Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer

Trudging back from the Courthouse this afternoon, I wondered how we ever survived without air conditioning. I stopped at the bank to make deposits expecting a cool oasis but sadly they were having problems with their air conditioning and it was hot and stuffy. I sympathized with the tellers and headed back into the heat. The warmth of the day radiated up from the concrete and brick as I whined and complained the entire block and a half back to my office. It still took at least thirty minutes for my old bones to cool off when I settled down at my desk. As if an answer to my wondering, I heard Gillian Welch singing on WNKU about a pallet on the floor. That was the answer…that was what we did in the summertime before we had air conditioning. On many a hot day Grandma would spread a quilt out on the floor and let us lie in front of her big floor fan. We would nap quietly as the humming lulled us to sleep. On other days we would rump through the yard as she watered her grass, running in and out of the water’s stream. My grandma made feather beds that were just the size of the lounge chairs in her back yard and in the evenings my grandfather would lie there under the shade of an old tree with a glass of Weidman beer and we'd sit in the cool grass nearby, oblivious to the chiggers that would torture us later. On rare occasions my grandma would allow my Aunt Sheila to walk me across busy Washington Avenue to the municipal swimming pool. The water was only 3’ at the deepest part but a young imagination could make-believe it was an ocean. Once or twice each summer, Aunt Sheila and I would ride the bus through Bellevue and Dayton and spend a day at Tacoma Pool. Later when we lived on the boat, my mom and dad would take us out into the middle of the Ohio River where we would jump off the bow and float around in our life-jackets. Ahh…… the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer.

Heading West - Day 1

In June of 1981 my mother flew to Florida to drive west with the four kids and me. My husband hooked a 31’ Airstream to the back of our Chevy van and drove it to the entrance of the Florida Turnpike. After switching cars we started on our journey. I had never pulled anything before so it took a few miles before I began to feel even a little bit comfortable. I gained confidence as we went along but was still apprehensive about stopping at the first KOA we had reserved. Knowing I would never be able to back that huge rig into a spot I had pre-planned our reservations so that we would have pull-through campsites each night. The full-size van and Airstream were quite a long package. However, the first major mistake I made on the trip had nothing to do with parking. The van had been outfitted with engine coolers and other mechanic and electrical upgrades to handle the weight of the trailer, it didn't dawn on us that the cruise control was not meant to handle such a load. We were on the road maybe an hour before I burned out the cruise control. Luckily for we novice trailer-travelers, the rest areas on the turnpike were well equipped for long rigs and we were able to stop and go with ease. The turnpike does seem to go on forever but mom and I went over our itinerary and talked for hours while the kids played games or watched TV as we drove along. In the early 80's it was quite a novelty to have a van with a televsion. The TV was tiny and only black and white and didn't have great reception but it did serve as a distraction to road weary kids whenever we were near enough to a town to pick up a station. The first night we were able to pull straight into our campsite and mom cooked our first dinner on the tiny stove inside the trailer. We were in the panhandle of Florida and the tall trees were draping with moss and their lovely pine smell was strong in the air. The evening was cool and comfortable. Chandra and Jackie shared a bunk as did my Mom and Carrie Star. Chucky spread a sleeping bag out on the floor in the aisle between the tiny bunks and I shared the sofa with the doberman. Stormy, who loved to travel, was curled up in the front window without a care in the world.

Mountain Girl - Part Two

For some silly reason in September of 1979 I got the urge for going and left Kentucky to move to Ft. Lauderdale, Florida. If you asked a group of people if they would prefer an ocean view or a mountain view, it would probably be an equal number for each. We had the beautiful ocean view from our condominium but the mountains still seemed more inviting . In February of 1981, we flew to Sun Valley, Idaho to check out the skiing and to look for homes in the area. The flight was long and miserable and I was terrified because there was so much ice on the plane we had to be de-iced twice in Atlanta. In Denver we had an engine failure and had to try a second take off. I was ready to climb out the window of the plane by this time. The terror of the flight was soon forgotten as we landed at the airport at Hailey, Idaho. As we drove to Sun Valley it was love at first sight. I signed up for ski classes, rented my gear and met my ski instructor, Ginny Reed. She was not only my ski instructor, but she owned a cattle ranch and we would become great friends. I was not a comfortable skier but I got through the week and even came in third in the ski class races and won a pin! When my classes were over and we had a few days before we had to return to Florida, we spent one day just driving around and checking out the Wood River Valley. It was impossible to know anything about the area while it was blanketed in so much snow. When I arrived back there in the summer, it was like a different world. Having lived my entire life up in the Ohio River Valley with only one winter away in frigid North Chicago, I was amazed at the difference when there is no humidity. Every morning that we skied it was never warmer than -11° F but we were always comfortable. The snow crunched and squeaked beneath our boots and only seemed to fall in the evening, after the ski lifts were closed. We met with Realtors and bankers then flew back to steamy, swampy Florida and set in motion the plan to move out to Idaho as soon as the shop and our home could be sold. To be continued .....

