The Nields: Wasn't That a Time

I've been a fan of The Nields (in various configurations and levels of amplification) for most of their 23 years - first seeing them in a funky little bar in Bristol, CT called The Common Ground. I was told to get my tissues out when I watched this, and being all jaded and cynical, I ignored this advice, to my own peril. For folks who have been along for most of the ride, it's a tear-jerker of a valentine.
I've supported their crowd-funding project for the next CD, titled "XVII" - and if you are a fan, you might want to also - http://www.pledgemusic.com/projects/thenields

"Did you used to dance and bounce and sing with us?" - Guilty, on all counts, usually on a hillside in Hillsdale, NY. 

Dar Williams: The Honesty Room 20th Anniversary Tour

I made a last minute decision to trek up to Northampton, MA this past weekend to see Dar Williams on her "The Honesty Room" 20th anniversary tour. Dar (and opener, Jill Sobule, at least as much a draw for me) made a healthy dent in the Calvin theater, but there were plenty of seats left, including some higher priced Orchestra seats up front. I ponied up the bucks for a 5th row seat on the side, and was thrilled to be up close.

Dar and Jill getting ready to rock "Iowa" (with Bryn Roberts)

 Now, Dar and I go way back. We go back far enough that "The Honesty Room" was not out when I first encountered her - my first purchase was "All My Heroes are Dead" on cassette tape (!). In a 1996 Hartford Courant article entitled Dar Williams Finds Faith In Bristol Cafe, Roger Caitlin writes:

Every artist has a turning point, Dar Williams believes.

For her, it came one night at the Common Ground cafe in Bristol.

``I was going to quit,'' she recalls. ``I was going to get $100. Was it worth it to present my songs, my blood, sweat and tears before another crowd of beer and cigarettes?''

But something strange happened. ``I mentioned what inspired a song -- the Mafia in Middletown -- and heads turned around. People were listening.''

Sometimes, for a struggling folk artist, that's all you need.

``That gig gave me the faith,'' Williams said at a Connecticut Songwriters Association meeting in East Hartford recently. ``As a performer, that's what you need: The faith things are going to work out.''

Dar played the Common Ground many times, and I was at every one of those gigs. So yeah, we go back a ways. I bought "The Honesty Room" (the original Burning Field Music version) at Roaring Brook Nature Center, where Dar was a spotlight Open Mic performer, having not even risen to the level of head-liner yet, and she inscibed my copy "Thanks for listening....and for playing"

So this 20th Anniversary concert was a trip down memory lane, as Dar played each song from The Honesty Room, in order.

1. When I Was a Boy
2. Alleluia
3. The Great Unknown
4. When Sal's Burned Down
5. The Babysitter's Here
6. You're Aging Well
7. Traveling Again (Traveling I)
8. In Love But Not at Peace
9. Mark Rothko Song
10. This Is Not the House That Pain Built
11. I Love, I Love (Traveling II)

Was quite lovely - songs that I had not heard Dar play in many, many years (although surely, having heard her play several dozen times, weighted towards the early years, I've heard them all at some point). A very sweet and generous trip back in time.

After the main event, Dar played a handful of other "oldies but goodies" - mostly from Mortal City: (As Cool As I Am, February, Iowa, The Christians and The Pagans). It was a hometown crowd for Dar (who lived in Northampton at the start of her career, and recorded THR in the area), with a special cameo by the young woman (then 5, now 25) whose "we both eat spinach, just sometimes, not all the time" tagged The Babysitter's Here recording.

And yes, not to forget Jill Sobule. I've seen Dar dozens of times; I've only seen Jill play live once (at the Inner Space in Hamden, not exactly Carnegie Hall) so it was wonderful to see her play to a big house on a large stage. She's quite wonderful - funny, talented, just the right amount of quirky and acerbic as befits someone who burst onto the music scene (with 1995's "I Kissed a Girl") and then never quite hit the top-40 the same way even as her musical career continued to be productive and creative. I've picked up several of her albums online that have gone into regular rotation, and will probably pick up a few more now that she has charmed me again. I did but her songbook this weekend and promised to hook her up with a steam train (she mentioned wanting to do a long train trip to write music).

I'd say that caps a pretty awesome year of music (which I will recap over the coming weeks) but you never know when and where I might find something awesome to go listen to between now and Dec 31.....

Faithful Sky at Roaring Brook Nature Center

Yes, I am a big folk / acoustic music fan. And no, I do not get out to see live music enough. But I did venture out last  evening, to see The Faithful Sky at the Roaring Brook Nature Center. 

The Faithful Sky is the new collaboration, built around Hugh Blumenfeld, with longtime collaborators Jim Mercik and Diane Chodkowski, and relative newcomers Jeff Buchbinder and Mark Hall. While I seem to catch up with Hugh semi-regularly, it was delightful to see him for a full show, in such a great space, and with a full band backing him up.

