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September
1, 2009 (Saugerties,
NY)
We have come to the
end of one of our most hectic periods on our annual schedule: the last weekend
of the Shaker Woods Festival into the close of the Dutchess County Fair.
Here's a re-cap:
The highlight of Shaker Woods' final day was the appearance of flute/whistle player Jim Miller. Jim's wife is a member of the Ohio Arts Guild, which was holding a fund-raising auction at Shaker Woods. I think that Jim had intended to help with the auction, but as a dedicated flute player and former Boy Scout, Jim had brought a pouch full of various musical instruments to the Woods that day; when he happened by our booth and I suggested that we share a few "chunes," he was prepared! We spent several happy hours playing practically everything I'd ever recorded -- what a repertoire Jim has!
Then Greg and I made a mad dash back to our campground to break camp and head out towards New York. We drove for a few hours, then, instead of trying to find a campground, we decided to pull into the Flying J Truck Stop to grab a few hours' sleep. It was initially a disconcerting experience for Miss Maggie Muggins, who has become so used to the dark and quiet of a rural campground! But eventually even she settled down for sleep, and Greg and I both were surprised at how comfortable we were, sleeping in our trailer parked in a busy truck stop off of I-80.
Late Monday morning, we arrived in Rhinebeck, New York, at the Dutchess County Fairgrounds and in short order set up our trailer, set up our booth, did our week's grocery shopping, then made it an early night in preparation for six straight days of activity.
This
year's fairgoers were a somewhat unpredictable lot; I could never determine our
"peak hours" so I didn't get out of the booth to see much of this
year's fair. Last year, I noted what a big presence dogs have at this
fair, and spoke of the Dock-Diving
Dogs in particular. This year, I made a point of catching the Agility
Dogs in action. You've seen the Agility Dogs on TV; Jack Russell Terriers
and Border Collies and Shetland Sheepdogs that nimbly navigate a challenging
obstacle course. The Agility Dogs at Dutchess County Fair were ... ummm ... a little different
than what you've seen on TV. Oh, the course was the same, with a see-saw
and a hoop and a tunnel and hurdles and a series of poles to slalom
through. But the Dutchess County contestants included: a Greyhound mix
that enthusiastically ran flat-out between stations, often over-running the
station and having to back-track ... a "Heinz 57" that went just so far up
the see-saw, then decided, "Nope, too scary for me," before
retreating, then finishing other less-scary -- and obviously more familiar and
more enjoyable -- obstacles ... a huge Mastiff who drooled his way through the
course, knocking down every hurdle bar, finally arriving at the tunnel and with
a "You gotta be kidding" air neatly side-stepped the tunnel to finish
slaloming his way through about half the poles. Each contestant was
cheered by the crowd, and it was pretty obvious to me that the dogs were having
a good time as well: just look at the intense expression of the Golden Retriever
who was waiting to compete.
During the fair's run I met a few dulcimer players and a few more would-be dulcimer players. I'm looking forward to meeting up with a couple of them again at this weekend's Woodstock-New Paltz Art & Crafts Fair. Met an up-and-coming blues guitar player. Helped people get in touch with their Celtic heritage.
And before we knew it, it was all over and we headed out to Saugerties, in the foothills of the Catskills, where we're staying at a beautifully wooded campground on the way to Woodstock.
September
2,
2009 (Saugerties,
NY)
Today Maggie and I
ventured toward the Catskills to visit two towns which have achieved legendary
status among music lovers: Woodstock and Ashokan.
The
more famous of the two towns is, by far, Woodstock, as who hasn't heard of
Woodstock and its "Aquarian Exposition: 3 Days of Peace &
Music"? And Woodstock was first on our agenda, as we are camped less
than ten miles away. Thanks in part to Joni Mitchell's song I knew, going
in, that the festival hadn't actually taken place in Woodstock, but rather on a
dairy farm about 40 miles away. For those who don't know, the festival was
the outgrowth -- and unexpected growth it was! -- of a project to create a
recording retreat in the town of Woodstock. Woodstock had been known for
many decades as an arts center, thanks in part to art/theater/music venue
"The Maverick" (can you read that term without shuddering at the
memory of its overuse in the Presidential campaign of 2008?) and to the number
of artists and musicians who live in the surrounding environs. There's
also a Tibetan Buddhist monastery in the town -- not wishing to sound flippant,
but there's your "peace and love" connection.
Approaching
the town, we passed businesses with such cool names as Lucky Chocolates
and Jolly's Good Grub Groceries. Not knowing what it was all about,
we bypassed the entrance road to Opus
40, though having since looked it up on the internet, I must say it
looks to be a worthwhile destination in its own right. Arriving in town,
we found a quaint and lovely village (click on the thumbnail to the left to see
the small park in the village center) with more than its fair share of art
galleries, exotic boutiques and ethnic eateries. There are a few stores that make you
forget that the festival didn't actually take place in Woodstock: Free Spirit
of Woodstock and Woodstock Legends, the latter dedicated to "help[ing]
bring Woodstock back to Woodstock." Click on the thumbnail at right
to see the headquarters of Family of Woodstock (a community resource
center) and its signpost bearing the slogan "May Peace Prevail On
Earth" in different languages.
Maggie and I explored much of the town, and I must say that, though she can be a little ill at ease in towns, she appeared to be perfectly relaxed and happy to be in Woodstock. We also explored the nearby cemetery, to find some of the most unusual grave markers that I'd ever seen. (You can ask me about them if you wish, but out of respect I've chosen not to publish any of the pictures that I took.)
On the way out of Woodstock, we passed the studios for WDST, one of the most interesting radio stations, playing the best mix of rock music I've ever heard -- and it's apparently still independent and has live dee-jays and everything!
And so on to Ashokan. The name is legendary to folk musicians, as most of us know and play the lovely tune Ashokan Farewell. And many of us in the folk genre dream of composing a tune that becomes "mainstream," as did Ashokan Farewell, which was used in Ken Burns's PBS series The Civil War.