Mountain Girl - Part One

Jeff at WNKU played a song by Judy Collins on the “Front Porch” radio program on Sunday that was new to me. Although she is most famous for covers, Judy has written many beautiful songs and as soon as I heard “Mountain Girl” I knew it was one of her's. The first few lines of the song brought to mind Joni Mitchell’s “He Played Real Good For Free” but soon the story was undeniably Judy's story. Many, many years ago I learned to play guitar chords by following the little chord boxes in a Judy Collins songbook. The book was also an autobiography of Judy’s early life and wove a memorizing portrait of the mountains of the American West. In the early 1980’s I moved to the mountains of Idaho and lived in the heart of the state in the small town of Hailey. Our home was just eleven miles south of the world famous Sun Valley Ski Resort but that eleven miles was a world away from the homes and lifestyles of the rich and famous who wintered there. Hailey was a town of friendly, hardworking people with a strong sense of community. There was magic in the Sawtooth and Bitterroot mountains to the north of us and my family has been instructed to scatter my ashes in the Bitterroot Valley north of Hailey when my time has passed. Through all the travels of my life, no space on the planet was as beautiful to me as the Bitterroot Valley and I hope to return someday. Before the story of those years can be told, I will begin with how it all came about. Coming soon... Mountain Girl - Part Two
“Deep in my heart I could hear that voice call
Haunting me all that day long
Mountain girl in the city
You've been gone far too long
Find your way back to the mountains
Where you know you belong
Where your dreams can't go wrong”

From Mountain Girl by Judy Collins

Anticipation of Kalee

Sunday afternoon Chandra's friends hosted a "Pamper Party" at her home. I sat proudly taking pictures as I saw friend after friend arrive to celebrate the upcoming birth of our eighth grandchild. The baby shower was a flood of pampers and pink fashions for Kalee Florence as each gift bag was opened. For most of Chandra's life we had moved at least every 18 months, if not more often, and it was difficult for my girls to make lasting friendships. As I watched our family and her friends enjoy the day, I felt blessed that my daughter had settled down, not only near me, but also in a community with so many friends that she and her children will share for years and years. To make the day even more special, my cousins were there. My cousins were the best friends I had growing up and it was wonderful to share this special occasion with them, too. Because I am older than them, and my daughters older than theirs, I have been blessed with many grandchildren and look forward to seeing their daughters marry and give them the same joy. With sincere gratitude I thank everyone for giving Chandra such a great day but also for making her mother happy.

Sweet Memories of Katie

Early on Saturday morning, July 26th, we attended the memorial service for Katie Reider, an amazing human being and extremely talented singer/songwriter. She died much, much too young but in her lifetime acquired a legacy of music and friends of someone three times her years. Although the church auditorium was enormous the entire first floor was overflowing with people who wanted to celebrate her life. Katie was younger than both of my daughters and I had only met her twice but as her partner and wife, Karen, said during the service, people who had spent only five minutes with Katie felt she was their best friend. This was my experience when Jim and I had the pleasure of talking with her at Tall Stacks. Since her death a week earlier I had been listening to her songs and reading her lyrics on-line. It is a blessing that she will continue to inspire us all with the songs and the story of the life she lived.

My Historian Hat - Edensong - Week Three

With cooler temperatures and less humidity, week three of Edensong was comfortable for the hundreds of folks enjoying the music. Edensong 2008 is the 44th series presented by the Queen City Balladeers. The Queen City Balladeers were established in 1963 by a group of students at the University of Cincinnati looking for an opportunity to share music and to have a performance venue. Since December of 1983 they (we) have been sponsoring and promoting folk and acoustic music in the Greater Cincinnati area. The QCB is a non-profit, all-volunteer organization with a membership that includes a wide variety of people from all backgrounds and age groups. Many Balladeers are also part or full-time musicians, writers, instrument makers and sound technicians as well as avid fans of folk, acoustic and world music. The Leo Coffeehouse, is one of the longest-running folk venues in the United States. For the majority of its years it was held in the basement of the University of Cincinnati YMCA, then moved to Old St. George's Church in Correyville in 1999, and in 2006 was moved to the Zion United Church of Christ in Norwood. Leo Coffeehouse is presented on Sunday evenings from September through May. Many nationally-known artists like John Denver and Utah Phillips have performed at Leo, but the coffeehouse is mainly an outlet for the many Tri-state area artists. These artists love performing to a "listening room" such as Leo, so they willing perform free of charge. Leo is an incredible place for an evening of high-quality entertainment.

Tonight's audience at Edensong was treated to a diverse group of musicians beginning with Liz Bowater, accompanied by Sharon Udoh, and followed by the phenomenal 12 string guitarist Neal Jacobs. One Iota played bluegrass before singer/songwriter Greg Mahan took the stage. The evening ended with the amazing Bromwell Diehl Band who have been performers at Edensong for many years. Jan Diehl brought the house down with his flute solo on "Moon Dance". Its an honor and a joy to be the historian for such an outstanding music club as the Queen City Balladeers. We hope to be presenting the same high quality coffeehouse and summer concert series as long as people will come to listen.

