Blue Moon, Blue Decade

I don’t think I’ve talked to a single person or know anyone who is sorry at all to see 2009 ushered out. For most of us, it seems 2010 can’t come quickly enough. Between the economic crisis, major life changes, or just the exhaustion of tiptoeing along the precipice of employment, home ownership, or simple liquidity, this was probably not the year most of us expected. In fact I haven’t yet seen the year I’ve been expecting. But if the last few weeks is any indication, 2010 might finally be it.

This is not to say that there weren’t some good things in 2009. There were. It brought lovely things for some good friends—one friend in particular outdid us all by getting married, pregnant, and relocated cross-country all within seven or eight short months! Like many of his cousins before him, my son became a Marching Band Kid, alto sax, doing his grandma proud. After a wobbly trial run last year, my daughter blossomed in her second year of gymnastics, with a serious I’ve not seen in her before. At the crossroads of three different jobs I led my first full solo search, and by all reports it was wildly successful for the client, which couldn’t make me happier.

The year 2009 also saw for the most part an end to some of my generosity and tolerance. I am hardened in new ways, my open heart and compassion tested and broken. It’s not my way but I had to get real. Life was tenuous and uncertain enough and the news around the world got worse and worse. Like many folks, I was tossed several unnecessary loads of crap, as were a few other close friends, and I regret now that I put up with it. So when it happened again as my dear sister-in-law was beginning chemotherapy and as my own sister was beginning immunotherapy for a list of newly discovered allergies a mile long on top of hitherto undetected severe chronic asthma, the trick was laid bare like my own bare and open heart, like a sin I’d been accomplice to. Inside, the snap was almost audible, like a thrown switch in a dark theatre that brings the lights up. That’s the end of that soliloquy.

Life in any decade has its moments, its pitfalls and victories, gains and losses, status quo stretches and life changing ordeals. Each year we grow, we adapt, we learn, we see, we are given countless opportunities to succeed or fail and to see each of those through our own eyes. So even when it sucks, life is rich, even glorious.

Tonight is a blue moon, a second full moon in the same month. How fitting for the New Year’s Eve of one of the most tumultuous decades in history, and the most tumultuous yet for me. I lost a baby, a mother, a mother-in-law, a marriage, but gained or regained so very much – wisdom, freedom, consciousness, clarity, soulfulness, self-esteem, self-sufficiency, the glorious gift of an opportunity to share my authentic life with my children, and my own true self. For all of these and for the friends and family who saw me through and help me realize them, I am deeply, deeply grateful.

I am so pleased to share with you this video of Vince Gill, whom I was lucky enough to catch in his return to bluegrass mode last year at IBMA (which I won’t be missing again). He’s a fine mando picker, and I’ve always loved his voice. This night I think about this song and the music and how completely transformed and restored I am because of it. Tonight after a lost year I rededicate a part of myself to its success, its people, and its rightful place in our cultural heritage.

My true wish for you and your loved ones is a healthy, meaningful, and prosperous new year and new decade.

Like It Or Not, Christmas Time's A Comin!

Well, it's officially the holidays. The tree is up, one kid has already done his school concert and another is this coming week, just about all the gifts are acquired and some even wrapped, and this evening I wandered into that fourth dimension where I do my baking. All last weekend we ushered in the season with good friends and food and some laughs together. Despite everything -- the war, the economy, a most trepidatious year of my own, and the inexplicable constant and extremely annoying presence of Sarah Palin and Dick Cheney, neither of whom are Vice President -- I find myself in a merry mood. Not a whole lot has changed, but maybe because it's been such a hellacious year I feel it's more important than ever to make the best use of these precious holiday times.

Everyone who knows me knows I love to bake. It's a sickness in my family, actually, but I'm trying to be a bit more restrained because it is a lot of work and I don't want to be in the kitchen the entire brief time the kids are home before Christmas. So I determined to kickoff the baking tonight while listening to WKSU. At some point I decided I needed a little more mando in the kitchen monitor and was poking around, and stumbled across this good old bluegrass Christmas tune sung here by just about my favorite Person of Bluegrass, Tim O'Brien. That's a fine lineup there with Bryan Sutton, Ol Danny Barnes on the banjer and Mr. Dennis Crouch on the base. While I line up my recipes for tomorrow's marathon, grab yourself an eggnog or a dance partner and turn up your speakers!

Let's Find Out

Well, MandoMama asked Santa for a GPS this year, but he couldn't find one with Buddy Woodward's voice.

That's ok. At 44, I'm finally enjoying life with a little less navigation. Lord knows the last year has been full of twists and turns for all of us, but for me anyway, at the moment the road seems to be evening out just a little, either that or I'm just a more confident driver. Maybe it's a combination.

