All The Leaves Have Gone

Pre-winter winds are whipping through the area tonight.  We're in one of those erratic weather periods.  Earlier in the week the season's first snow visited us.  It was pretty inconsequential here in
South Bend but New Carlisle and my former school district were treated to the first snow day of the academic year.  These bonus days off school are almost always quite welcome.  NPUSC is about 20 miles west of home and the hills of Bendix County Park act as a battlement against dramatic weather events that come roaring in from the west. While NPHS area received about 8" of snow South Bend only got about an inch and the area a bit farther east was spared completely

The autumn has progressed smoothly.  I have really adjusted to not holding down a steady job.  Sleeping in as the result of staying up insanely late has become the norm.  I force myself out of bed by 10:00 am on most days after hitting the sack earlier in the morning around 3:00 am.  It is odd how I am enjoying little things like being able to keep up with laundry, cooking meals for John to enjoy when he gets home from work and having the freedom to schedule my own routines.

This has been a rather typical Saturday which I spent solely at Fire Arts. We had our annual artist's meeting.  Plans for the near and distant futures were introduced, discussed and decided upon. I have decided that now that I have more free time, that I would contribute time to keeping Fire Arts open for two more days during the week.  Soon I will be spending noon to 5 pm at the studio on Wednesday and one other day each week.  This will greatly help our artist members, give the public additional access days and provide guaranteed working time for myself.  It will be a "win" for everyone involved.

I have been splitting my time between household chores, artwork and playing guitar.  I have had to restrict my guitar playing time because of a nagging problem with trigger thumb.  I have a number of pieces of music in the works.  Richard Gilewitz and I teamed up on a project that he has incorporated into his workshop curriculum.  We developed versions of a basic 12 barre blues in the key of E.  This idea was spawned as I was whining to him about how our washing machine had broken down.  In honor of this very normal life irritation we christened the project The Washing Machine Blues.   It was a rather stimulating challenging to take the 12 barre pattern and create six  unique fingerpicking and six more strumming thythms resulting in a dozen different arrangements.  We approached it as an exercise that students could use to gradually increase complexity as they applied varied note values, dynamics,  special effects etc.  I did all the Tabledit work on the files and in the process learned much more about the program.  Richard has introduced our efforts to students in England, Ireland, and Australia.  He has made a point of telling them about my collaboration which is really pretty cool.  He has told me that the students are really enjoying the experience and the culmination of the workshop leads into each guitarist playing their practiced version as part of an ensemble.  I expect to participate in this experience if I make it to Gillacamp in Florida this February. 

Reflections Part 2

It was wonderfully sunny and cool today with a breeze that rustled my hair into the pleasant disarray of an " I don't have to be at work today" attitude.  I have actually had to move myself indoors to compose this entry because I finally admitted I was cold sitting at the garden table on my back deck.  Now I've plopped myself into my favorite recliner.  I have been quickly joined by Miyagi, our Maine Coon-mix cat who enjoys lying on my legs.  Admittedly his body draped on top of my shins is providing a nice bit of radiant heat and therefore I will resist the urge to move against the somewhat trapped feeling.
 This time last year John and I were anxiously preparing for our first overseas journey together.  Previously, he had been out of the country as an airman.  I traveled to England with Jim, my first husband and Naomi, our daughter in the summer of 1993.  I again visited England in 1994 as part of a healing journey after Jim had taken his life in August of 1993.   Both visits were hosted by our dear English friends, Dennis and Sylvia.
Here it is September of 2011, nearly twenty years since my first big journey and one year since the Lilly trip to Ireland.  I have to admit I truly love the UK and Ireland.  Of course this affection is filtered through a visitor's eyes. My friend Dennis, an English native, has told me on numerous occasions that although he loves to travel there is no place he'd rather live than in England.  The climate suites me.  In fact today's weather here at home brings with it a deep nostalgic feeling that nags at my emotions.  Do you ever feel like you are in the wrong place?  Today I feel that way. Actually I've been suppressing that feeling since returning from Ireland last year.   I've been sitting here remembering what it was like to amble along the streets of Clonakilty and the other towns we visited, taking in the sights and smells, the feel of polished brick walkways, the narrow streets, the flower boxes, ancient stones, church bells, sounds of English spoken in a variety of Irish dialects and the sounds of the Irish language itself, the ocean crashing against craggy coast lines, the creaking of the old wooden floors that are everywhere that there aren't even older stone floors, the sounds of children running and playing in the Emmet Square, music...live music of all sorts oozing out of the doorways of pubs, hotels and squares.  Guitars of all sorts carried by and played by all sorts of people.  The challenge of navigating the road system, the gentle scrape of fuscia against the side of the car as I drive down the teeny tiny twisty rural roads.  Clouds billowing across the skies.  Brief showers that are shut off by the sun as it bursts through and transforms drizzle into glistening honey drops.  The land of hills, stone fences, and dramatically craggy grazing land that only sheep, who dot hillsides like spilled cotton balls, could navigate without tripping. I am sure there are mean people in Ireland but we didn't meet any of them, so I am guessing there just may be a smaller percentage of them.  Go ahead accuse me of wearing rose colored glasses.  I really don't care.  All I know is that the Clonakilty International Guitar Fest is just around the corner and I won't be there.  Sigh.............Perhaps they could use a pottery teacher in Clon? 