I sat in the back and happily mouthed the words to many of Hugh's old songs - Diane and Jim both took leads for a pair of songs (Diane's cover of Shindell's Fleur de Lis was lovely, Jim's song Is This Enough was driving and wonderful).  A few covers came along - Hugh's rendition of This Land is Your Land sequed into Which Side Are You On, with what seemed like a lyrical makeover. Hugh brought out a cover of Eliza Gilkyson's to-be-released song All Right Here that was romantic and sweet. There were plenty of sing-along opportunities. And the closer, Cohen's Hallelujah, which Hugh was playing before Rufus Wainwright, Shrek, and Jeff Buckley, was so reverent and powerful.

It was so sweet to be in that wonderful acoustic and energetic space, to hear that wonderful music. Roaring Brook tends to bring in more of the old time, road weary folkies as well as acoustic guitar heroes - not always my first choice in live music. (Stan the organizer appeared not to have seen a Cajon before....which is kind of indicative of the little time warp of folk music that Roaring Brook has become) But this was a great opportunity to hear and old friends.

When Things Go Right

Took a few hours last night to go see Robin Lane at Whole Foods Glastonbury.

Now, I last got to see Robin Lane perform around 1981. I was a student at Worcester Polytechnic Institute (WPI) which had a pretty decent rotation of musicians and performers in my four years there. Robin Lane and the Chartbusters was a regionally hot, on the verge of breaking through kind of group, along the lines of Blondie or The Pretenders. I picked up their self titled debut album on vinyl, which followed me around for many years, until one final vinyl purge (everything went except for Springsteen and the Roches - strange bedfellows to be sure). But a few years back I picked this album up on CD.

Thinking back, I spent many hours with this album cued up on the turntable, figuring out the chords and the riffs. I must have worn that record out because to this day I still remember the lyrics and I bet if I spent a moment, the chords and riffs are still in my fingers. It was perhaps my first experience of connecting to a local musician / band that is perhaps not on the national scene, a habit that has lasted throughout my life.

Here's Robin Lane and the Chartbusters  at the Rathskeller (aka "The Rat") in Boston, a venue far cooler than the WPI gymnasium.



So, Robin Lane came to Whole Foods. She's been off the grid for many years, but has a new project called  Song Bird Sings, subtitled "Healing Trauma One Song at a Time". Their mission:

It is Songbird Sings mission to transform those silenced by domestic violence enabling them to give voice to their experiences and emotions through songwriting and creative collaboration in a safe, enjoyable, and structured environment. To help participants to learn inner strength and resilience as they come to trust themselves, and others, while building support systems between those with a shared history of trauma.

It was such a pleasure seeing and hearing Robin. She lives in Western MA and plays house concerts and small gigs, and I hope I'm able to attend (or perhaps even held to arrange) one in the future. She did a mixture of old rockers and newer, folkier numbers, as well as some songs from the A Woman's Voice album. (which I picked up at Whole Foods but the CD was not in there.....grumble). Abetted by bass player John Pfister, a couple of Whole Foods percussionists (Callem and......?) and multi-instrumentalist Jeff Chen from Them Damn Hamiltons (on keyboard), she was...in a word, delightful.

Here's Robin in the 21st century:


It was a wonderful look back into my past, fondly remembering my misspent youth. Robin and I - we are aging well. As a bonus, my fellow Guinea Pigs Sandy and Dan dropped in for a listen - it was sweet of them to come share the music and my passion for this particular artist.

Tell Me Your Name Again....

I have this issue with people. I'm pretty sure I have exceeded my mind's capacity to retain and remember all the people in my life.

Let's see - I teach yoga. There are perhaps 60-80 people I see each week, some weekly, some occasionally, some just once or a few times. I never really get to know their names; when a regular comes in early and I can sneak out to the desk I can match a name to a person, but I'm not all that good at keeping it all straight.

Then of course, there are all the yoga teacher trainees. 48 this year, 35 or so in 2010, 2011, 2012. That's a good 120 folks to remember - and I really do struggle with many.

I move through other worlds - music (my other members of my band, the Guinea Pigs, belong to the same UU church and many of our fans come from there), ballooning (probably 50-60 people), camp (250 or so, with a broader community of past campers), and my folk festival (perhaps a core of 40 key volunteers, with another 100 or so I ought to remember but usually do not). Add in musicians I meet, folks in the local arts, cultural and GLBT worlds, folks in the greater spiritual / yoga world. And of course, my extended family - a child of two roman catholics, I have close over 50 first cousins, and now they are breeding. It's way too much.

I have (as of this morning) 466 Facebook friends, and that's even a bit low, since I (a) almost never reach out to friend people myself and (b) accept friend invitations only from folks I have actually met in real life.

Last night, at our gig, a woman who clearly knows me came up, grabbed a hug. I had no idea. Turns out she is a friend of the other band members (goes to UU church), has a yogic name (shakti) and is on the merch crew at Falcon Ridge. I had no freaking idea.

This is a problem. Not sure how to deal with it, but it's annoying, inconsiderate, and kind of rude.

Help Kate Bornstein Stay Alive

Kate Bornstein has cancer.  The good news, direct from the team of skilled doctors on her case, is that the cancer is curable.  However, the treatment plan that gives Kate the best chance of beating cancer is incredibly expensive.  Kate has spent the past thirty years helping the rest of us Stay Alive—now it’s our turn to give back.  Let’s HELP KATE BORNSTEIN BEAT CANCER AND STAY ALIVE!

