Happy Springtime!

I've added a couple of pictures to Lady Wolf's Notes and several new pictures on Classic Clara at http://classicclara.blogspot.com.

We're on the threshold of Spring ... a delicious time of year! Anticipation ... breathe it in!

B. B. King Concert --

On the evening of January 8th (the night that Knoxville was hit hard with frigid temperatures, ice, and snow), B. B. King and his phenomenal band came to the Tennessee Theatre and did an awesome show! I attended, courtesy of one of my students, who not only provided my ticket but also drove to my home and picked me up at the curb (my driveway was not accessible due to icy conditions), and brought me to the concert. When I first met this lady, almost five years ago, she was pretty sure she wouldn't like blues music. Of course, since blues is very close to my heart, I occasionally included some blues in her lesson material. Since that time, she has discovered that blues music resonates with her and she loves it! She's doing a great job playing it, too. My sincere thanks to you, Sylvia, for giving me my ticket and taking me to B. B.'s concert. What a wonderful gift!

Lady Wolf's Notes Says "Good-Night" --

Created in August of 2007, Lady Wolf's Notes is now publishing what I believe (I could change my mind) will be its final post. This year is and has been a time of change for me in various ways, so when all my dust settles, I may revive this blog. The blog has had a good run. I've deleted the more trivial posts and will keep the rest of the Notes up here. I hope you'll enjoy reading or re-reading some of the older posts ... just scroll back and you'll find them. Thank you for being one of my valued readers.

Beach Trip Wraps Up Summer --

I had a very nice several days at Fort Morgan in Gulf Shores, Alabama. What a lovely and friendly area it is. A particularly delightful place where we got some wonderful food was King Neptune on Route 59; the staff was chatty and the restaurant and bar were cozy and neighborly. The charming rental house is on a secluded section of the beach at historic Fort Morgan. Except for an occasional person walking his or her dog in the evening, the beach was unpopulated (the way I like it). Early morning dawned on a beautiful, shimmering sea. As the tide came in, waves hurled themselves against the shore, as they've done for eons. Mesmerizing. I could watch and listen forever.

Interestingly, on the drive home (I drove the ten hours straight through to the beach and, again, when heading homeward), we encountered a weird situation somewhere in central-to-northern Alabama. It persisted over an approximate 100-mile area: Bugs! Clouds of these weird bugs began pelting the truck. They were skinny dark brown bugs with pinchers. I had to stop at a rest area to try and clean them off the windshield. I had plenty of company, as the other drivers were trying to clear their windshields, as well. While we did so, swarms were landing all around us and we discovered that these bugs would bite. As mysteriously as we drove into the bugs' turf, we eventually drove out of it and into a monsoon rain which finished cleansing the truck's windows, hood, and grill.

While at the beach, my asthma was completely gone; it returned somewhere in the Chattanooga area. Those healing ocean ions have amazing power.

Well, now, summer has ended and autumn is officially here. Soon it will be time to bring the houseplants indoors. On the autumnal equinox we had equal hours of daylight and darkness and now we march forward each day into earlier and deepening nightfall. Eternal, the rolling cadence of time ... and the mysterious and mystical ocean.

Civility And The Earth Family –

Saddening are some of the cruel comments that some people post in response to media news articles. Whether bigoted and/or hate-filled, response comments done anonymously enable writers to feel no need to be civil, accountable, or respectful; and so, their writings and ramblings exhibit a bad case of ugliness. Remember the "old days" when no letter-to the-editor would be published without the name of a real person whose authenticity was verified by the publisher?

There is, indeed, a thread of violence. Today, most of us probably consider ourselves adherents to the concept of civility. But there is still too much hate around, folks. It seems that it is time for us to realize that we need to work together for the greater good. We are all in the same life boat, the same cosmic canoe!

Sweet Home (away from home) Alabama –

Soon, soon, soon!

