A Spontaneous 12 Mile Hike

August 16, 2020 Cherry Leave a comment

She had been in the wilderness for 22 days, so I rose quietly at six and let her sleep. I realize 22 days is not the standard 40 days and 40 nights of biblical proportions, but 22 days of backpacking and hauling 50 pounds of Forest Service gear in 11 and 13-mile jaunts is enough to exhaust the hardiest of aging millennials. So, after 22 days in the wilderness and three days back in the office, she had a scheduled day off. She is a great roommate and I wanted to return the favor and give her the day all to herself. Besides, I had technology projects to pursue, an online store to open.

Before starting any project, technical, literary, or household; it is advisable to take your anti-depressants. My drug of choice is hiking. These days of sweltering August heat – even at an elevation of 6500 feet –I must be on the trail by 8:00 am. Once again, I was delayed by framing a response to a virtual musical project of which I have been part. Challenging and exhilarating, but a delay nonetheless.

She was awake and enjoying a hearty repast at 8:36 when I sighed and said, “It’s hot already, but it’s now or never and I need a hike today.”

“If you can wait 15 minutes while I finish breakfast,” she said, “we can go up to Crater Lake. I cleared the trail there yesterday but I didn’t get to go on up and see the lake.”

I made no objection and asked no questions. Quickly, I swapped my in-town bottle sling for my daypack and added a lunch and jacket.

She gleefully pulled on climbing shorts and a tank top rather than regulation full- length uniform pants and long-sleeved shirt. The daypack she swung to her shoulder seemed feather-weight compared to the 60 pounds of gear plus Pulaski with which she exited the wilderness at the end of last week.

Yesterday, I didn’t make any progress on the website I am building. But I did swim in an alpine lake at 11,000 feet. I did complete a 12-mile-hike. I did engage in long conversations about the terrain and the great outdoors and contemporary issues. We did converse about plot line and character building and where I am going next with my writing. It was altogether a very satisfying day.

Books and other Soul Food, Character, Emotional Health, Fiction is Truth, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Hiking and outdoor beauty, Metaphor, Poetry and Prose, Write

Wherein Life is a Beach

August 2, 2020 Cherry Leave a comment

Let me tell you a story; Let me spin you a yarn; Let me relate how my life has been going; And you can write back and share yours!

I’ve been patient and impatient; Happy and sad; But mostly my life has been fabulous; When I remember not to dwell on the bad.

My box of books finally arrived! Originally printed in 2009, The Pancake Cat was rereleased June 24, 2020 with an all new cover featuring the artwork of Andrea Shellabarger. Four new illustrations grace the inside chapters along with content updates.

Did I say released on June 24? Though the book has been available at Amazon, Barnes Noble and Target since that date – and now even Books A Million, Indie Bound, Powell’s, and Walmart – I did not hold an actual copy in my hands until yesterday, July 31, 2020. Thirty-seven days is the embodiment of line five of that little ditty above: I’ve been patient and impatient.

Patient and impatient I may have been, but I have not been idle. Oh no. During that time I have been working on a fresh new professional website. It’s been coming along swimmingly – and about as fast as running through knee deep water. But then what is life if you can’t feel like you are at the beach? We all like to float away now and then. Anyway, I was running through thigh deep water, spending hours and hours with Youtube tutorials and I added Woo Commerce and opened a web store complete with T-shirts and book bags and books. I have lots of experience selling T-shirts and books so it seemed like a good idea. And then, I fell flat on the beach and was immediately buried in sand and the tide came in and washed over me. The new amateur looking web store completely over wrote the three professional looking pages I had just given six weeks of my wonderful life in the mountains to establish.

I did the only sensible thing a woman in my position can do: I took a fast-thinking hike. In fact, I took several fast thinking hikes. I slept on it for a couple nights. I contemplated retail therapy – I believe a kayak is in my future. My good health and sanity demands I get on the water. And then I called my web host and retrieved the professional pages and dismissed the new experiment. We are not completely starting over. We only have to go back a few paces.

Meanwhile, I finished an eight-minute slideshow – complete with four old hymns piano tracked by myself- for my mother’s upcoming memorial service. And then, the instructor for the virtual choir class I am taking assigned me to re-record some tracks. Apparently I am supposed to sing doot doot doot as opposed to doo doot doot – or, heaven forbid, dooT dooT dooTT.

My Dad is wondering why I don’t come see him more often now that I am retired and COVID is keeping me from a steady job.

