As I sit here sipping the last of my Pinot Noir from dinner, the eve of our Wedding Anniversary, I’m reflecting on 39 years of marriage to the same hunk of a man, my TWL. As mentioned before in a previous post, he’s my James Taylor of a guy back in the day when we first met and has morphed into my stalwart protector, staunchest supporter of my (he)art and deepest devoted Father and Grandfather of our progeny.
TWL is the ‘name’ we jokingly refer to in e-mails and snail mails to each other, letters defining his initials. It is also part of the name of a solo classical guitar piece I composed and dedicated to him on the first Christmas (out of three) during our between homes experience: Gift: for TWL (actually performed in context with the Goodwill Cultural CenterSwimming with Swans: the music program presented on June 3rd).
In honor of our 39th I present to you a favorite youtube representing one of his special passions: sailing. Keep in mind that the video shows ‘motoring’ rather than actual sailing, regardless of the sung lyrics!
Saturday, I introduced the public to my ‘Goats in the Garden at Midnight by the Light of the Full Moon’ experience. Complete with slides, commentary, creative process steps, hands-on musical demos and a ‘performance’ of my Goat Suite as theFinale.
It was a huge success! (with much for me to contemplate for further improvements on the presentation as a whole)
I thought this video would be the perfect ‘placeholder’ until a thoughtful article is completed on my first SwS project presentation.
FYI: Dodger in the video is a Boer Goat, as were MamaGoat, TerryScape and Larry (and Tater)
My blogger-poet-friend, Andy, is a native Mancunian. These are excerpts taken from his account of and reactions to this attack of the innocents.
Around the time I went to bed the bomb went off.
I was totally unaware of what had happened until around 3.00am, when my wife woke me. Friends from around the country, indeed the world, had messaged us. Then, bleary eyed, we tried to process just what had happened.
There was footage of the panic; people searching for lost children; a distressed woman rang our local radio station with a horrific account of what she had witnessed; friends of ours announced that they were safe.
The friend of my little girl was at the concert with her family. There were other people attending that we know. My daughter herself was at a concert in that same venue just a couple of weeks ago. The arena can be accessed through the train station which I have been commuting from. Not so long ago I attended the Young Voices competition as a staff member with my children’s school choir. 8,000 children were present that day. Suddenly the horror that regularly unfolds throughout the world was on our doorstep…
…Manchester is no stranger to such atrocities. There was the IRA bomb of 1996 which utterly devastated the town centre. The Manchester we know today rose from the ashes of that day. But back then everybody had been evacuated, miraculously nobody was killed. Last night it was people targeted.
It was children.
…Today has been a difficult day.
-The girls from my daughter’s class crying this morning in the playground in fear for a classmate who attended the concert. (She did not come into school but she was safe.)
-The tales related personally to us by people who were there, as well as someone who treated the injured in hospital.
-The distraught woman begging on television for news of her (still) missing daughter.
-The story of the homeless man, normally passed by and ignored on the street, who ran to help the injured, cradling a dying woman in his arms, comforting a young girl who had lost her legs, pulling nails from the faces of children.
-The victims beginning to be named, the ages, the photographs.
…It was announced that today the country would observe a minute’s silence to honour those killed on Monday. Where else could I go to honour this but Manchester? Despite the unprecedented step of the army being deployed to assist the police throughout the country and the government warning that another attack was imminent, avoiding this crowd was never an option.
Manchester solidarity in Germany
My fellow Mancunians came good again: what a fitting and emotional morning it was. There were tears amongst the defiance, balloons filling the clear blue skies. And the fantastic moment when the crowd burst into a spontaneous rendition of Don’t Look Back In Anger by Manchester band Oasis, followed by thunderous self-congratulatory applause.
How ironic that an action designed to cause division has created a unity I have never witnessed before.
Adding to the emotion of the day: while gathered in the square, I received a message from a former student of ours, telling us that his family were standing with us in support, and here in Germany his family were flying at half mast a British flag in solidarity for his former adopted city.
For local news videos of the various marches held in Manchester – go here for the laying of flowers at St. Anne’s Square after the minute of silence and here for the Muslim families marching to the arena in sympathy with those who lost loved ones in the blast.
Andy’s comment below servess as a sort-of followup to the above excerpts:
I’d like to put on record how proud I am of my fellow Mancunians. Not just the emergency services but the everyday people, how they came together in response. A page was set up on FB with people offering beds for the night, transport to and from Manchester, baby food, clothing, etc. The local hotels took in children separated from their parents, taxi drivers ferried people from the city centre free of charge, queues formed outside places for donating blood. Thousands are having the ‘Manchester bee’ (the worker bee is a symbol for Manchester in reference to its industrial revolution past) tattooed on their skin with proceeds going to charity. Over five million pounds have been raised in three days. It is not often I’m moved to be proud of where I live, but this week I have been. Immensely. The best of humanity has been witnessed emerging in the shadow of the worst.
Oh-and that homeless guy. He has been given a house, money, a job. As he said at the time: “Just because we’re homeless doesn’t mean we aren’t human. People, children, needed help.”
My blogger-buddy Anna visited Las Cruces, New Mexico for the first time a few weeks ago and posted a few photos and thoughts on the desert. What a treat to see the familiar through her newbie eyes.
Final Goat Family Portrait: Larry, Terry Scape, Mama Goat and Tater
I’ve been immersed in that period of time during our between homes journey lovingly referred to as living ‘on the compound in the desert outside Las Cruces, New Mexico’. Place where my Goat Suite Saga was born.
