Walk Journals: The Winter Walks

Making Tracks ...

Not so many walks this winter--weather and road conditions have been less than cooperative.  I've lost track of the number of snowstorms we've had but we've used six snowdays at school this year so there's six right there.  We stayed open during a couple snowy days and there was at least one snowy weekend.  I've had to content myself with shoveling for my workouts.  As it turns out, shoveling is counted as an activity in my Weight Watchers app (10 minutes of shoveling equals 1 point) so the hours spent clearing away light fluffy flakes, water-laden slush and shards of ice have counted for something (besides aching muscles).

But ... a few days were above 22 degrees (my bottom threshold for spending a couple hours outside) or were dry enough or had a brilliant sun that lured me out to see what my world had to offer.  

And there was plenty to see and admire and wonder about.  The Rockaway River was spectacular locked in ice in January.  With many consecutive days failing to reach over ten degrees, she had frozen in several places from shore to shore, pushing ice over the banks and encasing everything in her path in a glassy coating.  The January sunsets cast an orange and pink glow in the winter sky that failed to warm despite the flushed hues.  But they do bear the promise of warmer times to come.  These days before the huge snows were such a gift.  The paths in the parks were still passable and sidewalks were clear.



 There were a couple of nice days that allowed for walking across the highway to Indian Lake. 

It's always been amazing to me how the days really do grow longer after December 21.  I mean, I know they do but in the depths of winter, it sometimes feels like it's never going to get light again.  But every minute of light counts and the slightly longer daylit days of January also speak of the promise of spring--and allow for longer walks making visiting the lake a real possibility.  Once upon a time, there was a New Year's Day skating party on this lake (we lived a block from the little beach at the time).  The lake was frozen clear across and the day was brilliant.  I remember we skated limbo-fashion under this bridge, the entrance to Lenape Island, a tiny miniature island with maybe a dozen homes where I'd dearly love to live.  We skated for hours and hours that day.  It's one of my fondest memories of our little cottage by the lake.

Where the water from Indian Lake spills over a little dam into a lagoon, the water wasn't frozen.  These swans were captivating.  This is the first time I've seen swans in the dead of winter.  We have several different pairs that stop by in October for a few weeks on their route to their winter homes in the south and then return for a few weeks, usually in March, on their way north again.  Perhaps I've never been in the right place or maybe this is the first time a few stuck around for a New Jersey winter.

This sign has been on Franklin Road near the little beach bridge for quite a while now.  Whatever road work the town has been doing here seems to be stalled and I can't help but thinking that is a metaphor for this winter.  With all the snow and ice, there've been no end to the bumps and slow going.  Or maybe it's a metaphor for those rough, icy patches in life.  Some of the winter walks have been like that ... 

Slip sliding ...

and it's all night.*

We all have our bumps in the road and icy patches that cause us to slip and slide.  This is why I love these walks so much:  they often cause me to reflect on the evident connections that are to be made between the walking and the living, between the sights I see and the memories they trigger, between the ups and downs, the rough and the smooth going--it's obvious, I know, but that whole "journey" idea has been bubbling close to the surface the last year or two.

Before the snow got too deep, walks to the pond were possible too.  Lately, even the sidewalks that far up the road have been impassable but a few weeks ago, if I set out early enough I could make it up that far before sunset.  The pond seems so plain in this state ... no sturdy lily pads, no waving grasses, no ducks, geese, dragonflies or frogs jumping out of the danger of my footfalls.  But there is a sort of forlorn beauty in the starkness of the bare trees, the dark reflections and the encroaching ice.  