I
was surprised and disappointed, upon arriving at Ashokan, to discover no quaint
town square , no cluster of 19th century houses, little, in fact, beyond a
"place in the road;" a couple of small strip malls lining the highway
and a Methodist Church are pretty much all there is to the nowadays town of
Ashokan. Having driven along the highway forming the north border of the
vast Ashokan Reservoir, which provides New York City's drinking water, and
having seen signs that commemorated the "former site" of towns such as
Shokan, Olivebridge, and Brown's Station, it slowly dawned on me that all those
towns were probably lying beneath the waters of the reservoir. A quick
consultation of Wikipedia confirmed my suspicions. Ashokan was one of the
towns to be "relocated."
So since there's nothing much to tell of Ashokan, let me tell you instead of Ashokan Farewell. I learned it very early in my dulcimer-playing career; it's one of those haunting melodies that really sticks with you. (Years after learning it, I recorded it, on Timeless.) Composer Jay Ungar wrote it after the close of the 1982 season of his Fiddle & Dance Camps. He was struggling with the transition from a secluded woodland setting, shared with a group of people who celebrated the joys of the simple life, back to "mainstream" society with its hustle-bustle and impersonal nature. Jay, along with his band Fiddle Fever, recorded the tune in 1983, and in 1984 the recording caught the ear of filmmaker Ken Burns. Ashokan Farewell was the only contemporary piece used in Burns's documentary, though it certainly does not have the sound of a contemporary tune, and more than once I've encountered someone who flatly refused to believe my assertion that the tune did not originate during the Civil War era!
September
9, 2009 (West
Springfield, MA to Hartford, CT to Charlotte, NC to Metro Atlanta, GA)
A Day In The Life
4:00am The alarm goes off, and though I've slept for only a few hours, I'm instantly wide awake. I'll lie in bed for a half hour or so, turning over the details of the day ahead, trying to make sure nothing's been overlooked.
5:00am I finish packing my checked luggage by zipping my freshly laundered -- and unfortunately still damp -- skirts into a waterproof bag before enclosing them in my tote bag. The tote weighs a ton! In addition to clothing and toiletries for the upcoming long weekend at the Yellow Daisy Festival, I'm bringing a mixing board and small Bose speakers, plus other oh-so-necessary dulcimer-playing accessories.
5:45am I walk Maggie, who's up 'til now been pouting. Dogs always pout when they see bags being packed, don't they!
6:00am Greg discovers the excessive weight of my tote bag, as he struggles in carrying it to the van. He says nothing, though, as he knows full well that I will use every single thing I've packed. Mark this down as the first time in recorded human history that a man has not chided his wife for overpacking for a trip!
6:30am I kiss Greg goodbye at the curbside baggage check. Gosh, we'll be apart for five whole days! I miss him already.
6:40am I'm wearing sandals, but I still must remove them to pass through the security check. My bare feet are freezing!
6:50am Bare feet still freezing, I feel another chill when I realize that the hold-up in security is due to my carry-on bag. After calling in seemingly every available Homeland Security Agent to puzzle over the x-ray screen, a supervisor is finally summoned. She sympathetically explains to me that the PVC I've chosen to protect my dulcimer hammers is the same PVC used to make pipe bombs. She congratulates me for having kept the PVC with me, as it was a much easier issue to resolve than it would've been had it been packed in my checked luggage. I don't tell her that I have a sinking feeling that I've brought along plenty of other suspicious-looking items to keep the agents busy in the checked luggage area ...
8:15am The plane should be taking off, but the pilot explains that, in an effort to control landings at our destination airport (Charlotte), our take-off will be delayed by at least half an hour. That's not welcome news for any of us scheduled for connecting flights! I want to feel sorry for myself, but my seat-mate, who's 25 years older than I and outweighs me by at least 50 pounds, worries about a layover that's even shorter than my own.
9:15am We're finally in the air, and the congestion that has plagued me ever since I first caught this nuisance cold has worked its way into every cavity, every passage, every little nook and cranny of my skull.
11:30am On the ground in Charlotte, I consult the Arrivals/Departures screen to determine that my next flight leaves, not from a nearby gate, but from another concourse. I decide to walk, rather than use the "people-movers," as I need to get my land legs back!
11:45am I am secretly relieved that my seat-mate has some sort of homework that will keep him from wanting to talk.
1:15pm I notice that every single bag launching onto the claim carousel is upside-down.
1:30pm At the car rental counter, I speak for the first time in over two hours, only to discover that, while I seem to be able to hear OK, my voice sounds as if it's coming from far away. Dratted cold! Dratted congestion!
1:45pm I choose a rental car based solely on the fact that it smells less bad than the other choice.
3:00pm I arrive in Marietta to pick up the dulcimer, CD inventory, and other assorted show necessities that I'd stashed at my friend Sue's house.
4:00pm I am driving from Marietta, northwest of Atlanta, to Stone Mountain, east of Atlanta. Atlanta rush hour traffic is starting to build and I wonder how people do this every day of their working lives.
4:30pm I arrive at Stone Mountain Park to find a sort of oasis of organization, congeniality and sanity in an otherwise nutty day. The organizers of the Yellow Daisy Festival have really got their act together! I drop off my "stuff" at my booth location and begin setting up. Things are really going my way, right up until
5:30pm I discover that, indeed, Homeland Security has searched my checked luggage -- no surprise there -- but the agent who did the search replaced the mixing board upside-down. So even though my bag actually had made it onto the claim carousel right-side-up, the controls of the mixing board have taken a beating every time the bag has been moved, all the way from Hartford to Atlanta. One of the fader knobs is slightly askew, but it still slides up and down just fine. Tomorrow will tell if the damage is limited to a cosmetic nature.
6:00pm The clerk of the motel I booked over a month ago tells me that she will not be able to give me a room exactly as reserved. Oh well -- at least I have a room, right?
8:30pm Tucked safely into my room, I call Greg to say good-night, promising to call in the morning IF I still have a charge on my cell phone, as I have mistakenly -- but quite understandably -- left the phone charger with the other electronic paraphernalia back at my Yellow Daisy booth.
The title of this account is "A Day In The Life," but in truth this day was anything but typical of my life as a touring musician! People have expressed wonder at my enjoyment of the road; I wonder if my experiences today are typical of life on the road for some musicians? It was certainly an unusual day, and you've gotta see the humor in some of the events ... but I'd just as soon have a more mundane day when it's time to go back "home" -- to Greg, up in West Springfield, that is -- on Monday!
