New Year With Friends

So ... sometimes rhymes just pop into my head ... almost always they have a Seuss-like cadence to them.  Or maybe it's Hallmarkish?

For those for whom I had addresses, I sent this in a card.  But I wanted to share it with all my new friends ... Happy new year; I'm so glad we've met.  You all know who you are.  And if this expresses a sentiment you can identify with and we've not yet connected, I hope we do some day.  Soon.

On Making New Friends

The year comes to a close,

I don’t want it to end.

So many memories,

So many friends.

We’ve loved all the music

From Cape Cod to Cali

And points in between;

Too many to tally.

It’s Gavin we know

Who brings us together

In long lines and front rows

In all kinds of weather.

I treasure you all

And the times that we’ve had

Whether in person, on twitter

On facebook, IG just a tad.

I wish you health and happiness

In the year just ahead.

I wish us all music,

I wish our souls fed.

I thank Gavin DeGraw,

His band and his crew.

I’m forever grateful;

Through him, I’ve met you.

Lessons, Carols and More Lessons

There is a beautiful traditional in churches that associate as members of the Anglican Communion (in my case, the Episcopal church).  It is a once-a-year service known as Lessons and Carols.

It's not old as Anglican Services go, having been first offered in 1880 on Christmas Eve by the then Bishop of Truro (who'd later become the Archbishop of Canterbury).  But the most famous Lessons and Carols are offered today, still on Christmas Eve, by King's College in Cambridge (England).  The College first held Lessons and Carols in 1918 and began broadcasting the service throughout the world in 1928.  The Dean of the Cathedral in 1918 was Eric Milner-White.  He'd been an army chaplain and thought that the Church of England could use some "more imaginative worship."  It was King's College that first began opening the service with the iconic "Once in Royal David's City."

The altar at St. Peter's.

My church's celebration of Lessons and Carols is deeply rooted in this standard.  This year's service, however, was truly an amazing gift to our community and, I believe, filled everyone in attendance with a hopefulness and sense of peace that can only come from an acceptance and understanding of how grace has moved through time.  It is, after all, a celebration of grace.

At first I was a bit put off by the date ... December 20.  Although I've previously blogged how I'm perfectly comfortable these days with the blurring of Advent and Christmas seasons in my life, I'd rather expected my church (St. Peter's Episcopal Church, Morristown, NJ) to hold more strictly to the calendar.  At St. Peter's we'd traditionally done these Lessons and Carols on the first Sunday after Christmas Day, usually a couple of days into the short Christmas season.  Of course, it was not well attended, people being either exhausted from the hustle and bustle of the times, traveling to visit friends and relatives or simply, "churched out."  When I finally arrived in the Narthex of our beautiful building after a stressful hunt for parking in downtown Morristown where the restaurants were overflowing and the Nutcracker was being performed across the street, I was amazed and thrilled to find the Nave full of worshippers.  The choir had already begun the first Carol and was in procession, lighting the candles of the congregation as they passed by each pew.  The dimmed lights, dark red poinsettias everywhere and incense that floated through the air all combined to set the stage for the deep and holy mystery that is the story of God's saving grace in salvation.  And I was completely over my hesitation in the choice of dates ....

Another tradition that, over the years, has attached itself to Lessons and Carols is the choice of asking members of the parish staff to read the lessons (we did seven this year).  I was told by a past organist this was regularly done in English churches.  I was always thrilled to read, when I was on staff.  Because I was late (due to the aforementioned parking problems), I didn't see the beautiful procession down the aisle which included the people who were slated to read the lessons we would hear.  When I flipped to the back of my service leaflet, I was amazed to see the names of representatives from all ranks of leadership in our community.  The Reverend Janet Broderick had invited the Mayor, a congressman, a state senator, a school principal and clergy from neighboring churches of different denominations.  How wonderful, I thought.  Here is a living example of how people in the community can come together, despite their differing ideologies and paths in life, to create something of profound beauty.  It's no secret I've lately been pretty disillusioned by people with power and the opportunity to make decisions that affect us all.  I felt a little ray of hope begin to swell at the symbolism of the guests.

After that first hymn in procession and a few prayers, the alternating of carols and lessons began.  Some were anthems sung by our outstanding choir made up of both young children and adults.  Some were carols that were sung by all with soaring descants contributed by the choir.  I've listed the music and the lessons below if you're interested in knowing what exactly was sung and read.

After the fourth lesson, after Jesus had been born again in a manger, we knelt and sang Silent Night by candlelight.  We actually do this every Christmas Eve too.  In the stillness and hush of the darkened church, this simple song and the simple act of kneeling cause me to catch my breath every time.  " ... love's pure light ..."; " ... with the dawn of redeeming grace ..."  It's impossible not to realize how very blessed we are.

