Sandy Andina: News

What a two weeks it's been!  Started out rather inauspiciously:  after a late start driving down I-57 to Memphis for Folk Alliance (having planned to stop at our usual halfway point of Mt. Vernon, IL), and a dinner break in Shampoo-Banana--er, Champaign-Urbana--we resumed our drive in what appeared to be (unpredicted) light snow, so light that it had been unnecessary to even clear the snow off the car after dinner. The dashboard gauge read 29F;  but then, the wind picked up and the snow turned heavier and wetter. Suddenly, we began to skid. (Steve was driving, since I'd had half a glass of chardonnay at dinner and his quaff of choice is coffee, as strong as can be).  He righted the car and we continued straight for a few seconds before we began to fishtail wildly. As valiantly as he tried to steer out, it was impossible:  we began to spin out (in Olympic parlance, about 720 degrees) before sliding off on to the shoulder, down an embankment, through a barbed-wire fence, and landing in a buzz-cut cornfield sporting eight inches (at least) of snow.  Right side up. No aerials, as the freestyle-ski commentators would have put it.

Steve put the engine into park but kept the motor on for heat.  (Fortunately, we'd gassed up before dinner. Insert fart joke here). Hearts pounding, lungs panting, we looked at each other. "You okay?" we asked each other simultaneously--and in unison sighed and nodded "yup." After a moment of silence (and a murmured Shehechyanu in thanksgiving), we turned to each other.  "If we don't at least get a song out of this," I said, "we're in the wrong da*n business." We both guffawed and reached for our cellphones (mine with GPS) and called 911 and his insurance company.  (I said a second thanksgiving that I had not been driving--first, because I'd have panicked and the results would have been far direr; second, because there might be a breathalyzer involved--and all Steve had to drink for days had been black coffee and lots of it; third, that there had been no other drivers around us; fourth, that there were no trees or ponds; and fifth, that it was a flimsy barbed-wire fence and not a wooden fence, stone wall, K-curb or metal guardrail we'd encountered).  Before the state police could arrive, a nice young man with a pickup truck appeared and offered to tow us up on to the shoulder. We all took turns rocking and pushing, but we were mired just too deeply in the snow to get us close enough to his tow-strap and he could not get his truck backed up close enough without miring himself as well.  The state trooper arrived and we turned to thank our good Samaritan, but he left before we could even get his name. We're dedicating "Where Did the Good Man Go?" to him in our liner notes.

The trooper took note of the Wisconsin plates on Steve's Pontiac Vibe after giving us our exact map coordinates and contacting the nearest available tow-operator who'd take insurance and/or plastic.  We asked him how bad it was out there in his experience, as we had counted about ten salt-and-plow trucks go by as we waited, only to watch the west crosswind blow the snow eastward back on to and the salt off the road as soon as each truck passed.  "Pretty bad," he replied, "about a dozen accidents so far tonight. All in a day's work."  We asked him to elaborate on how many crashes.  He answered, "You guys are the mildest accident so far. About four Wisconsin cars--none of'em hit anyone, only one flipped but landed upright. Some damaged, only one driveable besides yours. No injuries. The Illinois ones? Coupla two-car crashes, one into a tree, and three rollovers. None of 'em driveable. Had to call EMS for a couple."  Not saying anything about the relative merits of Pontiac Vibes, AWD, or Wisconsin vs. Illinois drivers.....just sayin'.

Tow operator finally arrived and looked at the car--just some scratches on the bumper and front of the hood where the barbed-wire fence suffered the injury to its dignity.  He surmised what had happened was because of the temperature and the snow texture, the snow had begun to collect and compact in the tire treads and freeze, turning the tires into virtual Indy-car "racing slicks."  We hit several patches of black ice beneath the snow, and didn't have a chance. We'd done everything right, per high school Driver Ed., but some road hazards can be avoided only by staying off the roads and inside one's living room.   (Of course, en route to a show, I believe in pressing on--there's always at least one fan who's braved awful conditions--sometimes, as on Dec 23, from a very long distance--to come and be entertained, and we performers owe them our all, even for an audience of one, so long as the venue is open and there's power).

After some ominous jerks and groans, we finally felt ourselves towed back up on to the shoulder. The trooper told us we were just north of Arcola, with the closest town to the south likely to have lodging being Mattoon.  We called the Holiday Inn in Mt. Vernon, and after they grumbled that we should have called them before 6pm to get a refund and we pointed out that we didn't run off the road till after 9:30, they grudgingly agreed not to charge us for our rooms.  We practically crawled those 12 miles south to Mattoon, car shimmying as the chunks of compacted snow and ice in our wheel-wells (as the trooper and tow guy had advised us) slowly worked their way loose, and semis and SUVs zooming past and honking at us. We gratefully pulled into the parking lot of a Holiday Inn Express which--till we found ourselves at the front desk--we weren't entirely sure was not a mirage.  Thus (wishing I'd a Valium and/or a drink but settling for decaf and a hunk of chocolate), we repaired to our rooms, phoned home (carefully explaining our late arrivals).....and so to bed.  (At least I did---Steve stayed up in his room multitasking--working on his next song for FAWM--February Album Writing Month--writing, blogging, etc).

Two hours later I awoke, unable to sleep, lyrics swimming to the surface--I hauled out my trusty Sheaffer Snorkel and journal, set them down in my groggy stupor and then slept fitfully till breakfast time.  Neatened up the rhyme and syntax, headed down to breakfast, and sang it a cappella for a tableful of fellow tourists (who'd asked what I was doing) and the day manager (the night manager'd requested I bring down the dulcimer but had already gone).  They laughed, so I know something good---besides unscathed survival--had come of Steve & Sandy's Excellent Adventure the night before.

As Orlando folksinger-songwriter Doug Spears put it a couple of days later, "You know, in MY part of the world, people drive hundreds of miles and pay good money for a ride like that!"

More to come, but I'm beat--my first full day home (to several domestic physical injury crises, but I'll explain those later; you've probably already read about 'em in Facebook).

Good news:  as of tonight, I am down 6 lbs.  Thought I'd be cheating a couple of times this weekend; but Fri. night's dinner out was canceled (too late to make OTS First Fri., alas); and at yesterday's Super Bowl party there was an abundance of low-carb fare that kept me away from the chips, quesadillas, bread, pie and beer. (Wine was another matter, but I stayed within my limit and it was dry).

Bad news:  I threw my back out, big time. Thank heavens for muscle relaxers, NSAIDs and my nukable heating pad.  (Much as I hate to do so, gotta keep moving OR ELSE).   Unfortunately, shoveling snow is not back-healthy exercise.

 

But how about those Saints? Who dat? Champs!  Well-deserved. (And though the temptation for schadenfreude is strong--after all, we can't forget who beat Da Bears back in '07--we can forgive. And the Mannings are Louisianans, after all).

Sure sounds like a parody of a certain Gene Autry song, right?  But this time it's for real.  I'm not referring to alcohol (feeling drunk has always been as pleasant to me as flying in coach.....standing up....straphanging.....being kicked in the shins by a sullen toddler).  

Nope, the wagon I've climbed back up on is the diet wagon. What was my wake-up call?  Was it the fact that my knees have been hurting and popping in and out of alignment lately? That I actually had to ask Bob to smuggle me a pair of plus-size scrubs from Holy Cross because I can't quite fit into the XLs I bought at Costco? (To his credit, he was principled enough to refuse). That my beloved free biscuit-and-gravy motel breakfasts were beginning to all taste the same and give me agita to boot? That I've added a third pillow to hold off the nighttime heartburn? That it only takes a few minutes of standing in line anywhere to find myself desperately searching for something to lean on? That I find myself going to the drugstore for a roll of Tums and a nail file......and using a cart as a de facto walker? That the last few times I've navigated through airports I wished I'd actually brought my walker (which I generally use only for very long treks where I know I'll need to sit on occasion)? That I never take such treks anymore unless I absolutely have to? That I MUST have a boom mic stand to make room between the stand and my ever-rounder midsection plus guitar?  That I've started consolidating little errands to keep my at-home stair climbing to the minimum necessary?  That I can no longer put a fitted sheet on a  bed or pull on a pair of pantyhose without straining a muscle (or worse)?  That the plus-size skinny jeans I bought (and which fit) three weeks ago are already too tight on my belly? That there's less room between my calves and my boots into which to tuck said jeans? That instead of kneading on my down comforter, my cat now kneads on me?  That every time I fly now my heart stops for an instant when I sit down, lest that be the day I finally have to ask for a seatbelt extender? And that more and more times I fly or ride the bus or train, people stare at the empty seat next to me and I can actually see them doing the math as to how much of me will encroach upon them and whether they are willing to take the chance and sit down?