I keep thinking I need some new places to walk.  I've walked these roads and paths so often, photographed the river, the lake, the pond from almost every angle and in all types of light.  But the truth is, I love these places and visiting them in every season, in all types of weather, on sunny days and dreary ones--it all recharges me.  They're my places and are important parts of that more recent journey of the past couple of years.  I will find some new places to walk but these local spots--they'll always be my favorites.

~~~

*if you've read these pages before, you'd have guessed this is a Gavin DeGraw lyric and you'd be right:  Leading Man

Winter playlist, eclectic sampling:

Hot Chelle Rae - Don't Say Goodnight
Pharrell Williams - Happy (or if you have 24 hours to spare ... 24 hours of Happy,) 
Joey DeGraw - Miracle of the Mind

Snow Day Dancing

Make that snow days.  Two of them.

One of the few perks of working for a school is that when the weather unleashes snow and ice, the superintendent makes the difficult decision to close the district for the day.  Now, lest you think the perks of working in a public school get grander than that, let me just say that snow days are the biggest perks and you can go years without having one.  In fact, we try very hard not to have them because ultimately the biggest perk of working in a school is seeing kids grow and learn every day and knowing that you've got the privilege of helping them on the journey to becoming who they're meant to be.  But, the older I get, the more reluctant I am to drive in bad weather so I was happy not to be out in yesterday's snowstorm or to be driving on the icy roads that froze in the rain that followed the snow.

Snow days.  For me, they are a both a waste of time and a welcome break in routine in what is often the bleakest part of the winter.  I envy people who are diligent and use the "found" time to do something useful like clean closets, paint a room or catch up on paperwork.  I do none of these things.  The unsettledness of the weather unsettles me and I can't concentrate on anything other than keeping up with shoveling, cooking and eating, watching television and reading.  I rotate through these activities for the duration of the storm.  The fact that we're on day two of not-so-great weather with two to four inches of more snow predicted for tomorrow (after yesterday's fourteen inches) only made me spin my wheels a little more today.

But it's Olympic season and I love the winter Olympics.  So for the past two days I've enjoyed the men's figure skaters, all of whom were flawed but nonetheless determined this year.  There is nothing quite like figure skating ... the seemingly effortless dance across the ice that is actually the product of countless hours of practice both on and off the ice, of strength training, endurance training; the product of self-denial:  giving up school and proms for 4 AM practice sessions, giving up dates and dancing for meetings with coaches, choreographers and costume fittings.  I guess this is true of all athletes on the path to gold but figure skaters capture my imagination more than the others--probably because the combination of athleticism, grace and music are perfect together.  At least, to me they are.  It's a kind of dance--part of my New Year's resolution ... enjoy more dancing.

Days and evenings have been spent watching the hopefulness and dreams laid on the line for all to see by skaters and skiers, death defying daredevils on sleds large and small, and racers on mountains and moguls and icy ovals.

But last night and tonight there were late-night gifts to be enjoyed too.  Last night it was a new show in the current season of Live From Daryl's House, Daryl Hall's show, filmed in his home where he entertains guest musicians.  They make a little music, make a little dinner, make a whole lot of music fans very happy. 

