Photo of the Week 1/2/11

Two Juncos & a Sparrow Eating Seed on our Porch

Indian Valley, Idaho

Wednesday 12/29/10

The photo was taken during the big winter storm that hit on Tuesday & lasted thru Wednesday, dropping well over a foot of snow & knocking out power for much of the two days, including 18-1/2 hours straight on Wednesday.   We couldn't get to the feeders, so Eberle strewed seed on the porch.

In other news: I'd like to acknowledge that our very own SoCal Correspondent & dear friend Audrey Bilger received a well-deserved commendation on the Ms Magazine Blog: her interview with Twitter phenom Feminist Hulk was named #2 on the list of Top 10 Ms Blog Posts for 2010—that's out of 1,000 posts that appeared on the Ms. Blog last year.  Way to go, Audrey! 

Writers Talk with Jacqueline T. Lynch

I'm very happy to introduce today's featured Writers Talk interviewee, Jacqueline T. Lynch.  Before getting into Ms Lynch's curriculum vitae, I want to say on a personal note that Jacqueline is one of the first cyber friends I made thru the Robert Frost's Banjo blog, & she has remained a steadfast supporter of the blog & my various ventures.  When I drove to New England this spring I even had the pleasure of meeting Jacqueline!

Jacqueline T. Lynch has published articles and short fiction in regional & national publications, including the anthology “60 Seconds to Shine: 161 Monologues from Literature” (Smith & Kraus, 2007),  North & South, Civil War Magazine, History Magazine & several plays with Eldridge Publishing, Brooklyn Publishers, & Dramatic Publishing Company, one of which has been translated into Dutch & produced in the Netherlands.    Her novel “Meet Me in Nuthatch” is now available as an ebook through Amazon.com & Smashwords.

She also writes three blogs:

Another Old Movie Blog: A blog on classic films.

New England Travels: A blog on historical and cultural sites in New England.

Tragedy and Comedy in New England: A blog on theatre in New England, past and present.

website: www.JacquelineTLynch.com
 
Please check out Chapter 1 of Jacqueline T. Lynch's novel, Meet Me in Nuthatch on the Writers Talk blog.  & so: here's Jacqueline!

When did you first realize your identity as a writer?

I was about 14 years old.  It was a Thursday.  No, wait, a Friday.  I don’t remember.  The realization came to me unexpectedly, because I can be kind of obtuse.  I always wrote from a very young age: stories, poems, notes on things that interested me.  But, for all that, I never intended to be a writer.  When I was a child, I wanted very much to be a zoologist.  I was a devotee of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom and I loved its host, Marlin Perkins.  I think it was that dapper white mustache and the squared-off handkerchief in his breast pocket.   Sexy.  Then I saw myself as Jane Goodall, sitting on an African hillside at dawn in my khaki shorts and shirt, taking notes on chimpanzees.

It was the note-taking, the analysis that appealed (besides the whole animal thing).   I did it all the time.  I’m still a chronic jotter-down of things.  I actually wrote compositions on things that interested me as a child, just for fun, not for school.  It was how I explained things to myself, how I explored the world.

Then when I was 14 I graduated to the adult section of the city library from the children’s department, and started in on their shelf of Agatha Christie and Ellery Queen.  I got hooked on mysteries, and starting writing one myself, longhand on notebook paper.  I don’t think I ever finished it.  It was harder than I thought it would be.  But something clicked, something blew me away about the process of setting, and character, and dialogue, people doing and saying things that I could control, but could never say and do myself. 

I wanted to do that for the rest of my life. 

So here I sit, in my khaki shorts, typing a play script on a laptop, with one eye cast towards the male house sparrow sitting on my neighbor’s fence.   I have an urge to note it in a logbook.

Describe the creative process involved in any one piece you’ve written—this could be book, a story, a poem, an essay, etc.

One slapstick comedy I wrote called “Delusions of Grandeur” sprang purely from a comment I’d heard about a parent telling her teenager that the she had to be out of the house when she reached 18.   I suppose I could have found more serious and socially conscious message here, but instead, I found silliness.  Deadlines can be funny when they’re not scaring the socks off you.

Writing a play is probably like surfing or riding a roller coaster.  I say probably, because I neither surf nor ride roller coasters, but the excitement is immediate, the need for balance crucial, and you get right into the action.  There is no slow development as you get through a novel; you have to hit the ground running knowing everything about the characters and expressing it through their own voices, which must be unique and individual.  Every action on stage must be deliberate and for a specific reason.   It’s all the character as expressed through dialogue, the author gets no omniscient voice.  And because the play never really comes alive until the director and the actors get a hold of it, the writer becomes suddenly part of a team.   That’s the most thrilling of all.

Could you describe your relationship to the publishing process (this can be publishing in any form, from traditional book publishing to blogging, etc)
 
I’ve been a published and produced playwright for several years.   I’ve enjoyed working with my editors and publishers very much.  I would like to publish a novel, and by the time this piece is posted, I will have likely self-published as an e-book a humorous novel called “Meet Me in Nuthatch.”

The traditional publishing process is formal, a many-layered, highly structured game.  There are many advantages to having the support of editors (and obviously, the support of a marketing and publicity department).  My preference for publishing a novel would be through traditional publishing, but self publishing as it is gaining momentum today is intriguing.  I am interested, and would like to be part of, both processes.

Blogging is personal, and its immediate communication to the readership makes it appealing for the sense of freedom it gives.  I enjoy the immediacy of blogging and use it for a kind of writing practice.  It’s also an outlet for other interests.  I write three of them:
Another Old Movie Blog: A blog on classic films.
New England Travels: A blog on historical and cultural sites in New England.
Tragedy and Comedy in New England: A blog on theatre in New England, past and present.