Lesson after lesson we heard again about that grace:  that love that came down at Christmas; that love, all lovely; that love, divine.*  The musical choices were spot on; our Director of Music, Joshua Stafford has a gift for choosing the right piece for each moment.  Our choir is made up of very talented musicians, some professional and some for whom this is their contribution to our ministry.  The children, under Josh, are sounding terrific.  These children are getting a brilliant music education and the opportunity to sing some challenging and important works at a very young age.  My own two children passed through this program years ago.  It was a very formative part of their childhoods and gave them many opportunities to be of service to our church and the wider community.  They traveled up and down the East Coast, to Canada and the United Kingdom.  They speak of their experiences in choir often and with great love.

The service moves through the story of Christ's birth until finally we come to the concluding lesson from John ... "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."  It concludes by telling us the Word was born a man and lived among us, "... full of grace and truth."  Grace and truth.  As Janet would say, this is an astounding gift.

I think I floated out of the church on a wave of goodwill and anticipation.  I felt hopeful and at peace.  My mom and I drove back to her house chatting excitedly about the service.  

And then we were struck with another lesson.  We'd barely walked through the door when my brother, home for the holidays announced that two police officers had been shot at point blank range in Brooklyn, New York.  All the joy and euphoria from having been so uplifted, so filled with grace was immediately dashed by this stark truth:  there is evil in the world and we haven't banished it yet.  Details were sketchy at that point but over the next day we learned along with everyone else that he was a man with a police record a mile long and the desire to commit a purely heinous act.  He took his own life as well so there will always be unanswered questions with only detective work and best guesses to fill in the blanks.  There are bigger questions too.  Like why he was allowed to own a gun.  Shouldn't his arrest record have precluded his purchasing a firearm?  The answer seems rather obvious to me and I wonder why it isn't to those with the power to prevent (or at least know they tried to) tragedies like this.

Such a tragic last lesson of the night and a grim reminder of the harsh reality that despite the grace and truth that came to show us all a better path through life, we continue to reject the gift every time we strike out against a fellow human being whether it is with words or weapons, each time we don't acknowledge the poverty and pain we could alleviate if we could learn to work together.  

But for me there was a saving grace ... I was able to relive much of the promise of Lessons and Carols on Christmas Eve when the age-old story was repeated once again (with more brilliant music, I might add).  Perhaps if we keep revisiting that story and other stories that point us on whatever path to truth we choose to walk, one day we'll wake up to a world like Longfellow yearned for when he wrote:

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail; the right prevail,
With peace on earth good will to men."**

~~~~~~

Christmas Lessons and Carols, December 20, 2014
St. Peter's Episcopal Church, Morristown, New Jersey

Carol:  Once In Royal David's City
Anthem:  What sweeter musick (William Bradley Roberts, Robert Herrick)
The First Lesson from Genesis in which God announces that the seed of woman shall bruise the serpent's head.
Anthem:  Adam lay ybounden (Carson Cooman)
The Second Lesson from Isaiah in which the peace that Christ will bring is foreshown.
Anthem:  Lo, how a Rose e're blooming (Dale Adelmann)
The Third Lesson from Luke in which the angel Gabriel visits the Virgin Mary.
Carol:  Ye who claim the faith of Jesus
Anthem:  Tell Out My Soul (David Hurd, Timothy Dudley Smith)
The Fourth Lesson from Luke in which Jesus is born.
Anthem:  As I walked down the road at set of sun (Michael Head, Margaret Rose)
Carol:  Silent Night
The Fifth Lesson from Luke in which the shepherds go to the manger.
Carol:  While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks by Night
Anthem:  In the bleak mid-winter (Harold Darke, Christina Rossetti)
The Sixth Lesson from Matthew in which the wise men are led by a star.
Anthem:  A babe is born all of a may (William Mathias)
Carol:  We Three Kings
The Seventh Lesson from John in which he unfolds the great mystery of the Incarnation
Carol:  O Come, All Ye Faithful
Carol:  Hark the Herald Angels Sing


*Love Came Down At Christmas
~ Christina Rossetti, 1885

Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love Divine,
Love was born at Christmas,
Star and Angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,
Love Incarnate, Love Divine,
Worship we our Jesus,
But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,
Love shall be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.

** I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day
William Wadsworth Longfellow, Christmas Day 1863 

I heard the bells on Christmas Day

Their old, familiar carols play,

and wild and sweet

The words repeat

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom

Had rolled along

The unbroken song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,

A voice, a chime,

A chant sublime

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,

And with the sound

The carols drowned

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,

And made forlorn

The households born

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;

"For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men."

St. Peter's Church
At the corner of South Street and Miller Road in Morristown.

Concert Diaries: The Holiday Chapter

I'm big on measuring the passage of time by the seasons and I don't necessarily mean spring, summer, fall, winter.  In my head I still see things through that liturgical seasonal lens that became ingrained in me when I directed children's programming at a church.  Those seasons are what many people call holidays along with those segments of time that connect them.  That lens is layered with my personal seasons ... the season of youth, of marrying, divorcing, single parenting, this season of finding my life and enjoying  it.

The "holiday" season, or for me, Advent/Christmas has so many aspects that are important to me and help to both punctuate the year and open the next chapter that I consider it the most important time in my life.  Years ago Advent would have been filled with children's activities at church with the obligatory culminating Christmas pageant.  Christmas was completely family time with people gathering from several corners of the world.

A couple of years ago my life became more completely my own (grown children don't need me as much these days and I have one job instead of two).  I discovered the extraordinary musician, Gavin DeGraw and a whole new world opened up.  I've written about it many times in this space.  The music provided the impetus I needed to get on the path to healthier (in every sense) living.  His songs enabled me to dream again.  And the connections I made with other fans have enriched my life in innumerable ways.

Each of the last three years I've seen Gavin perform at least twice in December.  A headlining show, every year at The Paramount Theater in Huntington, Long Island and one or two radio shows whether in New York or elsewhere like Connecticut or Massachusetts.  Each of these shows have been shared with the friends I've made at concerts or through Twitter.  "The Paramount shows," as we call them, in particular attract fans from far and wide and feel like some sort of annual gathering of the clan as we meet up in New York, take pictures with "the tree" (Rockefeller Center's famous icon), eat, drink and make merry.  Then we all head out to Long Island and stand in line for hours and hours in order to get to the coveted front row.

This year a few of my friends are staying with me for a 4-day round of music and merry-making.  Our agenda for Wednesday through Saturday consists of seeing Gavin DeGraw at the Beacon Theater on Wednesday night (one of several guests at Fresh 102.7's Holiday Jam), the annual gathering at the the Paramount Theater on Long Island on Thursday, a little R&R on Friday and a day in the the City on Saturday with an Ernie Halter show at the Rockwood Music Hall on Saturday.

Brenda and I drive into New York around noonish on Wednesday.  Phyllis and Victoria will meet us closer to showtime.  It's a rainy slushy yucky sort of day and I'm immediately thrown off when there is no parking at Port Authority.  Finding parking in New York on matinee day in December wasn't something that I'd figured into the plan but after a couple (panicky) trips around several blocks we happened on a 24-hour lot (which turned out to be a wonderful thing--more later) not too far away, still in midtown.

We make our way to Bryant Park, our third Christmastime visit there and head for Celsius, the pop-up restaurant that has returned to our great delight.  Delicious lunch followed by shopping and then a walk up Fifth Avenue to Rockefeller Center help pass the afternoon until concert time.  We visit St. Patrick's Cathedral and Grand Central Station before walking back to Port Authority to pick up Victoria.  Hailing a cab proved a nightmare but eventually we managed to get our ride uptown to the beautiful Beacon Theater.  A quick dinner and then time to head over to the show.  We met up with Teri and Jen, two more of our friends from out of town.  Phyllis arrives just in time.

Brenda and I have seats in the balconey for this show.  Usually we're much closer but this allowed us a different perspective and was a good way to appreciate the lovely interior of the Beacon.  American Authors was the first band to play and I thought they were fantastic.  High energy and incorporating some drum circle aspects, they were entertaining while their musicality was impressive.  Echosmith sang next.  Four really young siblings with a hit single currently playing on radio, I was less excited about seeing them--until they brought Train's Pat Monahan out to join them for a song.