You know the answer:  all of the above.  Now, let me get two things straight.  First, it's not about looks (except for the aforementioned dirty ones I get on public transit).  I have made peace with my age:  the wrinkles, the need to get my teeth cleaned a bit more often and to start using my bleaching trays on them again, having to get my gray roots touched up (necessitated by there still being less salt than pepper in them), the handful of prescriptions I take (as well as vitamins with the word "silver" in them), the ever-ripening cataract.  I know I look slimmer in three dimensions and even in motion on video, and for stills there's always Photoshop.  

Second, it's not about self-loathing or a disapproval of obese people. Quite the contrary---I say live and let live, and I don't resent my insurance premiums financing the ailments of those heavier than I (and I don't believe there's really THAT much to the story). Oddly enough, I had made it down to a size 6 in my late thirties and maintained my loss for a year. Until one day, I was watching a TV debate between a representative of NAFFA (Nat'l. Assoc. For Fat Acceptance), an RN and a TV gossip columnist (or eventual FOXNews commentator, I forget the difference).  I kept hearing the two thin people ganging up on fat people, saying obesity is strictly a matter of laziness and gluttony and a failure of self-control and morality, and I began to seethe.  Did either of these two realize how much harder than they some people must work to just keep from getting heavier? How long it took me, how many people I'd inconvenienced and how often I'd inured myself in the course of losing weight by sensible means? Or that the food and restaurant industry (especially the latter) throw up roadblocks to convenient healthy eating choices?  (Ask any fast-food chain what's cheaper and faster:  a grill or a deep-fryer; lean meats and veggies or battered-and-breaded everything; fresh berries or soft-serve).  I realized right then and there that I may have been able to slip into a 6P (which today would be a 2P!) suit but that my heart was with those 2Xs whom I used to be. From that moment on, even though I had episodes of successful (but never again THAT successful) weight loss, I knew that the deck would always be stacked against me and that only the obese and my loved ones would understand if and why I were never svelte again.

No, I've made this decision simply because I'm tired of being achy and tired and dyspeptic.  Because I'm tired of having to rotate every size from 2 to 24 between my closets and my attic (to which my family sometimes ruefully refers as "the mall").  Because I want to keep the knees I have at least Uncle Sam will pay to replace them.  Because I'm tired of seeing all the cool and flattering clothes in the catalogs not being offered in plus sizes.  Because I want to be eligible for a wider variety of roles in the Bar Show.  Because I'm tired of rubbing on liniment and icing my knees and ankles after even a few hours on my feet. Because I don't want to choose between standing up to sing 2 or 3 sets and not having to rub painkilling gel on and ice my feet and knees afterwards.

So how am I doing it this time? Same as before (which took me down 60 lbs., from a 24 to a 16/18 and even 14):  the "South Atkins Beach" Diet.  And no, it's not just because I want to sing "Dead Animals and Leaves" again without a lyric modification. (And my profound apologies to those in my audiences whom that song made uncomfortable--I wasn't aiming it at you and I wasn't and still am not making any judgment about you.  Just because I've decided to change my shape doesn't mean that I think you should, especially knowing how horribly difficult if not impossible it is).   I know there are more balanced eating plans out there, and giving up starches, some vegetables and even most fruits and dairy (for awhile) is going to be a real challenge (especially when I must cook for a father-in-law who will eat nothing with legs unless it has feathers....which means if I want a steak, lamb or a pork chop I'll either have to be a short-order cook or get guilt-tripped over his eating a frozen fish or chicken meal).  If I could always stay close to home, Weight Watchers or a prefab food plan would be workable (heck, I once opted to vacation at a condo instead of a hotel just to be able to cook my Jenny Craig foods).  But I like restaurants and I do like to cook, two factors that make Jenny Craig, Nutri-System or Seattle Sutton unworkable for me (especially since the latter has no red meat, shellfish or even fresh fish).  No other plan out there has been workable for me on the road---at midnight in a small town I know I can always find a bunless burger and a salad.  I can keep nuts, celery and jerky in the car for snacks to distract me from the evil vending machines at the rest stops and the array of junk food at gas station convenience stores (some of which, though, actually carry hard-boiled eggs and string cheese). Not having to weigh and measure on the road, and being able to eat without hauling out a calculator or iPhone to keep track worked for me before.  It fell apart when first my mom and then my in-laws fell ill. I let the stress of commuting between NY, FL and home, the lack of an actual hospital cafeteria open when I needed it, and the path of least resistance of the starchy free buffet my hotel offered late at night for JFK flight crews get to me. And eventually when I had to cook starchy and sugary foods for said meat-averse in-law, I gave up trying to cook two or three different entrees every night--I began to go with the flow and the flow was more of an undertow.  Finally, Type 2 diabetes runs in my family. Luckily, I'm not there yet--but if I start to eat like a diabetic I may be able to long delay becoming (or perhaps never become) one myself.

So here I am--typing like crazy to keep me away from the Easy Mac, brownies, linguine and pot pies in the freezer. Day two, and so far so good.  I stepped on the scale at the start, but I don't intend to do it often--I'll let the fit of my clothes and the comfort of my joints let me know my progress.  I'll keep you informed.  Meanwhile, there's a little dish of nuts and olives and a quart of ice water calling my name.

Had a pedicure today, which is usually uneventful. The nail salon is scrupulous about hygeine--autoclaved tools, plenty of stainless-steel foot bowls (several more than there are pedi stations) which are washed and disinfected in very hot soapy water so that each patron gets a fresh one.  No razors, just pumice and scrubs on calluses.  One of my toenails had gotten very thick over 10 years (my podiatrist assured me it's age, not fungus)--it's the one I've stubbed and fractured several times. Only in the past few months did the skin color finally return to normal (three years after the last fracture).  Today, it began to bleed after being filed vigorously--the toenail, not the toe skin or cuticle! Called Bob's office nurse who was as flummoxed as all of us how a human toenail, supposedly dead keratin, could have blood vessels (dogs' and cats' claws DO).  She had me raise the foot and put pressure over the toe while the other foot got its nails painted.  After wondering how it could happen, she casually asked me if Bob (a cardiologist) had me on aspirin therapy. I said no but I was taking Voltaren for arthritis and recently switched it from bedtime to morning to reduce reflux. BINGO--Voltaren, and any other NSAIDs such as Advil--can increase bleeding and inhibit clotting. So I had the tech put some antibiotic ointment and a band-aid on and put a dot of matching polish on it to resemble a toenail, and I drank a couple of cups of green tea (which has vitamin K, which is why it's taboo for heart patients on blood thinners) to promote clotting.  Going back tomorrow (making sure it's healed) to get that one nail painted.

So next time you're going for a manicure, pedicure, or any other procedure where you might accidentally nick yourself,  wait till afterwards to take any aspirin or NSAIDs (even OTC)! And if offered a hot beverage, go for the green tea.

That band-aid with the nail-polish on it looks cute, though. Think I'll try it next time I stub and bust a toe and have to buddy-tape it!