How has being a writer affected your relationships?  
I don’t think it has.  Though I’ve enjoyed working and socializing with colleagues, most of the people closest to me are not writers.  Some of them are awfully good storytellers, though.

How would you describe the community of writers you belong to—if any?  This may be a “real” or “virtual” (in more than one sense) community. 

Since I don’t belong to a writer’s group, I suppose we go back to blogging here.  It’s a delightful community of diversity in experiences and interests.   I visit many blogs, though I regret there isn’t time to comment on all of them as often as I’d like.

What are your future goals in terms of writing?  

I just take life one manuscript at a time.

Bonus Question: If your writing were a musical instrument, what would it be? 

An oboe, I think.  It has a distinct, oddball sound, but one that can be very pleasing, and easily recognizable.   It seems like a minor chord, a less emphatic sound, not flashy or attention-getting, but it still manages to stand out from the rest of the orchestra just by doing its thing, a poignant mixture of somberness and silliness.

I might say a cello, too, for the low undercurrent of the minor chord aspect, but cellos have a greater timbre, and are much harder to take on a bus or subway.  My writing, conversely, does not have as much timbre as a cello, but I’m pleased to say it is much easier to bring with you on public transportation.

Happy Birthday (Eve), Audrey Bilger!

OK, so I’m kind of anticipating birthdays again here—but I wanted to give a quick birthday shout-out to Robert Frost’s Banjo’s own SoCal correspondent & more importantly, excellent friend, Audrey Bilger.  Audrey’s frenetic schedule—complete with new admistrative job, book deals & her role on the Ms Magazine Blog—not to mention her usual run of publications (on everything from 18th century literature to comic strips) & activities, have reduced her role here—sad for us, blog-wise, but of course as a friend I’m thrilled by all the great happenings in Audrey’s life these days. 

If you’re new to Robert Frost’s Banjo, I’d encourage you to search the label “Audrey’s Writing.”  Some of Audrey’s posts, like her Lesley Gore interview or her examination of whether “Reformed Rakes” make good husbands have been among the blog’s most popular posts all-time—a day never passes that there aren’t “hits” on many of Audrey's posts.  

But I also have some good news for the near future—you won’t be simply reduced to searching for Audrey’s writing amongst the blog archives, because she’ll be participating in the Writers Talk interview series next Thursday, October 7th.  Mark your calendars & stay tuned, because I know that’s going to be an interview you don’t want to miss.  Audrey is one of the wittiest, smartest & most articulate people I know.

& also a dear friend—so happy birthday, tomorrow, Audrey.  Hope you have a great day, & many, many happy returns!

Homegrown Radio – 8/6/10

This month on Homegrown Radio: Carrie Bradley of Ed’s Redeeming Qualities, the Buckets, 100 Watt Smile, Granfaloon Bus, Red House Painters, John Wesley Harding, the Breeders & the Great Auk (& probably more)!  Without going into a full discography, you can find Carrie’s singing & playing on all the Ed’s Redeeming Qualities releases, the Bucket’s debut album & their album Silo, 100 Watt Smile’s self-titled album & on individual tracks direct from the Great Auk, & you can hear her great violin on the Breeders' albums Pod & Last Splash.  To say that Carrie Bradley is an extraordinarily talented musician & songwriter would be an under-statement.  But enough from me: here’s what Carrie has to say about “The Finder of the Owl,” her lead-off song:

Not to put too fine a point on it, “the Finder of the Owl” is about identity. Pointy, pointy identity.

It's the first song I wrote (this summer) after a long hiatus of a couple years plus, and while I felt rusty, the song applied a touch of Brillo to me. It was inspired by a true-life story: a few months before, I was riding in a chairlift at the ski hill, lookin' at the pines covered with fresh robes of snow and was suddenly awash with desire to see an owl. I've never seen one live, in the wild, and as they are famously elusive, and watchful (and, in their cartoon form, inquisitive) as well as creatures of the night...it seemed a metaphorical moment. I don't know if it's a symptom of middle age or an ageless mystery to wonder at the conundrum of how we are told on the one hand that nothing we are seeking will come to us until we relax and stop looking for it but then on the other hand we hear that we won't get what we want unless we get out there and go after it...

The desire to see through the murk and pick out the magic, to find a recognizable nugget of significance, feathered or otherwise, in Rorschachian landscapes of mind or mountainside, seems an apt enough description of both a search for self and the artist's way. But, per the conundrum above, it may require a lack of desire, waiting but not wanting...does wanting to be the finder of the owl define the process or do we need to find the damn owl? I can never seem to leave ambiguity as a subject, even if it results in corny jokes: "You know who." "You know who?" "Woo! Woo!"

The capacity to do so (see "murk, magic" above) seems likely sown during childhood, which I think explains why the song turns to images from "Hey Diddle Diddle" and barn as a kind of (cozy) womb. (There will be an inkblot test and a pop quiz on nursery rhymes following the song.)

Lastly, I see, although it was entirely accident, that the lyrics "read" like a Woody Allen screen play (have you ever? the most common line is a stage direction: "[overlapping]"). I wonder if I could do a whole concept album like that...

I am envious of Earl Butter and Sister Exister's talents with the multitracks. I used to know my way around those, but after the sound card in my computer died (McClassic glass-of-water incident), I lost track. I have used nothing but an iPhone to record the last three songs I wrote, this one included. This one is merely on the memo app that comes with the phone; I also use a $6 field-recording app called FiRe that I can recommend with enthusiasm, but that requires WiFi to share, and I don't have that in the pines. I like the low-fi quality here, but would like to fill the song out; the oooo's in the intro will some day be theremin, once I buy it and learn it (another midlife desire). Maybe for this series, I will attempt to multiply tracks each week...next week: TWO!

thanks, Homegrown Radio!

Thank you, Carrie!  Enjoy!