Not used to being this far away...

Gavin DeGraw performed third.  Thank goodness all around me finally got on their feet.  It's impossible for me sit when Gavin is on stage.  Even for a shorter set like these radio shows often turn out to be--the energy is high and I cannot remain still.  As expected, he was lovely as always and gave us the perfect mix of newer songs and his greatest hits.  Having not seen him since August, I could feel his unique voice replenishing whatever that tank is that I have acquired that depends on him for the special fuel that gets me through ... everything.  It was over too fast--much too fast.

Joey DeGraw, The Bitter End

We'd found out a day or two earlier that Gavin's brother Joey DeGraw was going to perform again at The Bitter End tonight.  So we bailed out of the rest of the show (Daughtry--oh well--and Train--that was a hard decision) to head down to the Village for Joey.  We were joined by our friend Kim and Jen and Teri opted out of the radio show too.  Joey's set was comprised of many of my favorites from his catalog and a surprise guest--Chris Barron of the Spin Doctors.  We stayed until closing, chatting with the performers afterwards for a while.

It was after 1 AM when we retrieved the car and nearly 3:30 when we got back home.  Snacking and a drink while we talked over the evening and then some sleep just as the sun was rising.  And then we set out to do it all again.

The trip to Long Island should have taken about an hour and a half but we met a delay of about an hour due to an accident.  I'm a planner and I get stressed when the plan doesn't work according to plan ... The Paramount is not a seated show so to insure front row you need to line up early.  Each year we've been getting there earlier and earlier.  I needn't have worried--there were only five people in front of us when we got there--with about five hours of waiting ahead of us; five really cold hours.  The oddest thing about this annual frigid feet experience is that although we're completely frozen by the time the doors open, we pass the time so amiably in line (this year nearly 5 hours) ... catching up with each other and making new friends, taking pictures and going for food ... it goes by really quickly.  At least it does for me.  Jen and Teri are already there.  Soon we were joined by more fan friends from Long Island, New Jersey and Pennsylvania.  There we were from Denver to Buffalo to Long Island--this year's gathering at the Paramount.

The Paramount is a pretty small venue actually.  But when the doors open, there is still territory to be covered and territory to be claimed.  Once inside, there is the bottleneck while we are bracelet-ed by venue staff.  Then a race up the stairs on either the right or the left.  This is where you need to know where you want to land in front of the stage.  Right stairs to land on the bass/drums side.  Left stairs to be near the guitarist and keys.  A lucky few will land right in the middle (like I did last year).  This year I'm on the right, the James side, as we say.

Having attained the coveted front row--all of us--we settled in for the last hour of waiting.  The opening act was Gavin's brother Joey who we'd just seen the previous night.  He and his band sounded even better in this bigger venue.  The set was tight and exciting and too short.  I'd have loved more.  I think everyone would have--the audience was very appreciative of his talent.

I love being this close (i.e., nothing between me and the stage) for Gavin's shows.  You cannot see the whole band altogether this way; that's the trade-off.  But the immediacy and the ability to close out the rest of the room and become totally immersed in the moment and the music is more than worth it.  Gavin covers the whole stage when he performs and doesn't stay in one place too long--except for at his his piano.  We are all this close tonight ... spread across the front of the stage.

From the opening Leading Man through all of his biggest hits and more recent tunes like Heartbreak and Finest Hour, it was an evening of music that we love like no other.  Unlike last year, the crowd was mostly respectful; there was no pushing around us, no (well, not much) screaming in our ears.  It was a joy to hear the reprise of U2's Where the Streets Have No Name that leads into Everything Will Change.  He gives such an emotionally charged performance of each of these and Everything Will Change has meant so much to me so it's always a thrill to hear it live.  I remember being in the audience the first time he sang it for "out" for the first time--another magical day.  He brought back Who's Gonna Save Us too.  Another beautiful song that gives me a chill every time I see him perform it.  The encores tonight were the newest single, Fire, and as always, Not Over You.  Not over yet--that's what I was thinking.  Please don't let this be over yet.

Michael Baker - high energy.

But it was.  We hung around for a while, chatting with the friends we knew we wouldn't be seeing for a while.  There were a couple of group photos and then down the street for a drink.  We didn't linger too long at the bar and soon were on the road for home.  It was yet another late night.  We dropped Victoria off at her house since she had to work later that day.  I think we got home around 2 or 3 AM after fruitlessly searching my neighborhood for an all-night diner.  There are 5 within minutes of my house and not one was open.  We settled for Dunkin Donuts egg sandwiches--not quite the same but we hadn't eaten since 2 PM so we settled.

Friday was time for some much needed R&R.  Sleeping in, a little mall madness, driving around to see the local crazy light shows and a Christmas movie filled the day.  Good times and laughter in abundance made for some lovely memories.  Again, I'm acutely aware of these blessings in the form of friendships that have come my way through Gavin DeGraw and his music.

Santas at the ATM

Carousel, Bryant Park

On Saturday we headed back into New York, this time by bus.  We met Victoria at Port Authority and headed over to Macy's to see the windows.  It was the day of the annual "Santa Con" in the City.  All types and manner of Santas and elves filled Manhattan.  We saw hundreds.  The windows at Macy's were lovely as was the lunch we had.  There was a 3-hour wait to see the real Santa Claus so we opted out of that experience and headed back to Bryant Park to walk around.  We enjoyed the best hot chocolate that I'd ever experienced before heading up to Rockefeller Center for a look at the tree.  It's glorious in the evening light and we lingered there in the massive crowd for a long time.  The rink was crowded with skaters including a couple who shared a special moment with the world when the young man got down on one knee in the center of the ice.  There was a loud cheer as she apparently said yes. We wandered through midtown a little longer before returning Victoria to the bus.

Ernie Halter at the Rockwood
(Photo courtesy of Brenda Emerson)

