upon arrival and contained a candy bar which was wrapped like the nights All Access pass, another BAG, of Karen’s kick ass granola, the stage schedule and my card if they needed anything on site. It turned out to be an outta site experience and I did check. All the Bags were taken so I’m smiling. To be able to give something little to artists that have shared so much with me was really a wonderful part of my job.

My own version of Bagism………..

Feelin' Groovy

The beginning started at the last minute and the table was the issue from the beginning. If you can truly follow that you must be a friend of mine, just like Corinne, Karen and Evelyn. I waited to make reservations for Evelyn’s Birthday, unaware that at City Winery the method is to go online and chose a table. A couple days before the date, feeling guilty with procrastination and sitting alone at my dinning room table with my laptop, I became overwhelmed with the challenge as I looked at the diagram on the website. Certain aspects of the map were reminiscent of Harry Potters Marauders Map in that if the eye diagram was clicked the room floated on screen appearing at different angles to give a better visual of the stage. Unable to summon the courage to take on the responsibility of this decision, I called Corinne. Her sun sign is Leo the Lion so courage abides in her naturally. We stayed on the phone, each with the City Winery floor plan open and after exhausting the choices left to us, finely decided on a table in the mezzanine. Two days later we arrived to hear Harper Simon and Rhett Miller, drink lots of wine and argue over what appetizers and dinners to share. We were walked to the table by the host to find it was a bar table with backless bar stools. Immediately, in hushed tones and glances around the room they wanted to see if we could be moved. It was early enough and next thing I knew I was off to ask the concierge who I had to wait in line to speak with. From where I stood I could see the waiter come by and in a flash the bar stools were exchanged for stools with backs. I went back to the table, finding that the discussion about the table had been tabled and everyone settling cozily in with the surroundings. Besides wanting to hear Harper Simon, I was excited because I had worked with pedal steel virtuoso Jon Graboff last month and was hoping he would be joining Harper on stage as he accompanied him on tour in Europe late Spring. It turned out Harper was solo and I was a bit disappointed because I love the pedal steel. Meanwhile, I had focused on Graboff and it never occurred to me there might be other guests. Anyway, the empty table next to us was getting the chairs changed as well by some spirited wait staff with trendy coiffed hair. I noticed the reserved card being placed and I was in mid sip of my chardonnay when I read the look on Karen’s face. Walking past our table to the adjacent one tended only minutes before was Edie Brickell and Paul Simon. While it was happy hour before, the vibe became instantly elevated to feelin’ groovy. Paul Simon is just a national treasure and to have him and Edie share airspace while listening to his son was such an added dimension to the smile factor. Needless to say, we had a great time, loved the winery, the music, the cool vibe that Paul Simon unknowingly brought to our table. Can you imagine being a person that just the site of makes other people happy? Oh and I almost forgot, the unexpected fortunate turn of the tables with our winning game of musical chairs.

FAR OUT & WAYBACK

I was in a van being driven by a volunteer for Hardly Strictly Bluegrass when I over heard the driver replying, “Far Out Man~” with an inflection in her voice that sang of ‘back in the day’ wonder. I immediately loved this driver, whoever she was. It was a counter culture reminder of who I thought I was as kid and who I thought I wasn’t as an adult. It was an affirmation of whoever I thought I was at any given time I was just lucky to be me and to live this dream on the planet. It was a brief connection during a conversation that I wasn’t involved in but reminded me of a feeling full force. On a recent Tuesday night I caught The Waybacks at Mexicali Live in Teaneck. Three thousand miles ago I heard them in Golden Gate Park with Bob Weir. It was a great set and an interesting scene backstage with a threesome that included a girl in a silver dress with a tear in her stocking. But I won’t go there. They weren’t at the show Tuesday night while The Waybacks played. They missed this show but I was glad I didn’t. The Waybacks were way cool and it was great night of music that included a version of Shady Grove with Celtic integrity intact followed by Mr. Thompson’s very own 1952 Vincent Black Lightening. Somewhere Red Molly was smiling. At Mexicali I was with Corinne, Karen and Evelyn hoping Assunta wouldn’t miss the show, my own smile an echo of a far out smile I experienced way back in San Francisco, on an October evening in Golden Gate Park, way back in 2007.