The Music Cafe

We presented a preview of the Isn't It a Wonder CD last night at the Music Cafe at the Fitton Center in Hamilton, Ohio. Of all the venues we play, the Music Cafe is among my favorites. Mark, Keith, Greg and the rest of the guys are the friendliest stage crew around and always make us welcome. The volunteers handle CD sales as they cheerfully sit at the table filled with cookies and coffee. Audiences at the Music Cafe know that the five acts presented will be diverse and they listen with open minds to all the types of music performed. Our friends Carol and Daryl were in the audience and helped with the photos. Last night opened with a husband and wife duo, The Schubbs, performing violin and piano pieces. We were up second and Tim, Papa Joe and I did five songs from the CD. We were followed by Jerry Gillespie, then Jeff Gaither, both talented singer/songwriters of our same age group. The evenings' music was punctuated by a young rock group, Fare Haven, who were more interesting than we expected. Their lyrics were clear and understandable and their playing very good for their age. Many listening rooms will limit themselves to one genre of performance, usually acoustic, but the Music Cafe make everyone welcome and opens our ears and eyes to the many talented individuals in our area. We have enjoyed everything from belly dancers to blues, concert bands to comedians and anything in-between at the Music Cafe. Except for the rock group, all the artists last night we in our mid-50's and older. However, I am sure that Fare Haven will be around a long, long time! Ahh, how we wished we could still rock out like they did! Check out the Music Cafe at http://www.musiccafe.ws/ on line or go see for yourself on the fourth Tuesday of the month from 7:00 to 9:30 p.m.

Night Walk

After our three sets on Saturday night Jim and I discussed what songs were strong, what songs we should work on and what songs to drop. Jim mentioned that "Night Walk" was my strongest song and I felt the same. "Night Walk" is a very personal song to me and one that I really can lose myself in. Although we introduce it as a nice song for a summer evening, the story behind the song goes much deeper. In February of 2000, my grandson, Nick, and I were at the Krogers in Mariemont, packing our groceries into the car in the dimming light of early evening. "Hey, how you doin' tonight? Do you need some help?" As I looked up to answer no, it became apparent that this person was headed for us at an accelerated speed. Knowing what was about to happen, I grabbed my purse at the same time he did and shouted a few unladylike words that 7 year old Nick reminded me of later. The man was much bigger and stronger and he slammed me to the concrete with such force that my right arm and elbow were shattered. After reconstructive surgery and a hospital stay, I was told that my physical injuries would heal. However, Nick and I were in a state of "fight or flight" which we could not shake. Nick hid his toys and waited for the "bad man" to come to our house to rob us. He knew he had my license and would know where we lived. The local police were instrumental in bringing back Nick's security by leaving little notes or gifts on our porch to let him know they were watching out for us. I was not healing emotionally and jumped every time a stranger said hello. I couldn't stand being in a crowd of people and just wanted to be home. If the man who had robbed us had been unpleasant and frightening this whole process might have been easier. Instead he was a normal looking person who was offering help. I felt I could trust no one. The rest of the winter was an anxious time filled with therapy and worrying that I would never be able to use my arm again. It was more than a year before I could bend it in order to perform everyday tasks. I suffered nerve damage and thought I would lose the ability to type or play guitar. Although I was in a constant state of sadness I tried to present a happy face for my family and friends. I knew they wanted to hear that I was okay so I tried to look the part while all the time feeling deep despair. Then, in June, I took a trip to Vermont to visit my daughter and grandchildren. Chandra lived on a quiet, dirt road miles from town with only a farm, a graveyard and a bed and breakfast nearby. In the evenings I would walk up and down that dirt road, enjoying the peace. "Past the graveyard, up the hill, walking through the pines." A brook below the road babbled pleasantly as I'd walk listening to the sound of the occasional bird and the crickets calling out their tunes. "The babbling brook beside me, sings a lullaby." The evenings were cool and dry and the pine trees gave off a fragrance that brought back many memories of childhood. The night before I would leave for home the walk took on a different feeling. The moon was coming up full so the night sky was a soft, dark blue with stars beginning to appear. Off in the distance I could hear thunder, rolling around the Vermont mountains, and as the night sky darkened, raindrops softly started falling. Clouds drifted across the stars and the night closed in. Like a heavy winter coat being lifted from my body I felt the tension and sadness disappear. For the first time in six months happiness had returned. My mind and soul opened to the place I was in and the serenity of the moment was like the goodnight kiss your mother gives as you drift into slumber. "The air is sweet and comforting, its such a magic space. It wraps its arms around me in a motherly embrace." As I walked the rain fell harder and the pain and tension were washed away. "Not a care to weigh me down, not a worry on my mind...just a quiet walk on a summer night to leave the past behind." When I returned home I tried to explain the experience but could not. We were at a house concert given my Roberta and Gary for the Troubadours of Divine Bliss a few days later and in one of their songs they sang the words "I'll use the stars for street lights". I asked Jim to help me remember that line and the next day, the line came back into my head and the song came to life. I sat with pen in hand trying to write the words as they flooded into my mind. I will always believe that "Night Walk" was a gift from both my guardian angel and the muse herself. That is why its my strongest song and one that I will always be grateful for. As I sing those words, I feel blessed by that special night.