Phyllis and Brenda and I had tickets to see Ernie Halter on the lower east side at the Rockwood Music Hall.  We finally found our diner opportunity at the corner of Houston and Allen where the food was wonderful.  Ernie was at Stage 3 of the Rockwood (my least favorite room there) but he was his usual honest, earnest self, bouncing between songs he'd planned to sing and taking requests from the audience.  More friends from my twitter circle were there and it was so nice to see them in person.  It was another fun night of live music in the company of good friends.  Perfect combination.

It was hard to say good bye on Sunday as real life and reality began to creep back in.  Our brief New York music vacation was over.  It had been four days of reminiscing over past concerts, renewing friendships and strengthening others, great food and the best music we know.  The backdrop of New York at Christmas made it seem like a dream.  And I will dream of it again ... until next year.

Set List, Paramount 2014

Grateful List #4: Lots

It's Thanksgiving week.  This is the time of year that people think about those things in life for which they are thankful.

My friend, Janet Broderick, preached about gratitude on Sunday at St. Peter's in Morristown.  It was a beautiful sermon and one I needed to hear.  Here's one of the points she eloquently made:

"It's not happiness that makes us grateful; 

it's gratitude that makes us happy."

What a revelation that was to me.  I've always thought that it's the things I have (not just stuff, but experiences, people in my life, places) that made me happy and that, in turn, makes me grateful. For those things (again, not just the stuff).  But that's not really it at all and that explains why the moments of gratitude are separated ... like dots on a timeline.  Why the time between the moments of gratitude are often unsatisfying.  

It's really the other way around.  Starting with a grateful heart, every minute, allows happiness to flood inside.  Starting from that place of gratitude, enables one to fully realize all the possibilities for joy that exist every day.  Starting from that place of gratitude unleashes the potential for unlimited ways to find happiness.

But gratitude is also a practice.  And those things we call a practice (living a life of gratitude, keeping healthy and fit, prayer or meditation, so many others), require practice.  We aren't good at them the minute we discover them.  We need to keep touching base with these things until they become second nature and are as deep-rooted in our lives as breathing.  Practice.

I needed that sermon on Sunday.  I've always been grateful for the things, people and places in my life. For my job, my fun, and all the rest.  But I've been miserable the last few months and now I know why ... I need to start from a position of gratefulness.  So let the practice begin.

Every day.

It's Thanksgiving Night ....

Today I'm grateful for

... my mom who makes the world's best turkey (for real)

... my children and all my family

... my friends here and there and my twitter family

... and Janet for her words last Sunday

My Own Calendar

We have all sorts of calendars in our lives.  Some run our lives forever.  Some are guides for a period of time.  Calendars help us keep track, mark seasons, remind us of anniversaries, measure our days.

There's the actual calendar year:  January 1 - December 31.  We begin the year with good intentions, resolutions and some looking back.  The calendar year contains birthdays, holidays, and deadlines (tax time, for example).

There's a sort of natural seasonal calendar.  For lots of people the new year starts with the promise of spring.  Bulbs bursting and new, warm sunny days.  The seasons follow one after the other with a predictable rhythm that's comforting and reassuring.

When you have children your life is governed by the school calendar.  Your new year's day is the first day of school.  The most anticipated holiday (for kids) is the last day of school.  Lots of other areas of life align with the school calendar ... sports teams, dance classes, scout meetings, piano lessons.  In most places, the school year is but 10 months long followed by a 2-month respite that is probably about 2 weeks too long for most parents.

In my life, the liturgical calendar drives much of how I perceive the year.  The liturgical calendar in mainstream Christian churches begins on the first day of Advent, typically shortly after Thanksgiving.  It is the Sunday nearest to St. Andrew's Day (November 1).  The seasons of the liturgical calendar have always made the most sense to me and, as an adult, especially while I was a church employee, I was "religious" about living my life according to the liturgical calendar.  I tried to keep a holy advent, the season of anticipation, not rushing headlong into Christmas (although I did decorate).  I kept Christmas for the whole of the Christmas season, leaving the decorations and lights up until Epiphany.  Lent, Easter, Pentecost ... these are the natural rhythms of my life.

I took a crazy class in college.  It was called The Psychology of Creativity.  I took it because I thought, since music was one of my majors, it would provide some sort of insight into ... I don't know what.  I'm not sure I learned anything--actually I'm pretty sure I learned nothing.  I think it was one of those classes where the students are all guinea pigs for a professor who's doing some sort of research.  We had to present a unique "creative" project at some point in the class.  I think we were supposed to come up with something totally original.  This was mine:  I made a calendar out of plasticine (that rubbery play dough stuff).  Even 'way back then I wished I could "shorten bad days and stretch out the good ones" at will.  My one and only friend in the class said my project was "lame."  (His was beer jello ... it was college.)

The last few years I've reverted to my plasticine calendar.  I'm thinking about this today, a Sunday.   The Sunday on which we celebrated the Feast of All Saints.  No where near to Advent, let alone Christmas.  And yet I am unapologetically watching Christmas movies on television all night long.  Dear, sweet, romantic Christmas movies--not the goofy Santa ones.  This is the sort of thing I would never have done in the past.   I'd have railed at the networks for rushing things, for interrupting the natural rhythm of liturgical propriety, for skipping the getting ready of Advent and going straight for the prize of Christmas.

But I've loosened up in middle age.  I suppose I should deny myself this small pleasure to be truly liturgically correct.  But I don't care to.  I don't mind that Christmas has oozed ahead of Thanksgiving and has stretched itself into a larger part of the seasons of my life.  I love lights and red plaid bows, and cheesy Christmas music and sacred Christmas music, the movies and books.  I still understand the meaning of the seasons.  But it couldn't be wrong to enjoy my favorite seasons beyond the dates that bind them into their points in time.  Could it? 

This is my "lame" project coming to life.