This fan was very happy last night.  Last night's episode featured Gavin DeGraw.  The music they made together was truly astounding.  I find it completely fascinating that musicians show up at Daryl's house in upstate New York and with virtually no audience, besides the technicians and people cooking them dinner, come together to give flawless, exciting, highly enthusiastic performances.  Each (whoever the guest is--I've seen this show a time or two ...) seems to appreciate the chance to make music with a fellow talented legendary musician for just the sake of making the music.  No audience, no pressure, no meet and greets, no venues to make happy, no merch to sell.  Just musicians and their music--pure and simple.  And what results is pure joy and satisfaction--for all.

Last night's episode featured four songs written by Gavin (sweetly sexy Make A Move, anthemic Everything Will Change, sexier still Radiation and his signature, I Don't Want To Be) and two written by Daryl (Go Solo and I Want to Know You for a Long Time).   I didn't dance.  I was too transfixed with the performances.  The little glimpses of the two of them discussing the pieces and then the full-on nothing-held-back versions of well-loved (at least by fans of these two) songs.  Gavin says "Every player brings their own personality to the song" so the songs sound a little different performed with Daryl than with Gavin's own band.  Slightly different harmonies and different ways of tweaking rhythms and riffs.  It's hard to describe--it was so up close and personal.  And for some die-hard fans, me among them, the reaction was very emotional.

It was such a fresh way to see Gavin.  I've loved my concert experiences--every one of them (even the rainy ones).  Television performances are less satisfactory generally.  Guesting on Leno or Conan means coming back from commercial, throwing to the band and a performance that often ends with credits rolling over it.  This however, was up close, personal and so intimate.  Literally like being the proverbial "fly on the wall," I watched two great musicians practicing their craft so naturally, with such ease and abandon.  The emotional quality of Gavin's voice really was clearly revealed in this setting and I became completely entranced.  They were lost in the making of the music and lead the viewer into their collective reverie.  The pure enjoyment that they were obviously feeling translated completely through the television.  There is, after all, nothing sweeter than making music with your friends.  I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful that feels and how much I enjoyed the opportunity to do that when I had it (a lifetime ago).

Of course the gorgeous "Everything Will Change, " the third selection for the night, is the song that Team USA selected as its theme song for this Olympic cycle.  So there you have it--my day full circle once again.  Olympics and Gavin intertwining to shape my snow day into a special respite from the daily grind.  The cooking (gumbo), dinner and random conversations were fun--many stories that Gavin fans would already have known but still great to hear.  Their rendition of Daryl's "I Want to Know You for a Long Time" was a highlight for me.  They seemed to be improvising towards the end and playing off one another in a seamless way that spoke to their combined years of experience and professionalism.  Did I mention I was into it?  Gavin's guitar player and musical director, Billy Norris, sat in with Daryl's band and contributed largely to the amazing overall quality of the night.

Live from Daryl's House.  Go to the website and see which of your favorite singers has been to Daryl's for dinner and a jam.

Tonight Gavin's winter/spring tour begins in Biloxi.  Shortly there will be pictures, video snippets of undoubtedly poor instagram quality.  Tomorrow there might be better videos uploaded to YouTube.  Maybe someone will share the set list.  Maybe someone will tell us about the new guy on keys.  This vicarious enjoyment of every concert, several each week, has become routine.  The network of fans uploading highlights for the rest of us and each taking his or her turn when the tour rolls through his or her area is something that a lot of us anticipate.  I have a wait ahead of me before they come east.  They are detouring through Europe after the midwest.  This gives me something to look forward to while I dig myself out of drifts and wait for longer, warmer days.

So not really actual dancing (until I rewind and play Daryl's House over and over) but a dancing spirit despite the ice and snow and salt and slush.