There's a GOFUNDME site established, here with the goal of raising $100,000 to help Kate pay for the treatment.

Kate has been a pretty formidable influence in my life, journey, and understanding of "the trans" - I, inexplicably and against all odds, went to see her reading from the newly released "Gender Outlaw" on Sept 29, 1994*. (who has a first edition hard cover version that Kate lovingly inscribed in crayon? This girl) It was the first time I met a trans person, in fact I was seated in a room filled with transfolk. It was terrifying and inspiring - I'd have to say that was the day I turned around and hugged the dragon that had been haunting and hunting me throughout my life.

I've gone to see Kate speak, read, perform perhaps a dozen times in the intervening years - and though I've occasionally disagreed with her on issues of tone as well as the details of traversing the world while trans - she's remained an inspiring and beloved figure in my life.

I could not give much, but I gave some. If Kate has touched your life, and you have a few bucks to spare, consider passing a few along.

* Where? Real Art Ways, in Hartford, of course. Is it any wonder this space remains one of my favorite places in the area?

Neil Young: Still Rocking

Way back in 2006, I saw Jonathon Demme's Neil Young biopic Heart of Gold. I blogged about it back then:

I thought how blessed Neil Young was to go toe to toe with mortality, to survive, and to be wise enough to throw his own goodbye party / concert and to film it. May we all be so fortunate.

Little did I know that Neil Young would survive his aneurysm survey, and keep right on rocking. And I was fortunate enough to see him as he came through Bridgeport (Webster Arena) last evening.

Now, Neil Young and I go way back. I thing I wore the grooves down on my Life Rust album (remember double albums?). I owned an erratic sampling of his works on album and cassette: his self titled first, Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, American Star and Bars, Re*actor, Trans, Landing on Water, Freedom.  And when I made the jump to CD, I've picked up a bit over the years: Everybody Knows This is Nowhere, Rust Never Sleeps, Decade, Life Rust, Sleeps with Angels, Mirror Ball, Ragged Glory. Not canonical by any means, but a good sampling.

And as an angry young rocker, Neil Young was an icon. Needle and the Damage Done was part of the walking D acoustic trilogy (also, Willin' by Lowell George and Friend of the Devil by the Grateful Dead). A guitar, and amp, and the right effects pedal, and one could blast out the riffs to Hey Hey, My My. Every band I've ever played in had some Neil Young in the set list - Powderfinger, Hey Hey My My, Like a Hurricane. Even today, the Guinea Pigs play Cinnamon Girl.  Neil Young's music is nothing if not messy, emotional, heartfelt.

First thought: Is that the set from Rust Never Sleeps? Indeed it was. No idea if Crazy Horse gigs have had this set all along, but dude - that album came out in 1979, the year I graduated from high school. And yet, here it still is, 30+ years later.  It was both reassuring (some things never change....they stay the way they are....) and kind of sad.

Similarly, the intro to Needle  and the Damage Done (with the lightning graphics and sound, and the Woodstock "please get off those towers...no rain" recording) was straight out of Live Rust. For someone who often obstinantly refuses to play the greatest hits (the folks behind us were kvetching about previous concerts where he did nothing old or classic), Mr Young is awfully faithful to the past.

And there were Greatest Hits - Mr. Soul, Hey Hey My My, Cinnamon Girl, Powderfinger, Needle and the Damage Done were all woven into newer material. It felt a little polarized - old FM classics or brand new material. Not a lot of middle ground, mining the many albums of material out there.

I was struck by a certain level of goofiness, bordering on surrealism, that infused the concert. The big amps and microphone, and the video monitors (trimmed out to look like 60's TV sets hung in the arena) reminded me of a bunch of kids playing in the basement - Neil and the band (with the exception of the keyboard player) hugged the center of the stage, facing inward towards each other as if avoiding eye contact with the audience. This was their fun time playing, and we got to watch and listen, if we dared.

Their set opened with the National Anthem (dude, you are Canadian, right?) complete with flag unfurled behind the band - serious or making fun? Hard to say. During one song, an old pump organ was rolled out on stage, and when the short organ instrumental rolled around (played by the keyboardist on a more modern instrument) the old pump organ was spotlit, unplayed. At one point, the roadies crumpled papers and bags in front of a fan, blowing across the stage for no real reason other than perhaps the joy of watching things blow across the stage. You get the feeling that maybe back in '75, someone decided to screw with Neil and send stuff blowing across the stage via a cooling fan, and they decided to keep the bit. There was a lot of that going on. Like some weirdly serious, weirdly comic ritual that has evolved over 40 years - nobody knows why they are doing all these things, they made sense once upon a time.

Me at 51 is a far different person than me at 18. I grew tired of the endless guitar riffing, and the prolonged (10 minutes maybe?) of messing around with feedback and sonic blasting.  I wanted a little more song and a little less riffing. But, 35 years down the road Neil Young is still rocking it out. He was up there amusing himself in 79, and he's still up there amusing himself today. We can choose to come along.