Actually, my life is pretty fabulous when I remember to eat right, sleep right, hike, make music and let it go. How about you?

Character, Emotional Health, Family, Health and Long Life, Uncategorized

What Massive Changes Time Has Wrought

July 30, 2020 Cherry Leave a comment

Let me tell you how time flies – how things change really fast. You see; it seems like only yesterday I was singing with friends in a Sweet Adelines quartette. It’s been eight years. Four years ago I was playing in a band. Four years ago my mother was still driving and walking and she and dad came to an outdoor band concert. That same fall, they drove three and a half hours to share Thanksgiving dinner at my post in the Needles district of Canyonlands. That was after knee surgery for my Mom and she was recuperating nicely. I didn’t even go back for Christmas that year. Instead, I drove from Natural Bridges National Monument to Durango to spend a few days with my daughter. By the time another year rolled around, I was meeting my parents in Monticello Utah to deliver a mobility scooter to my mother. Three years ago Mom was still driving. And she could still drive well. Dad would back the car out of the garage, pull it up by the ramp and Mom would navigate down the ramp with walker or scooter and step into the car. Dad would then load the scooter on the rack to the rear of the car and they were off. 17 months ago Dad had hip replacement surgery and we realized at that time Mom could no longer drive or live alone. We had to nearly lift her into the car. She sometimes got stuck in the bathroom. She died 15 months later after having been dependent for a year and bedfast for two weeks. Just last year I was living and working in Page AZ. Just last year we had no suspicion of Coronavirus. Just one year ago my son purchased my childhood home from my parents and embarked on a remodeling project-completely upgrading the existing 55-year-old house and finishing the basement and garage. Just last Thanksgiving, I drove to Durango to share Thanksgiving with my daughter in a threadbare and minimally furnished apartment. Three months later I became the roommate in that apartment and was almost immediately solitary due to Coronavirus. During these past four months my mom passed. My daughter returned to our apartment after two months of care-taking for my Mom. I am singing in a vocal group again – albeit virtually – and our apartment is more than adequately furnished.
What massive changes time has wrought. Changes, not just in my life, but globally. We will host Mom’s memorial service in early August but we will host it virtually – likely with greater attendance on Facebook Live and Youtube Live than can be achieved in a socially distanced church building. But through it all-whether online or in person-music-lots and lots of music. Times have changed massively. Our enjoyment and dependence on music for entertainment and comfort has not changed – only the method of delivery.

Emotional Health, Family, Music and Theatre, Musical resolutions

Music knows no age or genre

July 18, 2020 Cherry Leave a comment

I was working on recording a Father’s Day offering for my dad so I pounded away at the keyboard all morning trying to get the nuances of the old-fashioned gospel hymn just right. It must be relentlessly taxing on my roommate in such situations, I thought. After all, she is much younger than I, and an educated and trained musician in her own right.

Somewhat wryly I smiled, “Old church music! If they only knew; sounds like ragtime straight out of a barroom, doesn’t it?”

“It’s perfect,” she said, surprising me with her reply. I had forgotten she is an anthropologist. “It was upbeat, stylish, action-packed, bouncy, full of energy – just what every generation wants from their music.”

True music is ageless and knows no genre. It is us – the linear generations- that place restrictions and prejudices; we who say, “that’s folk, that’s classical, that’s religious, I don’t do old stuff.” Ridiculous! Music always and forever will be an outcropping of the soul. It may be a mathematical formula or a stream of consciousness; an opera or a rap; but first and foremost it is spiritual – an outward expression of what is within.

Meanwhile, I continue to chip away at a larger project: Mom’s memorial service. We want to do it right. It was she from whom we got the music. It needs to be upbeat, stylish, full of energy. And of course, it will be very mid-century Christian. I debated aloud about assigning my younger son a part. All my children are musicians but the youngest is the one who parleys in the hardened vocabulary and angst of his generation on punk stages and in dusky bars four nights a week. Would he stoop to old-fashioned gospel? Sadly, I was projecting the embarrassment and rebellion of my own young adult years on him.

“Phil is not like that,” she said. He is not a snob. He loves Music. “Music is music with him.” Music is an outward expression of what is within. There is an ocean of love in that young man – whether pain or joy.

How fortunate we are – every one of us in this family – to have music as the go to pressure valve – the way to express what is really inside – to say what can’t be put in words.

What do you need to say through music today? What do you need to hear?