Bear With Me

Last week I was driving on my street when I thought how peculiar it was that my neighbor would have this great big bear sculpture placed on her lawn near the curb. I slowed down to look and as it turned to look back at me I was stunned. I wanted to call home and tell my kids not to put the dog out in the yard. I couldn’t remember my home number nor how to dial my cell phone. Note to self: In a panic speed dial does not work with out speed brain. This bear was definitely a Mama Bear at about 500 lbs. and when it took off, it sprinted across the lawn in one great leap. It would be able to jump over my backyard fence in a flash and probably could open the sliding door in one great swoosh inviting herself to my kitchen table before I would have the time to remember my own address or where the honey pot was. As I drove away a police car was arriving and I flagged him down. He told me very matter of factly that they had received several calls but that the bear lives in town now and to just be aware of it. I immediately wondered “when did my street move to West Milford ?” Well nothings quite as sure as change. I learned that from an ancient Mama and the Papa Bear song when I was little. At the time I lived in Wood-Ridge where the only wildlife I had to worry about was my own family. Thinking about my family made me wonder where Mama Bears clan was. I’m sure they moved with her as well. Maybe they sensed there would be a vacancy in late August on my street as one of my babies moves off to a far away place called Lockhaven. Once upon a time my own little wild one arrived on one of the darkest days of Winter and lit up my life forever. His beautiful dark eyes reflected the wisdom and depth of a nomad and he gifted me everyday, sharing and traveling his wide world of childhood. In Lockhaven his world will continue to widen but I’m a little scared of all that space, not for him, he’ll be fine, for me. I’ll just miss him so. Although thinking about it these days, I’m also scared to walk down the street alone. Guess I’ll just have to grin and bear it.

Sky West and Crooked

Wyoming clouds visited the sky today. They were everywhere displaying Michelangelo - Sistine Chapel drama. Cast about their own blue playground, they appeared in all shades of white though some were trimmed in translucent pink while others were dense with silver. They were gypsy clouds, so low in some places they almost touched the treetops, moving restlessly, all the while careless and colliding into high magnificent canyons and separating into wisps of mystic. I believe most everyone went about their day unaware of the drama and the uncontrolled beauty from the great mystery. It was a blessing beyond Knowing to notice what was above. I was driving out on Route 287 where a wide expanse of sky surrounded me and for a moment my eyes saw with Chris Whitley vision. He may have been inspired by a sky so grand to write Big Sky Country where the magnitude of Love is endless. Since we can’t ask, we can only assume and believe that as a wild beautiful angel, Whitley may have the gift of delivering a momentary glimpse into the spirit of his insight. It allowed me to see and feel as lucky as a Jupiter girl with a craving to hear his song……..Many Blessings Chris......

Red, White and Blues~

What King and what Queen are you inviting for dinner? My Mom asked me that about twenty years ago when I took her to see the formal dinning room table and chairs that I wanted to buy. It was a question she emphasized with attitude that received no reply from me. I was reminded of that late this afternoon when I was lying on my back on the lounge chair watching a dragon fly skitter here and there way above the cherry tree I was borrowing shade from. I watched it thinking how little I know about dragonflies but realizing how much I, all weekend, felt like one. Friday night we had a graduation party for my two sons in the same backgarden I was now relaxing in. One had graduated 8^th grade and the other High School so that was reason enough to fill the back yard with family and friends. The deck was still askew with random star shaped helium balloons that now floated spookily in the heat along with remnants of the festivities still waiting to be cleaned up, perhaps tomorrow. On Saturday morning I was awake for the lunar eclipse at seven, then by nine driving to a Fab Faux Show at the Count Basie Theatre in Red Bank to help out and work the merch in what was a barely air conditioned Lobby. Sunday morning I was at the Farmers Market early because Ramsey Fine Arts Council had a booth for the day. We are six days away from our Fourth of July event at Finch Park and having the booth gave us a chance to reach out to people and let them know about the event. Today Fine Arts sponsored the music and we were very happy to have Sara and Matt Gallman, the founders of Music at the Mission in West Milford, sing, play hammer dulcimer, guitar and penny whistle, filling the Farmers Market with the beauty of music. The theme for this years July Fourth event is ‘Red, White and Blues: A Celebration of the Routes of American Music”. The hammer dulcimer is an instrument that plays an integral part in the roots of American music and the multi talented Sara Gallman played and enchanted all who heard it while her husband accompanied her. I walked nearby and played ‘one woman street team’ handing out flyers to everyone I could. The weekend and the afternoon heat were draining and so I am now trying to recharge my battery in the quiet and cool of my backyard. In my head though, my thoughts ricochet, moving like the dragonfly high above. I have to confirm the hospitality on the bands’ riders, check that the fire permits are completed for the food vendors, deposit donation money, ask if we may borrow the drum risers from the high school, create a CD of house music, map out the vendor village, actually I should make a list of everything to be done this week. The idea of “The List” began to overwhelm me. That was when I heard my mother whisper, still with attitude, from some ‘make me smile’ place in my heart, “What King and what Queen......... In a flash the dragonfly was gone and this time I replied to my Mom in thought, “This July Fourth it will be Reckon’ So, Homemade Jamz and The Pine Leaf Boys but who knows? Maybe some other Fourth it will be the Kings of Leon.