Senior Citizen Hat

Today was nice. We went out to the farm in Georgetown to visit Tim & Doreen. We swam, ate and then sat for a while chatting with our hosts and their good friends, Sue Ellen & Bill. Then, I hit the wall. We had been up late the last two nights playing music in bars and acting young. Feeling less than our years is all well and good but eventually my body reminds me that I'm old, especially when wiggling into my bathing suit. A cold beer, a refreshing swim and then burgers on the grill were interrupted by nap mode. I'd write more but .........(snore)

Sweeney Hat

At the gig at Molly Malone's last night, we were asked if the Sweeneys would like to play there this evening. Tim is still in the process of moving but Jim, Peg and I said sure, we'd give it a go. Wish us luck!

Birthday Hat

July 18th is my husband’s birthday. This 18th being a Friday in July, we would normally have been at the Edensong concert series presented by the Queen City Balladeers at the Seasongood Pavillion in Eden Park. (See the link) Jim prefers not to be mentioned on his birthday but every few years when his birthday falls on one of these Fridays someone announces it from the stage, making Jim very uncomfortable. We, however, missed this Friday’s concert because Jim was asked to sit in with the Dave Hawkins Band at Molly Malone’s in Pleasant Ridge. Jim did a fine job even though he had never played with Dave before. Peg has played fiddle with Dave for many years but has recently joined our band, The Sweeneys, as well, and Jim has played along with her fiddle tunes a few times. All in all, Jim's birthday seemed to go very well and we all wore our invisible birthday hats so the secret was safe. At the end of the evening we toasted his years with some 12 year old Jameson whiskey! Ahh, the good life.

My Volunteer Hat

We were “In the Mood” as we volunteered at the Behringer Crawford Museum’s Coffee Cup Series last evening. Robin, Stacy, Ken and I manned the WNKU booth during the concert and talked to folks about the station while handing out much appreciated fans, cleverly shaped like guitars. The Swingtime Big Band was playing tunes that we have been hearing since we were small kids listening to our parents’ radios and 78’s. The evening was a bit warm but it didn’t stop couples from dancing on the patio. Leaving Devou Park, I had to pull off to take in the full moon rising from behind the amphitheater. The swing band had just moments ago played Moonlight Serenade and the night seemed complete.

Have Hat Will Travel - Part Four

After a quick breakfast at the motel, Carol and I drove to Niagara Falls. We were in line with many other cars on the tall bridge spanning the river waiting our turn to go through the checkpoint at the Canadian border. The bridge only had two lanes but as we neared the border stations the lanes expanded depending on how many checkpoints were open. Only two were open as we neared and the drivers waiting on the bridge seemed to be getting impatient and started jockeying in for a better position. One car containing two men seemed to be more impatient than others. Carol and I chuckled when we read his vanity plate - MagicFun. Mr. Magic Fun was definitely not living up to his plate identity and was trying his best to get in front of us on the bridge. He edged in and out of the lanes working his way ahead of everyone in an inconsiderate manner. Needless to say, since we were not as impatient or as rude he got in front of us and scooted across our lane to one that was suddenly opening left of us. He seemed pretty content with himself until three more lanes opened on the right side and the rest of us split into the openings. Mr. Magic Fun was fuming in his car, now three cars back as we slid through the checkpoint. Carol and I were amused and tried to hide our laughter as we entered Canada before him and enjoying much more magic and fun for the rest of the day. The last time I was at Niagara Falls with my daughter, we had three grandchildren with us. We parked, walked to the cliffs to look at the water and within a few minutes the kids were indicating that they had "been there, done that". This time Carol and I parked in a lot at the western edge of the falls and took our time walking all the way past the falls to the downtown area. What a spectacular experience listening to all the languages and seeing folks from everyone possible ethnic group, all of us in sharing the same excitement as we took in this nature wonder. From time to time we would stop and take a photo for a family or couple so they could both be in the memory of this day. We had lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe then slowly walked back just being in the moment. As we drove back to the bridge we kept an eye out for Mr. Magic Fun to see if his day and demeanor had improved. Our trip home was long but we talked and made the miles go faster. As we neared the Caesar Creek area we experienced the first bad weather of our entire trip. The wind picked up and lightening filled the air so we called home for a weather report to learn that a series of storms was passing north of Greater Cincinnati. We stopped and waited out the worst of the wind then made it home just before midnight with the satisfaction and memories of a wonderful adventure.

My Moving Hat

Well, its almost midnight and I haven't had a chance to write my blog for today. We helped our friends, Tim and Doreen, do a bit of last minute clean up and packing so we had on our movers & shakers hats. We were glad to have a few last minutes in this house to reflect on all the good times we shared there. We've celebrated birthdays and holidays, played music and written songs. The Cedarpoint house will be missed but we know that the new home they choose will be as warm and inviting as the one they leave. Its the people who make the home and Tim and Doreen made theirs warm and inviting. Goodbye house. The new family moving in will be blessed with much good karma from the family who is moving out.