Homegrown Radio 7/30/10

It’s Friday, so I hope you’re ready for some Homegrown Radio.  This is our last week with Sister Exister, but don’t worry—Homegrown Radio won’t miss a beat in August as we’ll have a musical offering from Carrie Bradley Neves every week.  Carrie is a fantastically talented musician & songwriter, & has played in groups such as Ed’s Redeeming Qualities, the Buckets, the Breeders, 100 Watt Smile & the Great Auk.  If you’d like to check out Carrie’s Musical Questions interview here on Robert Frost’s Banjo, you can do so right here.

But I’m glad we have one more week with Sister Exister—& don’t forget, you can check out her fiction & poetry here on alternate Tuesdays in her incarnation as L.E. Leone.  Now, let’s see what Sister Exister has to say about this week’s song, “Bowling Ball.”

Well, the percussion took me forever this time. The beat's a little ambitious for me. The bassline I played on the e-string of an old beater beach guitar with 90-year-old strings on it. I found it behind the piano at Tami's house, where I was house- and dog-sitting. It's a beautiful intrument, Tami's piano. Shiny and new. I almost hated to put little stickers on the keys, and then I did forget to take them off, to my later embarrassment. The piano does not "appear" on this recording, because it sounded way too good for my purposes, and I couldn't figure out how to quite muddy it up. Like most of my songs, I wrote this one in the car. And just sang it and sang it and sang it until I got it down. Now it's yours!

Enjoy!

Buy this Book!

Happy Wednesday afternoon, all!  Just a quick note to mention that my copy of friend Kat Mortensen's book of poetry, shadowstalking, arrived via our friendly neighboorhood UPS man this afternoon.  It's a handsome book as you can see (can't say much for the fellow modeling it!)

& you can have your very own copy: they're available for sale at Kat's dedicated shadowstalking blog.  Rumor has it that if you contact Kat directly you might get a signed copy.

I wrote about shadowstalking last week, & more generally the importance of kicking in something toward the online artists we support, even if their content can be had for free.  Simply put: it's the right thing to do.

Best wishes to Kat with her lovely book! 

"shadowstalking"

Hope you’re all having a happy Monday!  I’m back this afternoon to announce that my friend—& blogging comrade to many—Kat Mortensen has just published a book of her poetry—it’s titled shadowstalking, & it’s available with just one click on her dedicated
shadowstalking blog, as well as on her Poetikat’s Invisible Keepsakes blog.

I’m happy to give Kat’s book a boost—Kat’s poetry is a delight: she frequently writes in form, & she has a great ear for rhyme.  Kat’s wit is another of her strong suits—a good thing for a rhyming poet, as it tends to make the rhyme “make sense.”  In addition, her formal experiments seem to derive from an underlying sense of play—which to me is the great thing about writing in form!  It shouldn’t feel straitened—it should feel like a game.

In addition, Kat has been one of the longest-standing followers of Robert Frost’s Banjo (in the traditional use of the term, as well as in Googlespeak), & she’s one of a core group of followers I’m happy to consider real friends.  Kat has been incredibly supportive; when I published my “collected poetical works” this winter, Kat linked to the lulu.com page on her blog; she’s also one of a very select group of people to actually have the complete poetical works of Jack Hayes in her possession! 

So this brings me to a thought: so many of us are offering our work online for free—whether that work is poetry or music or photography or essays—etc.  What happens when we then decide to bring it forth in the 3-D world?  For one thing, there’s often some expense involved to the creator; for a second thing, there’s always a bit of pride in the tangible object.  Especially amongst those of us who are solidly into middle age, the tangible object still has a magic reality—we grew up on books & record albums & cds & real glossy photos, & however wired in we may be, there’s still something powerful about the 3-D object.  Of course, with that pride, there’s also a certain amount of insecurity—do people actually like what I do enough to plunk down some hard earned cash on it?

There’s a lot of debate about free vs. pay content on the net.  I like guitarist Matt Stevens’  “pay what you want” approach to his music, but that's not an option when third parties become involved.  & while I believe in free content (after all, my books are available as free pdfs, & I’m publishing the entire contents of The Days of Wine & Roses in blog form), I also believe in supporting people who are actively creating outside the marketed machine of showbix & poebiz.

Do yourself a favor & check out shadowstaking!

California or Bust!…Busted….

As some of you know, my recent California road trip came to an abrupt halt in Winnemucca, Nevada—turns out good pal L.E. Leone has contracted some sort of respiratory infection that sounds quite a bit like the flu. Anyway, discretion proved the better part of valor, & sad to say (for L.E.’s sake) it was a wise decision, as apparently her condition has not improved.

But speaking of blogmates, I have Audrey Bilger to thank for stressing to me that I should take road trip photos—this, combined with some good music on the cd player, made what would have been just a long, disappointing ride into some fun. Thought I’d share a few of the pix with you this evening—& what I think is the best of the lot will be appearing here tomorrow as the Photo of the Week.

Meantime, yours truly is quite tired out, & so hasn’t been paying any blog visits for the past couple of days. I expect that to change tomorrow!

Top pic: US 95 South in the Oregon Desert

Abandoned shack in the Owyhee Desert, near the Idaho-Oregon border

Old homestead with obligatory locust tree, east of Jordan Valley, Oregon

The High Mountain Desert in Southeastern Oregon


Diner/Service Station in Burns Junction - no longer a going concern

Casino with a matter-of-fact name; McDermitt, Nevada, just over the Oregon border

The Orovada Store, Oravada, Nevada - out of business

Snow falling near Paradise Summit, Nevada - a few miles south there were patches of snow on the road shoulder

Sand dunes north of Winnemucca, Nevada

Winnemucca, Nevada - the end of the trail this time around!

What Do Ms. & Robert Frost's Banjo Have in Common?

Bet I stumped you there! Answer: Our dear friend & SoCal correspondent Audrey Bilger is also writing for Ms online! Check her out right here!