September
14,
2009 (US Airways Flight
3344 to Philadelphia, PA)
The past weekend at
Yellow Daisy Festival was somewhat hectic at times, but one of the most
personally rewarding experiences of my music career! I managed to do the
first two days (Thursday and Friday) by myself, with no mishaps; on Saturday and
Sunday my friend Sue Aughey joined me, handling the sales and miscellaneous
other details. It's nice to know that I am able to conduct business solo,
but it's doubly nice to reaffirm that I have such good friends who make my load
lighter!
For me, the weekend was very much about friendship. You probably know that I consider those who buy my music friends, and in fact two of my first three sales were to women who'd purchased CDs at last year's festival and came back for more. My neighboring vendors were a mixture of old friends from the "circuit" and people who've become friends, even going so far as to "booth-sit" for me on my two solo days and allowing me to secure my inventory and sound board in their larger and more secure tents. Other friends whose booths were located away from my own came to check on me from time to time: jewelers Gail and Sam, dollmaker Claudia and her husband Jose, potter Laura, and Wendy, whose kid-oriented CDs and books have rescued many a modern mom who'd forgotten all those old nursery rhymes! New friend Joe is carrying six of my titles back to his shop in Pigeon Forge, Tennessee.
And because I was staying in a nearby motel, rather than the Stone Mountain Park Campground as I usually do, I had more time to hang out with friends and fellow musicians Lisa Lynne (harp) and George Tortorelli (woodwinds). We shared a couple of dinners. Saturday's dinner conversation, among Lisa, George, Sue and myself, was especially lively.
Now I'm on the way back to West Springfield, where my best friend, Greg, and his best friend, Maggie Muggins await. The trip thus far has been mercifully uneventful.
September
17, 2009 (West
Springfield, MA)
I am sitting quietly
in the trailer. In a little over 12 hours, The Big E will begin. No
matter how careful and thoughtful our approach to this event, odds are we
haven't anticipated everything. Something's bound to crop up!
Today was a first for me: a brief glimpse into the life of the guys who manage the mail, UPS and FedEx deliveries that come in. We were waiting for two shipments, one from The Mountain (one of our tee-shirt vendors) and one from Gypsy Rose (our tapestry vendor). We watched (and even helped a little bit) as a big UPS tractor-trailer was unloaded. Hundreds and hundreds of boxes, all of which had to be sorted according to recipient. Our Gypsy Rose box was all the way at the front of the trailer meaning, of course, that it was pretty much last off the truck. (The other order? After seeing the UPS trailer emptied, we learned that The Mountain had shipped to us via FedEx. That was pretty funny -- well, you gotta have a sense of humor about stuff like that.)
Those guys who handle the deliveries have a tough job! Lifting all those boxes is back-breaking work, but it's not mindless back-breaking work -- it requires a lot of organizational skill and, from what I observed, a photographic memory would come in pretty handy, too. Not to mention a thick hide and some skill in diplomacy, for dealing with the occasional irate person whose shipment arrived damaged.
And they do it all with a smile.
October
6,
2009 (West Springfield,
MA)
The last post that I
made -- what seems ages ago but was really only 19 days ago -- began with the
sentence "I am sitting quietly in the trailer." Today's post
begins the same way, The Big E having ended this past Sunday. We've taken
a couple of days of mostly no work, and will head out to Ohio tomorrow
morning. 
Our inventory at this year's fair was larger and more varied than in previous years. For me, it required a certain amount of concentration, as it's never been particularly easy for me to "shift gears" from dreamy dulcimer player to merchant! I probably put in more hours than in previous years, but that was quite okay -- in addition to this being our most successful Big E to date, it gave me more of an opportunity to observe our neighbors.
Certainly
that was the case with the "Mechanical Man," pictured here. In
previous years at The Big E and also the Dutchess County Fair, I've glimpsed
Randy Burns, aka The Mechanical Man,
doing his incredible impersonation of an automaton. My view of him has
always pretty much been from a distance; however, this year, whenever he was in
my building, he set up directly in front of our booth. What fun to watch
people as they became aware of the mannequin ... no, wait, he moved -- is he a
man? ... no, he's a robot! He engages audience members, always correctly
estimating how much teasing the person will be able to take. (Notice, in
the picture at left, his attempt to polish the shine on the bald head.)
His comedic timing is impeccable, and he does it all in mime. The sweetest
moment that I personally witnessed was his interaction with a woman in the
audience who smilingly played along with one of his routines: at the end of the
routine, she signed something to him -- turns out she was with a group most of
whom were hearing-impaired. Without missing a beat, the Mechanical Man
signed something back to her. I have no idea what he "said," but
I know the deaf woman was moved to tears. Perhaps I'm overanalyzing just a
bit, but I cannot help but wonder if she was touched by the fact that this act
is one of very few from which she gets full benefit, equal to anyone else
in the audience ... and for once she got something a little extra special
because of the Mechanical Man's ability to sign her a message. Whatever it
was, it was a special moment.
Our other crowd-pleasing neighbor at this year's fair was Morgan's Fudge. Morgan's Fudge specializes in Mackinaw Island (MI) style fudge, but Eric Morgan, the slightly blurred figure in the left of the photo, is also a specialist in fudge-making performance. Eric begins by mixing ingredients in a copper kettle and bringing the concoction to a slow boil. He then pours it onto a marble slab, allowing it to cool briefly ... then the show begins. Eric doesn't simply "loaf" the fudge; using a long-handled fudge paddle, he flips the fudge into the air, delighting bystanders. It's entertaining; it smells wonderful: the looks of anticipation on the little girls' faces says it all! After forming the loaf and cutting it into 1/2 pound slices, Eric cuts up the leftover bits for the audience to sample. (Click the photo to see a photographic definition of anticipation.)
Sometimes Eric, or one of the other employees at Morgan's, brings a sample -- or a whole slice -- over to the musical neighbors (us). Greg's favorite flavor is coconut, while mine is penuche ... or is it Rocky Road ... or maybe Turtle? (I am going to have to take many walkies with Maggie at our next destination, in hopes of working off the benefits of having such a generous neighbor.)