Reflections Part 1

        It is Labor Day, September 5th, 2011.  I have been enjoying a work free day unlike many folks in this country who continue to suffer without a paycheck because they have been lacking work for months and even years.  As I was driving to Fire Arts this evening I made a point of making a photographic record of the beleaguered remains of the Studebaker industrial sites.  Nearly all the remnants of that once proud and vibrant company are gone.  As I pulled up to the Chapin Street side of the remaining structure I reminisced about the times my mother and I would pick my father up from work.  You see my father was not a pleasant person.  He was an alcoholic in the grand Polish tradition which professed:  Unless interrupted by sleep or food, one should be consuming beer or hard liqueur.  My dad did not disappoint that tradition and it ended his life at the relatively young age of 56.  He was a mean drunk and in retrospect I often wonder what drew my mother to pairing up with this man.  Although they were destroyed in the fire that took my studio in 1993, I found evidence in family photos that alcohol was a constant companion for my father.  It seemed as though every picture showed him with a bottle of beer in his hand.  It was always a Drewry's because my Uncle Ed had the perfect job for a South Bend Pole.  He was a foreman at the brewing plant.  Oddly my Uncle Eddie seemed the least possessed with this Polish disease and he lived decades past my father who was his younger brother.  My dad's alcoholism kept our little family strapped for cash, even though he did work a weekend job as well.  He held a sales position at El's Liqueur Store, go figure.  He was never paid in cash but took home his compensation in the form of fifths and unending cases of Drewry's.  My Uncle El owned that liqueur store.  This wasn't enough for Dad although because the evening ritual included picking up Dad from Studebaker's, dropping him off at the local bar and heading home until he called for a ride or had a friend drop him off.    It seems as though any time my parents spent together was characterized by ugly arguments laced with copious amounts of profanity and ultimately with my father in a drunken rage, lashing out physically at my mother.  Even as a youngster I wondered at the irony of driving to church on Sunday mornings with my parents explosively arguing all the way there and back.  The only good thing about mass was that they had to be quiet.   I have no recollection of my dad driving.  I know he must have but......What drove my father's alcoholism?  Maybe it was the realization that his life would never improve, that he was in a loveless marriage of his own making and that he was destined to work until death at hard labor that seemed to pay less than the rest of his family's and neighbors' occupations. 
        My mom held the family together by working a fulltime factory job as well.  This was in that wonderful era when women earned 50% of the pay for working the exact same job as the man stationed next to them.  This angered Mom intensely.   She was active in unions where they existed  and I know she became a steward at one factory and lobbied hard for equal pay rights. I think headway was made on that front by the time she approached retirement.  Mom was an incredibly hard worker.  She'd come home from the factory and then task herself with cleaning, cooking and sewing(which she loved to do).  Often she complained of sore feet, aching bones and her hands bore the cuts and scrapes that evidenced the brutality of her day job.  Now Dad on the other hand would come home and he was also grubby from head to toe but his evenings consisted of sitting in front of the television, drinking beer and eating his staple diet of crackers and milk.  Mom did provide a supper meal but I cannot remember him eating it with us.
       Anyway...as I was photographing today all these memories emerged.  I grabbed two brick fragments that had escaped the confines of the fenced wrecking zone.  I plan on placing them in the garden here at home, not because of pleasant associations but because they represent a bit of history.  Someone decades ago helped build an automotive empire with those bricks, but as all empires must do eventually, Studebaker crumbled to ruin taking with it thousands of jobs and throwing the lives connected to the jobs into disarray.  Studebaker was a victim of it own faults, symbolized by the only new car my family ever purchased.  It was the ugliest thing....pukey beige and the cheapest model of Lark.  It leaked oil from the first day it was parked in our garage.  Mind you the milk man who lived next door had a Golden Hawk and the fireman's family down the street drove around in the splendor of a Red '57 Chevy station wagon.  Yep keep that damn Lark parked in the garage. It'd be kind of cool to have that Lark in mint condition now but it'd still be way better to have a Hawk or '57 Chevy.  