Hi Audrey! Thinking of you on the road & congrats on your new gig!

Driving on Nine

My mother & I headed north up Route 2 & beyond to the land where I was born today—Vermont, specifically the Westminster & Bellows Falls area. The main goal was seeing my father’s headstone, which neither my mother nor I had seen—she was still living in Florida when he died in 2005 & was unable to come to Vermont—& she’s been unable to make the trip from Dedham, MA to Westminster, VT since she moved to Massachusetts in 2008.

The New England towns all seem so old after the West—the weathered white churches, the 19th century town halls—as we moved up 140 thru Winchedon & then onto Route 12 west thru southern New Hampshire, the quaint historical New England mingled with childhood scenes & remembrances—as Hkatz described recently on the excellent Sill of the World blog, I knew the turns & intersections without knowing the names or numbers of the routes—

But one route I remember is Route 9, which takes one west from Keene, NH into the Brattleboro, VT area—the pic at the top of the post is the bridge on Route 9 crossing the Connecticut River as it runs between the two states—it reminded me of my friends Carrie & Jonah & Dani—Ed’s Redeeming Qualities; Dani’s cousin Dom, who founded the band before his death at an impossibly young age, wrote the song while living in eastern New Hampshire. It’s such a song of youthful loss—a bit of wry humor & a lot of heartache—

This trip was about a whole different type of loss—death—age—physical debilitation—yet still the force that keeps us moving, allows a moment of peace &—yes—happiness in the spring sun as the snow melts from the Vermont hills & pastures & the Connecticut flows deep & dark same as it ever was—

So yes, we found the marker—as is appropriate to this type of trip, it took a bit of effort, but the effort was well rewarded by seeing my mother as she looked at the plot—what is that emotion? Not happiness nor sadness but a very deep feeling that also partakes deeply of both—

& I think of people I’m seeing on this trip: my friend Margot tells me tonight of an elderly man she knows who recently found out that his high school sweetheart had been dead for some 20 years, & at 80 he drives from Massachusetts to New Hampshire to visit the grave—I’m so fortunate to be seeing these dear friends on this trip while we’re all still vital & full of whatever that thing is that allows us to take in the March sunshine a few days before the equinox with something you might even call joy.

& thinking of Carrie, who I saw on Sunday & Jonah who I’ll see on Friday, & Dani who I’m sure I’ll see soon: here’s “Driving on Nine.”

The Outback Has Landed

Hello everybody, & greetings from sodden & flooded Concord, MA! I've been places since last we spoke—thru the rest of Illinois—Indiana—where I had lunch at an old soda fountain in the evocatively named town of Brazil (sorta stopped there thinking of Eberle, who lived in Brazil for awhile)—BBQ sandwich & some wonderful hand-squeezed lemonade—into Ohio, where I stopped Tuesday night, Wednesday—had a delightful visit with Willow & WT of Life at Willow Manor—delightful Mexican lunch, visit to a bookstore "with creaky wooden floors," & a pleasant visit at the Manor itself—the pic at the top of the post is yours truly at the Manor! Of course, I was also most happy to see my friends B.N. & her husband Yaakov, who kindly put me up for a couple of days.

From Columbus it was onward across Ohio, thru a corner of West Virginia, with much of Friday spent in Pennsylvania—then trying to get thru the Lincoln Tunnel fro New Jersey into NYC. Had a wonderful Friday evening & Saturday in Astoria, Queens with my old & dear friend Lana Bortolot (see pic). I hadn't seen B.N. in over 20 years, & hadn't seen Lana in about 25 years!

From Astoria, I did a bit of backtracking west up the flooded NY Thruway (one lane closed near the overflowing Ramapo!) to see my friends Carrie & Marc in a small town in the Catskills—my directions & navigational skills were a bit challenged, but I finally made it to their lovely old farmhouse for a delicious dinner of rack of lamb! Have been eating well—in addition to great home-cooked meals by both B.N. & Lana, I also had some great Indian food in Queens!

Yesterday was spent plowing thru rain east on the NY Thruway & the Mass Pike. I should have internet for the next few days, tho it's going to be a while before I get caught up on blog visits or comments! Welcome, by the way, to the new followers! Usually, there are daily posts to Robert Frost's Banjo, but this trip has put a crimp in that! Glad to have you along.

Will post again later today or tomorrow! Thanks to all for your interest & for hanging thru this "slow" blog period.

Tomorrow: L.E. Leone!

Just a quick reminder, dear readers, that tomorrow will be L.E. Leone’s poetical debut at Robert Frost’s Banjo. I’m excited, & I know L.E. (AKA Dani) is too. L.E. Leone’s voice will be a whole new poetic excursion for Banjo readers—quite different from my work or B.N.’s or really any of the poets who pop up here. Do hope you’ll stop by, & if you do, take a moment to say howdy to L.E., who is now I think somewhere in the wilds of Italy.

For those who don’t know: in addition to being an erstwhile chicken farmer, L.E. Leone is also a noted steel pan & baritone uke player—also outstanding on the one-string bass & comb/tissue paper. After stints with some fantastic bands (Ed’s Redeeming Qualities, the Buckets & the Lipsey Mountain Spring Band), L.E. now mostly plays her own compositions solo, & you can check out her cd, Scratch here at CDBaby. But L.E. also is a fiction writer: her most recent collection (reviewed here on the Banjo) is available at Sparkle Street Books. When you add in to the mix the facts that L.E. is an almost unbeatable ping-pong player, a professional nanny, a restaurant reviewer for hire—she writes the Cheap Eats column for the weekly Bay Guardian down there in Baghdad by the Bay—a deep existential philosopher & is proud to change the oil in her car, you get the sense this is a real renaissance gal.

& you’d be right, so check her out, right here, tomorrow morning!