The second song in was the anthem Powderfinger - and it was like I was scratching a 35 year old itch to hear the song played live, after playing it so often in my own basement rock past. It did not disappoint.

Jonathon Demme has a follow-up film (Journeys) - part of an accidental Trilogy - and I need to see that. 2006's Heart of Gold was amazingly moving. But for now, I'll let the ears ring and the energy settle. Glad I finally got to see Neil Young and Crazy Horse.

CT Pride Day

Wandered down to Bushnell Park this afternoon for Connecticut Pride. Was a beautiful morning / early afternoon, although it clouded over and cooled down a bit.

I really liked the layout of the vendor / organizational booths - it contained the energy and created a feeling of critical mass, as compared to other years. Think I've missed a few years there so this may not be a new thing, but regardless, I approve. I'm not much for the music at Pride; just not my cup of tea. And without a posse hanging out together, not a lot of fun hanging out all afternoon. So I popped in and out.

Mostly, it's my annual check-in with folks. Some friends I have known for 10-15 years; Pride is my one chance to really touch base every year. Others I see more often, but nice to see them all together. And always a couple I have lost touch with, it's a nice surprise to reconnect.

And always a little bittersweet. Organizations I have been involved with over the years; membership has turned over and now I know nobody. New organizations that have sprouted up that I have no connection or history with; a little awkward to wander up and say "Hey, I used to be somebody, 10 years ago". And a sense of missing the GLBT community a bit:

* Living in a liberal state where GLBT folks are seamlessly integrated into other communities, a lot of the community spaces (community center, bars, coffeehouses) and resources / groups have faded;

* Moving through the world without making waves or encountering much in the way of discrimination or hate, which limits my incentive to stay connected to the support and activism organizations;

* Being way too busy with work, hobbies, and life - I try to stop in to community events when I can, but "when I can" is a pretty thin slice of life.

Shout out to my wing women; Alison from yoga and Sandy from the Guinea Pigs, who both wandered down to check out the festival and wander around with me for a while. I usually just do a circuit or two, say hi to old friends, and head out. Instead I hung out with them and chatted for a few hours. I Am sure they both broke a few hearts this afternoon; sorry ladies, they are straight! Although Alison's sidekick (an adorable pug) was like catnip to the gay men....

I doubt I'll get to any of the evening festivities - a bit too old for the bar scene, balloon chasing in the morning means a 4:30 am wake-up call. But it was nice to check in. The Eros Film Fest is coming up in November...

RIP Bill Morrissey

While in the merchandise trailer at Falcon Ridge on Saturday, I got the news - Bill Morrissey had passed away. Such sad news, especially when contrasted with the joyful folk community underway in Hillsdale - many artists mentioned Bill during their sets. It's going to take me a few days to come down from the Falcon Ridge high to start to process Bill's death.

Others have written more and better tributes; you can find some links on a fansite as well as a short blurb on Bill's site. I've been a fan for over two decades; having heard Handsome Molly on a Legacy compilation. After listening for many years, I got to see him play live, and was surprised at such a deep voice coming from such a slight man. I own a handful of Bill's albums (North, Standing Eight, Inside, Night Train, You'll Never Get to Heaven), and have always been struck by his portrayal of working class New England, and his bittersweet songs about relationships. But I have to say that Friend of Mine, a collaboration with Greg Brown, remains a favorite. Just two good friends, sitting around with a couple of guitars and trading licks, verses, and laughs.

As I unwound from the folk fest, I put five of Bill's CDs that I own into the CD player. The very first notes of Pantherville brought me back to the early 90's - I covered that tune at open mics for a while. Married Man is both hopeful and tickles the funny bone. Handsome Molly, the first song to draw me in; think that's Suzanne Vega on backing vocals. These Cold Fingers - a darker song foretelling perhaps some of his personal struggles. Off-White is another beautiful relationship song, kind of reminds me of David Mallett's "I've Been Around."

Night Train features Birches, one of my favorite songs about relationship - the metaphors and imagery are so beautiful. And on that album, the sad (right now) Letter from Heaven and Time To Go Home

All in all it's amazing how little the quality and tone of his songs changed from the earlier CDs to the later ones. he got a little darker, a little more serious, but one could drop a random song from the earlier days into the later albums and it would not be that out of place.

This year, Falcon Ridge featured a tribute to Jack Hardy who also passed away this year. Folk music has lost a couple of good ones. So it was so sweet to rub elbows with and lend my ears to those still with us - John Gorka, Greg Brown, Eliza Gilkyson, Lucy Kaplansky, Mary Gauthier, so many more.....

I Have Amusing Friends

Dear Jude:
As usual, I had every intention of sending you a Birthday Card, but as usual, didn't. So, you will have to make it yourself. Follow the instructions fairly precisely.

***********************************************************************************************
Take one sheet of Japanese heavy ragstock paper (preferably Namura No.3) and fold it in half.

Now scallop the edges artfully with an Exacto knife.

Open up your water color outfit and chose a background color. Mix paint and color the interior of the card (lighter at the edges).

On one side paint a cute little dog (use Booga as model) looking up winsomely with big dark eyes, surrounded with stuffing and shredded cloth from torn up couch and carpeting.