~~~~~

Live From Daryl's House Gavin DeGraw episode

Troublesome

It's just a pair of shoes, right?  Maybe ... but these shoes have been haunting me for a day now.  

I think I've mentioned that I once worked for a church.  Actually I worked for my church--two stints as Church School Director that totaled about 12+ years altogether.  It began as volunteer work, then became paid part time.  After my divorce, I took on youth work and found myself a full-time staff member.  However, after a few years, I decided it was time to leave and find a regular 9-5 job with a Monday-Friday schedule.  Single motherhood and night/weekend work were taking a toll on me and my little family.  I found my current job (I'm the administrative assistant to a school superintendent in a tiny district near my home)  and have held this job for longer than any other I've had.   Some years passed and my church called and asked if I would step in to lead the children's ministry again, part time.  I went back for 3 or so years.  In between my tenures there I did children's ministry and youth work too for another church a bit north of here. My home church is in a suburban town with a bit of urban flair, just about 45 miles west of New York.  

I'm currently still involved in one ministry at my church.  It's called Parents' Night Out.  I'd started it during stint #2.  We provide babysitting, activities, dinner and a movie for kids so parents can go have dinner and some alone time once a month.  It's important for parents to be able to connect on an adult level and have some one-on-one time regularly.  It's equally important for single parents to have some respite time too--to socialize or just catch up on whatever needs doing without their ever-present little ones.  However, for some families, the cost of a sitter is prohibitive (have you heard what enterprising babysitters command these days?) so we charge only a modest amount for the food.  It's been a popular ministry.

Yesterday when I arrived I was informed that a homeless person had been discovered sleeping that morning in one of the rooms we use for PNO.  It was a person whom I knew by sight and reputation--this person has been homeless for quite a long time.   The uninvited guest had entered through a door that had been left unlocked.  We have unlocked doors all the time in churches.  There are meetings every night of the week in most church buildings ... Bible studies, AA, literacy coaching, Boy and Girl Scouts, yoga, there's no end to the ways communities use their church's spaces.  A homeless person who knows his or her community well, knows which doors to check on a wintry evening.  These folks are used to slipping around in shadows, unseen by society.  It would be easy to hide out in a darker corner of a building until activities were over for the night.

Staff had been suspicious that someone had been entering because a pair of shoes had been discovered.  And the shoes were still there.

Worn, sturdy black shoes, crusted with salty stains that told the story of traipsing through town during this winter's harsh, snowy days and nights.  Why were they left behind?

If you've ever worked in social services or read newspaper articles about homeless shelters, you know that shoes are about the most important possessions a homeless person could have.  When you're on your feet much of the day, you need your shoes.  If you're sleeping in the out of doors, most times of the year, you need something on your feet.  Shoes are expensive and are not the most donated item when it comes to clothing donations.  Those of us with closets full of them, don't tend to give them away.  There's something kind of weird about feet and shoes ... There are plenty of coat drives to help our less fortunate neighbors ... but I've never heard of a shoe drive to collect shoes and boots for those who need them.

I couldn't look away from those shoes all night.  I almost hoped the person would come back for them so my mind would be eased.  But then, would it be?  How much at ease can my mind be knowing that a homeless person has found their footgear?  Why is he or she homeless to begin with?  Or, more cosmically, why is there homelessness at all?  This is a country rich in resources.  It's a moral crime that we can't solve this problem.  

Okay, I know that the reasons for homelessness are as many and varied as the homeless ones themselves ... a less than perfect economy, the "-isms" (like alcoholism), a long list of mental illnesses (which our sleepover guest suffers with) and many more.  

It will take true cooperation and unwavering long-term commitment from all sectors of society if we are truly going to be able to really reduce the numbers of homeless in our communities.  The issue is huge and ungainly--what works in one community may not in another; what helps one homeless person may not help another.  Like many overwhelming problems, it's sometimes easier to pretend it's not there. 

But those shoes ... they are troubling me.

Losers Are Winners

The sobs won't stop.

If I tell you why, you might laugh.  If someone had ever told me I'd be wrapped up in a reality television show, taking it seriously, I'd have said they were crazy.  But this show and many of the people who find their way to and through it have a profound effect on me every time it airs.

Because I am one of them.

The show is NBC's The Biggest Loser.  When I started my weight loss journey I probably could have qualified for the show.  Morbidly obese, tired, living day to day, just getting through took everything I had.  My blood pressure was so high there were days I could literally feel my heart racing even though I wasn't exerting myself in the least.  Getting dressed for work every day was a challenge.  Finding things in my closet that looked okay on me happened rarely.  Clothes shopping was a miserable chore.

The list of things I could no longer do--at least not without tremendous effort--got longer and longer.  My garden, once on a house tour, was sad and in disrepair.  Sitting on the floor to teach Godly Play was impossible.  Hiking with my Girl Scouts was out of the question.  Simple house cleaning took all day because I'd sit and rest so often.  Everyday tasks became hurdles.  Laundry:  two flights down; two flights up.