Now I'm enjoying some quiet time inside, while Greg and Maggie are enjoying some fresh air outside, before joining friends Melissa and John for dinner. Tomorrow, it's "On the Road Again ..."
October
7, 2009 (Saugerties,
NY)
Fall
obviously has come to Saugerties, New York.
Actually, it came to West Springfield, Massachusetts too, but I wasn't looking -- I was too busy playing my dulcimer at The Big E. There aren't a lot of trees on the grounds of the Eastern States Exposition, so I never noticed the gradual change. When I got out into the "real world" for the first time in 17 days, I was amazed to see all of the colorful leaves -- and actually embarrassed myself by wondering out loud, "When did this happen?" Thank goodness only Greg was there to hear me, because he understood full well the reason behind my state of cluelessness!
Today's drive through the Berkshires, along the Mass Pike, more than made up for whatever I missed while in West Springfield. The leaves in those higher elevations were especially beautiful.
We decided to stop for the night in Saugerties because we'd enjoyed it so when we were here just a little over a month ago. Upon stepping out of the van, my first thought was "Christmas trees." The air here, cool and crisp, smells of Christmas trees. The winds blasting down out of Canada are fierce. Guess it won't be long before winter arrives here, though according to the wooly worm that we spied on our campsite, it should be a fairly mild winter.
Maggie and I took a little walk along one of the nature trails here at the KOA. (She's taken three others with Greg. Guess she's relishing being away from The Big E, and who could blame her!) Now I'm monitoring the opening rounds of baseball playoffs -- Red Sox start their bid tomorrow ...
October
15, 2009
(Elkton, near Lisbon, OH)
It's night-time, the end
of a long and somewhat boring day. A soft rain is falling on the trailer,
a rain that sometime during the night will probably turn to snow.
We've
been in Ohio for almost a week, now. When we first arrived, last Friday,
the air was cool but the days were sunny and bright. Two days ago, a
fierce wind made the temperatures feel much colder than they really were; now
the temperature is -- and is projected to be, over the next few days --
cold. I'm not sure we made it out of the 30's today. To me, a
Florida cracker, that's some pretty rough weather. To the folks
hereabouts, well ... I went to the Post Office in Rogers today. All
bundled up, I commented on the raw weather to the postal clerk. His
response was, "Yeah, fall's definitely arrived." I laughingly
remarked that this would be winter weather back where I come from; his soft
reply was, "We haven't seen anything yet ..." Somehow, I
believed him.
I'll tell you who's loving this cold weather: Maggie Muggins. Today wasn't such a great day for her, either, though, as it started raining before sun-up and continued drizzling most of the day. She and I did manage to sneak in a nice, long walk along Beaver Creek and one of the locks of the old Sandy & Beaver Canal. I guess there's not much to see of the actual lock itself -- I probably would not even realize what it was if I stumbled upon it! -- but the scene at right is pretty. The lock -- Lock 30 -- is what gives this campground its name, by the way: Lock 30 Woodlands. As to the canal itself, it was abandoned over 150 years ago.
We have only a few more days here before heading back to Florida and its warmer clime. Right now it's hard to imagine that, in ten days or so, I'll probably be carping about hot weather!
October
17, 2009 (Elkton,
near Lisbon, OH)
Today Maggie and I
took another walk down by the old Sandy & Beaver Canal. How excited
she was! Snuffling and sniffing and pulling hither and to. I figured
she was following the scent of a squirrel or groundhog, or perhaps even
Blackjack, dog-in-residence and the Sage
of Lock 30 Woodlands. I tried to be patient -- after all, she'd been
cooped up all day while Greg and I worked the Christmas In The Woods festival --
but I was cold and tired and my patience began to wear thin. Then,
out of the corner of my eye, I spied a white tail disappearing into deeper
cover. A deer! No wonder Maggie was so intense!
This park is a perfect deer refuge. Campsites are situated well above the canal and there are only a couple of roads/trails leading down to the 20-acre lower level. The lower level is heavily wooded in parts, with thick underbrush that provides good forage. Beaver Creek provides fresh water. The opposite bank of the creek, lying on another property, rises up in a sheer wall about 40-50 feet in height, more than enough to deter even the most determined poacher. Since firearms are naturally not permitted in the RV park, and dogs are not permitted to run freely (except Blackjack -- who doesn't really count -- and who doesn't really run much of anywhere, anyway), deer can browse unmolested. And that makes me happy; even though I may never actually see one again, just knowing they're there is a happy thing.
Now, before I get any cranky e-mails from hunters, let me say that, although I personally do not hunt or even own a gun, I really have no beef with anyone who does! I'm not far removed from the farm -- I know that meat isn't grown at the grocery store! But I do find it possible to admire a 10-point buck without wondering how his rack will look mounted and hanging on the wall in my den, in much the same way that I can look at a cow without pondering if it'd make a comfy pair of leather boots. I don't look at a deer and mentally savor the tasty venison roast, any more than I see a farmyard full of hens and start salivating at the thought of a platter piled high with fried chicken. It's nice, sometimes, to appreciate wildlife for wildlife's sake.
October
19, 2009
(Crossing the New River Gorge)
Air cards are
awesome! This post was actually made from high over the New River Gorge,
as we crossed it via the highest vehicular bridge in America. "Bridge
Day" was two days ago. That's the day when people jump from its
876-foot height. Drat! Can't believe we missed out on that one!
October
22, 2009 (Forsyth,
GA)
We are finally,
firmly, in the sunny south. We left northern Ohio on Monday, having spent
the two previous days working the Christmas in the Woods festival out of doors
in weather that never got out of the thirties. It was cold! One man,
dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt (as opposed to Greg's and my many-layered
attire) chided us with, "How do you expect to get through the winter if you
think this is cold?" He may have had a point, but I did notice
that he never took his hands out of his pockets! (His wife -- wearing
gloves -- handled
the CD purchase.) Of course, Greg and I don't have to "get
through" the northern Ohio winter -- thank goodness!