Character, Emotional Health, Health and Long Life, Metaphor, Music and Theatre, Musical resolutions, Uncategorized

The Naked Vocalist, aka Grandma Godiva

June 28, 2020 Cherry 2 Comments

She took a class. Because she is a life-long learner. Originally, she wanted to learn how to record and edit virtual choir. It seemed like a logical next step for one who has sung in choirs, worked in studios, directed voices young and old, recorded original song demos and cut rehearsal tracks. Like the model who becomes the photographer or the ingenué actress turned aging producer, it was the next step. She followed up. Signed up. There was no class available for the engineering of the thing. But participation often lays the groundwork of understanding, so she was game.
What you must know is, she is not a diva. She is not one of those luscious voiced, coloratura soloist girls. No, this is the girl who prides herself on being a most excellent second fiddle. She loves to sing harmony, and she is actually very good at it. She needs others. She can be the backbone, the support, and keep 40 other voices on pitch if necessary – but she rarely stands alone. She loves singing shoulder to shoulder, elbow to elbow with other vocalists. She loves leaning in and hearing the harmonies and blend. But pandemics require distance. And pandemics are also great incubators for virtual choirs.

She reads notes. She has paid her dues, honed her skills, and gently exercised her voice back to what it used to be before 60 – or so she thinks. Like the good girl she has always been, she does her homework. But this week’s homework was to record an audio cut, raw, straight, with no effects – just her part – one voice out of eight, naked, exposed.

Don’t get me wrong. She’s not a microphone or smart phone virgin. It’s not like she has never sung before. But always with her clothes on, so to speak. In fact, the thing she loves about the recording studio is the way her voice sounds when the engineer works with it. She can land a spot-on tone, and then she lets the engineer dress it.

So there she was, Grandma Godiva (her long, long hair, falling down about her knees), her voice perfectly naked, exposed for the world to hear. The engineer will gild the lily later. Attach and press send was the most humbling thing she has done in a long time. Truth be known, she’s always been a little insecure about the things she loves most.

Naked. That’s pretty much how it feels to be single sometimes, or standing alone – the only one raising a voice about any given issue. So here’s to you, all you naked vocalists. Be strong. Be brave. I don’t care if you are 30 and single or 65 and alone. Dare Greatly. Don’t quit on your music – whatever it is that makes your heart sing.

Sometimes you’ve got to go it alone – naked. And pandemic is one of those times.

Books and other Soul Food, Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Relationships, Spiritual Well Being, Work

The Grateful Victim

June 21, 2020 Cherry 1 Comment

It was something of a miracle to wake for the ninety-sixth time with a feeling of well-being. Make no mistake; she had moments of sadness and loss – bereavement even; periods of anger and denial. But she soldiered through them like a normal person. Treated them like an acceptable result of life and death. Gone were the days of abject despond and paralyzing fear that used to seize her for no reason when everything was going well. Gone the constant feeling of victimization even in the midst of the best of times. These days gratitude is her trademark. Gratitude on waking. Gratitude on drifting off to sleep – solidly. She abides in Peace. And Love. And Creativity. She knows herself to be a victim of only one thing. She is a victim of God’s perfect timing. Yes. A victim of the unfolding of the Universe. This is not the way she chose for it to go. Her choices were snatched from her hands. All her perfect plans – and she laid many with her God-given analytical brain – were treated as nothing. She is now living in Colorado – the place she longed to be. But she didn’t get here with the pomp and circumstance and grace she intended. She was unceremoniously thrust out of hot Arizona and tossed into Durango without warning on the cusp of COVID-19. Did I say without grace? By all appearances it was not a graceful landing – it was more of an ignominious heap. But it was definitely Grace! Yes. She is a recipient of God’s perfect timing. Orchestrated by a Universe in which she is a miniscule particle. Quarantined in the mountains. Forced to not go to work for eight weeks – to not even sip from the bottle of workaholism. Forced to write and read and make music. Required to engage in no activity save those that were exactly what her soul needed. Prohibited from shopping save for health and nourishment. Absolved of any pressure to socialize the introvert within. Add to that, her mother was dying. She had known it for many months. It was no unnatural or sudden shock. The death of an aging loved one is as expected as paying taxes. These global circumstances, so negative to the entire world, again positioned her in proximity to be there the moment restrictions eased and her mother attained final peace. And for that she is eternally grateful.