I watched the Biggest Loser from the start--sitting in a recliner, often with Burger King on my lap.  Watching people find their way through their personal mazes of self-doubt or tragedy or recovery from abuse and any number of other issues that caused their food addictions should have inspired me but it did not.  I just enjoyed watching them and marveled at their ability to lose weight so fast.  But then, I would rationalize:  they have trainers, they are on hiatus from real life, they have a prize at the end.  And I also knew that many of them did not keep the weight off.  So there.

Fast forward a couple of years to 2012 and the dreadful diabetes diagnosis.  There it was:  my motivator.  I can't possibly express how awful I felt every time I lanced my finger.  Every morning.  Every night.  It was painful.  Literally, of course.  But in other ways too.  Every time I squeezed out that drop of blood, I was acutely aware I had done this to myself.  Blame.  Each time I saw the endocrinologist, I felt like she was blaming me too.

Around the time of my diabetes diagnosis, my dad became seriously ill, having suffered from respiratory issues virtually his whole life.  He was hospitalized, and, as it turned out, it was his final hospitalization.  Walking through his last days ironically provided me with more strength and resolve to get healthy and stay healthy.  I'd already returned to Weight Watchers, although just on-line; no more meetings.  I'd heard everything they could say during the other half dozen times I'd joined.  Following my dad's death, I had this uncanny energy--like nothing I'd ever known--even when I was slim.  I mentioned it to a priest friend of mine.  We talked about energy ... how when someone dies, their energy has to go somewhere.  She suggested that my dad's energy had found a home in me, that he was helping me find the strength to get on the path to healthy.  I choose to believe this.  My dad would love to know I'm healthy now.  I think he does.

This journey has had its ups and downs.  Mostly ups, to be sure.  But the last two months of 2013 were difficult, a slippery slope of return to old habits I thought I'd licked.  I'd been so close to my goal--only about 15 pounds away.  Today I'm about 30 pounds away (again).  It's proof that this is my life-long battle.  Proof that every day is an opportunity to choose health and happiness over feeding my anxiety, tiredness and self-doubt with instant gratification.  It's a lot of work.  Really hard work.

But it's worth it.  And I have a closet full of clothes to prove it.  It's more than that though.  It's the satisfaction of knowing that you're back in charge of your life that feels so good.

The people on The Biggest Loser are remarkable to me.  They come from all walks of life.  Mostly they're just regular folks trying to regain control of their weight, their health, their lives.  That's what it is most of the time:  losing or relinquishing control is the root, no matter what the issues may be.  Convincing yourself that you are stronger than those issues, whether great or small, is a tall order.   They know that and I know that.  If weight has never been a problem for you, there's no way you can understand what a prison it is.  Locked away in a vicious cycle of self-medicating with food that leads to self loathing that leads to more eating.  And so the tears flow tonight--for them, for me, for our personal victories, for possibilities.