We decided to take a couple of days in Swannanoa, NC, as we made our way south. In an ironic twist, Swannanoa's early Tuesday morning temperature was actually colder than Ohio's! But the day was much warmer than any day we've experienced in recent weeks, and for that we were glad. There wasn't time to do much -- a little business, a few errands, and multiple walkies for Maggie -- and then we headed out this morning toward Atlanta for yet another errand. Now we're in a KOA "Kampground" on I-75 between Atlanta and Macon, headed for Mount Dora and this weekend's Craft Festival.
Camping is great fun, but it can occasionally be a challenge. Camping's best for people who love the out-of-doors; somewhat paradoxically, campers often are parked very close to neighbors, quartered even more closely than, say, apartment dwellers. As long as everyone's considerate and observes a few rules (that are always written, even though pretty much common sense) everyone gets along fine. We almost never have sleepless nights due to folks partying past "quiet hours," for example. Where we do occasionally run into trouble is with dogs -- or, rather, some of their owners. Every campground we've ever visited has a "leash rule" for pets. We've met up with a few dog owners who are just adamant about not using a leash, because their dog is under "voice control." From what I've observed, voice control is the bee's knees as long as the dog doesn't encounter any distractions, say, a squirrel ... or another dog. More often than not, voice control goes out the window as the dog, suffering temporary deafness, no doubt, fails to respond to the owner's sharp commands (and eventual desperate pleas) to "heel." And of course my dog, Maggie Muggins, who I never for a millisecond believe responds to any voices except the ones inside her head, goes nuts when one of these "well-trained" canines comes rushing onto our campsite. Usually, the intruding dog is just curious and means no harm and if there's a scuffle it involves only a lot of pawing and sniffing. But it is aggravating.
Generally, though, camping's great for dogs and great for kids, too ... and of course dogs and kids are great for each other. However, kids walking dogs in a crowded campground is almost never a good idea. Today, a little girl of about eight was walking her dog near our campsite when her dog suddenly noticed Maggie. The dog, who weighed nearly as much as the girl, lunged at the end of its leash and the girl, taken totally by surprise, panicked and dropped the leash. The dog barreled in towards Maggie, who had been, naturally, chained on our campsite. Not quite a fair fight, right? -- an unrestrained dog pouncing upon one who's tethered. Not to worry: Maggie, quickly assessing the situation, neatly turned her head to one side and slipped her collar. (By golly, I didn't know she knew how to do that -- she could've gotten away from us any time she wanted to -- she's even better behaved than I realized.) For a few seemingly interminable seconds, there was lots of growling, biting and wrestling, Greg yelling for the little girl to grab her dog's leash, the little girl frantically crying ... and me trying to figure out the best way to extricate my pet from the situation without getting myself bitten in the process. Greg managed to grab the other dog's leash, pulling it away just enough for me to be able to whisk Maggie into my arms. He then handed the leash to the little girl, admonishing her to "Go, go!" and she did, crying all the way home.
If I didn't know for a fact that Maggie is almost twelve years old, with a bum knee, I'd never believe it. Other than the pretty slobbery ruff around her neck (from the other's dog multiple failed attempts to bite her) and her racing heart, she appeared no worse for the experience. She's one tough cookie, that little Maggie girl.
I hope I never have to have that proven to me again!
October
23, 2009
(Eustis, FL)
Ah, we are home!
Home, that is, being anything south of the Florida state line. Today's
trip away from I-75 and cutting toward East Central Florida took us through
several of those "Old Florida" places I like so much: Pedro, Weirsdale,
Lake Yale ... Orange groves, oak hammocks, pasture land for grazing cattle
or horses, and plenty of lakes lined our route. The day is nearly perfect:
temperatures in the 80's, low humidity, plenty of sunshine, blue sky with white
puffy clouds, slightly breezy.
Tomorrow and Sunday we'll be at the Mount Dora Craft Festival. Lots of changes in this year's festival -- should be interesting. I've already met up with a few friends, at the artists' check-in.
Back here at the campground Greg and I are enjoying not being cold ... and Maggie's "incident" from yesterday seems to have been forgotten, as she is now pursuing her obsession, squirrel-watching.
Exciting things are happening at Celtic Heritage Productions. Check back ... we should have some announcements soon ...
October
24, 2009 (Mount
Dora, FL)
My heart is
breaking. The current recession, or economic crisis, or whatever they want
to call it, has hit Mount Dora pretty hard. Not only are there many more
closed storefronts than in my last visit (back in February) but my beloved
Sunshine Mountain Bakery is out of business. From what I gather, the
bakery was part of a group of restaurants under the same ownership; when part of
the group failed, it brought down the whole group. For me, there's cold
comfort in the fact that Sunshine Mountain Bakery itself appears to have been
going strong, right up to the day it was shuttered.
This was pretty harsh, as another favorite bakery, Our Daily Bread of Columbiana, Ohio, has closed. These recent events have made me even more determined to support independent entrepreneurship whenever I can!
October
26, 2009
(Eustis, FL)
"The healing power
of music." It's a phrase that's often bandied about. I wonder
how many people really and truly believe that music has healing powers?
Even as a kid, I knew that music had power over me. When I was frustrated, I could play the piano and in a matter of time my frustrations were diminished. As a volleyball coach, I sometimes used music to fire my team up -- and learned during one unnecessary loss that it was possible to get them too fired up! As a schoolteacher, I occasionally incorporated my dulcimer into lessons; I'm sure the unusual nature of the lesson helped it to be more memorable, but I'm equally sure that the music itself created a positive atmosphere that lasted for days.
I have performed music in different professional capacities since I was in my teens. However, until I began doing gigs of a more intimate nature -- a nursing home, perhaps, or a bookstore or an art fair -- I did not have much of a chance to observe the effect of my music on others. One of my most cherished memories is that of a a nursing home resident, a former dancer for Bob Hope's USO tours who was seemingly lost in the grip of Alzheimer's, responding to a lively jig set with a little wheelchair dance -- the nursing home added music to her therapy as a result.