There's something to wandering, to getting a little lost, that is a little terrifying and yet, we want to know, to find out, whether we can make it. The meltdown of the economy was a tragic but near-wholly preventable catastrophy that led to the ruin of many everyday Americans. It also called into sharp relief how even the perceptibly stable can be pulled under by what might be a minor health crisis in a normal economy. Data show that more bankruptcies are being sought because of medical bills than any other reason. YOu can have a good job but still not be able to pay your medical bills thanks to the insatiable greed of the pretend health care system of HMOs.

So you just have to keep going. Everyday people who do good work and keep their heads above water and pay all our bills on time, we're just always some crisis away from disaster. I stopped looking back a long time ago, although I don't take kindly at all to people who try to make it any harder than it has to be, that's for sure. And there's always someone who'd like to see you have it just a little bit harder, who'd like to see you fail.

And what if you do? What does that mean to you? What are your expectations? Mine are to take the lessons of the last year and completely transform my relationship to work. Unless a match is made in a heaven I don't know about, I will probably never work for another pasty monolithic corporation. Don't let them fool you. It's all about the headcount. And my ability to contribute was completely, entirely dismissed. We've made more progress in the last two months than we did the last twelve with the supposed help of a giant company. It's crap.

There's been a lot of attention paid to the fact that after taking it in the arse for their fat and happy corporate masters, some folks are biting the entrepreneurial bullet, and loving it. Sometimes, you just have to try to make your own way and be the bread on the table. That takes a lot of risk, but you know, musicians, the folks who make our lives bearable and who put themselves out there day after day, sweating and toiling in the studio and on the stage to make us smile for a couple of hours, well, that's how they live.

The last year took a toll on me not just financially but because I was so focused on preventing an overdraft and juggling what at one point was three different but related part-time jobs under one roof, my involvement in music had to take a back seat to keeping the trains running and making sure my kids were whole. In fact I'd say it sat several rows back as events, concerts, and even my quiet time with the mando slipped away. That's starting to turn again. I'm finding that I missed talking about this music, dragging all of you along for some musical journey and sharing the joy that music brings me and so manyh others. I am still committed to contributing to a roots music community with more vitality here at home, building awareness and interest and most importantly participation. It would be fun to play and actually, to sing again. The veil of worry and doubt over my eyes last year would never have allowed me to think that way.

But nothing is cut and dried. You can make all the plans you want but in the end you control nothing. Not a thing, except how you react to what happens to you and what you do with what you're handed. It's all about the journey and what you make of it not just for yourself, but for others.

The Dixie Bee-Liners gave us a spectacular new effort this year. Susanville is the Bee-Liners' brand new, bold and brave adventure, a regular road trip through the complex emotions of the constant cycle of being lost and found again. That's another way to describe the road we're all on, the road of life. You might think you know what's around the bend until you blow a tire or you get sick or someone you love leaves you along the way. You might stop in some little town for a quick bite to eat and end up staying 20 years. You might unpack your new place only to realize it's not where you belong at all. You never know. You just have to find out. It's a lot more fun with good music so take the Bee-Liners along on your next adventure.

Find Out

from Susanville, released on Pinecastle Records, Nov. 2009

You can take the girl out of the Rivertown...

I spent Friday night enjoying a spectacular show by this two-time Grammy nominated band The Greencards. I hadn't been out to hear enough live music in the last few months to put in my pinky finger, so the show was a really great treat.

This is one of my fave tunes from the night. Over the summer I reconnected with a lot of folks and family downhome who finally hooked up with Facebook (really, I'm not much for all those games but it's nice to check in with the nieces, nephews etc). As far away as I feel it amazes me that there are people I grew up with who still live in my little river town. This tune is for them, and for all our conflicted love of the place we just can't ever quite get away from completely, probably because we don't really want to.

Hey Tiger, Take it From the Greencards--There Must Be 50 Ways to...Well...

I'm so disappointed. No need to say more, right?

Gonna put down my nine-iron and head to The Kent Stage this Friday night to hear this kick-grass sensation, The Greencards.

8 p.m., Tickets $20.

Thankful to Be Closer to Throwing 2009 Over the Cliff!

Haven’t been here in quite a little while. Autumn has raced nearly away. Here we find ourselves already at Advent, which I used to usher in as part of a choir that did a proper Lessons and Carols (and a proper Sherry a few weeks later to listen to the tapes and drink, well, lots of sherry). There’s been no advent wreath on my table for quite some time, but I still look forward to the change of season and the music that comes with it. We even woke up to a bit of snow on Friday morning after Thanksgiving, which was perfectly seasonal.

I am going to be glad to say goodbye to 2009. With all the good there’s been an equal amount of trouble of one kind or another, and in some cases not so much trouble as constant motion. But as the year winds down there are mostly good things in view. Work looks to be generous and all for us; earlier in the fall, the firm we joined last year left me for dead and my boss with an ultimatum to move to a smaller office and he emphatically declined. The relief we all felt at being loose of that ball and chain can hardly be described. Even my kids were thrilled. And I am too, as I love to be gainfully busy.