In less than two weeks portions of my Swimming with Swans project are going to be presented for the first time to the general public. MamaGoat, Tater, TerryScape and little Larry along with all of us humans and critters of the compound will be introduced to a group of locals as far away from life in the desert as one in the US can get. I often joke that we came from a Mile High here to the Swamplands…but we also came by way of the High Dry Desert.
Most readers of this blog know that I received a Puffin Foundation Grant for the recording of my Swimming with Swans: the music. One of the requirements for gaining the grant involved the pre-securing of a venue in which to present completed grant-proposal material.
Goodwill Parochial School becomes The Goodwill Cultural Center
If not for Camden Writer and author, Brenda Bevan Remmes, I would have never known of this special spot nestled within an isolated area between Mayesville and Sumter, South Carolina*. Steeped in a long history of struggle, nurture, and yes, healing – The Goodwill Cultural Center aka The Goodwill Parochial School was recently restored to serve as a local heritage and arts center – offering historical, cultural and educational events to the public.
Brenda introduced me to this gem in the swamp about two years ago when the GCC held one of their first sponsored events by the Magnolia Singers from Charleston – shortly after the Emanuel AME Church shootings. I was amazed at the group’s desire to reach out in their hurt and offer insights into their culture while spreading a healing balm through their talented singing.
WINDOW TO THE WORLD
REFLECTING ON OUR PAST AND ENVISIONING OUR FUTURE, WE AFFIRM THE RICH HERITAGE OF THE GOODWILL SCHOOL THAT OPENED DOORS OF OPPORTUNITY IN 1870, AND THAT IS A WINDOW TO THE WORLD TODAY THROUGH THE GOODWILL CULTURAL CENTER.
I don’t pretend to understand the South. However, I have found a slice of something I like to call the ‘true spirit of a southern community’ in the Goodwill Cultural Center.
Over the course of these two years in attending various events at the GCC, I’ve observed the interactions between the locals. It’s obvious to this outsider the love and commitment these individuals have towards each other and towards working through its own healing-path. A sort of living reconciliation rooted in historical interconnectedness which touches me deeply.
This is a slice of the South I admire; a slice of the South not often seen by outsiders.
As such, I am both humbled and honored to be a small part in the GCC’s continuing legacy as a featured guest on Saturday, June 3rd.
I saw that phrase at a blog I follow – she has the t-shirt and everything – I really related; albeit I’m not in the trenches of hands-on childrearing anymore, it still rings true. At least for me – an older gen Mom. Yeah, I’m a GrandMom, too, but not hands-on due to circumstances way beyond my control (sigh – it is what it is) so that’s why maybe memories of being a younger Mom still resonate loud and clear. Here’s the poetic part of her blog post (be sure to visit it for the rest of the story)
I guess it’s time for a current event post on the life and times of this blogger/poet/quilter/musician/cger/composer/granma/ma/good cooker/sister/aunt/cousin/wife/lover/friend/student of life/believer in miracles/dreamer/doer/getter-of hands in the dirt/ grower of plants edible and not/hoper through times of despair/vocalist for those without a voice/minister of his peace/21st century jesus person servant/sharer of truth/wise owlette/sojourner in this world/woman of faith/lover of science and mathematical conundrums/discoverer of the interconnectedness in all slices of life and heart desires/waiter of answers to promises given/wounded soul in need of rescue/rescuer of goats, horses, dogs, cats, turtles/elder lady with the spirit of youthful joy/enabler/seeker of better times ahead/contemplator of things past/keeper and hugger of loved ones gone, those still alive, those yet to be/builder of community and unity/laugher of hearty guffaws/cryer of deep tears…
Guess you can tell I’m kinda feeling groovy…been working on my SwS project presentation/mini concert set for June and it’s all coming together so fine. Also just came back from a refreshing first time discovery visit to the Outer Banks of North Carolina. One could call it an unexpected ‘Artists Date’ of the Julia Cameron kind. This trip turned out to be a truly freeing experience; perhaps due to it being ‘off-season’ but mostly because its wide open spaces are within a context of crowded eastern populations with a less touristy focus. All of which are welcome to this wilderness Coloradoan displaced in the Carolinas of the Southern extraction. Going from the clear skies of the mile high to the claustrophobic swamplands has always been hard on my psyche. But this place – OBX – offers more of a balance of wilderness spaces and touristy places not easily attained in these parts and it’s just 6 hours away from FloTown… Continue reading →
Hello, hello from inside the mirror! This is my attempt at a practice session selfie – using a dinosaur of a camera, no less. Notice the placement of the pillow, the height of the footstool and yes, indeed, those comfy tennies. This is my normal performance set up; albeit with a change of clothes and shoes.
However, in the recording studio, my beloved Dynarette pillow makes plastic-y squeaks during my playing as I tend to move a bit from time to time while I’m ‘in the moment’.
This is not a good thing.
Hardly noticeable by anyone on stage or off during a live performance, those squeaks wreak havoc to one’s ears while listening to playbacks of pieces played to perfection in the recording studio.
Anyone who has had any on-line presence for any length of time – blogging or otherwise – knows the importance of periodically updating one’s static pages. It’s amazingly easy to just let content lie as is and hope it’s adequate. I admit to holding onto that faint hope.
However, the New Year brought forth a personal campaign to make a few changes on my wordpress website/blog.
Here they are – not immediately noticeable, but notable. (I like the sound of that last phrase – kind of catchy, eh?)
The beginning of this year, I began revising my soon-to-be four year old wordpress website pages. I figured it was time for a refresh. Continue reading →