These days I remind Dixie Lee that she will again be a "beach doggie"! I’m so looking forward to my pilgrimage to the beach. I am needing the healing energy and wonderful ions of the surf, the visual connection to the rest of the Universe, as I gaze at the vanishing point on the horizon, where the water meets the sky. I’m especially fond of the early mornings there and I love to greet the day at the ocean’s edge.
　

Does This Make Sense?

In Knoxville it’s now against the law to park your car on your front lawn; if your neighbor reports that you are parking there, you will receive a citation. However, there is no bite at all in anti-littering laws – no effort to enforce them. People who are slobs can and do throw fast-food trays, wrappers, drink cups (sometimes whole bags of them), and beer bottles out of car windows onto lawns, flower beds, and driveways.

I implore fast-food restaurants to please install one or two easily accessible trash receptacles at their restaurants’ exit driveways. This would remove, perhaps, ten or twenty percent of the rubbish from our streets. The other 80 or 90 percent of the stuff being thrown out of car windows needs to be seriously addressed by law enforcement.

Forget the frivolous and elitist law-making and put a stop to littering instead.

The Orb –

The Orb Spider and its web...are among the most beautiful vestiges of September. If you see an elaborate, artistic, and carefully-woven web, an Orb is nearby. There are several versions of this remarkable and attractive spider. The one I’m most familiar with is striped. I believe they are all large. Their webs are often strung on carport posts and porches. My carport now has one so I know autumn is here, even if not officially :)
　

Poignant News –

Seeing the news photo of the Millwood Road animal shelter (humane society) building destroyed by today’s flames, brings back a flood of memories to me (and I’m sure to many others, too). For 13 years I was associated with the humane society ... for the first three years as a hands-on volunteer (walking dogs and cleaning their cages) and then as education director, traveling with my program to schools and organizations throughout Knox and contiguous counties. I kept doing it because I wanted to save animals’ lives by promoting responsible pet ownership and spay/neuter. I did bring the message to hundreds of classrooms, youth organizations, and civic groups until my job was eliminated in early 2004.

Thousands of animals came through the doors of that old building each year. The lucky minority were adopted ... the rest were dispatched when their time was up – or sooner if they were "owner surrendered". Of all the situations there that broke my heart, it was the suffering of the house-trained adult dogs, who were in the top tier of the old cement cages, that was the saddest; they had no access to the outdoors. I still see images of them and their distress, in my mind’s eye.

The news photo shows the large holly tree as it still stands next to the building, a silent witness to so much. The news article says that an arson investigator has been called in.

Employees had sometimes talked among themselves about "seeing" animals who were no longer there, moving about in the euthanasia room; the employees concluded that it must be an "energy field". I never went inside that room.

So, goodbye to the corridors and rooms where lives were extinguished, and the spirits of many, many animals roamed. The news article says that the fire left only the outer walls of the building remaining.

Summer’s Hush –

August is here ... golden August. The fruit of the gardens is abundant, the wildflowers are forming seed heads and pods. My favorite wildflowers are orange glory and purple ironweeds. The ironweeds are the late bloomers and just getting ready to blossom here in Tennessee.

Kids and teachers are getting ready to go back to school. Oh, I remember what a painful thing it was to relinquish summer when I was a child. I suspect that hasn’t changed for today’s kids, especially here in Tennessee, where school resumes in early August. Where I lived (Connecticut), school would re-open on the Wednesday after Labor Day. Always. That seemed much more logical to me. My birthday is September 1st, so as my excitement would mount with my own special day approaching, it was juxtaposed with my sadness about school’s re-opening. I remember that bittersweet emotional conflict – year after year!. I liked school, for the most part, and was a good student; it was just the loss of my personal freedom that bothered me. I’m the same way now, definitely a free spirit. Oh, to be a butterfly, flitting from flower to flower, following my bliss! Well, to some extent, that’s what I do.