On the other side, paint the words: "Happy Birthday, Jude" in calligraphic script.

Under that, write (with Sharpie marker): Love, Audrey

***********************************************************************************************
So there you go.....

2nd Annual Santa Flight in Memory of Mike Bollea

Eleven hot air balloons rose from the back lot of Southington's Aquaturf Club this morning. The CT Lighter than Air Society (CLAS) sponsored a holiday balloon rally in memory of Mike Bollea, who passed away in March 2009.

Each year in December, Mike would don a Santa suit and fly his balloon, he and his crew handing out candy canes to the kids they encountered on their flight. In his honor, we recreated his flight this morning.

Most of us wore hats and festive garb, although we did manage to field two Santas and one Mrs. Claus. It was a beautiful day to fly, with most pilots heading northeast toward Camp Slopers and Timberlin Golf Course.

After the flight, a toast to our friend Mike, and a meet-up at the Plantsville truck stop for breakfast (not exactly haute cuisine, but a big enough space for the 30 or so pilots and crew)

At left, student pilot Kristen on the burner, initial ascent. Kristen bought a small basket a while back, with room for just two passengers. The propane tanks are suspended outside the basket, and the burner is affixed to a ring connected via cables and carabieners.








Below, the Berkshire Balloons team - pilot in training Kristen, pilot Robert, and crew Jude. The most entertaining balloon team in the state, bar none!

Reunion

Last evening was an overdue (31) reunion of the Marian High School class of 1979.

We've been reuniting sporadically over the years. 5 and 10, surely. Not sure if we had a 15 - if so I did not make it. We did a big deal at 20 (I was in attendance, probably right on the cusp of my big life change). And now here we are at 31. Can it have been that long?

A reasonable turn-out, 45 or so pre-registered out of a class of 160 and a few dropped in, but that (I think) includes a handful of spouses and SOs. Kudos to the folks who planned this (Dawne, Eileen, Jacqui....you rock!). It was nice to see old friends and schoolmates.

Always a little disappointing regarding who did not show - a lot of what might have passed for my posse (or at least the clump of kids I knew best, by dint of taking similar classes) were absent. Going through the yearbook now - Nancy, Keats, Mary, Jeff, Winifred, Claudette, Joyce, Rich, Kevin, Mike, Andrea, Cheryl, BJ, Maura, Jim, John. All you guys were missed, by me at least.

A few random observations. A couple of my classmates could have walked out of their yearbook photos and into the reunion - Dan, Kevin, Lisa, Marcia - you guys are timeless. Pushing 50 and you look like kids! Others seem to have grown a few inches - almost as if high school was diminishing and somewhere along the line they figured life out and grew into themselves - people you want for friends. Others have aged a bit but still bringing their spirit and energy forward from high school to now. And a handful changed quite a bit - often for the better. The women especially changed hairstyles and fashion, or grew into themselves.

All in all, the class seems to have done very well - lots of kids, interesting careers and lifestyles, lot of great energy. One might suspect a bit of selective filtering (the folks who made a point of coming were happy to be seen) but on the other hand, perhaps those missing have amazing lives that they were not willing to step away from for the reunion. So let's just call us a typical cross-section and say "bravo!"

Although "Most Changed" was not one of the class superlatives to be elected (thanks for trying, organizers!), I nevertheless accrued a significant write-in vote. Kind of hard to top my journey in terms of changes. Tee hee.

A lovely time. Thanks for your kind words everyone. I'll try not to be a stranger going forward.....

Crockett

Among the life mementos that I have carried with me is a 45 RPM record by a Worcester MA group called "Crockett". The A side is a bit of bawdy innuendo called "Judy Grew a Wildflower" and the B side is the something called "Some Kids". Circa 1979.

Crockett (led by Walter Crockett, with his wife Valerie and I believe featuring a young whipper-snapper on guitar named Duke Levine) must have played the coffeehouse at WPI and I liked them well enough to buy the record (the sleeve of which bears a price - 49 cents - although no idea if the sleeve is original)

For some reason I thought about Crockett this evening, and hunted them down online. There is a self described primitive website and sadly, an obituary for Valerie Crockett who passed away in October 2009.

Walter Crockett is still out there, playing music. I dug up a few videos on Youtube. First, a 2008 reunion of the band Zonkaraz (which I vaguely remember playing WPI, probably some concert or another).


And more visible adding some leads to a folkie duo called "Chuck & Mud"


I ought to email Mr. Crockett and see if the 45 is of some interest to him as a bit of history that he may no longer have a copy of....

The Under Toad

From 'The World According To Garp' (and cribbed from Currently This):

"Duncan began talking about Walt and the undertow- a famous family story. For as far back as Duncan could remember, the Garps had gone every summer to Dog's Head Harbor, New Hampshire, where the miles of beach in front of Jenny Fields' estate were ravaged by a fearful undertow. When Walt was old enough to venture near the water, Duncan said to him- as Helen and Garp had, for years, said to Duncan- "Watch out for the undertow." Walt retreated, respectfully. And for three summers, Walt was warned about the undertow. Duncan recalled all the phrases.

