Sad, but still Marvelous

We lost another bright light yesterday.

Mary Travers was a big part of my early music life - we had the Peter, Paul & Mommy album. I'm surprised we didn't wear it out.

I knew every song by heart, all the lyrics and all the parts. It wasn't until much later in life that I realized how extraordinarily well-crafted these songs and arrangements were/are. And one of the most magical things about them is how truly effortlessly they sang these songs.

Infused with humor, yearning, giddiness and pathos, these songs grabbed hold of me and never let go.

I Have a Song to Sing, O!

Puff, The Magic Dragon

Day is Done

Going to the Zoo Tomorrow

But. The one that has always been the best, my most favorite, is the one that makes me well up with tears, despite never having had children of my own.

The Marvelous Toy

The last verse just gets to me.

So, today we celebrate the life of a lovely singer who touched the lives of a lot of people for several generations.

Mary, you will always be Marvelous to me.

Walking, Soles United!

Yesterday, we held our SideWALK Sale to raise funds for our NO/AIDS WALK team, Soles United.

There was only a 70% chance of rain...but it had been raining pretty much all the time, every day for that last 10 days. This had us concerned.

I got up and walked the dog around 6:30am and to my surprise, there was actually a sunrise. You know, one that you could see.

OK...so far so good.

We managed to set up in time for the early birds - and 9am, we still had decent weather. We had mixed clouds and sun for the next 2 hours.

And. Then.

Well...it only started to sprinkle. And then stop. And then sprinkle again.

And around 11:20, it start seriously drizzling and we decided to pack it in. (We were set up under the eaves of the condo building, which is further shelter by an ancient live oak tree.)

Um...We weren't counting on the electricity.

You know, the natural kind?

There was thunder and lightning the likes of which we've not seen in at least 5 years here. At one point the storm was overhead, the flashes and booms nearly simultaneous and I thought to myself, this is not the time to be carrying this metal headboard back in the house.

So, we succeeded in packing up the last of the unsold items without getting struck by lightning - a little sore and wet, but alive. For a rainy Sunday morning, during church time and one the morning of the first Saints game of the season (a home game, no less!), we did OK.

So, we are down to the last of it - we'll be carousing the French Quarter this Friday and Saturday evening, twisting arms and adding to the coffers for our Walk Team. Our team is doing well this year, but as in years past, I have my own very personal reasons for Walking.

Having been the recipient of their services in the past, I do what I can to help support the NO/AIDS Task Force. I know many of the wonderful folks who work there - and count a lot of them as friends. If you can and wish to support this cause, you can check out my personal pledge page here. Any donations you are able to give - $5, $10 - anything - is more than they had before.

And from me...thank you.

Anyway, next Sunday is the NO/AIDS WALK - if you are in the New Orleans area and want to show your support, come on down to Audubon Park before the kick off at 10AM. It's always a lot of fun and it's for an incredibly important cause.

Of Rants and Racism and Presidential Speeches

In just a short while, President Obama will be addresses the students of America, our future.

While I do agree that the accompanying lesson plan was not crafted in the most well-thought out manner, I am having a hard time getting all the stains out of the ceiling tile from each time my head has exploded over the last week, listening to the unfathomable brouhaha.

Here in Louisiana, it is optional from parish to parish. Public schools in New Orleans are all viewing the President's speech, while the suburbs (to which all the white flight occurred) are making it optional and at the superintendents’ discretion. Some schools are offering alternative assignments and giving parents the option to have their kids not watch it.

What I want to know is this: how long are they estimating this speech to be? Tops, 10 minutes, right? After all, how long are kids going to really pay attention?

The argument that it disrupts the curriculum for the day is specious at best. It takes longer to wrangle students for a bathroom run. And how much is this costing in administration and extra labor hours to provide the alternative activity and more teachers/substitutes to watch the kids who are not viewing the speech?

And finally (sorry for the soapbox moment), if the righties really fear this as a piece of potential indoctrination, why not let the President go through with it as originally planned? At that point, a righty could then step back and say, “See. This is exactly what we were talking about. He is Satan/Hitler/Mussolini/Easter Bunny Killer.”

The stupid. It burns.

We Heard A Rumor

So, Labor Day Weekend is Southern Decadence in New Orleans, an event that started in 1972 as little more than a bar crawl and has now become a massive series of parties and gatherings, culminating in the very popular parade Sunday afternoon.

This, of course, leave Monday - Labor Day - for recovery.

Southern Decadence now draws more than 100,000 folks to New Orleans every year - and despite Hurricane Katrina squashing the big events, a rag-tag bunch still wandered about the French Quarter on Sunday, September 5th in their own version of the parade.

Police tried to stop the procession - understand, this was less than a week after the levees had failed. However, one of the revelers actually produced the parade permit that had been granted by the Southern Decadence organizers, and the parade went on unhindered.

Last year, the parade was completely thwarted by the mandatory evacuation for Hurricane Gustav. Things could have gone on - most of the Quarter only lost power for 2-4 hours on average.

Alas.

This year, we started hearing buzz about a new entry in the parade.

A Gay Marching Band.

Really, what could be more fabulous?

Of course the jokes started flying when we heard this rumor - with a gay marching band of 200 members, we speculated that the general (and highly stereotypical for humor's sake) makeup would be:

• 9 Lesbians playing bass drum
• 112 piccolo players
• 53 color guard
• and 26 queens fighting to be Drum Major(ette)

We could not have been more wrong - and all jokes aside, they were sensational.