Anyway, August is kind of nostalgic and soft and golden, a time to hold onto in one’s memory. It’s a nice month. All of nature is looking forward now to resting, after its vigorous growth, budding, blooming, and propagation. Nature is a great teacher and I am nature’s daughter. August is a nice month.

“That Old Black Magic” –

I’m talking about the song, written by composer Harold Arlen and lyricist Johnny Mercer in 1942, for the film "Star Spangled Rhythm". I happened to hear a piped-in version of it recently while at Savelli’s Restaurant. Never before having realized what technical potential is there in that song, I’m having a lot of fun with it now. Lots of nooks and crannies support all kinds of little riffs and bass lines and the lyrics are fun to sing, too. Add this to my covers list :)

Quiet Miracles –

It is a bit after 5 p.m. on Friday, July 24th and I’m sitting in the sanctuary of TVUUC. There is an exquisite labyrinth set up in the sanctuary. If I felt more steady on my feet at the moment, I would walk it. Well, it’s good to sit here and just breathe ... in: "Peace", out: "Yes". "Peace – Yes." That is my personal meditation and it works well for me; I even use it to ease my asthma.

It feels quietly exciting to sit here – I’m in the seat I always used until that morning last July 27th when I got up and changed seats and sat in the one directly behind it. I’ve said before that I did that "for some inexplicable reason", but that’s not quite true. That morning, something ("the small voice"), had made me edgy and told me to change seats; actually, it had almost shouted that instruction. And because I listened and heeded, I am able to be here this evening. But that is not what inspired this post's title.

There are many activities, a special service, and a guitar concert scheduled for this weekend and Monday. They are intended to celebrate the church’s spiritual triumph over the intent of the man who wanted to kill us all – the triumph of love over hate. They are intended, also, to pour out our thanks to the community of Knoxville churches and individuals that gave us so much support in the days and weeks following the shootings. My own personal preference is the reverent, centering approach we have this evening. It seems certain that the media will be here on Sunday and Monday. There will be a lot of people, maybe even throngs, as was the case one year ago. I’ve wondered, worried about how the events may affect the families of those who were slain.

I was injured. I was able to walk ... no, crawl, out of the sanctuary that morning, deafened; I was able to shakily stand on my feet, and able to put myself on auto-pilot to drive myself home ... after which I collapsed and found myself in a crescendo of almost indescribable physical and emotional pain, the ramifications of which evolved over several months. How I resisted it. How I hated to be a victim – I hated it. When the migrating pellets caused my eye to hemorrhage on election day morning, that happening brought me to my emotional knees. I wondered if I was losing my eye (my good eye). I learned that I would need to stay behind dark glasses and/or dodge people for a month. It was frightening to look at myself in the mirror, so I certainly didn't want to frighten others. But a miracle happened. Two miracles (or a two-part miracle)!

One beautiful afternoon when the neighborhood was quiet and no one else was around, I was sitting in my backyard on the old wrought iron bench, situated under a very old (and wise) maple tree. I had my dog with me. I became aware of a peaceful feeling – it felt almost alien ... and so calming. In that moment, a perfectly shaped, golden leaf fluttered down from the maple tree and gently brushed my arm as it came to rest on my left hand. I understood this leaf to be a very special gift. The moment was a time of enlightenment and communion.

After a while, I got up and went into the house, where I stood in front of my full-length mirror, looked into the reflection of my face, and heard myself saying aloud "I love you – no matter how you look. I treasure every part of you and the miracle that you are still functioning as a living unit." I remember those as my exact words. From that moment, I’ve had a new regard and respect for myself ... and for my music and general imprint on the world.

I became gentle with myself and used (my own) healing touch on my forehead and eye. I made peace with my pellets, which responded by quietly settling down. Of course, during that month away from church (while my eye recovered), the other congregants had moved on in their own individual and communal ways of healing. When I did return in mid-December, there was a sea of new faces; there were throngs of people. For a while, I felt like a stranger, out of cadence with everyone else. My drama has been and is amazing.