Tom Trusky, R.I.P.

Eberle & I received some very sad news on Tuesday evening—Audrey wrote to let us know that our dear friend Tom Trusky has passed away.

Tom’s name has come up from time to time on Robert Frost’s Banjo, & with good reason: he was one of the most enthusiastic supporters of our music & was responsible for us being commissioned by the Idaho Film Colelction (of which Tom was director) to write & record a score for Nell Shipman’s masterpiece, The Grub Stake. Mr Trusky could have had pretty much his pick of silent film composers to write that score, & yet he decided to assign this to two completely unknown musicians from a small Idaho town, based solely on the one score we’d written, for Nell Shipman’s earlier film, Back to God’s Country.

That was the beginning of Tom’s importance in our lives, but he was always wonderful to us. Perhaps the most down-to-earth academic I’ve ever met, Tom had a wonderful sense of humor & a sparkling joie de vivre. He was always accomodating, whether our performances took us to Claremont, California or to the small town of McCall, & he was always a marvelous presence during those performances with his witty & informative talks about Nell Shipman. Of course, his warm & witty presence at dinners & chats before & after the screenings were most welcome, too.

That’s some of what Tom meant to us. But of course, he has a larger importance, because without him, it’s possible that Nell Shipman—a true great of the silent film era as actress/writer/director & more—would be practically unknown. Before Mr Trusky got interested in Nell, after reading an obscure article of hers in an old Atlantic Monthly, only one of her films was thought to have survived—Back to God’s Country. Thru Tom’s efforts, six other films were discovered, & he also was her champion. Although Shipman has yet to garner the recognition her work so richly deserves, the fact that she is recognized today, that a film like Back to God’s Country can be screened on Turner Classic Movies, that there are the Nell Shipman awards for women filmmakers, & that her complete surving works are available on DVD (including our score for The Grub Stake).

But Tom seems to have been generous by nature, one who could champion the overlooked: he not only tirelessly boosted Shipman, but also Idaho artist & bookmaker James Castle & others, including a couple of unknown musicians from a small Idaho town.

The music I’ve selected as a tribute to Tom isn’t mournful; although we didn’t know Tom very well, I suspect he wouldn’t necessarily want that. It’s a piece I posted a few months ago, Eberle’s “Red Piano Stomp” from our score for The Grub Stake—Eberle is playing a Schoenhut toy piano & I’m plunking along on my old Stromberg-Voisinette plectrum banjo. The fact is, Tom loved the toy piano. It also played a small role in our score for Back to God’s Country, & while we were afraid that our use of this & other oddities such as slide whistle or kazoo would shock an academic sort, they in fact delighted him—& none more than the little red piano. Eberle & I have often said, only half-jokingly, that we might not have been commissioned to score The Grub Stake were it not for the red Schoenhut.

Our thoughts go out to all of Tom’s friends & family & to his long-time partner. His death at 65 is sad, because Tom had so much to offer & had such a wonderful spirit; still, I’ll remember him for all his kindness & generosity & wit & his incredible ability to support artists, whether great or completely minor, who needed a hand up.

(The pic at the top of the post was taken by Audrey Bilger, & shows Tom Trusky, Eberle & me at the Mary Pickford Auditorium of Claremont-McKenna College, before our ’05 screening of Back to God’s Country.)

“I Believe I’ll Dust My Broom”

It’s the Monday Morning Blues, & there is some happy/sad news affecting all of us at Robert Frost’s Banjo this week, & especially yours truly. My very good friend, Dani Leone is heading to Germany this Thursday in what looks a lot like a permanent move overseas. Dani will be joining her true love Angela & we sure do wish them all the happiness two people can enjoy!

But it’s sad, too, since Germany’s a long ways from Idaho, especially when at least one person has a truly spectacular fear of flying (that would be me). Hey, thank goodness for all those fun internet ways of keeping in touch!

I got to know Dani thru a mutual friend, Jonah Winter, with whom Dani played in the wonderful San Francisco band Ed’s Redeeming Qualities, & then I got to know her better when we both played on the Mission District baseball team in the Roberto Clemente league. We’ve gone to scads of restaurants together—Dani has been the Cheap Eats restaurant reviewer for the San Francisco Bay Guardian for as long as I’ve known her—played baseball, played pitch (a card game—high, low, jack & game), got involved in the Java Supreme music & poetry series, played music together both informally & on a few stages, & had endless conflabs both over tea/coffee/food & over the phone. Dani drove me to Idaho when I came to live with Eberle, in her Toyota van packed with everything I owned, & she’s seen me thru some very rough patches in life, as well as some very happy ones. In short, she’s a true friend.

I wanted this week’s Monday Morning Blues to be something for her, but I just couldn’t think of the right song. I even considered quite a number of non-blues songs, like “Happy Trails” (just not the best song for me), or an Ed’s Redeeming Qualities song, maybe one of hers, but again, this didn’t seem a great match. I considered posting an epic steel drum (Dani) & tenor uke (me) jam that Eberle recorded a couple of years ago in California—the pic at the top of the post was taken during that. I thought long & hard about some Townes Van Zandt songs, because Dani & I have jammed on those a lot. But in the end, I decided to stick with what I do best: the blues.

This great Robert Johnson song seems appropriate in a couple of ways—it talks about the urge to move on, & it talks about looking for love in some distant land. For what it’s worth, this one is for Dani.

Oh yes, a couple of quick but important advertisements: you can purchase Dani's book Big Bend (written under her nom de plume, L.E. Leone) direct from Sparkle Street Books right here & you can purchase her self-produced cd (under her nom de musique, Sister Exister) at CDBaby.

& now, as Dani herself might say, Enjoy y’all!