The True Queen

The night air had cooled off and the sun had set when we noticed the big boat slowly floating downstream backward. The Delta Queen left the dock promptly at 10:00 p.m. and before she started her large, red wheel, she took advantage of the current to back her out in the river. We have finished performing a bit after nine and were enjoying our dinner and drinks when we saw her leaving. She left the Port of Cincinnati in a stealth manner, no calliope and only one blast of her horn to advise other boaters to clear the way. She drifted slowly over to the Kentucky side of the river which I found very odd since the channel is on the Ohio side of the river coming through the bridges. She hesitated near the mouth of the Licking River for just a few minutes as we watched and admired. We think maybe she was sitting away from the Cincinnati skyline so the fortunate passengers could fill their cameras with photos of Cincinnati at night. It is quite beautiful and the air was clear and the water flat. My entire family has always been in awe of this Queen. As children living near the river, we could hear the calliope of the Queen as she headed down from Bellevue and Dayton toward Newport. My grandmother's house was just on the land side of the floodwall and if grandma was in a good mood she would have my Aunt Sheila walk us across the busy street and up the flood wall steps so we could wave as the magnificent boat floated by, smoke streams coming out of the calliope pipes and dark clouds from her stacks. We never rode the Queen which makes me sad as she is about to lose her ability to do overnight trips. One of the only dreams that my mother voiced was to ride the Delta Queen. Being married to a towboat captain, I guess he just couldn't understand her desire. Lou would say that we could go to Europe cheaper than riding the Delta Queen but we never did that either. He would brag that the view from his wheelhouse was always accessible and they probably wouldn't have let us take the wheel. He also doubted the food could be in the least bit as tasty as towboat food. I do admit that roast beef with beer gravy and mounds of buttery mashed potatoesare probably not served on the Queen. I wish my mom could have ridden her before she died. If I ever have enough money to make that trip, I will take what parts and pieces I have left of my mother's life along with me in a suitcase so she could in essence ride the Queen. My stepbrother, David, who is also a towboat pilot, was supposedly offered a pilot position on the Mississippi Queen when she was built but he preferred the freedom of a tow. Somehow the Mississippi and the American Queens just do not have the same magic. I felt privileged to watch this lovely lady heading down the river on such a splendid night. She is majestic.

Have Hat Will Travel - Part Three

During breakfast at Amy and Dave's we went over our maps to decide which route to take home. There were quite a few options and we decided to let the planidippity take charge. My good friend Tim came up with the word which in essence means to make a plan but to let serendippity guide you. Our entire trip seemed to have a very serendippitous vibe (hereinafter referred to as SV) and we wanted to trust in those vibes. As we left the house heading south we stopped off at Mt. Philo and hiked a short distance to an overlook. The view was limited by the overcast sky but you would still see for many miles including the lake and the coast of New York on its opposite side. As we continued down the road we passed multiple signs for ferrys to New York. One just struck us and after driving many miles down a narrow farm road we came to the ferry that would take us to Ticonderoga. The history of such a place couldn't help but wrap around you. Crossing the ferry was yet another great piece of our adventure and we were glad to have listened to the SV once again. The road on the New York side wove around scenic Lake George. The little houses dotting the lake front were inviting and I would love to go back there on another trip to Vermont and stay a day or two. As we came into Saratoga Springs (SS), we were stopped for about 20 minutes or more while the Flag Day Parade marched down the main street. Carol and I decided that we would walk around for a bit and get some lunch if we could find a place to park. As we turned the corner onto the main street, the SV came on and a person was pulling out leaving us a spot right on main street! We walked up the five blocks of Saratoga Springs' downtown area and wandered through a grand old hotel that was liking walking back into time. We crossed to the other side of the street and wandered down where the famous folk club, Cafe Lenna, is located. It was not open as it had been on one other trip when we had stopped briefly at SS. We did however find a nice little place to have lunch and again sat outside to people watch. SS was having a art festival and there were lots of people downtown but the art wasn't too obvious. After lunch we wandered back toward the car and as the SV again appeared, I looked into a window of a store that was a "Life is Good" location. I was exuberant because I had wanted to purchase a "Pick Me" guitar shirt that I had seen on their website. After buying some stickers and shirts, Carol and I headed out once again to continue on our journey home. I had meant to reserve a room for Saturday night but in all the activity of our trip I had neglected to do this. We picked up a motel guide and Carol got on the phone and found us a motel in Rochester. We picked up some dinner and went back to the room to eat and relax.....TO BE CONTINUED

Feelin' Alright Hat

In March of 1978 Jim was sent to the Cincinnati Gardens to tune the electric piano of Dave Mason. For doing this he was given two backstage passes to that evening's concert. I was thrilled to be asked and was in total astonishment as we were escorted to the back stage area. We wandered around a bit and then found a spot close to the stage to watch the show from the wings. Dave Mason came out of the green room and stood right next to me. Trying not to be too obvious I held my breath so I wouldn't scream with excitement and tapped Jim on the shoulder, nodding my head in Dave's direction so Jim could see that he was right next to us. As Dave Mason went up the stairs to the stage right in front of us I asked Jim to take a photo. I happened to mention that Dave Mason had a fantastic "a**" and asked Jim to be sure to get it in the photo. He did and now, 30 years later, I took that photo to the fundraiser where Dave was scheduled to perform tonight.

After about three or four attempts to interupt him, I finally had my chance to mention the past event and Dave signed the photo for me, straight up the leg towards that wonderful backside. Although he has, of course, aged over these past 30 years, when he hit the stage, you could close your eyes and not know that he had aged a day. He and his band were phenomenal and gave us a wonderful show. Tim and Doreen joined us at a table that was outside on the patio but near the door near the stage. We had a fantastic view and by the time the band started rocking into "Feelin' Alright" Doreen and I were inside dancing in the front of the stage like the young girls that are still part of our being. After the concert we rested for a while and took in the amazing sunset behind the Cincinnati skyline. As for the entire night, the hat says it all.