Meanwhile, my quiet, miracle messenger maple leaf is in a picture frame, pressed under glass for all time to come, and hanging on my bedroom wall. The memory of its gentle stroke upon my hand reminds me that my life ... and life itself (in the continuum) will go on ... yes, changed, but ever vital and precious.

Days Of Innocence –

Occasionally my mind opens up its picture album and diary and I get to re-experience some long-ago scenes. Mid-summer, during my childhood, was a time that I savored. I would say that I was what was known then as a "tom-boy", climbing trees where I’d hang by my knees or sit nestled where a comfy limb joined the tree’s main trunk, and read a book or eat berries. I vividly remember, though, that when I occasionally wore pants instead of a dress (little girls mostly wore dresses when I was a child), I’d always make sure I had a ribbon in my hair or laced into my shoes, to indicate to people that I was a girl (in case they failed to notice my long, braided hair, which boys of that time did not wear).

Many a summer evening, my mother would send me out into the yard to pick dandelion greens for salad. I think my father tried his hand at making dandelion wine. I recall that, at that time and place, dandelions were not disdained or poisoned – they were eaten and made into wine; sometimes they were just welcomed as part of the lawn, for their cheerful flowers and the fuzzy seed heads that we children loved to play with. I still like dandelions.

Often my father would enlist my help with his huge garden and he would teach me about plants and their care. My mother had been a "city girl", but she had adapted to life in the country. From mid-July on through September, she would spend days at a time in the kitchen, canning vegetables and fruit that would be stored in a special room in our basement. The basement was old-style, as the house had been built in 1938. It had places where coal chutes had been, before the heating system had been converted from coal to oil. The basement was spooky, even after I’d become an adult. My mother loved to make things out of cement. Making her own wooden forms, she fashioned many little "steps" and garden edgings, and even dug and cemented (sides and bottom) of a children’s pool, which I’d say was about 8'x10' and perhaps almost (an uneven) 3' in depth.

Lest this all appear to be a picture-book scene, I need to add that we always seemed to have an over-abundance of visitors – my parents’ friends, relatives, acquaintances – sometimes the house was like a train station; it also had its share of quarrels and the air was always blue with cigarette smoke. I didn’t mind the visitors much, except for when my cousins would be there for a day or several days. They were fun for the first hour or so, but would interfere with my treasured hours at the piano. Sometimes I would find my solitude and escape by getting "lost" on the property, usually in a tree.

Twice per summer, my mother would take me to the beach, which I loved. It was only about 25 or 30 minutes away by car, but that was before she got her driver’s license, so we had to travel by bus. When you travel by bus, it seems like a long journey.

Of course, there was always the possibility of one of the year-round music performances that my mother had me booked for. Some of them involved real travel; some of them were back-to-back. They were kind of the reassuring bits of punctuation, sprinkled across the scenes I’ve just described, sort of a reaffirmation – of what, I’m not sure. It sometimes felt like I was living two lives.

Funny how each season has memories that can tiptoe across that threshold; how all those threads are firmly woven together.



　

End-Of-Month Round-Up Of Thoughts & Happenings ...

Nature is, at once, beautifully delicate and very ruggedly designed. Nature tells me secrets and I try to listen; there is so much to learn. Recent violent storms tearing through the area brought flooding, toppled trees, and some scary moments. And there is the excitement, the drama!

I finally did manage to get the Myspace page closed. My house projects are completed except for the carport which is to be installed in a week or two. The front circular driveway came out great, thanks to the expertise of the Daco Company crew.

I was very saddened when my little foster-care birdlets deceased, during their third day in my care. They had been eating and seemingly making progress; then, sometime during the night, the friskier one went; around noon the next day, the quiet one followed. Maybe when I changed out their soiled nesting material, it was a mistake to do so. Maybe it was because they matured enough to realize I wasn’t one of their kind. Whatever the reason for their demise, I miss them and wish that they had survived.