It's been quite a December and January--and the big news around these parts is that the Andina & Rich CD "Two Guitars, A Dulcimer, and An Attitude" has been mixed and mastered! All we're waiting for now are two of the three licenses we need for the cover tunes to come back signed so we can forward them to the manufacturer, and for the graphics to be finished.  If you listened to WBBM 780 yesterday, you may have caught a snippet of "Caffeine," which is a very different arrangement from the version on the SASS! album and Steve's solo recording on his first CD. It is Andina & Rich through and through--our unique duet style and interplay, just the way we do it on stage (or would if someone sat in on bass and........nah, we don't want to spoil the instrumental surprise at the end).  A very few songs (there are 14 in all) though previously primitively recorded as solo or other versions make their appearances here as true Andina & Rich duets--this time fleshed out with added solos, harmonies, duo instrumentals, and recorded with crystal clarity and in-your-face intimacy and emotion. (I've said it before--Gary Gordon, our engineer, is a genius).  Of course, most of the songs on the CD make their recorded debut.   In the meantime, we are burning a limited run of a 6-song preview EP, "Appetizer," which we will be distributing to DJs and at Folk Alliance in Memphis next month.  We hope to have the "full monty" in hand and released by spring's end (in time for our summer tour and festivals) and will fill you in on the details of the Chicago and Madison release parties (and if you'd like to host one in your hometown, let's talk!).

Please go to www.doctorswithoutborders.org to donate what you can for emergency medical relief services for Haiti. No established medical facilities remain intact--hospitals have been destroyed.  Your donation will be appreciated immeasurably, and the karma goes without saying.  (If you so choose, pick another legitimate relief organization, such as 1-800-REDCROSS or texting to 99099 to donate to the Red Cross; or www.directrelief.com, a low-admin-overhead org. funneling relief to Haiti).  Bob and I have chosen Doctors Without Borders as the most direct way to help.   If you have a religious faith, please pray; if you don't, send good thoughts and healing energy Haiti's way.

In that strange lull between the end of both the Bar Show and Hanukkah (see blog for the latter) and the holiday performances Tues. night on WDCB (90.9 or stream at wdcb.org 7-9pmCST) and Wed. night in Madison.  The latter will involve both music and possibly projectile pastry.  Mourning the loss of my medium-long left hand nails (gotta play guitar again--and they're STILL too long, but I wanted to let the manicurist down gently) and gritting my teeth about having to go out into the snow tomorrow.  But I like this kind of snow:  enough to be pretty, crunch underfoot, not chew up the bottoms of my old-fashioned X-C skis; but not enough to make driving and walking a trial. By tomorrow night, we'll have had just enough to ensure a white Christmas without the hassle.  My sympathies to all of you in the NE and Mid-Atlantic (and biting my nails till my sister in VA returns my calls and e-mails--I hope her power and the cell towers aren't still down).  

Bar Show was a gas again--but just as we settle into the groove, find the right "beat" between the crest of the laughs and the next line,  and get used to all the stair climbing to & from the dressing rooms, it's over.  I pine for the days when it ran as long as two weeks.  Don't get me wrong--I love being responsible (solo or as part of a duo or band) for making sure a cozy roomful of people have a great time; but there is something magical about not only commanding a sold-out theater but being part of something MUCH bigger than yourself. There's almost nothing like the feeling of opening your mouth and having 4 to  8-part harmony surround you....with your own voice melting into it.  Wish we could do it more often.

Prepping for Night 4 of a 5-day run of Chicago Bar Assn.'s Christmas Spirits revue, this year titled "I'm a Lawyer, Get Me Out of Here," at the Merle Reskin Theater, 60 E. Balbo in Chicago.  Tickets may still be available at www.chicagobar.org (they'll hold them at the box office). Mention that I sent you, and you can be my guest tonight at the cast pizza-party at the Standard Club (once you've ordered, text or e-mail me and I'll give you the room # so you will be on the list--show your stub at the door).  It's the best show we've had in the 8 yrs. I've been in the cast--funniest material, most ambitious arrangements and choreography, some of the best voices in the city (not just among lawyers), and thoroughly modernized stage sets, layout and sound reinforcement.  At $60 it's half the price of a comparable seat at any other downtown musical.

Just found out within the past hour that last night at the age of 90, my Uncle Henry "passed his audition" and will be leading the French Horn section in Heaven's musical theater orchestra, joining his violinist wife Aunt Pearl, who arrived there ahead of him in 2001. He slipped away quietly and peacefully in hospice, surrounded by his loved ones. He told me last month that he hoped Heaven has a decent gym and golf course.  May his memory be for a blessing.

Woke up last night spiking a 102.4 fever, having dreamt in gibberish (or more gibberish than usual).  Been coughing, aching, had sore throat (though, knock wood, no laryngitis) for the last few days. Bob says I either must have caught H1N1 at the tail end of my travels, or my hay fever's "gone rogue" and all that congestion festered into a really bad sinus infection. (Not seasonal flu--got my shot for that way back in early Oct.).  So I'm stuck at home for the time being, keeping my distance from Gordy (who's young and asthmatic) and Bob's Dad (89 with CHF); I even have to refrain from petting my kitties lest they catch it. If it's swine flu, I guess it's karma for not keeping Kosher--all that BBQ and sausage gravy I enjoyed down south has come back to bite me.  (God must have a really edgy sense of humor).  If all goes well, I should be okay by the weekend (at least not feverish and not contagious).  We're hosting Thanksgiving at a neighborhood restaurant--but it looks as if it'll be without me. Hope Bob remembers to bring me back some turkey.

Just checked in to post an opinion piece in the "News/Journal" section and discovered my web host has added a new Blog template.  The difference between the two is that anything I post over here can be responded to only privately, one-on-one, or in my guestbook, an extra button to have to click and thus an extra layer of navigation.  But my Blog posts? You can respond to them directly for all the world to see and start threads. 

But two requests please:

1. No spamming.  Any attempt to sell anything or post commercial and irrelevant to the thread will be deleted. 

2. Please don't let the sideshow take over the circus. Don't diss each other, and let's stick to the topic. If you want me to address another issue, tell me and I will in a new post.

But I'll still be checking in here to let you know what's up with my professional (and to the extent it's relevant, personal) life.  

After bouncing around between Chicago, southern IL, the St. Louis area, NYC, Albany, the Catskills (NERFA), PA, OH, IN and MI, your friendly Human Pinball's in Kalamazoo tonight taking care of FARM business before heading home to our own cities, beds, spouses and families/kitties tomorrow evening.  Whew!  Been one heckuva month, and we've got a killer CD (or are about to, once we approve the mixes and mastering) and tons of memories, relatives and new friends to show for it.

Got some intensive work (final guitar/dulcimer/keyboard overdubs--my first keyboard credit--and second-chairing the mix sessions) done in a whirlwind couple of days down in Sparta; Gary worked tirelessly all weekend and week to bring it all into line and make us sound like we do at our best shows....with some subtle and tasty licks from a few of southern IL's most stellar Americana/bluegrass musicians. 

We decided to make a preview cut---the updated version of "Let 'em Eat Moose"--available ASAP in honor (???) of Sarah Barracuda's book tour starting this week. Before hitting the sack tonight, I'll try to upload it here--but let me know and I'll shoot you an .mp3 too. Let's make it go viral--with no vaccine!

NERFA was amazing--many times larger than FARM but less frantic and more friendly than Folk Alliance.  Made some lasting contacts, was wowed by some killer performances and jams (including the circles at the Local 1000 Showcase-Free Zone), and had a blast despite East Coast weed pollens and acid reflux (courtesy of Catskills culinary abbondanza) doing their darndest to try and sabotage my "pipes."  Driving along Route 209 and the Quickway brought childhood memories flooding back--funny how much more beautiful the scenery is when you've been away for years; as a little kid spending entire summers up there, I guess I'd taken it for granted. The Hudson Valley Resort is the last of the old Borscht Belt resort hotels (it used to be The Granit, which was the northernmost on 209) still operating;  the Nevele and Kutsher's are still standing but eerie, idle and empty. Gone forever are the bungalow colonies, Grossingers, the Pines, Tamarack, Homowack, Zalkin's (now a Yogi Bear campground), and the venerable Concord...along with the vaudevillians who got their starts there and the Kosher dining rooms that ensured nobody would ever make it back down to the city still hungry.  (The food at NERFA was excellent--abundant a la the old days, with most of the old staples of my childhood like matzo ball soup, blintzes, Danish the size of dinner plates, prime rib, smoked fish, mushroom-barley soup, bagels, cheesecake, Linzertorte, etc.; plus concessions to diversity and modernity such as eggplant rolatini, pastas, stir fries, couscous, elegant fish and chicken dishes and even tofu. But nary a bowl of borscht in sight).  Great music, renewing old acquaintances (including from other regions and other gigs from years past) and making new connections.  And this year, we got some great work done for Local 1000--and brought new brothers and sisters into the fold.