Have Hat Will Travel - Part Two

Carol and I arrived in Burlington with big appetites and as we drove around the city we came across an interesting little place called the Skinny Pancake which was situtated near the lake with a beautiful view of the harbor. As we ate our crepes we checked out a travel publication that was on the counter. We wanted to ride the train that ran up and down the coastline but we were a few weeks too early and it hadn't started its schedule. Instead we opted for a boat ride around Lake Champlain. Serendipitiously the boat was boarding as we arrived and we were soon cruising Lake Champlain looking back at the beautiful skyline of Burlington. We snapped a few photos for a couple that were sitting near us and they in turn snapped a shot of us so we could let our husbands know how much fun we were having. We had a wonderful and very relaxing time on the cruise and afterwards we wandered around the city. Burlington is a thriving downtown with about six blocks that are like a huge market and are pedestrian access only. We had lunch at an Irish pub/restaurant called Ri Ra which our waiter told us meant good time. Instead of sitting inside the pub,which looked exactly like most American/Irish pubs, we sat on their patio and watched the people passing by. We met up with Amy and Dave in the afternoon and headed to their house where we had graciously been invited to stay. We knew Dave and Amy from Cincinnati before they had moved back to Vermont. Amy is a fantastic musician and Dave is an especially nice guy. We enjoyed a quick game of scrabble at their home and and then headed to the ferry that would take us to Essex, New York where Amy's brother had suggested we have dinner. The ferry ride was just as nice as the cruise we had taken earlier in the day but the sunset was what we had been hoping to see. It was a spectacular day filled with wonderful sounds and sights and most of all, good friends. We turned in after a long day and sadly did not get a chance to hear Amy sing one of her fine songs. Next time we'll make sure there is time as her songs are good for the soul.

Have Hat, Will Travel - Part One

I love to travel. My favorite trips are short, little adventures I call "Get Outta Here's". I enjoy these more than longer trips because after a half dozen days I start to think about home and what I should be doing and the enjoyment level drops. A Get Outta Here is usually spread over 2 to 5 days and I try to pack it full of things I love to do. This year my good friend Carol joined me on a four 1/2 day trip to take my grandkids to visit their dad in Vermont. When asked if I would consider such a trip, it didn't take more than a few seconds for me to convince my daughter how much I would love such a task. Carol was a bit hesitant at first but thankfully she came along and we had a wonderful time. We started off on Wednesday afternoon, meeting at a parking lot of equal distance between our homes. My grandkids were already comfortable in the back seat, enjoying their iPods and Game Boys. We drove as far as Erie, PA on the first evening and headed off early on Thursday, making it to upstate New York by late Thursday afternoon. Carol and I have known each other for a few years but the hours we spent chatting and getting to know more about each other made the miles fly by. We took a break at a rest stop near Lake George in New York which looked more like a country club than a rest area. As we pulled into the parking place Chase remarked, "Look at that Amish guy!". Sitting at a table was a young man who appeared to be a hasidic jew dressed in all black and white with the traditional curls hanging from below his hat. As Megan, Carol and I walked into the ladies room we made an abrupt stop. Standing at the sink, washing up was another young man dressed the same, except his hat was removed as he cleaned himself. In unison Megan, Carol and I walked back out, all three of us bending our heads to check the sign to make sure we were in the right washroom and then headed back inside. The young man did not seem to be bothered that we were there and just continuing his grooming. We three walked into the stalls, clicked our doors shut at the same second and then flushed and came out all together, trying not to snicker at the young man. He was gone when we came out and we shared a muffled laugh. When we went outside he and three other young men were standing together, talking on their cell phones and made no notice of us or what had transpired. Chase just checked out his map as we ladies walked around to stretch our legs. As we drove back onto Interstate 84, we laughed for a quite a while, trying to understand why the young man was in the ladies room but more importantly, why he didn't care that we were, too! As evening approached we took the ferry from Plattsburgh, New York to the Island of Grand Chain in Vermont. Megan and Chase, who had been quiet travelers up to this point, were suddenly bubbly with the anticipation of seeing their dad. We drove just a few miles to their greatgrandparents' cabin in North Hero on the banks of Lake Champlain and were welcomed by my ex-son-in-law. Jason had a wonderful dinner ready for us and after we ate Carol and I decided to take a walk to stretch our legs after ten hours in a car. Jason told us that we could take in the sunset if we walked to the western side of the island. North Hero wasn't very wide and Jason estimated it was about a mile to the other side. We headed out, cameras in hand, sure we would be there in just a few minutes. However, Jason has been working in Iraq for a few years and we think they must judge distance differently over there. We walked and walked and walked and the sun started going down. Carol is a walker and we have both done a few 5K's and knew that we had walked much further than a mile. The sun kept sinking and we kept walking. Through the trees in the distance the sky was filled with brilliant color and we knew that if we kept walking we would be heading back to the cabin in pitch dark. Carol managed to snap a few great shots through the trees and we headed back, joking about the "Bagdad Mile" we had just walked. Before climbing to the loft for a much needed rest, we asked Jason to wake us for the sunrise which would be over the lake just outside our window. The water was higher than usual and we could have thrown stones into Champlain from our vantage point. About 4:45 the next morning we both managed to wake up as the sky was gaining a light blue tint. Two whopping cranes came dipping down in a dance before us and we just sat in awe of the beauty. Wanting to see more sights, we drove to Burlington in time for breakfast.....TO BE CONTINUED