Dennis, my prison pen-pal, has done marvelously on his academic studies, even got a score of 100 on his math final; he will be graduating soon and I’m very proud of him.

Summer is here, there is no doubt. Happy Summer Solstice to one and all!

Angels, Heroes, & Upcoming Anniversary of July 27th...

Somehow the upcoming first anniversary of the shootings at my church suggests to me that this would be a good time for me to acknowledge and honor my life's heroes ...

My mother, who had an amazingly giving and generous spirit and who was my cheerleader and promoter.

My paternal grandmother, who was my childhood playmate and talented mentor.

The men at TVUUC who saved my life on July 27, 2008.

The people who work as advocates for and rescuers of animals and our earth.

The musicial artists who write, sing, and play about truth in their music; the visual artists who state truth in their drawings and paintings.

Philip, my multi-talented friend who was also my ardent and steadfast fan.

Gerald, who has humor and a generous heart.

Harry, who I'll always remember for his vision, sensitivity, and honesty.

Dr. Griffith and Dr. Stewart, who are very kind and very wise.

Diana, who has integrity, courage, and strength.

My guardian angel(s) who come to my rescue every time I call.

My beautiful Dixie Lee.

Myself, for my fortitude and (what I believe is) a gentle heart.

~To all that is good, thanks be for the breath of life~

And my heartfelt thanks to my circle of friends for their love, loyalty, and encouragement.

Comfort Zone –

Lately I’ve found myself occasionally visiting the nearby Shoney’s. In years past, the Shoney Restaurant on the other side of town was where my mother liked to go for our weekly dinner date. She had a favorite server and thoroughly enjoyed dining there. Daughter Shara and I often went there for breakfast, even during her rebellious teen years; having breakfast there was a shared experience we both enjoyed. Maybe those memories now send me to the nearby Shoney’s, in order to reminisce. I don’t mean for this to sound like a Shoney’s commercial. Actually, the veggie bar isn’t as good as it used to be (when it was strictly a veggie bar); also, the number of meal choices has diminished.

But, it is still "homey". Last week I went in and sat down and a woman across the aisle looked at me and exclaimed "Great tat!", referring to the wolf tattoo I have on my left arm. She then proudly revealed her own tattoo (of a unicorn) just above her chest cleavage. The parade of people is varied and fun to observe!

Magic, Blessed Little Creatures –

Lightning Bugs! Where I grew up, that’s what they are called. I’ve heard them called "Fireflies" in other locales. They can be seen now, gracing the night with their magic. I love them! It’s impossible to not have one’s spirit enriched while gazing at lightning bugs. I’ll copy and paste a segment of an item I wrote about them back in 1998 in my newsletter, Janna Publications (named for a sweet, smart little dog who sat in the executive director’s chair!). At the time, there was an industry campaign to collect and harm the little insects. Here is what I wrote:

"How They Light Up The Night! ... During the month of June, the annual ritual is begun by those innocuous little creatures–the lightning bugs, or fireflies as they are called in some parts of the country. At dusk, their blinking lights emerge from grass and garden. As the evening wears on, they rise in a great twinkling wave, higher and higher from the ground. Then, just before midnight, they are among the treetops, where they signal to each other in a spectacular, quietly-frenzied display!

Would you want them to disappear? Would you wish them harmed? No, neither would we. Nor do we want to know the mechanical intricacies of their lighting apparatus. But, this summer, a more elaborate version of last year’s newspaper ad appeared in print, urging people to catch these insects, freeze them, and cash them in for payment by the ounce; the ad also said to "avoid thawing or they will become worthless". Worthless? This strikes us as crass, crude, cruel, and ridiculous. We think that their aesthetic worth is singularly phenomenal."

Yes, phenomenal ... and magic!