~~~~~

Two songs I listen to "out of season:"

Sara Bareilles, Love is Christmas
Colby Caillat & Gavin DeGraw, Baby It's Cold Outside

Tagged ~ My Top Ten Favorite Albums

Here's the thing ... I just could do a list and leave it at that.  But I can't.  And you know why too; I'll be the first to admit it:  I'm a little verbose.  Or some days, a lot verbose.

I checked into Facebook on my lunch today and saw that I was tagged to list my top ten favorite albums (Hmmm, thanks Alexis!).  No time then to consider it and I worked straight through dinner until my evening meetings which ran until after 10:00.  That meant I had all day to ponder the question in the back of my mind and what could have been a list turned into a post.

Here's another thing ... I love everyone's lists on Facebook:  the albums, the books, the movies, the vacation spots, etc.  But what I really want to know is why?  Why is that book so important to you?  How did that movie affect you so deeply it made an indelible impression?

So here's my list ... plus a little more.  Feel free to read just the large print (the list) and skip my inevitable ramblings ....

These are in order--chronological order.

Pete Seeger, Children's Concert at Town Hall, 1963.  I actually wrote about this record recently.  A classic, the recording had a profound influence on my childhood and provided a framework, I think, for how my brain became wired for certain kinds of music--music that makes a statement or tells a story of some sort.

The in-between years:  The Beatles, The Beach Boys, Bobby Sherman, The Osmond Brothers, David Cassidy

John Denver, Poems & Prayers and Promises, 1971.  When I looked up the date of this record on line, I was surprised it dates back to 1971.  I think I listened to John Denver during my high school years (a little after 1971).  There are so many songs on this LP that I can still sing and that folk-rock-pop thing has stayed with me forever.

Seals and Crofts, Summer Breeze, 1972.  Love songs. Lovingly written and lovingly performed.  

Rick Wakeman, The Six Wives of Henry the VIII, 1973.  I played this album until the grooves were gone.  This is the first solo project of Rick Wakeman, a composer and keyboardist who may be best known as a member of the band, Yes.  It's an all-instrumental collection (in the classical world we would have called it a suite) of his musical interpretations of the personalities of King Henry VIII's wives.  As a pianist, my most successful performances were always of pieces by one impressionistic composer or another.  This album is very impressionistic.

Barry Manilow, This One's For You, 1976.  We played it to death on my floor of the dorm at my college--an all-female dorm.  On any given day some one (or more) of us was breaking up or making up with some guy (who probably didn't deserve us) and this was one of our soundtracks.

Willie Nelson, Stardust, 1978.  Thus began my love of both country singers and old standards ... an unlikely combination but if you listen to this record, you'll get it.

The other college stuff:  Billy Joel, Bruce Springsteen, Barbra Streisand, The Eagles

The '80's:  Lionel Richie, Cyndi Lauper, more Bruce, more Billy

Garth Brooks, No Fences, 1990.  What Garth says about the 8th track, Unanswered Prayers: "sometimes happiness isn't getting what you want ... it's wanting what you've got."

My lost years:  Stephen Curtis Chapman, Soundtracks from Sleepless in Seattle and You've Got Mail and not much else.

Gavin DeGraw ~ His Whole Catalog (2003-2014 but not discovered by me until 2012).  This is what I call a phenomenon in my life.  I can't explain it.  I just continue to ride it and go wherever it takes me.  And I can't pick just one record.  I play them all--all the time.

Michael Franti and Spearhead, All People, 2013.  I first heard of Michael in the context of a Gavin DeGraw concert and was immediately a fan of not just his music but his very ethos.  A force for good, a champion of justice, a poet ... when you hear him live, you fall under the spell and he makes you want to be a better person.

Sara Bareilles, The Blessed Unrest, 2013.  Every song reminds me of a prior chapter of my life or points me to the future I hope to have.

There are so many other recordings that belong on this list, chief among them the Horowitz live recording of the Rachmaninoff 3rd piano concerto with the New York Phiharmonic.  Unspeakably beautiful.  The Mozart and Durufle requiems belong somewhere here too.  And don't get me started on cast albums ... Les Mis, The Man of La Mancha, Chorus Line ...

I need to stop.  This was a fun exercise but I'm sure I'll never be tagged for one of these lists again.  Thanks for indulging me!

Memories and Memorials

It's September 11.  I live not too far from New York.  It goes without saying I suppose that this day is a sad one for all of us and maybe particularly for those who live or work in those areas of impact where the lingering scars in the landscape and proliferation of memorials from local structures to the larger nationally known monuments at the sites themselves are daily reminders from which we cannot run.