Some more of the folks

Here's me with the Richard Gilewitz Bobblehead that started the series.

Recent Sculptural Caricatures of my Friends

Post Perfect Summer-Not a Great Start

June has come and gone, was dominated by concern for my father-in-law and culminated with the inevitable.  Dad had been dealing with kidney failure as a result of diabetes and he passed away on the 28th.  My husband, John, sister-in-law Andrea and I kept vigil through the night.  At around 5am, Andrea was the first realize that the steady yet dwindling cadence of his breathing weakened and ceased.  So far we are all handling it pretty well.  We knew this day was approaching as he had several health issues multiplying and his refusal to take dialysis sealed the deal.

He suffered a serious physical crisis the previous week that forced him to be hospitalized for a few days.  When it became apparent that he was very near the end of his time, hospice care was arranged and he was moved back to his assisted living facility.  Even though he was quite ill and not always lucid, he expressed pleasure when informed that he was going back home.  He did like living at Inwood Hills, his assisted living home.  His health deteriorated rapidly after mom died, forcing a move from the independence of living alone in his own home to somewhere that he could have the daily chores seen to and his medications monitored and administered.  He had made friends at Inwood, mainly lady friends and the staff seemed to do good job attending to his needs.  He will be dearly missed by us.  The funeral consisted only of the three of us and my daughter, Naomi, son-in-law, Dan and eldest grandchild, Austin.  A few visitors showed up for the viewing but it seems that the majority of dad's friends had pretty much lost touch or had passed before him.  His siblings are quite elderly and could not make the journey to South Bend. 

Through all of this I have found it difficult to play guitar very much.  It is not ignored but I think for the time being I am a bit emotionally drained.  Thank goodness it is summer and I have not had to deal with going to work through this whole ordeal.  I'm trying to be a support for John and Andrea but I'm not too certain how well I'm doing at that.  Anyway instead of immersing myself in creative efforts, I find the couch frequently pulls me off my feet and forces me to collapse.  So in a month's time I've gone from being horribly plagued with insomnia to near narcolepsy.  Hopefully by the time August rolls around I will discover the middle ground.

Even though I'm not absolutely consumed with the guitar at the moment, I manage to play each day.  My lofty goals of being prepared for the Troy Gillacamp threaten to be stalemated.   I wanted to be able to have each of the targeted pieces of music sorted out and on the road to memorization.  Seems that will be an impossible challenge since there are only four short weeks until camp.  John and I are trying to make a couple of trips this month, a three-peat to the Original Hammered Dulcimer Players Festival in Evart, Mi and I will tag along as he participates in his first mandolin workshop in Bloomington, IN. and conducted by Jim Richter.  The mandolin workshop should provide me with the chance to tuck myself away and focus on my playing while John is in his classes.  This event is being held at what looks to be a very nice B&B and there is a porch off of our booked room that beckons for me to use as a practice space. 

I am still working on trying to memorize the Beatles' tunes When I'm 64 and Imagine.  I have Yesterday and Across the Universe pretty much committed to memory but they are in need of massive amounts of polishing.  These are arrangements by David Walbert and they are phenomenal!  I am trying to get Richard's hypnotizing arrangement of Sunflower River Blues in open C tuning, squared away.   I find myself easily slipping into improvisation when I practice this piece.  Sometimes I find the groove and sometimes my fingers stumble over each other and it becomes counter-productive.  I've been keeping my Breedlove J22 in Open C and using it exclusively for playing this piece.  Recently I strung it with D'addario's EJ24 strings for DADGAD and boy does this guitar thump with that combination.   I've been especially drawn by Gilewitz's arrangement of  this John Fahey tune ever since I heard Richard play it over 2 years ago now.  I think the alternating bass must be in synch with my own heartbeat. 