It was the recognition of the soothing power of music -- and the dulcimer in particular -- that was the impetus behind the recording of Celtic Heart. For a couple of years I'd be playing my heart out on one of the slow airs like "Crested Hens" (from The Celtic Ray) or "Jock O' Hazeldean" (from A Celtic Heritage) and a massage therapist or yoga instructor would comment, "That music would be so perfect for my practice." But then I would play another cut from the CD -- say a rousing reel like "Sound Of Sleat" or "Whiskey 'Fore Breakfast" -- and the response would be, "So pretty, but much too upbeat for my purposes. Why don't you record a CD of all 'slow stuff' for people like me?" So with a little research I prepared a body of music that mostly fit several important guidelines: the basic pulse of the music must be slower than the average adult's resting heart rate, the arrangements must not be too "busy," the tunes should not be associated with familiar songs.
The first person to derive benefit from Celtic Heart was, in fact, my own mother. Recording took place in February (2006); in mid-April, my mother suffered a slight stroke that had been triggered by a massive infection that, due to many complications, would prove to be untreatable. When I went to see her that April, I took my demo copy of Celtic Heart to share with her. She loved "Danny Boy" (my only nod to commercial marketing) of course but said she liked the sweet music overall. And I got a chance to see its calming effect on her, as I was with her two months later on the day she died. The hospice workers had been using Celtic Heart, along with Be Thou My Vision, to soothe her beyond morphine's capacity to ease her constant pain. Though she spent most of that last day in a coma, I know she was aware of my presence and I know she was responding positively to the music. When she heard the melody of a favorite hymn (from Be Thou My Vision), her expression changed subtly. And when she heard the slightly discordant passage that appears -- briefly -- on Celtic Heart, she became slightly agitated. What a privilege to be with her on that day! ... and what a privilege to feel that I had made some positive contribution to her care.
I am commenting on this topic at this particular time because it was brought to mind in two separate episodes this past Saturday. In one, a young mother wheeled her eight-month old baby into my booth and asked me to play. My choice was "Crested Hens." The baby's expression visibly softened and she sighed in relaxation several times. When I stopped playing and started to converse with the mother, the baby began to wail -- and she immediately calmed when I began playing ("Inis Oirr") again!
The second -- even more powerful -- incident actually began unfolding early in the day, as a couple came by to listen a while and look at CDs. Some time later, they came by with an older woman who was confined to a special wheelchair -- likely she had been the victim of a stroke or other serious neurological trauma. She was convulsing uncontrollably, so I focused my energies into playing as steadily and sweetly as I possibly could. Amazingly, her tremors eased and finally ceased altogether as she listened. It was a powerful and humbling experience.
And if I were not already a true believer in "the healing power of music" -- I certainly would be now.
October
29, 2009 (Atlantic
Beach, FL)
Ever since I was a
kid, I have loved the beach! Some of my fondest childhood memories are of
visits to Florida's beaches and islands. Just now, I've been pondering
which ones were my favorites, so that I could name them in this blog, but
honestly, the more I thought about it, the more "favorites" I came up
with! I can't even decide which coast is my favorite -- the Gulf Coast,
with its sugar-sand beaches and calm, warm waters, or the Atlantic Coast, with
its wild dunes (where development hasn't flattened them) and pounding
surf.
So when we were booked into Jacksonville's Riverside Arts Market and Greg suggested that we base ourselves for a week at Jacksonville's Hanna Park, directly on Atlantic Beach, I did not hesitate in saying yes! We've stayed here at Hanna Park a couple of other times, and appreciate the peaceful, natural surroundings. Thick tree cover helps to keep us cool during the day and provides something of a buffer between us and our neighbors. Off in the distance we hear the roar, not of traffic, but of the ocean. Sometimes, gazing into a thicket of oak and palmetto, I think this must be Paradise.
Our campsite ... view from
one of the hiking trails ... the beach at low tide ... the dunes (the sign
reads, "No Dune Access Stay Out")
View toward the US Naval
Base, just north of us, at Mayport ... two beach bums ... view toward Neptune
Beach, just south of us
After our morning walk on the
beach, we visited Singleton's (see
entry from 11/28/08) in Mayport, ordering a seafood sampler for two -- hah!
-- my camera's lens did not have a wide enough angle to capture all of the food
we were served. (By the way, the green stuff in the little cup at left is
collard greens -- yum, yum!)
November
1, 2009
(Atlantic Beach, FL)
The picture at left
shows the approach to our campsite here at Hanna Park. Makes you want to
join us, doesn't it? Here's a little temptation: at night it's so quiet
here, the only thing we can hear is waves crashing onto the shore.
Hanna Park is located on Florida's First Coast. We love to name our coastal regions in Florida! Greg and I live on the Sun Coast, on Florida's west (Gulf Of Mexico) coast. Another Gulf coastal region is the Emerald Coast, up in the "panhandle." On the Atlantic side, there's the Space Coast (near the NASA launch site, naturally); a little further to the south, the Treasure Coast, and the area between Palm Beach and Miami is intuitively named the Gold Coast.
The First Coast is so named because it includes St. Augustine, the first permanent European settlement in the Americas. Does that surprise you? Our school history studies -- at least the parts that tend to stick with us -- are often laughably inaccurate when it comes to the settlement of North America. When I was in the second or third grade, I learned that "Columbus discovered America." At that young age, the obvious question never occurred to me: "If Columbus met Indians upon his arrival, shouldn't we call the Indians the true discoverers of America?" In the fifth grade, one whole period of each day was devoted to American History, and what I remember best about the colonization of America is the story of the Pilgrims -- how they landed on Plymouth Rock and celebrated the first Thanksgiving with the native Indians. In the seventh grade, my peers and I were required to take a course in Florida History, and it was through that course that I learned that St. Augustine, colonized by the Spanish in 1565, predates both the Plymouth Colony (1620) and the Jamestown Colony (1607). Since Plymouth and Jamestown were both English colonies, and the Spanish were effectively kicked out of Florida in the early 1800's, I guess this is another example of how history is (re)written by the victorious.
Here's another tiny little surprise that involves the First Coast: Mayport, just to the north of Atlantic Beach, was founded by French Huguenots on May 1, 1562.
November
5, 2009 (Lady
Lake, FL)
We left our little
paradise at Atlantic Beach this morning, and headed out to The Villages.
The Villages, itself, is the
definition of paradise to many, particularly to golfers!