Genealogist Hat

I received an email from a distant relative yesterday. Marilyn is a family genealogist who shares a tie to my great-grandfather, James Wainwright Bristow. Before census and other records were on the internet, I would spend lunch hours at the Cincinnati Public Library reading microfilm and trying to find records on a family who wasn't forthcoming in family history. My father had spent years compiling information on his side of the family and traced us all the way back to Scotland. Sadly when he died his brother took all of the records out of state with him and no amount of pleading could get copies sent back this way. Therefore I started checking into our family's story on my own. Luckily I work close to the Cincinnati Public Library and was even able to make it to the Kenton County Library in time to look up a record or two before rushing back to work. I have a deep respect for the brave and patient souls who search their family at these great storehouses of history and I am pleased that they can now do so much of it at home on their laptops. Keeping the family archive usually doesn't appeal to us until we've lost many of the older members who have it tucked safely in their hearts and minds but not on paper. Don't wait until its too late, like I among many have done, to get their stories to learn about their lives. They were once much more than just gram and gramps. They too had long and wonderful lives that will interest us all.

Cowgirl Hat

I once owned a 10X beaver Stetson. It was actually purchased as an accessory to my ski gear because in the late 70's and early 80's it was fashionable to wear a cowboy hat with your apre-ski attire. We skied in the Rockies and loved it so much that we decided it would be a lovely place to live. Skiing and the move to Idaho are another story for another day. This story has to do with my cowgirl hat. I loved the hat and adorned it with a wonderful feather band. Nonetheless, even with the hat and the great western clothing I was definitely not a cowgirl. Growing up in the city I thought horses were beautiful creatures. It only took one visit to my country cousins to turn my head around. While feeding a horse blades of grass through the fence it bit my shirt which was the same shade of green. Later that same summer I went to feed some horses at a home near the river while my dad talked boats with the residents. Electric fences were an unknown phenomena to me and after my little hands were pried off the hot wires by the owners of the horses, I no longer had any interest in horses and decided that a kitten was a much better pet. Therefore, I have never been fond of horses and they were definitely not fond of me. They say animals can since fear and it has been unscientifically proven that horses know if you are not a horse lover. When we lived in Hailey, Idaho (yes, the city owned by Bruce Willis and Demi Moore) we purchased a horse for the kids to ride from Jenny, my ski instructor, who was also a rancher. We would spend lovely Sundays at her ranch in warmer weather, sharing a home cooked meal after a leisurely ride around the foothills of the Sawtooth Mountains. Jenny sold us the 18 year old appaloosa named Brandy who had been the horse her own children had ridden. We boarded Brandy at her ranch. Brandy was patient and gentle with children and they in turn loved to ride her and never complained about the necessary brushing and grooming. When we would ride I would ride Brownie, Jenny's most docile horse, Brownie, so I could be with the children. My youngest daughter, nicknamed "Tex" due to the fact that she practically lived in her boots and hat, would ride behind me on the rump of the large brown horse. Brownie immediately sensed my dislike and fear of horses and would walk as slowly as he could, trudging far behind the others. He loved to put his head down so I would feel like I was about to fly over the saddle horn. At the end of a ride Brownie would start to trot towards the corral in anticipation of the oats and the apple that waited in his stall. On one such approach Tex let go her grip on me and bounced along the rump, off the back of the horse and onto the dirt. I couldn't see if she was okay so just like Dale Evans, I threw my right leg out of the stirrup, back across the saddle and leaped to the ground to check on Tex. She was no worse for wear and giggled as she rubbed her sore bottom. I pulled just about every muscle in my body and could barely move for three days. The horses had a great laugh about this as they munched their post-ride treats. We moved to Boise the following year and left Brandy at the ranch until we could find a home with a pasture. Before we could settle into the new home we bought we learned that Brandy was eating too much on the ranch and loved to either stand in wet spots or rub against the barbed wire and we needed to bring her with us. She had to begin her relocation at a boarding stable where we could monitor her diet and treat her hoofs. With the absense of Sunday rides, Brandy had overeaten on the spring grasses and was a mess. The kids were in school so the care for the horse was suddenly my responsibility. Brownie had evidently clued Brandy in to my fear and dislike of horses. Whenever I treated her hoofs in the stall she would purposely pin me against whatever wall or gate was closest. Going to lift one of her hoofs, she would at first give it easily but then she would drop it heavily on the top of my foot leaving a new bruise where the last one was just healing. Brandy's did, however, find a way to top all of her rude behavior and reaffirm my dislike of horses. The boarding stable was about a half mile from the Vet so when she had an appointment, it made little sense to load her into the horse trailer and then unload her again at the Vet's office. Instead I walked her up on the grassy strip alongside the road and when I reached the Vet'sI tied her lead to the hitching post. As I signed us in on the office register someone asked urgently "Who owns that appaloosa out there?" Of course, it was Brandy who was pulling her head out of her harness and looking for the best way to escape. I ran out the door just in time to see her trotting down the road while looking back at me with an evil sneer headed toward a busy intersection. Without a thought as to how to subdue this horse, I also trotted down the road, catching up close enough to grab her mane. Whatever I thought would happen did not. Grabbing the mane of a horse after it has started gaining speed is pretty futile. Brandy just kept going and like Fred Flintstone I put my boots to the asphalt to try and slow us down. Across Brandy's neck I could see the intersection. Our light was red but Brandy did not obey traffic laws either. She kept going as a pick up truck was in position to meet up with us in seconds. Suddenly the truck stopped, the driver jumped out and grabbed a rope from the back of his pick up and ran toward Brandy. He was able to get close without spooking Brandy because she was still looking back and laughing at the silly woman hanging off her mane. The cowboy threw his rope across her neck, said something that she understood and she came to a stop. With profuse thanks you's from me, we walked her back to the hitching post where he secured her harness and without a word walked away. It felt for a minute that I was in a modern day western or on a segment of candid camera. The folks watching at the vet's office just walked back inside probably mumbling something I wouldn't have wanted to hear anyway. The vet came out with a hypodermic needle and said that maybe Brandy should have a little sedation to help calm her down. Calm her? I was the one who needed calming. Brandy was still laughing, or at least until she saw the needle. We finally had something in common...a hatred of needles. The vet instructed me to hold her lead while he injected the sedative. Just like Roy Roger's Trigger, Brandy reared up on her back legs, pulling me along with her, my feet danling in the air. As if this wasn't enough, we still had the vet exam to get through. As Brandy mellowed out I thought all was going to be okay. That is until I had to walk her back to the stable. As the sedative took over, Brandy just wanted to go to sleep. I can only imagine what it looked like to the motorist going by as I practically drug this horse a half mile to the stable. After that I insisted that we either hire a stable hand or move her to the house. We soon bought a new house with a pasture for Brandy and I was content to just wave at her from time to time from the safety of my kitchen window. The stetson was stored safely away in the box from which it came and my horse riding days were over.