Lance, Moby, and Noah –

My beloved truck, Lance, and Jerry’s ‘85 Buick, Moby, have been joined by a 2005 Avalanche whose name is Noah. When I can find a place to park them in a row, facing forward, I’ll take their picture and call it "The Fleet"!

It turns out that Chevy’s Avalanche is a very hot (I don't mean "stolen") vehicle – so much in demand that car salesmen have a list for waiting customers who are trying to locate an available Avalanche vehicle. I think the 2005 - 2007 models may have some advantage over the current year’s model, in terms of quality. I’m delighted with the acquisition!

The Circus Is In Town –

What a week last week was...and its events aren’t over! All at the same time, a fence company came and moved my dog’s chain link fence and posts; the carport salesman came to take measurements, etc. in preparation of installing a second carport; the Avalanche came home from the dealership; the paving company came and dug out, graveled, and rolled the front parking spot which has now been extended into a semi-circle. And today a tree company came and did some major pruning on a tree that had limbs lying on my house’s service wires. The paving crew and the fence-moving crew were, literally, here at the same time, vying for the limited parking space and jockeying their vehicles and equipment around to accommodate each other, me, Jerry, and our neighbors who share the main driveway. It was a circus. Then, just as the paving guys were about to call for the tar truck to come, the sky turned black and the wind came up. Yep ... a big storm was blowing in, with lots of rain, thunder, and lightning. So they couldn’t complete the job. That night we had some more soaking rains, so the following day the situation had to dry out. That day, being Friday, means that my next shot at getting the parking area asphalted will be tomorrow (Monday). I’m hoping, hoping, hoping!

“You’re Being Chirped!”

And ... on Saturday, I noticed that for the second day in a row, there was evidence of birds having perched on one of the center beams of the existing carport. The evidence was also on the new vehicle. I washed off the truck and backed it out from under the carport so I could also rinse the beam with the garden hose. Having done that, I realized I had to stuff some soft, pliable material into the narrow space above the beam so that the birds wouldn’t hang out there again. Climbing on my little ladder, I could almost reach high enough to place a piece of bubble wrap in the opening. But I found that I am not tall enough, plus I thought I might fall off the little ladder. I heard sounds coming from my neighbor’s back yard, though I couldn’t see through the hedges. Venturing a plaintive call, I said "Chris, are you over there?" "Yeah"... the welcomed response. I briefly told him what I was trying to do and he came right over to help. He easily was tall enough to reach the beam and insert the bubble wrap. But – whoa – "there are birds in there", he called out to me. They hadn't been fazed by the garden hose spray. What a place to locate baby birds...above vehicles and a hard gravel surface below. One by one, he removed the two babies (needing to temporarily unscrew one side of the beam to get the bird who was stuck in the crevice), whose nest was minimal and flimsy, and placed them in my hands.

Yes, I am hand-feeding two baby birds in my kitchen. That first night I almost didn’t expect them to be OK. As of today, though, they seem to be thriving. And very vocal! I think they are about 7 days old, one being a bit smaller and less developed than the other ... maybe a late-blooming egg. The smaller bird seems to be more "mindful" and was more eager to eat from moment one. The other one is feistier and more active.

Anyway, Chris installed bubble wrap in all the carport center beam openings, to avoid further problems. I’m hoping these two little birdies will make it. They and I are trying our best. And so, Jerry periodically calls out to me "you’re being chirped", when the birdettes signal for food.

Dixie Lee On WVLT’s “Volzeye” –

I submitted two of her photos and they are both up there on the site. The picture of her wearing her hat (it’s also on this blog) pulled in at least one vote (I didn’t know there was voting for this event, entitled "Dog Days Of Summer"). Lots of people sent in pictures of their dogs.

Words —

I’d like to publish here a little poem (I’ve written many ... some serious, some comical) entitled "Words". Sometimes I’m even more aware than usual of the power of words. Words create and project energies. When we string words into a sentence, we create something that has power, sometimes enough power to take on a life of its own. What we say can be for the good or can be destructive. Truly, words can be weapons, words can be tools, words can be caresses. How wonderful to caress someone with words, and to be so caressed, so positively stroked!