There are those empty spaces in the New York skyline that have yet to cease feeling like a punch in the gut when I get to that spot on the ride into the City and realize anew every time that the missing pieces are gone for good and how they came to be that way--what the significance of their absence means ... the monumental loss.  I'm continually surprised each time I see the new Freedom Tower in the skyline as though my brain can't accept it--how did that get there, it seems to wonder.

So like millions of others I've been remembering all day ... where I was and who I was with.  The collective television watching with the same horrific images repeating over and over.  The local reports of people who made it home, covered in ash, being hosed down at local train stations.  The local people who didn't make it home.  The gamut of emotions that raged over the course of the days that followed but mostly the extreme sadness and then the empty feeling after you just couldn't cry anymore.

After the news cycles eventually returned to normal and the events of September 11 weren't the sum total of the morning and evening broadcasts, those in the greater New York area still heard stories on a daily basis during the long recovery process.  We followed the debris as it made it's way out of the hole and went to stations for sorting.  Years later there were still stories almost daily about the aftermath of illnesses that befell first responders and those who worked in the pit, the reparations and donations.  The New York memorial services are still televised live on the 11th every year.  They still read the names of every person who perished.  If I am able to tune in, I still listen for the names I recognize.

I have other memories that really stand out:  twisted metal on trucks.  It happened more than once during the first years following the attacks.  I'd be on the highway going who-know-where and I'd pass or be passed by a flatbed truck carrying one or two or perhaps three lengths of twisted, rusted metal.  I didn't have to wonder what it was or where it was going.  It just took my breath away each time.  The beams, always lying tied to the trucks, appeared to me to be prostrate in a sort of twisted permanent agony as they traveled to the myriad communities that built memorials to honor the memories of those who died, the service of those who responded and the pain of the families left behind.

I see two such memorials fairly regularly and another almost daily.  There is one in a sports field complex in the town where I work.  Our county memorial is near a building where I sometimes have to attend meetings.  The one I see often--almost daily--sits along the road that I travel from where I live now to the town where I grew up about 10 miles away and where my mom still lives, where I go out to eat, shop, attend church, see doctors, spend much of my life.

Morris Plains, NJ

I don't pass one of these installations without remembering.  I saw landscapers tending to the Morris Plains memorial the other day--the day before the 11th.  I imagined that their chores, performed routinely elsewhere, took on something of the sacred in that small patch of green on that day.

I wonder about the children who play on the soccer fields in Boonton Township where I work.  Most of them weren't born when the planes hit the towers.  How do their parents explain the tall pieces of steel to them?  How can they ever understand?

Do we now even understand ourselves?  I'm pretty sure I don't.

But I'll never forget.

The Whole Shebang ~ Another Gavin DeGraw Weekend (A SummerFun Chapter)

I can't wait to visit this venue in Hyannis again.

 It was a rather epic weekend.  Road trip to Massachusetts, 3 concerts, visiting my daughter, meeting lots of friends.  Days later, it's all jumbled together in my head:  one whole shebang*.

The week had started out with some disappointing news ... my daughter (a restaurant manager) would have no time off while I was in Boston because it was restaurant week.  She would not be able to go to the concerts either.  She indulges me once a year.  And this year I'd purchased meet and greets for us both.  I had my heart set on her meeting Gavin DeGraw so she'd know first hand what I know--how genuine and lovely he is in person.  I called the hotel and cancelled three of my five nights and regrouped.  I knew Phyllis had tickets for some of the same shows and was so happy when she agreed to travel with me for the three days.  I was still hoping for a last minute reprieve for my daughter too ...

The drive was slow ... an hour to get over the George Washington Bridge alone.   Texting with my daughter as we went, she confirmed she was working at both restaurants until past midnight.  I told her we'd be drop in to The Marliave for a late lunch to see her and would miss her company at the concert.  And that is how Nicole came to join us at the Blue Hills Pavilion harborside in Boston.  Let no ticket go unused ...

Miles of Smiles~ Philadelphia, Connecticut, Gavin DeGraw (A SummerFun Chapter)

Friday morning.  Two days of roads trips.  More anticipation.  More exhilaration.  The #SummerFun14 tour is hanging around the East Coast for a couple of weeks.

Tonight's show is in Philadelphia.  I can't think when the last time I visited Philly was.  It may have been a Girl Scout trip with my first troop--so maybe twelve years ago.  And we're not really going to see much of the city--or really any at all.  A hotel room and a concert venue on the outskirts of town.  That's all.  But it is enough.

So I drove south to Phyllis's house and she got us the rest of the way to Philadelphia.  We were both still on that proverbial concert high from Wednesday's Central Park show and adventure in the Village that followed.  We checked in, relaxed for a minute and, because this was a seated show (therefore no need to wait in line), went in search of dinner.   Then on to the Mann Center to meet up with lots more friends, this time from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Virginia, New York (our Buffalo area girls again!) and Maryland.  Most of us had front row tickets because the concert karma for this show was unprecedented.  Some had meet and greets tonight so I grabbed a beer and found my oh-so-close-to-the-stage seat, silently blessing my friend for inviting me on this trip.