Another Day, Another Hat

Today I wore many hats: wife, parent, legal secretary and concert coordinator but tonight I will kick off shoes, change from my dress clothes and put on my musician hat. We have band practice tonight, one of my favorite events. I play guitar and sing in a group called "The Sweeneys" although no one in the band is named Sweeney. My bandmates Tim and Jim are both of Irish descent and Tim just liked the name. Peg, our fiddle player, and I are both of Scottish descent. However, my family has been in America for over 300 years and I am sure the Scot in us has been watered down a bit. Nonetheless our band plays Irish, Scottish and very American music and enjoy the anonymity of being in a band where our real names are not of great importance. Its all about the group and the enjoyment we get from playing music. We don't claim to be the best band in town but we have the best of times when we are together. That's what its all about to us, just having fun and sharing our music. Tim's wife, Doreen, is usually with us and takes great photos and has even sung on a chorus or two. Jim, our bodhran player and percussionist, is my husband so its a nice configuration. I play alone sometimes, too, but being in a musical group is much more fun!

The photo is one of my favorites. Tim is playing bouzouki and I am singing about the Ohio River as we stand on a stage just a stone's throw from it. We were honored to be playing the same night as the great Tommy Sands. He told Tim that he liked his song about pirates!

A closet full of hats

As the fifth child in a home where my mother and I were outnumbered by males, I wore two hats - the daughter my mother had tried many years for and the little sister to be tormented and pestered. My role as daughter was sweet because mom would dress me up, curl my hair and be my best friend. The other role, however, was never pleasant and something I have tried to block from my memories. I never had the protective big brothers, instead, I had brothers who resented my being mother's favorite, although that was not true and only perceived by their jealousy. My second oldest brother, Norman, was really mom's favorite.

Being the fifth child means that the parents and grandparents have doted on the boys until they are spent and I was just another in a long line of children to be dealt with. There were fewer and fewer childhood photos as the children continued to come and I have possibly a dozen photos of myself as a child. I am assuming it is because my parents tired of taking photos. Or maybe it was because the boys were prettier babies than I. No matter because nothing can be done about life's little inequalities. None of my brothers are that handsome in their old age so their looks, like mine, were fleeting.

As a young teen I added a hat as a Volunteen. We volunteered at nursing homes and hospitals at least every Friday afternoon and usually on Sundays. There wasn't as much to do when we were in our early teens so community service was a way to do something good and to help decide what we wanted to be when we grew up. Being born in the early 50's, the "girl" occupations still consisted primarily of nursing, teaching and secretarial work, just until you found the right guy and settled down. To this day I have a needle phobia so nursing was out. I wasn't a great student and have never been able to explain things to others well so teaching was out. However, watching Perry Mason with my parents, I decided that Della Street had the job I wanted. Legal Secretary... It sounded much more important than just secretary. I decided that would be the next hat I would wear.

Over the years I acquired more hats and they each have stories. More will come in later postings.

Blogging 101

I have only seen approximately 6 blogs in my lifetime. I will learn as I go and hopefully my posts will be interesting and entertaining to my family and friends. If not, I'll at least have archived some of my life events.