Am discouraged about the Stupak Amendment, and chagrined that Orrin Hatch intends to introduce his own version in the Senate tomorrow (with the GOP aiming to delay, deny and hope the bill dies, as well as blocking every Obama judicial nominee---a tactic they decried when the Democrats used it on only a select few Bush nominees--and eviscerating the Dodd bill designed to protect consumers and put the brakes on Wall St. excesses and outrages). What is truly disgusting are two latest developments:

1.  Those "Pray For Obama--Psalms 108:9" t-shirts, banners, even teddy bears that have cropped up. Sounds innocuous, even benevolent, right? NOPE. That psalm calls for God or "righteous men" to make the "days" of "illegitimate kings" "few in number" and even calls for "their wives to be widows and their children orphans."  The ghost of Timothy McVeigh is grinning up malevolently from the netherworld, nodding approvingly.  This goes beyond criticism and dissent:  it is hate, pure and simple, urging violence, assassination and revolution, and it makes me sick to my stomach. It ought to sicken you too, whatever your political persuasion.

2. The about-face on breast-cancer screening guidelines.  Ever since I lost a law school classmate to breast cancer at 28, and one of my best friends battled it valiantly from her diagnosis at 30 to her death at 42 (and my mother-in-law was diagnosed at 60 and defeated it long enough for old age to claim her at 95), I have been doing self-exams as instructed, had my first baseline mammo at 38, biennial ones in my 40s and annually starting at 50. Now they're saying BSE is useless and alarmist, mammos are unnecessary till 50, and biennially is just fine till 75 (when, presumably any newly discovered tumors would grow slowly enough to not need treatment). They cite the dangers, expenses and traumas of "false positives."  Bull. Those are far outweighed by the failure to diagnose it earlier. Almost everyone I know who had breast cancer was diagnosed in their 40s or even earlier. The prime motivator here has got to be money. Breast cancer is NOT like prostate cancer, many more types of which are so slow-growing as to require only watchful waiting and periodic drug tweaks.  Many more breast cancers are virulent and aggressive thugs that kill women in their prime unless nipped absolutely in the bud.  It dishonors the memory of all our sisters we've lost to let the bean counters carry the day.  We owe it to them (especially to Christine) to reverse this ill-advised development.

Reporting to you from the outskirts of Sparta, IL, where I drove solo today nearly nonstop (1 gas and 2 rest stops)--and was welcomed by a voicemail from our engineer Gary Gordon that he, his wife Roberta and friend Katie had just arrived at the Mexican restaurant next door to
my hotel. What a lovely way to end my drive!  Got caught up about happenings since we last saw each other at FARM (and oh, how I wish I'd gone to SERFA)!

Got home from Alton, IL 4 am last Tues.--had a full house and a delightful audience and we're looking forward to doing another Andina & Rich show for the public library as soon as they've got their new performance space and a slot open. Errands, errands, e-mails, schedules, practicing, and packing Wed. & Thurs.

Flew off to NYC at noon last Fri.  Arrived at my hotel (spent more time sitting in a cab in traffic on the Van Wyck and L.I.E. than in the air--bags too heavy to schlep on the train) and was bummed out to find that "God of Carnage" was dark on Sunday and sold out that night except for the $250+ "premium" seating.  Nuh-unh. Night 2 of the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame Concert (actually Thursday was the night I'd have sold my car to attend) was also sold out. But, I got Sunday matinee tickets to Carrie Fisher's "Wishful Drinking" and a late, late Fri. night reservation at Le Bernardin (I know what you're thinking, but I've been eating a lot of pasta and Costco bulk frozen stuff lately), thus also scoring enough time to nap. I was halfway through my second course when a very familiar-looking woman swept past my table and up the stairs to the upstairs party room. OMG--it was ARETHA FRANKLIN! (The waiter, ever discreet, would neither confirm nor deny but the record industry lawyer at the next table confirmed it was indeed the Queen of Soul).   The meal was so wonderful it was more than worth the check (and the heartburn).

Next day was Halloween.  You have not experienced Halloween if you haven't experienced it in Times Square (unless, of course, you've experienced it in the Village, Key West or S.F.).  More little kids wielding talking plastic chainsaws and elderly women in Chanel suits and pink bunny ears than I'd ever thought possible. (Of course, it could also have been the glass of bubbly I had at alfresco lunch across from 30 Rock).  Then it was off on a one-mile-on-foot unsuccessful quest to find either a walk-in hair appointment for me, and Gordy a bomber jacket (birthday present) that would cost less than an actual bomber.  Back to the hotel just in time to greet Gordy, whose flight was delayed but who skipped baggage claim and got a lightning-fast cab ride in from JFK. Off to Uncle Henry's party.

Half an hour later we were still standing on the corner of W. 52st & 7th Ave. futilely trying to hail a taxi (subway too far away from either end of the route). Not even the doorman had any success. We resorted to pulling over limos and bargaining with them.  Made it up to 106th to find that we had paid less than half for our limo ride as did our cousins from Boston for their pedicab (known in pre-PC times as a rickshaw).  Anyway, it was a lovely party, and I'm glad we went--family is precious and I've learned the hard way never to take their presence on earth as a given.  Uncle Henry is a retired French horn player who's been in the pit bands of half of the Broadway shows of the '50s and '60s; his late wife (my Aunt Pearl) was the principal second violinist of the Radio City Music Hall Orchestra, concertmaster of the Queens Symphony, and the violin soloist on the original "Will You Love Me Tomorrow;" and their daughter Gena, a talented violinist herself, is a music therapy and pedagogy professor at both Columbia U. and U. Mass. (and had produced hundreds of jingles and scores for TV commercials before that. Her brother Warren joined the other "family profession:" law, of course).

Needless to say, decades of networking has produced amazing results. With all the professional musicians and singers (including one legendary songwriter-recording artist whose name I will not mention in order to protect her privacy....and prevent me from sounding like a name-dropping jerk) in attendance, and my cousin Gena's prowess as both a violinist and recording engineer,  I have never heard (much less participated in) such a version of "Happy Birthday" (30 people, all in the same key, unrehearsed, and 3 of us on harmony, and Gena's multitrack string-quartet accompaniment), nor am I ever likely to again. No, nobody was recording it.  Anyway, Uncle Henry did a star turn--leave it to a lifelong horn player to blow out all the candles with one unassisted puff....at several days past 90.

Sunday, we slept in and saw "Wishful Drinking" (funny enough to have to pass the asthma inhaler back and forth between us).  Many people on the streets of Manhattan were still in costume, but oddly enough it was the same costume:  shorts, medals around their necks, running shoes, swathed in Space Blankets, and the same expressions of exhausted accomplishment. Sheesh--you'd think they'd just finished a marathon or something!

Sunday night Gordy's lifelong (since pre-first-grade) friend John came up from the Village (and earlier, Flatbush) to have a lovely dinner with us at Remi before we took two subways to Greenpoint (narrowly escaping a serenade by a busking four-man drumline equipped only with sticks) to meet one of Gordy's acting colleague who'd moved to Brooklyn. She never answered her cellphone, but the three of us had lively conversation over drinks at the retro-kitsch-cool sand-floored Surf Bar (where we'll return one day for the food too) before John went back to Flatbush and we went back to our hotel to pack.

Yesterday, it was ride back to JFK, fly to O'Hare, cab it back home, drop our bags, check our snail mail and phone messages, ransom my car from the mechanic (brake job, sigh), find where he'd parked it (2 blocks away), and head off to the House of Blues (aka House of Booze or House of Rules--you wouldn't believe how many they have) to see Roger Daltrey and his tour band.  Now, you've read my former posts about the stellar (as in exploded nova) condition of my feet, knees and back......the show was SRO. Yup. Couldn't even bribe my way on to a bar stool. Was a "reverse barfly:" found a railing in front of the top balcony on which I could rest my drink and over which I could lean.  Amazing show (although the opener, Paper Zoo, was a yawn--good harmonies and chops but boring material--nouveau-psychedelia, every song in the same key. They do have promise, though).  Spent another hour standing in line to pay for parking and then wait for it to be retrieved.  