On the last two days of our stay in Atlantic Beach, Maggie Muggins and I took strolls along the beach near sunset. A front had brought cool weather into North Florida, and the wind really whipped along the beach, churning up the surf. In conditions like that, it's really easy to understand what a crucial role the dunes play in protecting the inlands! Even in the howling wind -- or perhaps because of the howling wind -- Maggie's senses were heightened. She picked up scent after scent -- of what, I can only imagine. She acted as if she would chase the little sandpipers scurrying along the sand. She actually did try to chase the seafoam that had collected at the tide mark!
My senses were heightened too, especially by the beautiful colors produced by the setting sun. I was thrilled to see that my camera actually captured some of it:
Notice the setting sun reflected on
the wave in the picture at left ... though the waves were not particularly high,
they were strong ... turning to the west to look back over the dunes, the clouds
were a glorious mix of pinks and yellows and oranges
November
9, 2009
(Port Charlotte, FL)
We had Chinese food this
evening. Greg opened his fortune cookie to find ... "Home Is Where
The Heart Is."
And we are, finally, happily, home after almost seven whole months on the road!
November
12, 2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
For some reason, ever
since we've gotten home, I've been craving a good Irish stew. Don't ask me
where this came from; the last time I had Irish stew was years ago,
possibly as long ago as when I was playing at the Celtic Ray (in Punta Gorda,
FL) on a weekly basis. I Googled the words Irish stew Guinness and
found this recipe: Click
here. Tonight was a perfect night for stew -- we're experiencing a
little cool snap in Southwest Florida. Preparation was a little more
labor-intensive than I'd anticipated (maybe I was over-doing just a bit, as I
always do when trying a new recipe) but that stew was even better than anything
that I remember having at "The Ray." With winter coming on,
maybe some of my friends will want to try it, too.
November
24, 2009
(Port Charlotte, FL)
Ah, the sometimes
tangled world of social
networking! For a couple of years, I've maintained a MySpace page and had
a lot of fun with it, as well as making some valuable business
connections. A couple of weeks ago, I decided to create a MySpace to
promote the Caloosahatchee Celtic Festival. Oh boy, did I have fun
selecting the "perfect" background and pictures for slide shows!
(Check it out, at www.myspace.com/caloosahatcheeceltic)
Then came the suggestion to create a Facebook for Caloosahatchee, since many diehard Facebook users don't use MySpace, and vice-versa. "Piece of cake," I thought -- wrongly. I was frustrated at every turn, until Greg -- reasoning that since he had no prior experience with MySpace, he could enter the world of Facebook with no preconceived notions or old habits -- got into the act. He, too, was thwarted in his efforts. After a couple of hours, he washed his hands of the project. But meanwhile I'd had time to think a little bit, and realized that we were entering Facebook from the wrong direction -- Facebook won't let entities create pages; only people can create pages: Profiles.
So in order to create that Facebook for the Caloosahatchee Celtic Festival, I would first have to create a personal profile for myself, and I'm glad I did -- I've heard from lots of old friends, some of whom I haven't seen or heard from since my high school days! It's been fun catching up. But I haven't gotten sidetracked from my initial goal; Caloosahatchee is now on Facebook (click here to see) and while I was on a roll, created a Musician page for myself (click here to see).
I haven't quite figured out how I'm going to do justice to two full websites (www.marcillewallis.com and www.celticheritageproductions.com) and two MySpace pages and three Facebook pages, in addition to performing and planning the performances and just plain playing the dulcimer, but eventually, I'll figure it all out! In fact, in the midst of all the MySpace/Facebook madness, we got the "green light" for producing a brand-new Celtic festival in North Carolina! Stay tuned for details as they develop.
Oh ... that means another MySpace page ... and another Facebook page, doesn't it? Piece of cake!
December
4, 2009 (Jacksonville, FL)
Would
you look at that view! We are here in Jacksonville, for tomorrow's
Riverside Arts Market. And tonight, the organizers of the Arts Market are
putting us up in the Hyatt Regency Jacksonville Riverfront. This is the
view from our 7th floor room. It's not often that a Celtic musician gets
accommodations like rock-star royalty, and I'm lapping it up!
But
I still can't help feeling a little like Jethro from the Beverly Hillbillies:
"Hot dog!" I'll confess that I could not bring myself to pay Hyatt
prices for an Italian grinder that I knew I'd enjoy no better than the one from
the deli/comedy club around the corner, so Greg and I took a little evening
stroll for our dinner. Jacksonville has enjoyed a Renaissance of sorts
over the last couple of decades. For years, it had suffered urban decay,
and had even unfortunately earned a reputation for air quality that was so poor,
Jacksonville led the nation in incidence of lung cancer. Today's
Jacksonville is sort of the "Hartford of the South," as many insurance
companies are headquartered in its high-rise business district. Almost a
hundred years ago, my grandmother spent some of her growing-up years in
Jacksonville. According to her memoirs, the house was located on West
Monroe Street, which is only a couple of blocks over from the riverfront where
the Hyatt stands. I wonder if she'd even vaguely recognize her old
Riverside neighborhood, which at one time she "knew by heart," or
would she be slightly ga-ga, like Jethro's Granny?
The thumbnail at right is another view from our balcony, looking upriver (the St. Johns River flows north) toward the location of the Riverwalk and the Arts Market. Notice the beautiful sidewalk and the tree-lined street toward the lower right-hand corner of the photo. Tomorrow will be cold and rainy all day, but tonight it's nice and cozy in our sumptuous space here at the Hyatt. I could get used to this!
December
12, 2009
(Port Charlotte, FL)
The first concert of our
Christmas season was down in Naples today, a sweet little show at Lely Palms
Retirement Center with just Don Pigeon and myself. This past Thursday, Don
and I made an appearance on Sarasota community radio station WSLR, on the Ted's
Head show. And on Thanksgiving weekend, Don joined me in Tarpon Springs,
at the Downtown Craft Festival. We're looking forward to joining up with
the rest of the band next week, for the 10th Annual Christmas With The Celts
concert series.
But
there's lots more than Christmas preparations going on here in the Celtic
Heritage Productions office, and sometimes I find it hard not to get ahead of
myself! Greg and I are feverishly working on the 7th Annual Caloosahatchee
Celtic Festival which, incredibly, is only six weeks away from today.