There are years, years we live through without relief, where nothing happens for us. We are caught in the overwhelming mud of the flood. Bogged down in the Slough of Despond. We are not absolved from the responsibility of our own self-care nor, ironically, of the admonition to give thanks in everything. But let us not fail to acknowledge and be grateful for the miraculous when God steps in and victimizes us with a perfect plan. You can trust the Universe. Rest in that. And be grateful.

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Spiritual Well Being, The Rules

An Old Fashioned Girl and Sneetches

June 10, 2020 Cherry Leave a comment

First, let me say that I am aware there are far more important things going on in the world than my sense of fashion and what I ate for breakfast. Conversely, what I wear and what I eat may directly inform my immunity to disease and strengthen me to engage in meaningful activity whether active or passive.

An Old Fashioned Girl She had always been a little bit old-fashioned. Her high school classmates can attest to that. But after her release into adulthood, she gradually drew abreast of fashion, in some instances becoming a trend-setter. And so it was with the reintroduction of bandanas. She was like everybody else, yet ahead of the game. She had a collection of 15 and wore a different one everyday. But lately she seemed to be falling behind again. Increasingly fewer folk were sporting bandanas on the trail. And then, her city enacted a face-covering in public spaces policy. Sadly it met with open rebellion and scorn. Yet, she had always been a bit old-fashioned, and that often entails following the rules.The Rules If you bristle that your rights are being violated when you are asked to wear a mask – or a shirt – or shoes – or a uniform-or a bathing suit – please save that energy and zeal for issues of prejudice we have recently witnessed – like Stars Upon Thars. In my opinion, mandatory testing should not be for all – nor should mandatory immunizations – or immunizations that have not been fully tested. But hey, bandanas for all is no great sacrifice – nor is a six-foot rule grievous to she who rather likes her space on the trail or in the grocery store.Keep on Doing Good

If you would protest, stay fit and stay well. What you eat for breakfast and what you wear may be important.
If you would cry out, don’t cry “wolf,” save your voice for what really matters. Keeping your instrument (be it voice, strings or pen) well exercised will keep your music – and you – alive.
Be strong! Flaunt your fashion! Keep calm. Save your protestations for things that really matter.

Keep doing it – day after day! Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Be courteous to your neighbor. Fight evil. May Love be with you.

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams

Two Wrongs Don’t Make a Right

May 31, 2020 Cherry Leave a comment

Two wrongs don’t make a right. That’s what Grandma always told me when I tried-by force-to make my little brother do it my way. I have no better words with which to address the heartbreaking events ongoing in the country I love. Two wrongs don’t make a right. We must acknowledge a string of wrongs-too many to count. Somewhere in the middle of that string is the cruel, unjust, unacceptable, and un-American, death of George Floyd in the hands of officers sworn to uphold the Constitution. We must make it right. More and more wrongs will not make it so. Yes, it may feel like jousting with windmills. But now, right now, might be the time to go all Don Quixote.
To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go
To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star
This is my quest, to follow that star
No matter how hopeless, no matter how far
To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march
Into hell for a heavenly cause
And I know if I’ll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lay peaceful and calm
When I’m laid to my rest
And the world will be better for this
That one man scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To fight the unbeatable foe
To reach the unreachable star! – The Impossible Dream, Mitch Leigh, 1965

Character, Home and Hearth, Music and Theatre, Neighborhood

The Perils of Improvisation

May 22, 2020 Cherry Leave a comment

She came up on the patio porch about 7:00 last evening while Andrea and I were woodshedding Wayfaring Stranger; Andrea leading on mandolin and I, fumbling along on guitar – my second or third or fourth axe. It was a warm evening and neighborhood doors and windows were open. She cupped her hands around her eyes and pressed up against the screen door, peering in like a snorkeler ready to dive.

“Is that you smokin’ weed?” she asked – and laughed. She knew the answer. No one smokes inside. A few moments earlier I had detected a sniff of the same pernicious flora wafting in from the sidewalk and wrinkled up my nose. Andrea laughed at me and said, “If you’re going to do concerts, get used to it.”

Now the shadow snorkeler at the door continued, “Thanks for praying for us. It really helped.”

Neighbors are close and noisy, walls are very thin, my daughter is very vocal and active in her faith. She reaches out to the neighbors the second she is prompted. I am the quiet one, shy, and frankly, it’s not in my personality to say everything I believe or philosophize. No. I take my feelings directly to the piano. Sometimes, I am so timid I close the door.

“We sing along with the piano,” she continued. “My family knows most of the words to the old hymns.”