At the same time it’s been a really wonderful year for my children, who extended their horizons a bit and enjoyed a few new pursuits. Whatever else is going on in the world or in my life, my only real concern is that they are happy, healthy, and growing inside and out. So far, other than a few speed bumps, so good.

We just celebrated our Second Annual Pajama Thanksgiving. It’s the one day out of the year when the kids and I just stop everything and hang out together. Sure, I do a lot of cooking, but everybody helps. That leaves more time for games, talking, watching a movie, whatever we feel like doing. And we generally do it in our pajamas. It's the perfect way to ring in the holidays, and even better knowing we'll still be stuffed and fast asleep when the crazies get up to shop at 2 a.m.

Those are golden moments, and moments like now when I’m sitting in my quiet house writing and listening to Alice’s Restaurant. I can’t remember the last time I heard this, but it’s a pretty wonderful romp. Better with a slice of leftover pumpkin pie and a little wine, perhaps. So grab yourself some leftovers of your favorite kind, too, and welcome in the holidays with a bit of this Guthrie classic.

Anyone for pie?

Down River

There are things I have seen or heard these last few weeks that no person ought to see or hear without having been properly sedated. Mark Twain wrote that when we remember we are all mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained. Unfortunately, I've come to that point in my life when much of the time, I don't really care to have an explanation, so the mystery and the madness are just more things I could do without.

Life remains essentially good. if parts are yet unexplained. Other parts of it are tiresome to be sure, but that's always the case. With the start of school came new energy, a shift toward achieving whatever can reasonably be achieved, from keeping whatever jobs one has to trying new things. In our little home we seem to be in constant motion. But it's fun, most of the time. My oldest is now in the marching band and it is as wonderful to watch him enjoy it with the other kids as it is to appreciate how great they sound. The younger one is acclimating to a new school, new feelings, new ways of expressing herself, new routines, growing older and accepting all that comes with that. It's been a time for change to be sure.

I have missed writing. I've had plenty to write about, but not the time, or the quiet, or really the proper space, mental or otherwise. Last week while on a business trip in Hartford, I had a few minutes to walk the grounds of Twain's home, and that of his neighbor Harriett Beecher Stowe. This was a good moment for my tired little soul. I didn't have quite enough time to tour inside either home, so I visited the Stowe center, found my way around the Nook Farm neighborhood, lingered a little in the Twain bookstore (well guarded by a life-size Lego figure of Twain), and stood in a little awe of that famously red Victorian beauty with the deep porch and the atrium in the back filled even today with lots of lush green plants. It suddenly occurred to me that here in this very northern town -- much of my previous day had been replete with Rhode Islanders and the accent that goes with them -- was at home a man born and bred alongside the Mississippi, whose heart was all about riverboats and the songs that go with them but whose mind worked best here in this nook-and-cranny Yankee hub. I had to stop, and admire that. He was at his most prolific there in that Hartford home where he also was beset with such tragedy as might kill the rest of us.

Just before my trip I spent a wonderful weekend in the mid-Atlantic with extended family. They are happy and prosperous. I decided there is no reason not to be. And so setting out on my New England adventure just two days later, I determined my trip should be easy and successful, and it was.

The rest isn't that easy. People are unpredictable, and the things that happen to us, just as unpredictable. We don't wake up expecting to hear good news or bad news or something just so downright stupid that it alters the course of a day. But that's generally what happens. We just forget. And when something good does happen, we don't believe or accept it because we're so used to being suspicious or afraid of our own success.

When I think about someone like Mark Twain, I think too about all the pain he had in his life. He could have been a complete failure, and I think he tried for this a number of times. But his humor and his enormous passion never let him down. He had an open heart, that man, and a wit to make the most of it. Someday I'd like to visit Hannibal, Missouri to see where he spent the early days of his life, his formative years. There is something about growing up along the river that changes a person. It makes those of us who did a little bit impossible.

Music, in particular string band music, seems to set right with Twain and other river-bred folks. Although he is a literary man he's got a heartful of my kind of music. He wrote: "When you want genuine music -- music that will come right home to you like a bad quarter, suffuse your system like strychnine whisky, go right through you like Brandreth's pills, ramify your whole constitution like the measles, and break out on your hide like the pin-feather pimples on a picked goose -- when you want all this, just smash your piano, and invoke the glory-beaming banjo!"

Can't say it any better than that, really. And I can't think of anyone to celebrate the notion than the late, great Mr. John Hartford. Here he is, so much younger than I've seen him, with a modern concoction called Steamboat Whistle Blues.

If Hartford and Twain had been contemporaries, I imagine they would have been friends, too. I wish I had such heroes now, but maybe they make better muses.