Peace River Celtic Festival demands a little of our attention too, as do the
Haggis Bash, St. Paddy's events, and Tartan Day. We're also working on my
2010 solo appearance schedule. And as if there were not enough exciting
things in the works -- we're producing another Celtic festival, this one in
North Carolina.
So ... announcing the First Annual WNC Highlands Celtic Festival, to be held on June 18-19, 2010 on the grounds of the Pisgah Brewing Company in Black Mountain, one of our favorite towns! Musical acts will be Burning Bridget Cleary, Brendan Nolan, and Marcille Wallis & Friends. There'll be a heavy athletics demonstration team directed by Mike Link of the Foothills Highland Games. There's talk of a fiddle competition. Cameron's British Food and Imports (from Fort Myers, FL) will provide authentic Celtic fare. And Pisgah Brewing will offer their award-winning brews, including, perhaps, a special concoction in honor of the Celtic festival. Is it any wonder that I'm having trouble staying focused these days? But I'm lovin' it!
December
13, 2009 (Port
Charlotte, FL)
A little over five
years ago, our home -- like the homes of thousands of others -- was devastated
by Hurricane Charley. The repairs to the house itself were easier to deal
with; new roof, new flooring, some new ceilings, new paint inside and out were
all paid for by excellent insurance (through Florida Farm Bureau, in case you're
wondering -- or shopping) so the only real cost to us was time and minor
inconvenience.
Some of the losses outside were a little more difficult. I've never since seen the flying squirrels who nested in the tall trees at the front of our property; I no longer hear the quail or the Chuck-wills-widow (a cousin of the whippoorwill) who resided nearby. The huge oak on our vacant lot was split in two. We had to remove several pines that had fallen or threatened to fall on the house or power lines. There's another pine that died some months afterward, and I've been knowing all this time that it really should be taken out too. But trees -- even dead ones -- give life. Today was my reaffirmation and my reward. Look who came to dine at the dead pine!
December
28, 2009
(Port Charlotte, FL)
All is calm and quiet in
this lull between Christmas and New Year's. Sure, we're maintaining our
various "social networking" sites, and other "housekeeping"
details, but there's less of a sense of urgency, now that I have no appearances
until the middle of next month. A perfect time to recap Christmas With The
Celts, and perhaps other events of the year as well.
Christmas With The Celts celebrated a special milestone: it was the 10th Annual concert in the series. The run was brief but intense, and concluded with a show at the Congregational United Church of Christ, the place where it all began. The cast included Don Pigeon, Matt Miller, Robin Hendrickson and Ann & Cal Lloyd, (and myself and Greg of course!) all of whom have been a part of Christmas With The Celts for the past few years. For this special anniversary celebration, we brought in guitarist Michael DeLalla, who lives in Boulder, Colorado. To our audiences, it may have seemed that Michael was the "newbie," but in fact Michael has been an integral part of Celtic Heritage Productions since the very beginning -- he engineered/mixed/mastered my first CD, The Celtic Ray, and has recorded every one of my CDs since. He's also lent his guitar skill on more than half of the projects (Be Thou My Vision, A Celtic Heritage, In Quiet Joy, Celtic Heart, and A Mighty Fortress).
Don and I got the Christmas concert ball rolling, with a live appearance on Sarasota's WSLR, and a little concert down in Naples at the Lely Palms Retirement Center. On Tuesday (12/15) Greg and I moved our Airstream trailer up to the Tampa East RV Resort then, while Greg awaited Robin's arrival at the RV park, I went to Tampa International Airport to pick up Michael. He came in a bit earlier than we'd originally planned, so we had a few hours to kill before rehearsal at Ann & Cal's. What better way to fill time (and our stomachs) than with a visit to La Teresita, my favorite Cuban restaurant? La Teresita may be the only restaurant on earth where I'd let the waitress tell me where I wanted to sit! I studied the menu, but ended up with my favorite La Teresita meal of Bistec de Palomilla, Arroz Amarillo, Garbanzos, y Agua con Limon (Cuban fried steak, yellow rice, garbanzo bean soup, and water with lemon). Too interested in diving into my own meal than to notice what Michael ordered, all I can do is relate that he reportedly enjoyed it! Then we went on a brief tour of Tampa's funky Hyde Park area, took a spin along the Bayshore, and got lost in Downtown Tampa. Eventually we wound up at Ann and Cal's North Tampa home, and had a grand rehearsal -- Ann, Cal and I enjoyed listening to Michael and Don musically introduce themselves and test each other's chops!
Our first three gigs (on 12/16-17) were all in the Orlando/Winter Park area. Meanwhile, poor Matt was stuck back home in the Panhandle, taking a calculus exam! He finally joined up with us on Friday, 12/18, for the Live Music Showcase on Tampa's WMNF. Matt amazes me -- how can one spend so many hours in a math lab preparing for an exam, then take said exam, then drive all night, then get up at the crack of dawn (with the benefit of only a few hours' sleep) to perform with such brilliance -- with the briefest amount of rehearsal! We played a mix of Christmas music and Celtic favorites; our host Bill Dudley did a fantastic job of making sure that we packed as much music into the hour as we possibly could.
Friday night's gig at Sun City Center United Methodist Church, then, was the first with the whole crew intact. Saturday night we all headed up to The Villages, and Church On The Square. Sunday we took off from performing, to travel down to Greg's and my home in Port Charlotte, and have a little family meal cooked by the "Uncle Jerry." (Maggie Muggins, for those of you who were wondering, took the aloof approach, for the most part ignoring all those folks who descended upon her home!) On Monday we headed up to my childhood hometown of Arcadia, then on Tuesday (12/22) we found ourselves at the Congregational Church in Punta Gorda, wondering how the time had flown by so quickly!
On Christmas morning, Greg and I listened to a pre-recorded compilation of recent WMNF Live Music Showcase acts, to discover that they'd used Don's warm and inviting version of "The Wassail Song," along with Robin's kitchen pipe rendition of "God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen" and Michael's moody guitar interpretation of "O Come All Ye Faithful." Then we sat down to a lovely meal, just the two of us, prepared by the two of us.