But it was a great weekend, a pleasant drive down here, a delightful dinner with the Gordons and Katie. And it promises to be a fruitful few days of final vocal and instrumental overdubs and beginning to actually mix.   I go home late Friday and get to sleep in my own bed again till next Wed., when I fly to Albany and hit NERFA on Thurs. (After that, a FARM meeting in MI and a court hearing--just to remind me I occasionally do other things with my law license than perform in the Bar Show).  

Bummed out about the snail's pace of healthcare reform, as well as by most of today's off-year elections (sad to say, no big doings in IL, as I really have no dog in the upcoming Quinn-Hynes fight for the Dem. nom. for Gov--either'll do. Can't even find out if there's anything I might have voted for today had I not skipped town).  Only bright spot is that the teabaggers got their comeuppance in upstate NY when the first Democrat in over a century won the 23rd Cong. Dist. Also, a nearly-invisible Democrat almost unseated Bloomberg for mayor of NYC.  Sadly, at this hour it looks like Maine is choosing intolerance over equality.  The NJ Gov. race is unfortunate, but was mainly a reflection on how radioactive Corzine had become over the past year and a half (and he didn't even try to sell a Senate seat, just started his decline by riding without a seatbelt). Between Corzine & Bloomberg, they spent more of their own personal fortunes to buy their reelections (one successfully, one not) than the Yankees did to buy their way to an apparent (Game 6 will tell) World Series victory.

The real heartbreaker is the VA Gov. race--an antediluvian (anti-women-working, anti-contraception) Republican beat an untainted Democrat, probably because the teabaggers got out their voters and we failed to motivate ours.  Consolation is that governors have less impact on important national issues (except when Senate seats suddenly get vacated.......)

And Randy, you and your brother are in my prayers again tonight.

And let's hope I'm not. This has got to be the longest pollen-and-mold season I can remember since I first came to Chicago 31 years ago. My sore throat has a sore throat. I sleep as long as I can and then I fall asleep in front of my computer (not onstage, thank heaven).  I breathe, and then when I exhale I exhale down a perfect Ionian major scale. (Put a keyboard on my arm and you could play "Lady of Spain" on my lungs). And I'm one of the lucky ones--I DON'T have the swine flu, just hay fever or maybe a cold.  There's such a shortage of the H1N1 vaccine that when Truman College opened a clinic yesterday, half the people in line at 7:30 am when it opened were turned away (including pregnant moms).  At least I got my regular flu shot for when that bug rears its ugly head. Meantime, forgive me if I just give you a "namaste" instead of a hug or a handshake.  (I'm not Buddhist, but I thank the ancients for coming up with such a practical, gracious and hygienic gesture of greeting). 

FARM 2009 exceeded all my expectations (except culinarily, and we're working on that). We went one night longer, had the largest crowd ever, did better fiscally, provided more amenities (and a wiser choice of amenities), offered more and more diverse panels and workshops, had the most amazing showcasers (and open stagers), the earliest-starting jams than ever before, and an incomparable keynote speech by Claudia Schmidt, who reminded me why I wanted to pick up a dulcimer in the first place. We're going over the survey responses, our newly formed Site Selection Committee is working hard to evaluate the excellent Holiday Inn of Bolingbrook as well as other facilities in other metro areas, and we will come up with dates and a location for 2010 very soon. But first, it's off to NERFA (my first time, so northeastern folkies, please be gentile).

In between, an Andina & Rich Spooktacular at the Alton, IL Public Library this Tues. the 27th, a trip to NYC to celebrate my Uncle Henry's 90th and my son Gordy's 25th birthdays; some more recording (mostly instrumental punch-ins and mixing); and--can you believe it's that time ALREADY?--the first rehearsal tomorrow for this year's Chicago Bar Assn. "Christmas Spirits" revue (aka The Bar Show), titled "I'm a Lawyer--Get Me Out of Here!"  

And a pie in the sky, and several heartfelt choruses of "Pachalafaka," to Soupy Sales, who left us this past week. (Never mind the lyrics about finding out "what Pachalafaka means:"  somebody send me the chords!)

 

Time to turn in because it'll be an early morning--packing up the car and heading down to the Holiday Inn of Bolingbrook, IL for the FARM Gathering '09. The registration desk opens at 4 pm, and walk-ins are always welcome--but we already have more preregistered than we ever had attend in total!  We have a number of firsts this year:

An extra day and evening--Thursday with a welcome reception, Concerts In Your Home showcase (headlined by Claudia Schmidt), and jamming; 

Friday seminars and workshops on the nuts and bolts of performing: singing, guitar, writing, performing, etc.

A keynote speaker (our first ever) Fri.: Claudia Schmidt

A Folk-DJ meet-and-greet reception Sat. afternooon where you can meet the folks who are giving you (or whom you'd like to give you) airplay

10-minute preassigned Performing Lane slots (and we've decided to make them amplified or unplugged, as you prefer) you can publicize. HINT: ANDINA & RICH are playing at 5:10 Friday in Room 2.

Your choice of where you want to stay and eat (and the hotel still has room for both of those things if you don't choose one of the many places in the immediate vicinity--with free shuttle rides to and fro)

Available shuttle service from Midway, O'Hare, and the Joliet rail stations (call the hotel to arrange it or put you in touch with a discount shuttle)

A hotel with pool, hot tub, in-room fridges, coffeemakers, and hairdryers.

Free coffee in the mornings in the lobby (and a limited amount of free continental bkfst each morning--when it's gone, it's gone).

On-premises bar & grill, restaurant, gift/sundries shop, coin-op laundry

And jamming till the last string breaks.

As in the last two years, we have the evening-only $10 Taste of Farm option that gets you into the audience at performances and into the jams and song circles afterward; we know you'll want to come back for the full experience!

See you this weekend!  www.farmfolk.org (yes, the site's up) for details and links for the hotel, schedules, and driving directions.

And so to bed--been a long day cat-herding from a distance (I have SOOO many people to think for the actual heavy lifting), installing a new OS and cellphone. 

And no politics or polemics here till at least Monday!

 

We just found out our performing location tonight for the Edgewater Dinner Crawl will be in front of Broadway Cellars, cor. Rosedale & Bway (1 bl. s. of Thorndale)

 

 

I just checked the Web for dulcimer prices. Good news & bad news. First, the bad: prices for all-solid-wood dulcimers and even solid-top ones have gone up by at least $50-75 since I last bought my Black Mt. back in 1998. The Model 58 Deluxe, which is the least expensive good-quality, well-styled all solid wood American-made dulcimer (spruce top, cherry back & sides with rosewood backstrip and fretboard, modified scroll peghead, vertical geared tuners) has gone up from the $160 I paid to $230, adding $40 for strap, pick and gigbag (and $60+ for a Baggs undersaddle transducer pickup). Folk of the Wood no longer sells dulcimers, just straps and instructional materials. You have to go through Black Mt. itself (and they've since introduced the "80" series larger-bodied performance-quality instruments for $270-300).