Here is the funny little poem written a number of years ago (it almost qualifies as a limerick except for its rhythm):

WORDS
Light on their feet,
Or as heavy as they can be,
Lofty and good, Base and bad,
Bold, playful, somber, sad...
Not bland or namby-pamby.

　
　

Month Modes –

No one commented on my end-of-May’s post about how each of the months on the calendar brings with it a mood, mode, feeling, theme of its own. I mentioned May being merry and June being sultry. I’d really like to know if other people ascribe moods to specific months. Here’s another one of mine: September – blissful. And another: March – energized. And another: April – tricky. Just think of the descriptive word that immediately comes to mind about a particular month!

Damn Those Musicians –

Who knows why memories of certain experiences drift back into our minds at times that don’t seem to make any sense in terms of connection? I guess I’m assuming this happens to other people, besides me. My mind is a veritable well with an accompanying apparatus that often vigorously dips down into it ... drawing up, from various levels ... happenings and feelings from my lifescape.

This morning, while driving down North Broadway here in Knoxville, I could hear the words of a job interviewer (I don’t know what her real title was) from eight or nine years ago. At the time, I was still the roving, roaming, itinerant humane education director for a local non-profit organization, visiting schools and organizations in Knox and contiguous counties with my program. The "EF" employee (initials of recruiter organization), who later served as interviewer, contacted me and asked if I would please consider coming in and applying for a part-time job with her organization – a job that would involve my working with inner-city youth. I loved that prospect, so I figured why not complete the application? Soon I had my initial meeting with her. Her eagerness for me to be a serious job candidate was evident and a bit disconcerting, as she later phoned me to ask me to please remain interested in the position.

At last, the day of my defining interview arrived and I sweetly and sincerely accepted the invitation into her office. A few moments into our talk, she said "I know, and you admit here (on my paperwork), that you’re a musician!". Then, without stopping, she went on: "Don’t you think you would be a bad influence on children?" Well, it was really, what would be referred to in the vernacular, a "sucker shot" -- one that definitely caught me unprepared.

In that moment, I realized she’d never intended to consider me for the job and had, in fact, put a lot of effort into bringing me to that place and time. Possibly so that she could say that to me? Who knows? Maybe I fulfilled some obscure category on her EOE documentation; is there one for "musician"?. Anyway, I remember looking at her and managing to say "I consider music a positive thing", then getting up and leaving ... bewildered on my drive home.

I don’t know who was hired for that job, but odds are that he or she boasted of having a tin ear.

　

Strolling Through The Park –

"I was strolling through the park one day,
In the merry, merry month of May,
I was taken by surprise, By a pair of roguish eyes,
In a moment my poor heart was stole away!"

Music and Lyrics were composed by by Ed Haley in 1884; the song’s genre was/is "parlor song" and it has an additional verse. BTW (this is an aside) I came across alternate, parody lyrics entitled While Strolling In Iraq One Day on The Boot Newt Sing-A-Long Blog at bootnewt.blogspot.com; I'm guessing those lyrics were written during the presidential campaign.

Anyway...

Dixie Lee and I took our Thursday outing today...we went to one of several parks we enjoy. Suddenly, the lines of this little song began to play in my head and soon I was singing it as we walked. I felt very uninhibited and the little melody continued on, again and again. May really is a "merry" month. Spring has grabbed hold with a firm and lovely grip and the little flora faeries have begun their seasonal dance among the flowers. Now, as the merry month draws to a close, the sultry (I always think of the month of June as sultry, seductive...that’s why the opening line in my song "That’s The Way You Make Me Feel" is "Like a sweet, summer day sometime in June" -- hear it on my Song Page link at www.claralandau.com). I guess it naturally follows that we could ascribe one-word "mood tags" for each month. I’d be very interested in hearing your ideas about that, dear reader. What is the general tone of July, of September, the rest of them? Well, it’s kind of hard, when we’re standing here and straddling the line between being merry and being sultry, to imagine the mood tone for any other time. But let me know if you can!