Music Tuesday

I’m way behind my time! Yesterday was a very hectic day—not only the weekly trek to Cascade & back thru McCall for various wellness appointments, both of which fell much later in the day than usual, but also as I was heading back down the mountain I found out that US Highway 95 was closed between New Meadows & Council, & was expected to be closed for quite some time due to a horrific traffic accident. As time passed—& after eating supper at the same restaurant where I’d had lunch—I was faced with three options: stay in McCall for the night; drive south to the Boise area then head back northwest to Indian Valley (a good 3 hour drive) or try one last time to see if traffic was being allowed thru.

Turned out it was, local traffic at least, & cars that could handle the detour, which involved a rough one lane dirt road—but I was glad to be on it at the time. Anyway, I didn’t make it back until 9:30, 10 hours after I’d left, & any hopes of the more elaborate post I’d planned for today were out the window, especially since my fatigue was compounded by the fun but tiring weekend. Of course, the accident itself put this all in perspective—how lucky I am to be tired or delayed or pretty much anything….

Today was my favorite monthly gig, at the Salubria Center in Cambridge, ID. Cambridge is a small town about a dozen miles south of us, a cozy little farming village with trim houses & some nice shops. It also has a really wonderful assisted living facility in the Salubria Center. This place has such a positive vibe, & the folks there are so appreciative. Tho I was a bit tuckered out, I looked forward to playing & had a good time. The set list:

Waiting For A Train - Guitar
Ain’t Misbehavin’ - Guitar
Mean Old Bedbug Blues – Guitar
She Caught The Katy – Guitar
Polly Wolly Doodle – Banjo
Make Me A Pallet For Your Floor – Banjo
Honky Tonk Blues – Banjo
My Creole Belle – Banjo
Gonna Move Up To The Country – Banjo
When My Blue Moon Turns To Gold Again – Banjo
Green Green Rocky Road – Guitar
Cuckoo – Guitar
Freight Train Blues – Guitar
Gentle On My Mind – Guitar

As you can see, the banjo is now officially a part of the act; the folks today really liked it as they told me afterwards (I think “Polly Wolly Doodle” was the hit of the day, as it should be). Now I’ve got to work on getting some of this new material recorded. Oh yes, for those who are curious: Buffy the Buffalo was there, tho you can't see her. Sometimes she stays in the guitar case, but her mojo is strong & works as long as she's at the gig.

By the way, a big Robert Frost’s Banjo thanks to our friend & fellow Indian Valley-ite Heather U., who was not only there to support the gig but also took the pix. Thanks, Heather!

Hope this finds you all in a good place. Carpe Diem!

Vintage Postcards – Vermont #2

The town of Brattleboro, VT lies about a half hour south of Westminster where I grew up. It was a bustling town, & I have fond memories of it from my youth—Christmas shopping there at the Book Cellar & Baker’s (an office supply store—for paper, etc.—also I believe the ultimate source of these particular old postcards) Since my mother took my sister & I on outings to Boston fairly regularly, I knew Brattleboro wasn’t a real “city,” but it seemed like a big place to me. Brattleboro is also near the little village of Guilford where my Uncle Jim & Aunt Olive lived (my father’s older brother).

Nowadays Brattleboro is known for its lefty leaning politics & its arts community; according to Wikipedia (see link above), it was rated as the ninth best small town to live in (population less than 30,000—Brattleboro’s is around 12,500) according to John Villani’s book The 100 Best Small Art Towns in America.

One other note on Brattleboro before we get to the postcards—Vermont Route 9 runs thru the town—in fact, the bridge pictured on one of the postcards below is a stretch of Route 9, which was the imaginary locus of Dom Leone’s song "Driving on Nine," performed for years by the most wonderful Ed’s Redeeming Qualities, & later a college radio hit when covered by the Breeders. Once you’ve looked at the postcards, stick around to give the song a listen in the video clip—it features good Robert Frost’s Banjo pal Carrie Bradley on violin!

The postcards all come complete with captions, so I won't add redundant ones. Click to enlarge, of course.

“Babette’s Feast”

I’m writing today about a film I love—sometimes not the easiest task, to transform that experience into black & white; & the film isn’t one of the screwball comedies Eberle & I enjoy so much. It’s a much more recent film, tho it was released over 20 years ago. As the post title says, it’s Babette’s Feast.

We were all much younger in 1987 when Babette’s Feast was released. I recall seeing the film at Vinegar Hill Theater in Charlottesville, VA in the late 80s, & I recall being moved, not just by Isak Dinessen’s tale of redemption, but by the film’s amazing lyricism, its invitation into a sort of adult fairy tale.

For those who haven’t yet experienced Babette’s Feast, the story involves two sisters, great beauties in their youth, who’ve followed the teachings of their strict Lutheran father, a pastor who has created his own sect of followers along the coast of Jutland. Although the sisters are courted in their youth & have two admirers in particular, they remain unmarried & continue to do good works & maintain their father’s teachings among an aging group of followers. A French woman, fleeing from the revolutionary bloodshed in late 19th century Paris comes to them, recommended by one of their old suitors, & becomes their cook. When this woman—Babette of the title, played with wonderful bearing & deep feeling by Stéphane Audran—wins the French lottery, she persuades the sisters to let her cook a real French gourmet dinner in honor of their father. Tho the sisters agree to this, they grow increasingly distressed at the sumptuous ingredients Babette is using, & even fear that the dinner may become “a witches sabbath.” One of the sisters gathers the small congregation together to express her fears, & they all agree not to find any pleasure in the food & drink.