"The undertow is bad today."
"The undertow is strong today."
"The undertow is wicked today." Wicked was a big word in New Hampshire- not just for the undertow.

And for years, Walt watched out for it. From the first, when he asked what it could do to you, he had only been told that it could pull you out to sea. It could suck you under and drown and you and drag you away.

It was Walt's fourth summer at Dog's Head Harbor, Duncan remembered, when Garp and Helen and Duncan had observed Walt watching the sea. He stood ankle deep in the foam from the surf and peered into the waves, without taking a step, for the longest time. The family went down to the water's edge to have a word with him.

"What are you doing, Walt?" Helen asked?
"What are you looking for, Dummy?" Duncan asked him.
"I'm trying to see the Under Toad, " Walt said.
"The what?" said Garp?
"The Under Toad," Walt said. "I'm trying to see it. How big is it?"

And Garp and Helen and Duncan held their breath; they realized that all these years, Walt had been dreading a giant toad, lurking offshore, waiting to suck him under and drag him out to sea. The terrible Under Toad.

Garp tried to imagine it with him. Would it ever surface? Did it ever float? Or was it always down under, slimy and bloated and ever watchful for ankles its coated tongue could snare? The vile Under Toad.

Between Helen and Garp, the Under Toad became their code word for anxiety. Long after the monster was clarified for Walt ("Undertow, dummy, not Under Toad!" Duncan had howled), Garp and Helen evoked the beast as a way of referring to their own sense of danger. When the traffic was heavy, when the road was icy- when depression had moved in overnight- they said to each other "The Under Toad is strong today."

"Remember," Duncan asked on the plane, "how Walt asked if it was green or brown?"
Both Garp and Helen laughed. But it was neither green nor brown, Garp thought. It was me. It was Helen. It was the color of bad weather. It was the size of an automobile.

I'm conscious of the Under Toad at the moment.

Last week, I got news that a friend, teacher trainee, and one of my regular students down at the yoga studio got hit by a car on her bicycle. Not one of these little brushes or scrapes (which can be bad enough, given the relative size and speed of the vehicle compared to a biker) but a full on collision that involved the neck, concussion, pelvis, ribs, ankle. Pretty scary. She seems to be doing OK, and will recover although I suspect it will be long and difficult.

On Friday, my former partner Zippy called. A mutual friend P was in the hospital - had been for almost two weeks with what appeared to be a stroke. Lots of drama there - Zippy upset that he had not checked up on P (who had not been returning calls), Zippy upset that the way P compartmentalized his life meant that family and friends were not in contact. But two weeks later, P is still barely conscious, in hospital, and they are not exactly sure what is going on. A week or so of testing and observation led up to a brain biopsy last week; results still unknown. Zippy's been over to visit P every day since; and he (Zippy) is pretty shaken up by it all - he and P have been very close.

In the background, some issues at the studio that do not directly affect me but results in my being pulled in to the teacher training (long weekends) - I love and am honored to be part of the training, but it will mean a long and tiring three days, last month and again next weekend.

Meanwhile, my home has descended into a level of mess and clutter heretofore unseen; musical instruments, yoga mats, clothes, shoes, newspapers, mail, you name it. I'm not exactly a neat freak but it's past the point of simply feeling comfortable and lived in. Just a bit too busy to spend the time keeping up around here, and in this place of frenetic activity, things like healthy eating, keeping my living space ordered, etc. go out the window. I've made a list and am starting to pick away at it; my kitchen table is cleared and I bought myself some flowers this weekend to draw myself back into the world of beauty and order.

I have a relatively clear schedule today and will be sneaking in some household chores in between my work projects. Might even sneak over to weight watchers and try to kick start that.

Hugh and Lucy

My friend Kim and I trekked out to University of Hartford to see Hugh Blumenfeld, opening up for Lucy Kaplansky last event, part of the Music for a Change series.

First Hugh. Lovely to see him again, although Kim and I also headed out to see him last year at the Coventry Farmer's Market (where the *cough* Guinea Pigs will be playing in June!). A short set; but filled with goodness - opening with Raphael, doing the song about his brother from Strong in Spirit. No "Good Humor Man" (not quite summer enough) and no "How Long (Will the Mill Wheels Turn)" although thatt's probably not the name of the song.

However, extra special bonus, Diane Chodkowski (who I spotted in the house along with long time folkie Cyd Slotoroff) came up on stage to help out with "Friend of the Traveler" (she is the Diane who has "...been from Equador to Cracow, singing like an ambassador from heaven....", and sang with Margo and Adrienne as part of "Madwommin in the Attic" for a time). A fun treat; I was hoping she might join Hugh on stage.

For the Hugh fans - a new album entitled "Father" is coming out in June (in time for Father's Day) and he graduates and puts up his shingle in June also. I'm assuming he's going to be practicing pediatrics; not sure where.

Lucy is also an old favorite of mine; Kim never quite caught the bug. She played a cover heavy set - opening with Lyle Lovett's God Will, closing with Springsteen's Thunder Road (!), and sprinkling in Cohen (Hallelujah), McCartney (Let it Be), and Cash (Ring of Fire) - along with two by her father.

