Monthly Archives: August 2021

Health and Long Life, Music and Theatre

Play it again Sam – People Watching

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Anniversary Waltz I finished Tennessee Waltz with a flourish and segued into Moon River as she turned from the cash register to follow her husband out the door. But instead, she came to the piano and said, “will you play it again, please, that song you just finished?” She stepped out the door and grabbed him, pulling him back into the French bakery lobby and into dance hold. She was radiant in a beribboned straw hat, capris and a pressed blouse. She held him close, her cheek resting on his chest. At the end of the reprised refrain she placed a tip in the jar and thanked me again and again – all smiles, saying it was their 50th anniversary this very day! – And what a wonderful time they were having!

Secular anointing I was raised in church and I was raised to be a camp-meeting pianist. It is still somewhat of a surprise to me how many customs cross over from the church world to the secular performance world. Giving, for example. What child among us didn’t first learn the idea of giving when the offering plate was passed? We held out our hand to mom or dad or grandma or grandpa and received in our hot little palm a tuppence or a quarter or a dime. Immediately we placed the change in the plate, feeling very grownup that we had been allowed to participate in the act of giving. I see it happen weekend after weekend at the French Bakery and it never ceases to warm my heart. Jean-Pierre, the French, French Baker makes the croissants  and macarons and exquisite pastries and I play the restored grand piano. Families come in. Their ears perk up the minute they hear the sound of live music. Those who were thinking of checking out a restaurant further down the street are lured inside. I smile and nod. The children start clamoring for something to put in the jar. And parents oblige. They are teaching their children at a young age to give, to share, to tip those who render a service to make our lives better. Some of them are intentionally teaching their children that you can make money in music – that regular practice pays!

There are a couple dozen one dollar bills in my tip jar, a few fives, one ten. Oh, and there are two pennies. There is a story here, I am sure, and I bet it involves a child. Two children put tips in my jar today. I wonder which it was?

When the previous piano man retired and I took on the job at the keyboard, I asked what were the most requested song titles? Requests? Said the retiring piano man. Requests? Said the proprietor with surprise. Probably just Happy Birthday to You. I had six requests in the first four mornings I played. My repertoire has increased accordingly. I made a playlist so I don’t draw a blank and fumble around, but sometimes I play on the inspiration of the moment. Such was the time a Texan sort of woman came in sporting a gold tone Hobby Lobbyesque T-shirt with the first verse of It Is Well With My Soul printed on the front. That’s pretty irresistible to a piano player with my background. Last Saturday I was letting my mind wander for a few moments. My fingers were sort of noodling about some familiar melodies and I ended up playing Waltzing Matilda. The woman at the counter paid for her pastry and turned to me. “I’m from Australia. How did you know? I’m tearing up!”

Veterans and people who just flat out love America stand a little taller when I play an armed forces tribute or America the Beautiful. Tourists love La vie en rose, tenors and vacationers like to try their voices at show tunes prompting my daughter to ask, “what do they think it is, a piano karaoke bar?”

One Sunday a couple saw me head to the restroom at the end of my four-hour set. They waited, waited just to say how much the music meant to them. Actually, that happens frequently. A thumbs up, a mouthed thank you, someone gushing that they haven’t heard that tune for years, someone else mentioning that I have a rather wide repertoire.

I am a glutton for praise. I fear I have long been addicted to affirmation. Praise is often payment in the music world. But man – or woman – cannot live on praise alone. You can’t pay the rent with praise. But just as time is money; tips are praise and affirmation. I’m not going to complain, no siree; I don’t have one complaint about earning my daily bread with music. The people watching is unbeatable. I especially love it when they dance.

Billy Joel Piano Man

Books and other Soul Food, Character, Emotional Health, Fiction is Truth, Politics, Relationships

Library Book

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When the pandemic was in remission, I went to the local library and got myself a long- anticipated library card. Last week I interrupted my favorite morning walk along the river to go into the library and check out a couple books. As a writer I find it inspirational to read – not only to reread the best classics, but to read something new once in a while, yet I am choosey about what I read. Too much sugar will rot my writing teeth. Too much milk will make me soft. I crave something to make me strong, to make me feel good and to make me think. So, more often than not, I turn to fiction. Yes, fiction. Preferably from an author with whom I am familiar, someone I trust.

Lately I have read some confirmed best sellers as well as some fledgling attempts which turned out to be enjoyable books, but I really did not get into the story until chapter two or three. Not so with Young Jane Young (Zevin, 2017). I thoroughly enjoyed Gabrielle Zevin’s, The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry when it first came out in paperback somewhere around 2014. I enjoyed it so much that it stays on my bedside shelf for frequent rereading. The story is perfectly wrapped up and tied with a bow and leaves one feeling satisfied so it is a great model for writers. Also, it is a story that refers to short stories so it is great for avid short-story readers. So, it follows, on my recent foray to the library, I went intentionally to the “Z” aisle and was not disappointed. I opened the book to chapter one and began to read:

My dear friend Roz Horowitz met her new husband online dating, and Roz is three years older and fifty pounds heavier than I am, and people have said that she is generally not as well preserved, and so I thought I would try it even though I avoid going online too much.

What a culturally relevant beginning! It is not even aimed at women in their 20s. The woman is a baby-boomer.  But what really caught my attention was the narrator’s confession:

I don’t particularly want a husband.  They’re a lot of work, but I don’t want to spend the rest of my life alone either, and it would be nice to have someone to go to classes with is what I’m saying.

Gabrielle Zevin has written a most enjoyable read about politics and betrayal and lifelong friendship and unconditional mother-love and starting over.  I think most of you will like it!