BUT there are some decent all-laminated wood beginner/student models. The Apple Creek student hourglass models are made in Europe and have been getting enthusiastic reviews, and can be had for $65-75 street price (list $98). By contrast, my first dulcimer was a no-name Korean model with bad friction pegs and it cost $70 back in 1980! Go to Woodwind & Brasswind (wwbw.com). The unbranded model Target sells on its website is $95, strap and bag included. Not specified whether any part of it is solid, and the site says "Made in the USA or Imported." Apple Creek also makes a laminated birch teardrop-shaped model with nicer styling for $119, and the solid-top version is $169. (also at wwbw.com)

Check out eBay--but caveat emptor. Safe to say that if an ad doesn't mention "all solid woods" or the 6th-1/2 fret (or you can't see it in the photo), then it's plywood and/or lacks that fret. You can spot older McSpaddens, like my first all-walnut hourglass (solid top but plywood back & sides) at good prices ($200 or so), and it was my ONLY dulcimer for 18 years! I paid $150 for it in 1980 at Jean's Dulcimer Shoppe in Cosby, TN. McSpadden now makes all of its dulcimers with only solid woods, and its prices ($300-600) reflect that. Blue Lion all-solid-woods stage-quality models start at $375 and average $500 on up. (Back in 1999, I got my Model I W--cedar top, walnut back & sides, "shepherd's crook" semi-scroll peghead, dot inlays, planetary gears--for $300 at a music shop and had to ship it to Blue Lion to have the Baggs transducer installed for another $125; then I spotted the fancier but no-better sounding Model II W (true scroll, bookmatched walnut back, finer grained spruce top, brass-and-abalone rose inlay) for $395 on eBay--it had been a gift to someone who never wanted to learn to play it. I had to have a local luthier install a Fishman pickpup, also $125. My McSpaddens range from $280 for the soprano "Ginger" to $380 for the redwood/cherry 4-string baritone with pickup (both bought in 1999 and probably more today), to $375 for the unamplified bass model and over $500 for the 6-stringers with pickups I bought at the factory-store in AR in '07.

You can add custom options to a McSpadden or Blue Lion that'll raise the price over $1000 or even $2000. Then there's the Lamborghini of modern handcrafted dulcimers, the Bear Meadow. Depending on model, they'll set you back $3500-12,000, and you will have to wait 1-2 years. But they are extraordinary instruments, analogous to boutique-luthier custom guitars.

Don't spend that much unless you are sure you'll remain an aficionado!

I had a wonderful time at Fox Valley--not just doing the CSC showcase on Mon. (with harmony help from my "round-mates") but also getting to do the Dulcimer Workshop, flanked by the premier trad. dulcimer duo in the Midwest, Donna & Dan Benkert on my left and probably the best modern dulcimerist-songwriter alive, David Massengill, on my right. Wow! We got to demonstrate tips and tricks and snippets of songs from each of our very different styles, do a full song apiece (I chose "Talking to the Vines" as a way of demonstrating how I turn a guitar part into an effective dulcimer part) AND jam and collaborate on three tunes!

Many of you came up afterward and asked me some more questions about the Mt. Dulcimer, and I had to go back to the CSC tent and mind the store before I could answer all of you.

Q. I've never played an instrument before, and I don't read music. Can I learn mt. dulcimer?
A. Sure--because it's fretted diatonically (no "accidental" sharps or flats) and tuned to a particular scale, there are no truly "wrong" notes and, armed with a lesson on where the notes are and maybe a few simple chords, it's a really short learning curve. And there's plenty of room for you to eventually push the envelope and truly shine....I'm not there yet but I'm trying.

Q. Can I jam with other instruments?
A. Yup! And do as much of it as you can!

Q. Where can I learn more and buy a dulcimer?
A. Your local music store, if it caters to folk musicians (the types of instruments in the window and CDs and books inside are a dead giveaway). Ask if you're not sure. If you don't have such a store near you, go to www.everythingdulcimer.com, which has all kinds of links for vendors, builders, instructors, books and recordings (listening & instruction), etc. You might luck out and find a nice one at a dulcimer or folk festival or even a craft or renaissance fair. (I even saw a vendor at Epcot, and he had good stuff). Try before you buy if at all possible.

Q. How much should I expect to pay?
A. You can, with a little research, get a reliable, decently-built, playable and fairly good-sounding dulcimer for as little as $100, though it may not be anything fancy and may not have the finest materials and fit & finish. Insist on all-solid woods--even at that price point you needn't settle for plywood--and stable, easily tuned tuning pegs (geared, not friction, unless you are a violinist, know how to use them and they're top-quality). $200 and up should get you above student-level, and $300-400 and up will give you entry into the simpler of the pro-level dulcimers. You can spend more if you want, but unless you are truly committed, start a little less expensively and then trade up or add to your arsenal.

(One thing I think is essential, even on the plainest dulcimers, is a "6th-1/2 fret," which you can recognize by a pattern of 3 equal spaces in the middle of the fingerboard. In olden times, when all scales and chords were strictly limited to the mode in which the dulcimer was tuned, that fret was not there--this resulted in a flatted seventh, which is typical of a modal sound, if a scale is started on an open string. Without it, unless you are tuned to Ionian mode, you won't have the option of playing a standard do-re-mi major scale with a regular seventh, especially when starting on an open string). If you are buying a dulcimer on eBay, make sure you can see it in the photo. If it doesn't appear clearly, it probably isn't there. You can have a luthier put one in, but why incur the extra expense and hassle?
Of course, in an ideal universe, you wouldn't buy without trying--if you must buy one online or from a catalog, make sure you get return privileges.

Q. What was that little blue rug on your lap and how come none of the others used one?
A. I call it my "little Appalachian rubber shmatta," but it's really a piece of Rubbermaid mesh shelf liner. (DON'T spend $5-10 on a "dulcimer pad;" go to a discount store--even some dollar stores--and get a roll of the stuff. Mine came from a $4 roll from Target, and cost about 50 cents. Line your shelves with the rest of the roll). Massengill stands up to play--he suspends his dulcimer from his shoulders, and because he fingerpicks using very short strokes, can steady it with the heel of his hand. (I stand up too--but I lay the rubber liner across a folding keyboard stand). The Benkerts sometimes use straps, and though they sometimes strum, they use shorter strokes and the dulcimer stays steady. I use a lot of sweeping strums because I started as a rhythm guitarist and I play primarily to accompany my voice and other instruments; therefore, I need to keep it in place.

Q. What's the difference between a Mountain and an Appalachian dulcimer?
A. The name.

Q. OK, so how does it differ from a hammered dulcimer?
A. 30 years ago, when you said "dulcimer," it was assumed you were referring to a mountain dulcimer. Nowadays, there seem to be many more hammer players than mountain players. Both are zithers, both are tuned diatonically, and both are associated with folk (especially Appalachian mountain) music. But the mt. dulcimer is considered a "plucked, fretted zither" because it has frets (those metal bars across the fingerboard over which the strings pass) and you "pluck" (strum or pick) it. The hammer dulcimer has many more strings, strung in pairs or "courses," and you learn where the notes are by stringing patterns. It's shaped like a trapezoid, and you actually hit the strings with hammers--little wooden mallets with rubber or leather pads. It's a steeper learning curve. Many, like the Benkerts or Maddie McNeil, play both kinds of dulcimer. I don't. (I'm a klutz and am in awe of hammer players). Other kinds of plucked zithers are autoharps, psalteries and even arcane hybrids like the antique Pianolin and Ukelin.

Q. How come David's dulcimers had three single strings each, the Benkerts had four (one pair and two singles) and yours had six (three doubled pairs)? And why did your two sound different from each other?
A. Most of mine are like the Benkerts', actually. I went with the six-stringers at Fox Valley to be different, and besides the fact that one's a standard-tuned and the other a baritone (different woods, too), the baritone has octave pairs on both the bass & middle strings, whereas on the standard-tuned, only the bass pair is in octaves--the others are unisons. I brought the bari in order to demonstrate a particular song. Actually, the only difference in stringing between the Benkerts' (and my usual) 4-stringers and David's is that he removed the second treble string. At home I also have a 3-string bass (tuned an octave below the std.), a 4-string bari, and a 4-string soprano (tuned an octave above the bari). Between the std., the bari & the soprano, I can tune to every key without breaking strings or having them feel loose and sound "sour."

Q. Can you put a pickup on them?
A. Sure. In, on, whatever, wherever. I get the best results from an undersaddle transducer (factory-installed), run into a preamp/EQ box of the same brand. (Most of mine use LR Baggs pickups, so a Baggs box works well with them; my Blue Lion Model IIW 4-stringer has a Fishman Matrix, so I run that into a Fishman Pro EQ box).
You *can* get a cheaper, easier-to-install-and-remove stick-on pickup (like a Shadow, Hot Spot, or Barcus-Berry), but I find they sometimes fall off when you plug and unplug; and because they pick up vibrations not from the strings vibrating against the saddle and bridge but from the top itself, any noises from anything touching or brushing against the instrument will be amplified.
I actually have a solidbody electric dulcimer (made in Louisiana before Katrina) with a single-coil magnetic pickup (like an electric guitar) that picks up the vibrations of the strings above the polepieces (sensors) of the pickup itself. It's great for unusual stuff like running the signal through effects, but it hums around fluorescent and neon lights or poorly grounded power and is more of a novelty. I rarely play it because it doesn't sound like a dulcimer except for the tuning and drones.