I have acquired a nylon string guitar.  It is a classical model with a cutaway body,solid red cedar top, solid mahogany sides and back, and rosewood fingerboard.  It is produced by Lag, a French company.  It is a Tramontane TN100ACE.  I have been using it primarily to play in DADGAD tuning and I must admit it has a sweet tone and is very responsive for a relatively reasonable price tag.   I believe although there is no marking to note it, that it is actually constructed in China.  The build and materials quality are excellent and the sound has actually improved since March when I originally received it.  Adjusting to the wider fingerboard is a bit of a challenge although. 

Floral City Gillacamp Crew

Ray Blackwood and I share a wish for world peace

Time to Leave

We both agreed that we'd love to live in Clonakilty and this is why it took us several hours to gather the where with all to actually leave. We made excuses to stroll through town one last time before getting in our Volkswagen Golf rental car and heading out towards Killarney.

Before we left, I steered us into DeBarra's Pub one last time and fortunately the proprietor, Ray Blackwood was there. We got into a pleasant discuss about the history of the pub which has been in Ray's family for a couple of centuries. In fact he was raised in the apartment above. More about that later.

Sunday, The Final Day

It is so difficult to truly describe what it is like to be here in Ireland but I must say if my attitude holds it is going to be difficult to want to return to the States.  I am writing this using our bed as desk while seated on one of the wooden chairs in our room.  We have the window wide open allowing sunshine and a pleasant Irish breeze to fill the spaces around us.  John is gently practicing some mandolin.  So I have musical accompaniment for my literary efforts.
Our first commitment today was actually one that focused upon guitar. I attended Richard's second workshop, where I proved how little time I had spent playing Falling Slowly in the past few weeks. I had run through it a few times recently but I knew I had lost my comfort with the piece. Richard has a different take on the left hand fingerings in some areas and they make more sense then what I had worked out. I plan on incorporating those into my playing of the piece. It is the usual process of breaking one habit to replace it with another. We took advantage of shopping at the Centra shop(a little grocery chain in Ireland) and picked up some survival munchies. I enjoyed eating the Irish Eating Apple that I chose to include in my treats.
Later in the evening we attended a concert by John Spillane, John and I tremendously enjoyed this powerful performer who plays guitar and sings in both English and Irish. It was an education and when the concert wrapped up I made a point of complimenting John and thanking him for teaching this American a little about Irish music and attitudes.