I sometimes wonder if I'll ever put the negative thoughts, hurtful memories and weaknesses to rest fully.  Maybe not.  But I am learning every day to keep them in perspective, looking forward instead of back and reminding myself that it's a journey with no real end.  It's simply my life.

~~~~~

Remix (I Like the) by New Kids on the Block because whatever your size, it's really important to be confidant and believe in yourself.  Weight (or whatever it is that prevents you from living your full life) does not define you.

Concert Diaries Chapter 22 ~ A Blitz of a Day

Passing MetLife Stadium on the way.  SuperBowl site.

It was a spectacular day--Saturday was.  Having had two weeks of horribly cold, unbearably cold weather, it was in the 40's on Saturday.  Perfect weather for a day in New York.  My son had given me tickets to see Motown on Broadway for Christmas.  Of course, when he bought them, he didn't realize it was also Superbowl weekend and that the City would literally be crawling with every manner of football fan from happy families to loud and boisterous packs of roaming men decked out in Sea Hawks lime green and blue and Broncos dark blue and orange.  We decided to head in early for lunch in case their were parking issues.

I wanted to go back to Celsius in Bryant Park because Brenda and I had had a good time there in December.  Since it was also my birthday on Saturday, I got my wish.  Celsisus was still standing and will be until March (go soon, it's got really good food) when it will disappear until next year.  We sat outside on the deck under our little heat lamp and watched the skaters on the temporary rink in the center of the Park.  Pop up restaurant; temporary rink.  This is New York.  There was a "ringer" occupying center ice on Saturday.  We enjoyed her laybacks, Bielman spins, flying camels, double lutzes and scratch spins.  Some of these moves aren't easy to do with inexperienced wobbling skaters weaving all around you.

In the nave of St. Bart's

After lunch we headed back to Times Square to check out the Superbowl festivities.  We arrived at Broadway to find a huge crowd gathered to watch the governors of New York and New Jersey, Cuomo and Christie, "hand off" the superbowl to the govern or Arizona.  Neither of are Christie fans and the crowd was incredible so we walked north.  There was a ridiculously long line of people waiting to have their picture taken with the trophy.  We decided to get the heck out of Times Square and get some shopping done.  Barnes and Noble on Fifth Avenue didn't have what my son needed so we enjoyed a longish walk to 54th and Third where we found the books he needed.  Down the street we picked up some things he needed for his trip to Mountain Creek the next day.  Heading back towards the Theater District we ducked into St. Bartholomew's on Park Avenue for a few minutes.  He was pretty young when we went to services there and didn't remember how beautiful that church is.

Times Square and an ad for Motown.

We had to pass through the insane football crowd again and it took a while.  We decided to go for a quick dinner at the bar at the Marriot across from the Lunt Fontaine Theater which is where we needed ultimately to be for the early curtain of 7:30.  The Marriot was teeming with football fans too and a special party was going on in the 8th floor restaurant next to the bar.  

Motown tells Barry Gordy's story:  how he founded the record label and managed the careers of so many of the performers associated with it.  From Diana Ross to Smokey Robinson, Marvin Gaye, The Jackson Five, the stories and music went on and on.  The actors sang dozens of songs from the 25 year span of Motown's heyday.  Each one brought back a memory especially the songs from the seventies, songs by Diana Ross and Stevie Wonder and others.  Songs evoke certain times for me.  A lot of these brought me back to high school and college days.  The first act's early Motown hits reminded me of my preteen years just outside the Motor City, Detroit, in my hometown on the Canadian side of the river.  It was a really enjoyable step back in time--perfect for a birthday celebration.  By the end of the show, people were out of their seats as though at a concert and yelling at the stage for Marvin Gaye or Stevie Wonder.  And, truthfully, it was more of a concert than a play.  And that was okay with me.

Always enjoy Gavin in my living room.

Originally, I'd had tickets to a second event that night.  The late-night Superbowl Blitz concert sponsored by VH1 at the Wellmont Theater in Montclair.  It was the sixth Blitz concert in as many nights.  They'd covered all of New York's boroughs and wound up with this final show in New Jersey, because, as many people apparently failed to acknowledge, the game was actually played in New Jersey in the stadium that is home to both New York football teams.  This is a conundrum that baffles most New Jerseyans, Jets and Giants fans alike.  But I digress ... the Superbowl Blitz concert with Gavin DeGraw (yes, Gavin DeGraw) was starting at 11:00 PM and was to be telecast live on VH1.  I was beyond excited to spend the day with my favorite guy and then the night seeing my favorite singer.  However, it was not meant to be.  When the tickets arrived, they stated that all attendees had to arrive at the venue by 9:30.  Impossible for me since I was at the theater.  I reluctantly released the tickets (after much back and forth emailing with the ticket provider).  My wonderful son got us home in time to see the concert on television.  

Hey, I know these people...

So the last hour of my birthday was filled with the music I love, the excitement of knowing that lots of people were seeing the performance across the country and the attendant twitterfest.  Seeing many of my friends scattered throughout the huge audience, some in the front row made the experience that much Sweeter.  Gavin outdid himself with energy and passion.  His set list was reminiscent of last summer's tour set.  At one point during his cover of Justin Timberlake's Mirrors (the cover he's included in the set list--he usually does one--since July), he went into the audience as usual.  Balancing precariously on the edge of the curve of the stage, it was like watching a little Cirque du Soleil.  Twitter reaction was worried--would he fall?  It's one thing to stand on someone's chair but there was precious little stage to stand on where he was and those of who know every nuance of his performances could tell from the slight strain in his voice that it was an effort to keep his balance and keep on singing.  

Many thanks to my son for such a fun day.  Of all the fun things that happened on my blitz of a day, the best was spending time with him*.