Peace of My Heart

I attended a local production of Godspell the night after I found out my son had a tiny hole in the wall between the chambers in his heart. I’d like to rewrite that. I attended a local production of Godspell the night after I found out my son has a tiny hole in the wall between the chambers of his heart. That’s a sentence from a script I can’t seem to rewrite. The cardiologist believes it should be left alone, but also offered that some Doctors would advise repair. We met with him on Thursday and on Friday I attended the show where my son played lead guitar in the Godspell Ensemble. It was presented in a remarkable church that was built in 1906 as a memorial to Emma Hanchett Crocker by her husband, railroad magnate, George Crocker. He too had a hole in his heart but his came from losing his wife. It wouldn’t have shown up on a sonogram but it was real nonetheless. I suppose he would have liked to rewrite his script too but was unable. Yet George Crocker created something very beautiful from his love for his wife and the depth of the space that became the hole. Over a hundred years later, sitting in this sacred space and watching the play, the mystical stained glass window glowed softly from the backlight. In his time, he may not have imagined that his great gift to his wife’s memory would become such a vibrant place for spirit, for people to come together and share an evening revel in Godspell. Or maybe he did. All I know is we are all under Gods Spell. The script is revealed day by day, and no one knows the story. Only in reflection can we see it colored the way we desire, a little like the blurry mystical stained glass window, backlit with the light of our own wisdom.

On Friday night the music of Godspell filled the room with joy, which is just what music and love can do regardless of the day-by-day script. Maybe that’s one of Gods Spells. Or maybe he’s just that good a director.

Strange Days in the Hyacinth House

One of my earliest memories is of me standing alone at the end of the driveway with a snake slithering between my feet. I stood frozen and screaming. I remember my Mom running with her arms outstretched to pick me up. I love to garden however my fear of wild things is always a concern. I do love hyacinths and roses more than the fear so they are in my front garden. It is landscaped and easy to care for. My backyard is half landscaped and that section is well tended. Each summer I plant scarlet begonias, verbena and whatever else strikes my fancy at the garden center. The other half of the yard is filled with trees, weeds, wild strawberries and flowers, poison ivy, peace frogs and wild things. In the back I know not to touch the earth. Along one side of my property from front to back and continuing into gardens unknown is an ancient stone row. Stone rows are notorious for harboring snakes, chipmunks and mice. Each Spring I find myself waiting for the sun. I then spend days weeding, mulching, planting and pruning. Twice in the past, my tranquil gardening frenzy ended abruptly with a solid key of E shriek and my runnin’ blue when a snake that silently entered unannounced, lifted it's head and scared the stuffing out of me. Gardening was then over for the season.

Around the deck in the backgarden are Bose speakers that can probably entertain my whole block if desired. Last week before going out to garden I noticed a bootleg Doors CD in my son’s room and thought it would be great to get my gardening Mojo going. Turned up loud enough for me to hear throughout the yard, the cd began with Hello, I Love You into Light My Fire into People Are Strange which is when I began my work on the well. It becomes a muck pond from the leftover winter snow, spring rain, leaves and acorns. I was knee deep in the big muddy, climbing on rocks in a position I can only be in because of years of practicing Yoga. My hands, covered in bright yellow gloves were filled with leaves, when a little wild thing, possibly a lizard, jumped out of my hand. The surprise of the jumpy thing in my hand jarred me out of earth mother mode and brought my attention to the music that had changed to the Live version of Roadhouse Blues. This version I had never heard before. It included an additional Morrison rant and by now he was screaming the F word, moaning and asking for participation from some girl in the audience. I became aware in a flash that my neighbors’ twins were now outside on the swing set with their Grandma watching them. I adore the Doors but right then was not feeling the love, and was trying to get off the rock pile surrounding the well without slipping in, as fast as I could. I made it inside to lower the music just as Morrison was ……finishing. I fumbled for a different cd and put on Cold Roses, thinking Ryan Adams would be more apropos. Anyway, I finished cleaning up the well and just in time. Today my husband found a snake coiled up in the very clean dry shallow well. He took a rake and moved him far across the yard to the stone row. I’m not sure I find comfort in that but I’m sure I won’t be gardening anytime soon. I have to wonder if the Crawlin King Snake King himself wasn’t looking down on me and having a good laugh. Maybe by Indian Summer I’ll look for my gardening gloves again….and I'll experiment to see what happens if I listen to Monsters of Folk.

Willy Porter- Angry Words

I am pleased to have remembered someone posted this from our Summer Concert Series in 2008! It was easily 95 degrees that night but Willie was way cool, performed solo and I was only $5 off with the merch money. Before you think anything bad of me try handling merch in the dark ;)