I'm a Lucy fan for a lot of reasons. I've heard her harmonizing on my favorite folk artists for literally decades - perhaps first on John Gorka's tracks. She has written and performed some amazing songs - her cover of Broken Things (Julie Miller) is a staple on my yoga disk, often setting up for Savasana (and often bringing tears). And one year, getting ready for Falcon Ridge Folk Fest she must have called me 1/2 dozen times to be sure her CDs got there; and she was so personable and engaging on the phone that I fell in love with the person to match the voice and music. Having a beloved performer call you on the phone is always kind of an E ticket experience....

But I think I hit on why some folks do not get her - she steadfastly refuses to sing the melody, live. She performed many songs that I know well (her own and covers) and invariably, she sang all over the place. Consciously, deliberately, and beautifully, mind you. But the "hook" of a song is almost always in the melody, and so it's hard to really get the song without that. It's almost like her performances are for the true believer, who has the song's melody in their head (from listening to the track) leaving her free to play around with harmony. She is, as she confessed to having been titled by Gorka "The Dominatrix of Harmony"

She's not on the Falcon Ridge roster for this year, BUT she noted that she, John Gorka, and Eliza Gilkyson are working on a trio project (think "Cry Cry Cry") entitled "Red Horses", and due out in July. Since 2/3 of the trio will be at Falcon Ridge I would not be surprised to see her make an appearance.....

Afterwards, Kim and I grabbed a bite at Gold Roc, a pack of high school theater geeks descended, some in greasepaint and hairspray. Kim guessed "Godspell" based on some of the makeup and I guessed the Greater Hartford Academy of the Arts (they are performing "Urinetown" this weekend and next, which I would love to sneak over to see). Having watched one too many episodes of Glee, I half expected an over the top production number. But we let before they got rowdy and tuneful!

Peter Anthony!

A message from Linked In this morning:

I'd like to add you to my professional network on LinkedIn.

etcetera, blah, blah, blah

- Peter Anthony

I'm so glad he's reconnected - been thinking of him lately with all my forays into the world of open mics, acoustic music, etc.

Near Miss

Friends from Philly, en route to Boston, decided to drive up tonight and stopover in CT. They were thinking of staying here, and as a result I scurried around cleaning this afternoon: changed the sheets, straightened the bedroom and living room somewhat, vacuumed all the carpets.

Alas, my friends opted to lodge with another friend, along the coast. Probably smart considering the snowfall predictions. And it's nice to have the place a bit cleaned up....

Kitty Kraus / Matrix 158

Popped over to the Wadsworth Atheneum last night for the relaunch of the Matrix contemporary arts program. Full disclosure - the new Curator of Contemporary Art, Patricia Hickson, is an old friend (or rather, my sister's best bud in high school, she was a year behind me) and life has planted us both in Hartford. So I was there partly for the art, partly to support a friend, and partly to get out and about. The evening was a success on all counts!

Loved the installation. You can read a more refined synopsis of the artist's work here, although I'm trying to reflect my reaction without reading too much. I'll dig into others interpretations later....I was too busy schmoozing to catch the artist's talks, sadly.

My initial reaction was that Ms. Kraus is creating the same sorts of geometries and effects as Frank Lloyd Wright - except what he does with paint or metal, she is doing with light. I found myself stopping at each lightbox and noting how each cast a different pattern or effect on the space - and wondering if there were slots or cut-outs on the hidden face. I'm guessing not; that the differences were related to the orientation of the light brick; the distance from the walls, and perhaps subtle differences in the width of the exposed glass and the angled assembly of the individual panes of glass.

Eventually, I stopped at an individual brick and simply gazed into the light. Several of the figures created a 3D effect - as if I were gazing down the length of an unfinished room or hallway, looking at rafters or the supports of a suspended ceiling.

And finally, this morning, a more spiritual interpretation. Much like a quest for the divine - we are often blocked form gazing directly at the truth, but instead can only catch slivers of light, reflections, second and third hand evidence of the brilliant light that illuminates reality. This entire reality is the same sort of projection as Ms. Kraus's light installations - we can not see within the source of the light, but it leaks out of the cracks and the projections are both beautiful and draw us in to seek more.

The Matrix gallery space is an interesting space - long and tunnel-like with one entrance closed. In some ways it evokes other tunnel-like spaces filled with light (dare I mention the O'Hare International tunnel between terminals B and C?). My experience of the art was only slightly marred by a somewhat gruff Atheneum guard whose admonishments to "stick to the center of the room, do not touch anything, including the bench" felt a little stern and boomy in the space which otherwise might have conjured a cathedral-like silence. Perhaps a visit on another day, without the bustle of an opening and a First Thursday event is in order.

I'm a newcomer to the Atheneum's social circle - but it's feeling more comfortable, and I'm overdue for an afternoon of more leisurely browsing and exploration.

Not So Proud

I guess that Saturday is CT Pride Day, and the weather looks to be nearly perfect. Down at Bushnell Park, 11 am to 5 pm.