We found this spot while driving through the countryside yesterday

Church in Timoleague

Front of our Hotel

Playing "Dance" in our hotel room

We have arrived in Clonakilty

Wow it was truly an adventure today.  I managed to get us from Dublin to Clonakilty and I don't think I did any damage to the car, maybe a few brush scratches.  These roads are wild!  Narrow and twisting like a deranged python.  They invite aggressive shifting, slowing as you approach a corner then accelerating powerfully as you pull out of the corner.  A corner that wasn't blind was the exception.  I probably angered a few locals because I didn't throw caution to the wind.  On most sections the speed limit is the equivalent of 60 mph.  Roads and curves like these at home would be posted at no more than 40 and down to 15 on some of the curves.  I have to do all the driving here because, honestly we really couldn't afford renting the car and adding another driver would be even more expensive.  I survived the day and have become fairly comfortable with driving on the left but not completely so.  It is anything but natural yet.  The British car club folks at home would love these roads.  Well even though we arrived unscathed, I am quite mentally exhausted from being on edge for every moment of the drive.  I do not know how long it took.  We didn't keep track of our leaving time.  We left some time in the morning and arrived in Clon sometime in late afternoon. I believe we had the Garmin set to avoid tolls and we did just that.  It did guide us through Dublin although and that proved to be a true baptism in managing the left hand driving thing. 
Most of the day was cool and beautiful.  Clouds  moved briskly over head, shutting and opening the curtains on the sun.  Brisk breezes from the ocean energized this activity and we got a little peek at the sea in the distance at one point.  It is on our agenda to make our way down to the oceanside.  Clon is an incredibly picturesque town, it's got a touristy side but not tasteless as many American tourist traps seem to be.  It is a lived in town, the streets are filled with shops that cater to providing one's daily needs.  As John and I strolled through a number of streets we did not see a single souvenir shop.  There are posters up advertising the CIGF in most shops.  I'm sure if Richard hasn't seen them yet he will be pleased to see that his name is placed in a prominent position.  Somehow I have to manage to acquire at least one of these posters.  Richard is doing two workshops and a performance.  Ironically and conveniently his performance will be based at our hotel, The Emmet Hotel.  There is another workshop I want to attend on accompanying Irish music sessions.  We will be skipping the paid concerts, too expensive at 20 euros each person, each show.  Neither of the featured performers are within my taste so this isn't much of a sacrifice.  We stopped for a small dinner of soup at the Phoenix Bar.   John Spilane is scheduled to perform at the Phoenix on Sunday and I would love to see him.  He is a guitarist, duh, and a vocalist. I asked one of the locals if it gets pretty busy during this annual festival.  One of the gents said "Yes it gets mental !"  Packed to the gills.  He said he's been considering putting a stick on the end of a cereal box, then adding some strings and participating in Saturday's attempt at breaking the world record of the most guitarists playing the same song at one time.  He said he wouldn't play a real guitar because the poor guitar would need therapy after he got a hold of it. Last year there were 800+ participants.  This is going to happen in the town square which is directly across the street from our hotel and overlooked by our room.  When I tried to play guitar today my playing felt mediocre at best.  I think I may be tired because even with jet lag, my playing was better yesterday.  I immediately thought of how difficult it must be for a performer like Richard to jump into a show after spending a whole day traveling and getting from point A to B and then dealing with the pressure of putting on an excellent show.  Epic fail on my part.  Make a note: teenage girls of every nationality seem to have one thing in common.  They are boisterously loud bunch.  Currently the square is literally filled with teenagers, if this continues late into the night, we will not be getting much sleep.  Where did all these kids come from?  Do they have school in the morning?  It seems as though they have suddenly materialized.  Well I'm wrapping this up to get in some more practice.  

just a quick note

I have spent my first day in Ireland.  Spent most of it in the motel working on jet lag.  Today the real adventure begins.  I knew renting a car was going to be expensive but my goodness this is incredible and unfortunately it met my expectations.  If you are thinking about movng to Ireland be prepared to spend at least $3000 a year on auto insurance.  This is a definite argument for using public transportation.   My husband is with me and it is great to have his company as we partake in this adventure. 

Lots of passed time

It has been awhile since I have posted to this blog.  The beginning of the school year certainly forces a change of focus.  Organizing and implementing curriculum for my art classes and preparing for the next big step in my fellowship journey are on my mind regularly.  At school, New Prairie High School in New Carlisle, IN, the year has begun on a positive note and NP UNplugged, the acoustic music club that I have sponsored for the previous two years is on it's way to growing.  This club has a small core of students who are devoted and enthusiastic.  They are all seniors and it is essential that the torch gets passed to equally interested underclassmen who will help keep the flame burning.  I have floated the idea of starting an Open Mic aspect to the club and the kids are excited about that facet.  In October, we will plan for our first meeting devoted to giving kids the opportunity to perform for a small audience. 

Back To Work

Summer Break is officially over and now my guitar playing has to take second fiddle to my career as a high school art teacher.  I am pretty excited to meet my new batch of students who shall come bouncing through the classroom door bright and early on Monday morning.  I expect to put out an announcement for NP UNplugged the high school acoustic music club that I started.  We will continue the tradition of meeting on Wednesdays after school for an hour.

My big challenge is developing a solid guitar practice routine now that I have lost flexibility with my time.  I can no longer stay up until 2:30 am reviewing tunes or practicing technique. There are new pieces of music that I am anxious to learn including some Beatles arrangements by David Walbert.  I also want to continue improving upon the tunes I currently have memorized.  I have decided that they are like my kids.  I must make sure they are given ample attention and care otherwise they are likely to simply wither away, become weak and eventually die off.  Unfortunately, there are a few tunes that I nearly had memorized and lost track of because my attention was diverted to other pieces.  There are two in particular that I feel guilty about never really conquering.  Minuet For The Backroads and Greensleeves are nagging at me to be revived.  There's a goal for this weekend along with masses of other responsibilities.

Gillacampers 2010-August 7 and 8

Gillacampers Troy, Ohio August 7 and 8, 2010

Back Row:  Me, Matt Stump(shop owner),Richard Gilewitz, Fred;  Front Row: Camille , Mark, Leibert, John