Of course what happens is far different than that, because the story is about redemption, reconciliation, overcoming regret at the deepest level. As I’ve grown older, this aspect of the film speaks to me more & more; as I wander here on the north side of age 50, I can sometimes wander into the “land of regret” (a phrase used by Kimy of the delightful blog Mouse Medicine in a comment here once, & a phrase I think about quite often). Although I generally see myself as a man who is happy in his life & who believes that he’s been fortunate to come to this point, there’s always that stretch of past time filled with decisions—as the Catholics say, “what I have done & what I have failed to do”—that can arise almost insensibly in the heart; because as much as our physical existence is linear, moving from point to point, our experience as thinking & feeling creatures is repetitive & circular—a fact underscored by Babette’s Feast, which resonates with echoed scenes. One of the most noteworthy of these is General Lorens Löwenhielm’s moving speech about mercy & truth. General Löwenhielm courted one of the sisters, Martine, when he as a dashing young cavalry officer. Now having come to a position of worldly power, but also evincing a deep world-weariness as he returns to the home of his love after many years, we see the feast transform him. His speech runs as follows:

Mercy and truth have met together. Righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another. Man, in his weakness and shortsightedness believes he must make choices in this life. He trembles at the risks he takes. We do know fear. But no. Our choice is of no importance. There comes a time when our eyes are opened and we come to realize that mercy is infinite. We need only await it with confidence and receive it with gratitude. Mercy imposes no conditions. And lo! Everything we have chosen has been granted to us. And everything we rejected has also been granted. Yes, we even get back what we rejected. For mercy and truth have met together, and righteousness and bliss shall kiss one another.

This is such a moving moment; it actually echoes a scene from earlier in the story when young Löwenhielm was courting Martine, & Martine’s father made a short speech containing some of the same phrases. But while the world of that earlier time seemed full of impossibilities (as Löwenhielm tells Martine at the time), now it seems that “all things are possible” (as the older Löwenhielm tells Martine after the feast). The concept that we have been granted both what we’ve chosen & what we’ve rejected is profound, & while this obviously can be seen as pointing towards an after-life, I believe it also points toward life in the here & now—this seems clear from Löwenhielm’s statement: “in this beautiful world of ours, all things are possible.” The film has a profound spirituality which stands apart from any specific belief system—both Eberle & I (a Catholic & a non-Christian) find the film equally affirming.

Part of this affirmation is the act of creation itself. Interestingly, both cooking & singing are ephemeral arts, & this underscores the doubling between Babette & the other sister, Fillipa. Fillipa is a gifted singer, & as a young woman she was courted by a famous French baritone who’d traveled to Jutland for a retreat into solitude. This man, Achille Papin, was very drawn to Fillipa both because of her beauty & also because of her amazing voice, & he offers to give her singing lessons. These lessons continue until the two sing the seduction duet from Don Giovanni—following this, Fillipa decides she can’t continue, & Papin leaves, heartbroken.

But it’s Papin who sends Babette to the sisters, & Babette, like Fillipa, is a woman whose artistry has been suppressed by circumstance—even, one might say, by fate. Without giving too much away, the film’s final moments—an interchange between Babette & Fillipa—echoes a scene between Fillipa & Papin, & underlines the redemptive power of art.

There are many lovely moments in this film, which is quiet both in terms of its deceptively simple story & also literally—there isn’t a lot of dialogue, so when characters speak, their words gather that much more weight. Henning Kristiansen’s cinematography is beautiful, & the film moves at a crisp pace under Gabriel Axel’s direction. Babette’s Feast won the 1988 Oscar in the Foreign Film category, & also won the British Academy of Film and Television Arts (BAFTA) award for a non-English language film.

Those who are interested in the gourmet menu can find more information here & here.

If you haven’t seen Babette’s Feast, I’d strongly recommend it; if you have, I can say this is a film that rewards repeated viewings. It's art that works its way into the heart.


& finally, many thanks to our dear friend Margot who gave us the DVD as a gift to replace our dearly departed VHS copy!

“The Wampus Cat Stomp”

The primary purpose of this post is to announce another guest blogger appearance by my wife Eberle Umbach. Eberle’s thoughts on Mother Goose, poetry & music, & the subversiveness of the folk process—& more— will be posted tomorrow morning. It’s Robert Frost’s Banjo’s second installment of the Women’s Art is Women’s Work series—essays composed by Eberle & our friend Audrey Bilger (of recent Lesley Gore interview fame), which they’ve generously agreed to post in this space.

But as a secondary purpose, I thought we could have a bit of fun along with the announcement. One of the nursery rhymes mentioned in Eberle’s piece tomorrow is the following:

We’re all in the dumps
For diamonds are trumps,
The kittens have gone to St. Paul’s.
The babies get bit,
The moon’s in a fit,
& the houses are built without walls.

This little surrealistic gem has always been a favorite of mine; I believe Maurice Sendak gave it his treatment a while back. It’s always been a favorite of Eberle’s, too. Back when we first got the Alice in Wonder Band together, the group was searching for a name, & one suggestion under consideration was the Wampus Cats. For those of you who don’t know, the Wampus Cat is a creature from Appalachian lore—you can read about its escapades here & here. Thinking this might become the band name, Eberle composed a tune called “The Wampus Cat Stomp” as a possible theme song; she also composed an additional verse of lyrics (I participated a bit on this, but most of the words are hers). This additional verse goes as follows:

One, a terrarium
Two, a lasso,
Three, a geranium in southern France.
Four, a velocipede,
Five, a butterdish,
Six, a canary in a yellow trance.

The “stomp” of the title is slightly misleading if you’re versed in the minutiae of musical terminology. The term “stomp” usually refers to a specific chord progression used quite often in big band & swing, & based on the opening of "King Porter Stomp" by Jelly Roll Morton. But tho “The Wampus Cat Stomp” is modal (& hence doesn’t have a “chord progression” in the usual sense of the term—tho for any sticklers out there, I am aware that a modal tune can be harmonized with chords), the title is catchy.