I am also looking forward to reading The Only Woman in the Room which is based on the life of Hedy Lamarr . The third book, which you can barely see in this photo is Paradise with an Edge by Walter Dear. Walter Dear is a newspaper publisher who retired in Durango a couple decades ago and has woven himself into Durango culture both through his writing and his piano playing. I leave you to guess how I met him. But it has to do with French pastries and a restored baby-grand piano.

Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Hiking and outdoor beauty, Mountains, Travel

She Knows Beauty

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Already she had been from her western Colorado hometown as far to the northwest as Olympia and Seattle and even on into British Columbia. She had travelled down Highway 1 to visit relatives in L.A. and Fresno and San Diego and flown all the way to Guam and Tokyo in one direction and New York and Frankfurt in the other. She had lived in San Antonio and Chicago and Oklahoma, but always returned to Colorado. And then she climbed on the backseat of a motorcycle and spent 21 days traveling to other places. She slept in a wheatfield in Kansas and saw the fabled Poconos and the outskirts of Philadelphia and the inskirts of Manhattan and almost ran out of gas in the lower tip of Michigan. She camped on a beach in Massachusetts and felt guilty; not merely because the sign said it was illegal to camp on the beach overnight, but because she had traveled far and wide from the western most boundary of Colorado all the way to New England and had not yet done the State of Colorado justice – did not yet know her own home state like the back of her hand. So, over the decades that followed, she attempted to remedy that. She saw the Colorado side of Dinosaur National Monument, she hiked all the trails at Colorado National Monument, she visited Rocky Mountain National Park and hiked to the headwaters of the Colorado River, she rode the train from Denver to Grand Junction and down Ruby Canyon into Utah. She camped in State Parks and saw the Royal Gorge and almost burned her feet at the Sand Dunes. She lost herself for awhile and drifted all the way down the Colorado River through Arches and Moab and Canyonlands and straight on into Arizona and saw the new London Bridge way out in the desert and dipped her feet in the Colorado River anywhere she could until it finally died somewhere out in California. And then she came back, determined to hike every trail, and climb every mountain, and paddle every stream that she could before she met her final goal of dying in a beautiful place. Nowadays her adventures are peppered with descriptive sounding places like Silverton, Ice Lakes, Highland Mary, Treasure Falls, Weminuche Wilderness, Lake City, Animas River, Cataract Gorge, Alpine Loop, Red Mountain, Grand Mesa. And you know what? She still doesn’t know her home state like the back of her hand, but what she does know is beauty.

Character, Emotional Health, Health and Long Life, Hiking and outdoor beauty, Musical resolutions, River

How to have a perfect day

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Say yes to bliss. But what exactly is bliss? Perfect weather? A perfect temperature? A breath-taking scene? The best of company? A perfectly tuned and resolved Picardy third playing on eardrums and heartstrings? Once one knows what bliss feels like, one wants to experience it again and again. The challenge for each individual who desires a perfect day is to find what activities have in them the potential for bliss. 

***

She rose at 5:45 am, which was not to early and not too late in the total scheme of things. This allowed a little time for thinking and the nourishment of a small, wholesome, bowl of oatmeal well-endowed with nuts and dates and raisins. This provided time for washing her face and popping in her contacts and pulling on shorts and a tank and still making it out for a morning walk before the summer heat of the day. The morning world was glorious. A hearty rain had fallen overnight to refresh all the living things and wash off the inanimate concrete and pavement and walls. It was not quite time for sunglasses for the sun was still on the other side of the mountain. She hiked half a mile or so up the nature trail, and even though she was the uphill traffic, she stepped aside quickly into a sagebrush when she heard steps thundering down the trail. It was either a puppy on the loose or a novice bicyclist. But, no, it was a doe, startled also to see a two-legged creature, polite, inquisitive. She and the deer observed the COVID rules of etiquette, stepping aside, leaving inquiring distance between. The doe was more curious than the human. The human merely wanted to protect herself in the bush in case the deer startled and charged. They passed without incident. But there wasn’t a lama between them – it was probably more like 4 feet. Just like two humans who cannot judge distance. She reached the top of the hill. She gazed across the valley and the vista and headed back down. At a particularly lovely juncture in the trail she thought: You know what would be pure bliss? To take the Purple Mohawk off Silver Girl and put her in the water. The kayak has been drydocked atop the automobile more than a month. It is a lovely day. My toe and my bruised rib are feeling no pain. Yes. I will choose bliss. I will take the kayak out on the river. 

But first, a new piano student at 10:00 am. And second, a practice session at the keyboard. A  bit of lunch whilst walking about the kitchen and filling the water reservoir.  A two and a half mile drive to the put-in and finally, boat on the water. She prefers to climb aboard from the left side, probably a residual habit from riding a horse as a youngster – or maybe mounting a bicycle. Turns out this is not such a good idea when the river is running high and muddy. There is a first time for everything and it was the first time – and hopefully the last – she swamped the purple mohawk, and had to drag her out of the water and pull the plug and drain her – before even taking a stroke with the paddle. As a consequence, she was now soaked to her armpits. But it was a warm day and the water felt good. She paddled a few bends upstream. She floated all the way back downstream. She replaced the Purple Mohawk on top Silver Girl and returned home. After cleaning up nicely, she ascended the Sky Steps (all 500 of them) to the college once more and attended an end of music camp concert, something she saw on Instagram. The type of concert where the instructors and pros play with the students and it warms the cockles of your heart and gives you goosebumps. And when she got home at 5:30 and fixed herself a hot meal she thought, Now that was a perfect day!

***

How to have a perfect day? Say yes to bliss. Do you know what the potential for bliss looks like for you? If not, you can begin by saying yes to opportunity – to as many invitations and experiences as possible. Just say yes. Eventually you’ll get it figured out.