The group - Lesbian & Gay Band Association - is in New Orleans this weekend for their annual national conference, and offered to play in the parade. Nearly 200 strong, they had a huge brass section, lots of percussion and woodwinds - and to be fair, only 3 drum majors, 5 flags and 7 piccolo players. (There were several lesbians playing drums...)

This is Paloma - one of the Grand Marshall's for 2008 and 2009. She and her co-Marshall, Tittie Toulouse, reigned again this year after not having the chance to fulfill their duties last year. Paloma is so sweet, photographs really well and can walk in killer shoes - but let's just say that lipsynching is not her strong suit...

It was a wonderful parade - and despite some very heavy downpours, the timing for the parade was perfect.

There is a lot about Southern Decadence that gets less than flattering press...

So, the Beau and I were both a little misty-eyed with pride when the band came by - at a time when horrible things are being said about gays and lesbians here and around the world, it was so very important to see them.

Just people. Making music. Making other people happy.

Is there a better gift?

Wanting Something

There are many songs that move me...spirituals, arias, folk tunes, soaring Broadway ballads...music of all genres.

Some of them appeal to me as a performer - how I yearn to to sing certain works in the context of their original setting, be it a requiem mass, opera or stage show. To have that connection for just a moment with the audience - so tenuous and infinite all at the same time - and draw them in, make them feel and leave them changed, somehow.

Other works move me in a different way - the songs that I want, need to listen to. Many of them are well out of my range and not anything that I could ever attempt to perform. Some of them are what I turn to when I need to cry or laugh.

But.

There are those few songs that I need. Songs that from the first moment you hear them, you think to yourself, "Ah, now if someone, some day would sing that to me..."

I learned this the hard way in college - one of the grad students - a friend of mine - was to perform an aria that was new to him at a group recital. Larry asked if he could use me to focus on for his performance; knowing how seeing a friendly face in the audience would help calm him, I agreed...not knowing it was Una Furtiva Lagrimar from Donizetti's L'elisir d'Amour.

I melted.

And from that day forward, I have pined to hear someone, anyone sing it to me again, that way. So completely sublime.

And now, for Monday Music, here's the more contemporary song that holds that place - no one has ever sung this to me.

And I don't know that I would be the same again if they did.

Aaron Lazar and Katie Clarke,

Performing "Love to Me"

from Adam Guettel's The Light in the Piazza

Techno-wow!

I saw this online months ago and saved it, intending to write some insightful post about technology outpacing humanity's ability to understand, utilize and cope with it.

Instead, I think you ought to just watch this and marvel at the shear brilliance.

Un-freaking-believable...

Sunrise and Spiderwebs

(click on for some incredible detail.)

Let Them Eat Dirt

This may offend some of my friends who are parents.

However.

I believe that one of the (possible) reasons that the H1N1 virus is so much tougher on kids is that the cultural shift of the last generation toward what some might call "overprotection".

Those of us who grew up in the 60's and 70's were out running around all summer, biking without helmets, drinking from garden hoses, bathing infrequently (some of us, anyway) and in general...well, eating dirt (whether we realized it or not. Three-second rule, anyone?).

These days, from the outside looking in, it seems that some parents go to extreme lengths to make sure that everyone and everything around their kids is sanitized, sterilized and free of any potential harmful agents.

As with many other things in life (disappointment, failure, loss, etc.), isn't it possible that exposing a child to the real world will actually prepare said child for...well, the real world?

Or am I just crazy from eating all that dirt?

What Do You Get?

I have this stuck in my head...

I love Sondheim. I don't always love Raul Esparza's voice, but he's just kills this, from an acting standpoint.

It always reduces me to tears.

Keep going...

"Being Alive" from Company

by Stephen Sondheim

performed by Raul Esparza

To Read Again...and to Write

I am attempting to get back at this.

I tried to write a post to Facebook as a means of acknowledging the 4th anniversary of Katrina, only to hit a wall. It wasn't that I was overcome with inexpressible emotion. Rather, I knew that what I wanted to say had already been said a couple years ago on this blog.

So, I started the daunting task of combing through the archives, looking for the exact post.

And, not surprisingly, I wound up re-reading them.

All. Of. Them.

It did not - this time, surprisingly - reduce me to tears. Instead, it was rather cathartic and, in its own way, encouraging.

I'd forgotten I could write.

I mean, Write.

There are posts that I remember laboring over and others that I know tumbled out of me in some trance-like state...and I love them all.

I'd forgotten how much of my soul I'd laid bare for all the world to see (sort of).

I'd forgotten some of how to find the humor in despair.

I'd forgotten why I'd started blogging in the first place.

There are stories to tell and demons to exorcise. And it's time to start telling the stories...mine, others, as many as I can bear. And I am not talking about just the Katrina stories...more, the real deal in New Orleans.

So, here's where we start:

One thing that was most important for me to learn in the days, weeks, and months in the still-holding-our-breath-after-Katrina period is this...that experience distilled the people I knew to their most basic elements. It was most apparent in the people closest to me - good became better; not so good folks crapped out.

The subtler transformation was in the people more toward the periphery of my life. Some folks of whom I'd thought less well of, perhaps a bit too dismissively, spectaculary rose the occasion and became more their true selves. And others, of whom I'd had a fairly good opinion or at least always given the benefit of the doubt, showed their true colors and revealed what selfish, self-serving gits they really are.

It's been quite an education and at times a struggle. It's seldom easy to acknowledge that some people are - after all is said and done - toxic to your life and future.

Letting them go is hell.

To balance the other end of the spectrum, I am infinitely grateful for the newer friends, the deepened relationships and the life that I have now. Not all things that came out of Katrina were/are bad.

It's just that sometimes, you really have to sit down and look at it a little closer that is comfortable.

And just let go.

And breathe.