Q. How are they tuned?
A. Like most modern players, I tune in Mixolydian mode (going from bass to middle to trebles, low to high, I-V-I (an octave above the bass--in the key of D, which is most commonly used in that tuning, D-A-octave D). The oldest tuning is "Ionian," which is I-V-V (or D-A-A, with middles and trebles exactly the same pitch). David uses what he calls a "reverse Mixolydian," or V-I-I (A-D-D) and plays his melodies as chords using the two outer strings. Joni Mitchell taught herself dulcimer without benefit of instruction, like she did with guitar, and likewise arrived at her own tuning. But it turns out it's an ancient Virginia tuning called "Galax," after that area of the state, and it is all three (or four) strings tuned to the same pitch. (I haven't tried it yet, because most of her stuff works in Mixolydian, but I intend to give it a go one of these days on "All I Really Want'). There are other tunings I don't use but intend to try. Possibilities are endless.

Q. You mentioned you most often adapt guitar songs to dulcimer. Do you play it like a guitar? Or instead of a guitar when you can't find a guitar?
A. No way!!! It's that combination of modal tuning and drone string(s), as well as the size and shape of the instrument that make it so unique and appealing. When I want the actual sound of a guitar, I play guitar. I love the dulcimer's sound, and play it on its own terms. When I play it with a guitar, it's to add its own dimension to the mix. THE DULCIMER IS NOT A GUITAR!

I just spent TWO HOURS writing a blog entry detailing my wonderful time at Day 2 of Fox Valley and a Q&A all about dulcimers. I hit "add" and instead of it appearing in my blog list, I was taken back to my login page!!!!

Moral of the story---if you are writing ANYTHING, don't just backup: periodically copy and paste it into a different program or text editor!

I am too tired to try rewriting my blog entry tonight--so if you have dulcimer questions, write me and I'll answer them (and with your permission, post them-- anonymously, of course).

&quoThe;day didn't start off auspiciously: a rainy night; a family bathroom traffic jam (2 baths, 4 people trying to get ready at once); and then once underway, an allergy attack so bad I had to pull over and get some tissues to wipe my eyes so I could see. But despite all that--and construction galore on the roads, I did manage to score a parking spot on the festival side of the road (albeit high up in the gravel). Had a few anxious moments setting up the CSC tent--same recalcitrant pole clutch as last year--but got it up in time to touch bases with Sam running sound and the writers I was emceeing on stage 2. The weather cleared up just in time too, and everything went smoothly from then on. I found out my recipe got into the WDCB Folk Cookbook (my mom's pineapple carrots!), and got to catch some great sets from Diane Ippel, Old Fezziwig's Band (backing up the English country dance), Anne Hills, CSC'ers Dean Milano & Donna Adler, the Folk Brothers, Deb Cowan (for whose voice I would not only kill but give up chocolate for all eternity), the Cajun Strangers (of Madison, WI--Festival Chairman Juel Ulven said they were from "Parish Ya Heyt;), and the utterly ageless Peggy Seeger.

The open mic at the Little Owl didn't come off--not enough attendee interest and the artists wanted to go to the Festival after-party. Alas, I had a long drive back here to the North Side and some rehearsing and printing (FARM and CSC flyers) to print out. Gonna grab a shower while Bob is engrossed in his movie and off to lullaby-land till the morning---when I gulp down my coffee & vites, grab my dulcimers & a good guitar (I took the little Gretsch "Way Out West" today since I wasn't performing except to sit in on harmony) and psych up for two great sets--the CSC Writers' Round at 11 am on Stage 2 (with my new song) and the 3pm Teaching Stage (Pavilion) Dulcimer Shoot-Out with Dave Massengill and the Benkerts. Hope to run into some of you there!

Rough morning--went to the funeral of a friend's mom. She'd had 11 kids--and when her husband died, raised 10 of them on her own. She suffered the pain no parent should--outliving 2 of her adult kids (and one is dying). Like her daughter, she was a dedicated nurse, loving and generous soul, and outgoing and gregarious. She had an enormous heart, and at 83 it gave out. I don't think any of us made it out of the church without tears.

Tomorrow is the official Day 1 of the Fox Valley Folk Festival. I probably won't be formally performing Sunday (unless someone sneaks me on to a workshop stage if a space opens up), but come to the CSC Showcase at 11 am on Stage 2 and I will be emceeing. Afterwards, I may be continuing to emcee the open mic, or holding down the fort at the CSC booth across the lawn. Expect jams to break out at the drop of a pick. As to tomorrow's open mic at the Little Owl and its adjacent pub, that'll depend on the crowd and noise level (they normally have rock bands). It may be an acoustic song circle. Or we might find a more amenable venue nearby, in which case I'll set up the P.A. system.

Monday is the big performance day for me--CSC Showcase at 11 am on Stage 2 and Dulcimer workshop (sharing the stage with David Massengill!) on the Pavilion Teaching Stage. My new song will make its debut at the Showcase (unless I'm slipped into one of the topical song workshops tomorrow).

My apologies to those who came to the Old Town School's First Fri. tonight expecting to find me at the Songwriters' Exchange. Woke up today with a scratchy throat and stuffy nose. Since I have to be up early tomorrow to be at a funeral on the South Side, and be in top form for Fox Valley Sun. & Mon. (lotsa driving, walking, being out in the hot sun & schlepping as well as performing), I decided to listen to my body late this afternoon. What my body said was "Take a nap and stay home tonight."

So here's the lyric to the song I WAS going to introduce tonight and WILL sing at FF on Monday. It riffs on the phrase "our better angels," which as you remember spawned a joyous and hopeful patriotic song upon my return from Grant Park; in light of recent events it was also naîve. This new one is also hopeful and impassioned but also gets down to brass tacks (note to conservatives: that's "TACKS," not "tax").

OUR BETTER ANGELS, CHAPTER TWO

Let our better angels through There’s important work to do
That’s why we elected you to be our voice
Set a course for common sense Give us back our confidence
To ensure our government provides a choice.

Freedom lives if hope endures Equally for rich and poor
Let our steps be strong and sure
That justice may prevail
Compromise is meaningless If it’s stalled by stubbornness
If nothing comes without duress
Then all are bound to fail

It’s okay—we know you tried But your opposition lied
Don’t forget you’re on our side, we trust you.
Shed the gloves, unsheathe the claws Do not wait to hear applause
Honoring this noble cause, you must do.

Freedom lives if truth endures. Let it ring out clear and pure
Doing nothing cannot cure
The ills to which we’re heir.
Hands across the aisle may be simple unreality
Just accomplish what must be--
The tools are truly there.

The best may often crush the good. But that doesn’t mean we should
Close the door on all that could still be done
Raise a torch against the night Leave the gloom, embrace the light
If we don’t give up the fight, then we’ve won.

So let our better angels through
There is still so much………….to……..do

........the Astroturf Teabag Brigade is at it again, spreading more of their usual manure. Heady with their perceived victory in dismantling health care reform, these GOPACs & 527s are plying heartland voters with parades and hot dogs to trumpet the virtues of our current energy industry in hopes of scaring the teabagger/birther/deather voters into getting their Senators to scuttle the Markey climate-change-control bill. The nasty details can be found here:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/09/04/opinion/04fri2.html
Those dewy-eyed Pollyannas who still have any doubts that the GOP's only agenda is to ensure Obama fails at any of the goals that got him elected: Wanna buy a ski chalet in Palm Beach County? Have I got a deal for you!