My Elvis and pop-folk to hymn ratio is about eight to one. Perhaps my neighbor perceives the hymn value in Love me Tender, Can’t Help Falling in Love, and Danny Boy. Or maybe it’s You Raise Me Up or Water is Wide – those often masquerade as hymns.

Andrea and I rounded out the second verse of Wayfaring Stranger and paused. The neighbor added, “But sometimes we are singing along with the hymns and the piano just goes da da da off to a different tune all together.” She made a spiraling motion with her finger. I laughed out loud, “That,” I said, “is the peril of improvisation.” Next thing you know she’ll be complaining that she can’t reach the high notes and I’ll have to move Unchained Melody out of the key of “C.”

“Can you do Amazing Grace in “A”? I asked Andrea as I strummed a I, IV, V. This one’s for the hymn loving lady on the porch. Andrea lead. I followed. We eased into a rhythm. The lady’s live-in came out their door. She pulled him into a hug. And they danced. Yes, they danced with Amazing Grace on our patio and then moved off down the sidewalk.

And that is why we make music – why we improvise – so people can still sing and dance.

Family, Health and Long Life, Home and Hearth, Music and Theatre

In A Music House

May 18, 2020 Cherry Leave a comment

I have been long gone from the music house I grew up in – the house where my dad bought my mother musical instruments and paid for our weekly lessons – but when I visit, Dad will frequently ask for those old hymns. Time was, my mother and I would play duets. Duets happened less and less frequently this past decade as arthritis, knee surgery and the pain of old age exacted a toll on Mom. However, in July of 2018, when I paid a regular visit home and sat down at the well-used piano, Mom surprised us by maneuvering her walker to the vibraharp, picking up the mallets and joining in. Bent and gnarled, she was nearly leaning on the tone plates. After three tunes, she was fatigued – so she sat – on the organ bench – and played a medley. Thankfully, I had presence of mind to whip out my cellphone. Mom didn’t know she was being recorded. Please look past my shoulder and beyond my attempts to accompany by ear and enjoy an 85-year-old woman who didn’t quit on her music – or the old tunes.

Mansion Over the Hilltop

It Is No Secret

When We All Get to Heaven / At the Cross

My youngest son came to visit. This in itself was a grand occasion. I hadn’t seen him in the flesh for 16 months – though we do have the advantage of Duo Video calls and Instagram. We hiked. We ate. We talked. The kids pulled out the mandolin and guitar and I sat on the piano stool and luxuriated.

Andrea Shellabarger, mandolin, Philip Shellabarger, guitar, May 10, 2020

Soon I exclaimed, “Oh! It is wonderful to live in a music house!”

My 31-year-old daughter looked at me blankly, “But Mom, we have always lived in a music house.” Now that she mentions it, this is true for her – and for her brother(s). She grew up in a home where the acoustic piano was in use not only for family pleasure, but for the teaching of countless piano students. Frequently, both guitar and piano rehearsed together for the occasional music and worship gig. I taxied them to marching band and chorale rehearsals and performances. And yes, I treasure the memory of the night I sat down at the piano to relax and my pre-teen son crawled under the bench, curled up against the piano, basked in the vibration of the strings. Even when the kids flew the nest and moved out on their own, housing was with other band members – in the rehearsal house. Music was expected. Rehearsal required.

My daughter holds the lease now and I am the roommate in my current domicile for an indefinite period of time. I got the blank look again the other day when I expressed my reticence to embark on vocal exercises with neighbors so close or to play the piano and practice guitar while she reads and writes in the adjoining room.

“Mom,” she remonstrated, “when I lived with the band it was expected you practice your instrument two hours a day in addition to band rehearsals. When everyone plays more than one instrument and practices two hours a day, the projects are going to overlap. Get used to it.”

Sheesh, and I feel like I am encroaching when I woodshed for a few minutes, play piano for an hour, practice guitar 30 minutes and try to wrangle the bass for fifteen.

Yes, my children have always lived in a music house. Their roommates have been fellow band members.

Thank goodness they have never known the poverty of living with roommates who have a television running every waking moment and who, rather than cooperating to schedule times of silence for piano practice, simply turn the volume up to hear the telly over the piano.

It was not like that in the house I grew up in. When I was growing up, many years we didn’t even have a television – and the times we did, it was never allowed on Sunday. Instead of television, we practiced our instruments. And on Sundays, we played hymns.

Cherry Odelberg