Gate-Keepers, Step Aside –

"Animal People" is a newspaper publication about and for individuals and organizations that work to help animals – through advocacy, rescue, and/or education ... animal-oriented people ... in short, "animal-people". I had subscribed to Animal People for the ten years during which I was education director and traveling public speaker for a regional humane organization.

Recently, when I completed and recorded my classical music composition Requiem For Animals, I sent a news item about it, as well as a letter-to-the editor, to Animal People, so that the editor/publisher could choose the format he preferred to include in an upcoming issue. The items described the musical work and the fact that I was offering it as a gift to humane organizations that might want to use it as a film score or for an educational project. When the next issue rolled out, Requiem For Animals was not mentioned at all. Rather, I received an e-mail from the editor/publisher, rejecting my news item and letter and dissing the concept of my musical gift offer, in general. His tone, while polite, flexed the muscle of censorship and gate-keeping. He also suggested that I contact each organization individually. (!) Left on my own, without recourse to a widely distributed animal advocacy avenue, I’ve been contacting those organizations I find on the Internet via e-mail and postal mail, as time and postage money permit, but there is no way I can even know about the existence of many worthwhile organizations and certainly no way I can contact each of them.

How sad that the role of "watchdog", guardian, and gate-keeper would be so staunchly policed, that something of beauty and value (and free of cost) would be kept from those who might want and benefit from it.

Comprised of interwoven segments that tell a story and characterize states of being ... and consciousness... from the perspective of an animal, the Requiem For Animals musical drama attempts to portray the moment of birth, early life in the natural environment, the advent of danger (by way of man), death, the following quietude, the re-awakening, and the celebration of life in the cosmos.

I would like to tell the animal advocacy community – the animal-people organizations -- that Requiem For Animals is a professional, production-quality musical work that I am offering free, for use in their programming efforts. There are no hitches or catches. Requiem For Animals can be heard on my website at www.claralandau.com on the "Song Page" link. I will send a free copy of the CD to organizations that contact me at (865) 522-0204 claralandau@comcast.net and request it.

So, gate-keepers, step aside; let’s open the gates of information!

Starkly, With Finesse –

I guess that phrase and post title flew into my head because (I hope) it describes, succinctly, the relation, the balance, between me and the written word. (see Gate-Keeper post).

Flower Power –

One needs only to deeply inhale the wondrously beautiful perfume of the Mock Orange blossom (now abloom in profusion) or take in the visual feast of a velvety Rose garden, to be assured that, whatever is going on in the world of humans, Nature can and does upstage us – skillfully, eloquently, and with such drama!

Who Knoo?

That I might get a new vehicle?

That we’d have two straight weeks of rain in east Tennessee?

That the economy would start to improve?

That Chrysler would file for bankruptcy?

That I'd receive Victoria’s Secret mauve, lacey underwear for Mother’s Day?

That I'd receive a bottle of (immunity-boosting) food-grade H202 (hydrogen peroxide) for Mother’s Day?

That I'd love sci-fi TV series "Moonlight" and its handsome starring vampire?

That I would be pet-sitting a 19-year-old adorable little dog?

Loft Office –

Clarence III and Dexter March and all their peripherals have been moved and are now located in my loft office, which is also known as "Dixie Towers" because my dog, Dixie Lee, loves to hang out up here. Jerry calls my office "Cape Canaveral" because he thinks it’s techy-looking. It is office-y enough, though also a quiet place with a nice, soft, creative vibe. Another plus is that my bedroom (where the computer equipment formerly was situated), now looks like a bedroom (a girl’s BR). And I love it!