Anyhoo, the “Wampus Cats” was voted down as a band name, & I’d have to say we went with the better choice by being the Alice in Wonder Band. But I put together a slide show of the Wonder Band performing “the Wampus Cat Stomp” at the Alpine Playhouse in September 02. The pictures of the Alice in Wonder Band were taken by Michael Richardson & Tim Hohs; the other pictures are from Wiki Commons (all public domain) & from My First Picture Book by Joseph Martin Kronheim; this work is from 1893 & can be found here on Project Gutenberg. The band members playing on this recording are: Kati Sheldon: vocal; Lois Fry: violin; Art Troutner: recorder & oboe; Eberle Umbach: marimba; Barb Dixon: washboard & agogo bells; yours truly: banjo; Deb Cahill & Nina Trainor: Boomwhackers®; Deb & Nina also were our fantastic dancers for this number—choreography with Boomwhackers®!

Hope you enjoy, & be sure to check in tomorrow for Eberle’s essay on Mother Goose.

It’s Audrey’s Party, &….

OK, I am changing the posting schedule a bit—I’m sure you are all anxiously awaiting the history of the kazoo, but that’s going to get pushed back a bit. This, as Martha Stewart would say, is a good thing, which is not to cast aspersions on the marvelous kazoo, but instead to say we’re going to have a marvelous guest blogger tomorrow, our dear SoCal pal, Audrey Bilger.

I’ve known Audrey since my days in Charlottesville, VA, & I remember her from that time as witty & smart & always up on the coolest recordings—as I recall, Audrey & I shared a passion for Jonathon Richman’s music. Audrey & Eberle have been fast friends for many years, a friendship built on the voracious reading habits of each, as well as their passion for feminist criticism—& no doubt on each other’s wit, since they are two of the funniest people I know, as well as both being quite brilliant. In addition to her other qualities, Audrey is always a stalwart friend.

So I’m completely jazzed that Audrey will be contributing to Robert Frost’s Banjo as a guest blogger, with her first post coming tomorrow. A few biographical facts: Audrey received her PhD from the University of Virginia, & has taught both at Oberlin College, & at Claremont-McKenna College, where she’s a professor of lit & gender studies. She’s also done time as a drummer in a blues band, & when her insane schedule permits, I’m hoping Audrey will join the Musical Questions series. She lives with her spouse, Cheryl (one of the many marriages those Prop 8 SOBs are trying to undo), & when not teaching she keeps herself busy with a lot of writing projects, including interviews—in fact, Audrey was a big contributor to the interview questions for our own Musical Questions series. Audrey’s initial guest appearance will be an interview she did with Lesley Gore a few years back. The interview was slated to appear in Rockrgrl, but sadly that mag folded before the publication date. It’s happy for us, however, in the sense that Robert Frost’s Banjo now gets to post the interview with this rock legend. I’m sure at least the folks out there of my vintage will recall Gore—not only her monster hit “It’s My Party,” (see video below) but also pop songs with a feminist slant that was unusual (to say the least) in the 1960s: “You Don’t Own Me” & “That’s the Way Boys Are.” Audrey’s interview with Gore was done right after the release of Gore’s 05 album Ever Since. In addition to showcasing the singer in more jazz-oriented settings (tho it’s worth noting that Quincy Jones worked as arranger for Gore’s 60s hits), the album also has a new version of “You Don’t Own Me.”

So be sure to stop by tomorrow for Audrey Bilger & Lesley Gore!

In other blog news: one more grateful nod to Jacqueline T Lynch of Another Old Movie Blog, New England Travels & Tragedy & Comedy in New England—all blogs that are really worth regular visits—for the Premio Dardos award. I was also gratified to see that Scott over at Deep Craft has started his interview series with other Bay Area craftspeople. Scott contacted me about the questions used in the Musical Questions series, & he’s now using a modified version of these for his own blog. The first interview is here. Scott’s blog is also a delight & very much recommended by yours truly.

Speaking of delightful blogs, I’ve found some new ones over the past several days that I’d like to give a plug in my own small way: JenX67, a blog that presents personal observation & experience in a very compelling way—whether the blogger is contemplating the situation of Generation X latchkey kids or writing about how she experiences the urban frontier of Oklahoma City—a place I’ve never visited, but which she renders fascinating—JenX67 is great reading; & as someone who came along as the Boom generation was petering out (1956), I can say you needn’t have been born after 1960 to be engaged by the writing here.

Another wonderful blog that’s new to me is Lizzy Frizzfrock; this blog originates from a city I’m abashed to say I’ve never visited, Austin, TX. Lizzy Frizzfrock’s photography & observations are wonderfully refreshing. The blogger & her husband share at least one passion with Eberle & me—bird watching, tho based on her photos they do a lot more of this out & about, while Eberle & I often do it thru the windows looking at our various feeders. Lizzy Frizzfrock, like JenX67, also is able to write compellingly about place—I’ve been quite taken by her observations about Austin.

The Pics & Poems blog comes to us from the UK, & brings some thoughtful (& often humorous) observations on any number of subjects relating to the arts: the role of poet laureate both in Great Britain & stateside; observations on Robert Burns; an in depth examination of swearing; & a post considering the question of whether a viewer needs “context” in order to appreciate art. This is a wonderful essay entitled “Like what you’re looking at, then?”; it’s quite relevant to some recent observations on reading poetry that I’ve made in this space. Speaking of which, thanks to Kat at Poetikat’s Invisible Keepsakes & Willow at Willow’s Manor for their support of the Reading Poetry series.

& finally, one more classic film blog: Silents and Talkies; the concept here is wonderfully original—blogger Kate Gabrielle is also a talented artist, & she produces a sketch of a classic film star to accompany her appreciations of their work & recommendations for viewing. It’s an enjoyable blog, & pleasing to look at as well as to read. Many thanks to Ginger Ingenue of the equally enjoyable Asleep in New York for linking to Silents and Talkies in one of her recent posts.

Nuff said. But one last reminder: tomorrow—Gore & Bilger—be there or be square!