Yup, I had to stop avoiding the subject sooner or later: the rapidly deteriorating Congressional-Executive fustercluck known as Healthcare Reform Legislation. How'd we get from a President and Democratic supermajority elected by a public hungry for reform (with, as of Inauguration Day, single-payor being the reform at the top of the polls) to single-payor lying in the morgue with a toe-tag, the "public option" in the SICU ("S" as in either Senate or "Sicko") on life-support, and even strict prohibitions against private health industry abuses in danger of being dealt away?

The wild miscalculation (and misconception) on the part of much of the Democratic leadership that Obama's promise of "changing the political culture in Washington" meant making the first move towards conventional hands-across-the-aisle bipartisanship, that's how. In fact, the delusion (what we first suspected and now know was a delusion) that the GOP had any concept of "bipartisanship" beyond "you compromise, we stand firm, you come over to our side or the hell with you," as originally practiced by Dubya when he was Gov. of Texas.

Now, at the time he ran, many grumbled that they wished Obama had had more legislative and executive experience. IMHO, he had plenty of that. What he needed, in retrospect, was some time in the trenches of a personal-injury litigation practice (instead of academia, Wall St., and a blue-chip take-the-high-road civil rights firm). He'd have picked up the nuts-and-bolts, down-and-dirty tools of effective horse-trading negotiation that all of us who've done those kind of cases know: ask for five times the "specials" (actual expenses), so that you can settle for your real goal of three times the specials. He (and the rest of the Congressional Democrats) should have started from the position of strength they had: if you want the moon, first demand the stars. The single-payor model should never have been taken off the table until the Republicans came up with a counteroffer that included strict industry regulation (mandatory acceptance of applicants, subsidies for those unable to buy private insurance, elimination of pre-existing condition exemptions and dirty rescission tricks) in return for mandating that everyone obtain coverage of some kind. Then the compromise position would have been all of that, with a public option (or at least a raised income eligibility ceiling for Medicaid, lowered age eligibility for Medicare, the ability to buy into the same plan Congress and Senate employees enjoy, or all of the above). Instead, it looks as if we're going to get nothing--which is what the insurance industry (which finances the campaigns of not just Republicans but conservative and centrist Democrats and faux-grassroots "citizen" front groups and handed their legislative beneficiaries the talking points that they fed the teabagger-birther-deathers) want.

Why was that baloney so readily swallowed at carefully orchestrated town halls all during August? Because while liberals studied political science, conservative lobbyists studied anthropology. The cold hard fact is that FEAR WORKS, no matter how ill-founded or even absurd. Why? Because evolution hard-wired the human brain and body to respond to fear and stress, not logic and reason. Does anyone seriously believe that it was logic, reason, research and analysis that enabled our cave-dwelling ancestors to outrun animal predators, repel marauding rival invaders or survive catastrophic natural phenomena? Yeah, right.

But, in a way, the Republicans have handed us liberals a precious gift: the gift of honesty and clarity--that they never had any intention of compromise or bipartisanship and that their only goal is not just to prevent disturbing their comfy status quo but to make sure Obama fails at being able to keep any of the promises he made or even goals he stated. So now we have permission to start over--ditch that idiotic "politically balanced" Gang-of-Six, put a robust public option on the table--heck, NAIL it to the table, and turn the conservatives' own philosophy against them: "we can get real reform bipartisanly or unilaterally, but we're going to pass it with you or without you. Join the march or get out of the way."

Obama has a unique opportunity this Wed. when he speaks first to returning schoolchildren and then to Congress. But this time, no platitudes, no lofty and dignified oratory, no staying above the fray. That sort of stuff doesn't work now that the Big Lies have been shouted loudly and incessantily. This is what he has to say:

1. The GOP and the insurance companies are lying to you. Lying. Yup--as in "like a rug," and "through their dentally-insured capped teeth."

2. There will be NO government "death panels." We already HAVE death panels: what your insurance companies and HMO's call their Utilization Review Committees, where you and your doctors are overruled every day by twentysomething bean counters with MBAs who probably never even took biology 101, much less medical courses. They're already pulling the plug on Grandma and if we don't stop them, you're next. (Scared now? Good. You should be).

3. We DON'T want to kill the private sector. We LIKE the private sector. It generates income for you, you get to buy more stuff and we don't lose tax revenues. The more it spends on you, the less government has to and the less you have to pony up at tax time. What we want is to make the insurance industry straighten up and fly right, and give YOU a CHOICE. You like your insurance coverage (probably because you never really had to test it yet)? You can keep it. We may not be able keep your doctor from retiring or going to a different plan, or keep your employer from switching plans or dropping coverage because they can't afford it...........BUT YOU'RE NOT GUARANTEED THAT NOW, anyway!!! If we can present you a cheaper and better plan, the insurance industry will have to clean up its act to keep your business---and THAT's what they're afraid of. Do you REALLY want them to be able to keep taking more and more of your money and giving you less and less value for it?

4. So what's in our plan? Heck, we don't know for sure yet........because those obstructionist bast......er, scoundrels in Congress won't even sit down with us and let us draft it. But we do know that whatever we come up with is gonna be a darn sight better than what we've got.

5. So those jerks are yapping about "socialism" and "government control?" And you want government to keep its mitts off your Medicare and veterans' benefits? Guess what: Medicare and the V.A. ARE "government programs." Heck, they're single-payor! With Medicare, you choose your own doctors, you and they decide what to do, and the government picks up the tab. Why not let other people at least BUY into that, if not get the same deal that seniors and vets do?

6. We're on a roll now about "socialized" medicine--but did you know we're the only major CAPITALIST nation without universal and affordable healthcare for everyone? You can look it up. (Go ahead. I'll wait). And guess what else used to be privatized, and was a freaking disaster? Firefighting! (commercial firefighting companies used to get into drunken brawls and even set fires)! Mail delivery! You think the Postal Service is bad? Nobody remembers the Pony Express, huh? And are FedEx and UPS any cheaper and do they deliver on Saturdays or overnight on Sundays? (Thought not). We already have: socialized libraries, socialized police, socialized road repair, socialized mass transit, socialized garbage collection and socialized schools----that's right, some of you may be able to send your kids to private school but most of you can't. What if we made every parent in America pay K-12 tuition, huh? And we have government-run military.....oh, that's right.....Haliburton, Blackwater, Xe......look how well those mercenaries are doing! Catch those pix yet from Iraq of those wild "contractor" (easier to spell and pronounce than "mercenary") parties where Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner is doing Jello shots off VanOwen's butt? (Oh, sorry, the kids are listening. Hey, they had to find out sometime).

(Oh, how I'd love to see the overnight Nielsens for something like that!!)

And while we're on the subject, when it comes to taxes, grow up. There ain't no such thing as a free lunch. You want a decently paid, big enough military? Libraries? Good schools that don't cost more than college? Roads that won't wreck your axles and swallow your cars? Water and sewers? Fire departments? Real police departments instead of Paul Blart, Mall Cop? Taxes are the rent and dues we pay to live in the greatest country in the world......or what would be the greatest country in the world if people could afford to get sick without going broke.

And you media conglomerates? (I won't name names, but some of your stations broadcast via Clear Channels to Infinity and beyond). Stop characterizing those proposed airplay royalty payments to artists as a "music tax." If it doesn't go to the government, it isn't a "tax." (And listeners don't pay it anyway--you broadcasters do. In fact, those college, streaming public radio, mom-and-pop labor-of-love and dorm-room Internet stations already do.....and YOU lobbied Congress to make them pay it). If that bill passes, some of the great soul, blues and country artists you grew up listening to (or their descendants) are finally going to get paid for they musical gifts they gave us. Bobby Rush, Melissa Bean--shame on you. Of all people (I'm talking to YOU, Mr. Rush), you ought to have known better than to vote "no." Good on ya, Jan Schakowsky, for being on the side of the artists.

It's a sad state of affairs that in today's America, the surest way to demonize anything is to call it a "tax." (That hard-wired visceral adrenaline thing again).

In short, it is September 2009. We have a Black President. We have huge majorities in Congress and the Senate. Republicans: We won. You lost. Get over it. Democrats: We won. They lost. Grow a pair.

End of rant--I have rehearsing to do. See you at First Friday, Fox Valley, and FARM.