That Other Day I Was Spontaneous ~ Joey DeGraw at The Bitter End

Sometimes, you can get a cab right away in New York.  Sometimes, you have to work for it.  After the concert at Central Park's SummerStage, it wasn't that easy.  But with the number of people pouring out of the Park at the same time, it was no wonder.  Eventually, the four of us piled into the cab that stopped and for some of us, it was the first time we'd sat down in about 7 hours.  When a New York City cab feels that comfortable, you know you're a little tired.

We'd just seen Andrew McMahon, Matt Nathanson and Gavin DeGraw play to a sold out audience on a beautiful summer evening. We'd waited in line since noon for the 6 PM concert to be assured of the front row.  We were riding that well-known post concert high and now were on our way to The Bitter End for more because no one wanted this night to be over just yet.  Joey DeGraw was holding another "open rehearsal" tonight and although it would be tight making our connections to buses and trains, we decided we had to go.  Phyllis and I had had a good time last week listening to Joey and I wasn't sure when I'd have this chance again.  

Gavin DeGraw in Central Park (A SummerFun Chapter)

At first I was impatient.  When the dates were announced for the summer tour--#SummerTour14--I didn't think I'd last until August, when my local shows were scheduled.  But as it turns out, the anticipation has been half the fun.  Reading posts, checking out pictures, watching videos from friends who have been attending concerts all summer long has been almost nightly fun.  I think I've known a couple of people at least at every show.  I'll be seeing Gavin along with Matt Nathanson, who is co-headlining this tour, and Andrew McMahon, who opens for them, a few times over the next two and a half weeks.  I can't wait for the adventures to begin but I dread the moment the last song is sung.

photo credit @jbjlover86

The SummerStage in Central Park is the first concert on my schedule.  I'm meeting friends from as far away as California, Pittsburgh and Buffalo along with those of us in the greater New York/New Jersey area.  The NJ contingent met at the Port Authority having arrived by car, bus and train. The SummerStage was an easy cab ride away and it was just after noon when we arrived at the gate to the venue.  Five hours to go until the gates would open.  Six hours until showtime.  There were 11 people ahead of us.  Mission accomplished.  Front row secured.  

That Day I Was Spontaneous ... Joey DeGraw, Finally

I'm not very spontaneous.  It doesn't run in our family.  We're planners.  So last Thursday was sort of an anomaly for me. 

I'd known that Joey DeGraw was going to sing at The Bitter End last Thursday for while.  It's just that the show was so late and I report to work rather early in the morning, I'd put it out of my head--it didn't seem practical.  And yet, the thought sort of lingered there.

Thursday dawned a typical day.  I had lots to do so I set an early alarm and got in several miles before work.  Hair appointment after work and dinner date with some good friends and colleagues were all on the calendar.  Midway through the morning I couldn't resist the voice in the back of my mind any longer.  I really wanted to hear Joey perform live.  I'd been looking forward to it for a while and didn't know when I'd have this chance again.  And so I began trolling in Facebook for an intrepid late-night fellow music lover ...

Many Voices ~ One Sound

It was a small group but representative of our community.  Some young people.  Some older people.  Men and women and a few children.  From many walks of life.  Interesting folk who spent a weekend together to relax and pray and learn.  And sing.

Concert Diaries ~ Chapter 27: Reading ... The Road Trip

About a month ago, someone I work with asked me if I'd like tickets to see Gavin DeGraw in Reading, Pennsylvania, about an hour and a half or so from me. Someone she knew had won them through a radio station and didn't want them.  I hadn't considered Reading because it was originally scheduled for April 1, was a work night and I already had tickets for several other dates that week.  But the concert had been rescheduled for May 10 because Gavin and the band opened for Billy Joel in Cleveland on that date.  Did I want the tickets?  Of course.  Last row is better than no row, right?

Through a series of events and amazing concert karma (which I may write about later), the tickets grew and multiplied until these two tickets became five and I wound up in the second row within arm's length of the stage.

Concert Diaries Chapter 26 ~ Oh Honey and James Blunt

I won these tickets.  I must have entered this contest a long time ago because I was totally surprised when I opened the email from WPLJ, my favorite radio station (and I'm not just saying that because of the tickets ... I say that because of the fun on-air personalities who work at this station ... really fun, interesting, smart people).  If I'd known what a crazy, busy this week would turn out to be, I probably would not have entered but the live-music addict in me could not turn down concert tickets even though I was out working at something every night this week in addition to "the day job".  It must have been meant to be--Tuesday was my only free night.

The curse (one of the curses?) of being divorced is having no single friends ... so, as I so often do, I flew solo to the Bergen Performing Arts Center.  The seats were pretty good and the theater was nice (although not as nice as my own M-PAC, the Mayo Center for the Performing Arts in Morristown).  The sparse crowd had me worried at first but little by little the theater filled.  I'd never heard of the opening act, Oh Honey, so I settled in and waited to be surprised.