~~~~

*He's totally camera shy ... I never have any pictures of him.

Behind the scenes at Motown.

Gavin DeGraw at the Wellmont Theatre, Montclair, NJ,
VH1's Superbowl Blitz.  Make A Move

There is really nothing quite as pretty as
New York at night.  Don't you agree?

Concert Diaries Chapter 21 ~ Lyle Lovett & John Hiatt

My favorite singer covers a beautiful song written by John Hiatt.  It's called Angel Eyes and it's about the most romantic song I've ever heard.  It's also been my introduction to the music of John Hiatt, a legendary singer-songwriter whom I'd never heard of before listening to Gavin DeGraw (again, you say? Yes, again; I've learned so much from his recommendations.)

MPAC before recent additions to
the front facade.

John Hiatt and Lyle Lovett appeared in an acoustic concert together at Morristown's Mayo Center for the Performing Arts.  This theater has an interesting history having started it's life in 1937 as a beautiful movie palace--you know, the kind with a balconey.*  It's where the first love of my life nearly twisted my arm off in high school.  We'd gone to see the Towering Inferno and he was studying architecture at the time.  (Shortly after that, I think I nearly yanked his off while watching Jaws.)   It's where I was stunned for days and impressed for the rest of my life by The Killing Fields.  After large movie houses could no longer compete with newer multiplex cinemas, it was boarded up and fell into disrepair for decades.  A group of dedicated citizens fought hard to reclaim the theater and reopen it for the local performing arts.   It is now, once again, an integral part of the community.

Two comfy chairs were set out on the stage with two guitars each at their sides.  Lyle and John took the stage together and traded songs and stories back and forth all evening long and occasionally joining in on one another's numbers.  It was like being invited to one of their homes and hanging out in the living room while two masters do what they do.  

I was unable to take notes as I normally do.  In this quiet, dark setting, note taking on my phone would have been unnecessarily disturbing to those around me.  I didn't take any pictures for the same reason.  I'm left, therefore, several days later with only impressions of a lovely evening that seemed to go by all too quickly.  Their obvious friendship and admiration for each other's talents provided the perfect backdrop to amazing guitar playing and each of their unique song stylings.  They each have voices that are not typical for singers and are formidable pickers.  I was mesmerized by the complexity of what they were able to do with those instruments.  Despite the fact that John Hiatt did not sing the song that I'd come to hear, it was a beautiful night of music in a space that holds many fond memories for me.

~~~~~

* The story of  Morristown's Community Theatre was chronicled by the late famed New Jersey historian John T. Cunningham in his book, The Miracle on South Street, published in 2000.  

• Angel Eyes by John Hiatt
• Angel Eyes was a huge hit for the Jeff Healey Band (Jeff Healey, a Canadian musician who died from cancer in 2008, was blind and played the guitar by laying it flat in his lap.)
• He doesn't sing this out on the road very often any more but I was in the audience for this acoustic performance and I'll never forget it.  Gavin DeGraw, Angel Eyes, Utica, NY, October, 2012 (Special thanks to Jen for capturing this moment.)