Have not been much into Pride Day for a few years now. Not all that connected or invested in the local community; the downside of living in a liberal, accepting place is that there is less need for a queer ghetto, and as a result, the GLBT organizations and businesses are pretty thin. The Project 100 / Community Center closed doors a few years back. There are two local bars (Chez Est and Polo Club), neither of which does much for me - not much of a drinker to start with, I rarely stay up past 11, and the GLBT entertainment options do not really resonate. I'm not all that big on gay marriage (it does not seem to work all that well for the straight folks....maybe we should find a different model) which is the one political cause that seems to have traction these days. And my membership into the lesbian tribe seems conditional at best. So, in general, I'm an "on the outside, looking in" kind of queer woman. I have a few smallish circles of queerness I move through but none seems particularly connected to any sort of greater community.

Were I hanging out on Saturday, I would no doubt show up (probably on bike), walk around, say hi to some old friends, make a few circuits of the festival grounds, and wander off feeling kind of lonely and disconnected. But since I will heading out to Rhode Island for a Green / Folkie fest (musicians I enjoy, workshops and vibe I can embrace, and yoga to boot), I get to avoid the "I really feel like I ought to be part of this but somehow its nor working for me" experience.

Peter Anthony is Leaving

Allow me to reminisce about my friend Peter Anthony, on the cusp of his departure for his homeland of Australia.

I met Peter back around 1990. Coming off a separation, I had started to venture out to an open mike in Bristol, held at a charming dive called "The Common Ground". Sunday nght was folk night (I saw folks like Dar Williams, The Nields, and Aztec Two Step) and Monday nights, Jon Lewis ran an open mike. I'd show up, perform a few songs (mostly covers, although I wrote a couple myself), drink a few pints, and play pool on a ridiculous bar table (small, with all sorts of walls and poles to interfere with shots) as I listened to the other musicians. It was a friendly place albeit a bit rough around the edges; we musicians all came to know each other and watch out for each other amidst the regulars. One of the other musicians was Peter Anthony.

Never could quite figure out Peter. When he first started, he played a beat up guitar held together with duct tape. Perhaps I imagined this but it often seemed to be missing a string or two. His playing did not seem to suffer - Peter could drag more emotion and energy out of a single guitar string than anyone I've met. He'd wander around the stage and one worried he might fall off the stage in a bit of instrumental reverie. If he was sans guitar, he would borrow one, and I occasionally worried about my guitar coming back to me in one piece (it always did).

Peter was Australian, and would occasionally be introduced as the Aussie Bob Dylan. In truth, he was somewhere in the mold of Paul Kelly, Billy Bragg, perhaps a little Richard Thompson.

Peter wrote, or perhaps reworked, some amazing songs. I say reworked because he'd often lead in with "This is a Paul Kelly song that I changed the words, and the music, to" so one was never quite sure of a song's provenance. "One More Boring Thursday Night in Adelaide" was Peter's masterpiece - we'd call for it as a closer to his set. A rollicking anthem, (think Springsteen's Jungleland, but more colorful). "The Shots are Getting Bigger" was, to my mind, the best drinking song ever written by a person who does not imbibe. "Begger on the Street of Love" would make one weep into one's pint glass. "Reckless" was just plain beautiful. "Pouring Petrol on a Burning Man" made one want to stomp feet and play conga's on the table. I am sure there are others (newer songs, less ingrained into my head) - he had quite the canon.

Over the years, I've connected with Peter at various acoustic music venues and open mikes. The Common Ground closed, and the open mike moved down to The Chunky Tomato for a time. The late Equinox Cafe (think that was the name, it's been years) in Manchester. Klekolo's in Middletown. Roaring Brook Nature Center. There were others. Peter would disappear for a while (and I did my own share of disappearing) and then I'd get a call or an email about a gig, and I'd go and listen.

Peter was, and is, a bit of an enigma - I think he'd concur, and proudly. He's been a copy editor at Forbes (ironic, given how politically left he seems), edited the Hartford Business Journal, a chef, a waiter. He has a rainbow flag tattoo on his inner arm. He carries a somewhat rumpled, tattered affect of someone who has perhaps slept in his clothes, or maybe just could not be bothered to fold them after laundering, and is too fond of that old flannel shirt to let a bit of wear and a few holes preclude putting it on. A rogue, a poet, a wise fool, a kind heart. Peter is all those things.

Peter's heading home, to Australia. He's had the bad fortune to come down with some chronic health issues, in a country with no real safety net or health system. So he's heading back home. Ironic that in the 21st century, the folk musicians are emigrating away from this "land of opportunity" - in years gone by the tale of a young lad or lass heading to America to escape famine and poverty became the stuff of folk music.

I'm hopefully getting together with Peter tomorrow morning - one last time. Perhaps the last time I will see him; Australia is a helluva long way from Connecticut, and neither of us has a lot of traveling left in us. But you never know.....

Peter has touched my life with his music, his smile, his impish nature, his fragility. Even though I only see him now and then, I'll miss him. And though I've lost family members and friends; it has been many years since I've said goodbye. I imagine I have many good-byes ahead of me as family and friends begin to age; this seems like the opening shot in the long good-bye.

A few tears then, for an old friend.