Honkytonkin' Woman

Somewhere between Dayton, OH and Cincinnati I decided that I wanted to see if I could sing in Nashville on "Music Row" (I think that is what they call that street, named Broadway, with all of the clubs, etc.) I figured, "I'm 50 years old and a good singer and damn it! After this past year and all of the crap I've been through, I at least have to try!" I was planning on singing karaoke someplace just to say I'd done it.

So, I fortified myself with a bowl of Skyline Chili (not as good as I remembered - kinda runny), and headed South. Finally traveled through Kentucky - the only contiguous state out of the 48 I had not visited - and saw the sign for Big Bone Lick State Park. BIG BONE LICK State Park. Wow. The things I have missed in my life! Passed through the Great Smokey Mountains in Tennessee and turned right in Knoxville. A few hours later, I was in a Motel 6 outside of Music City. The next day. after getting lost a couple of times (seriously - when you work at a Waffle House with lots of tourist traffic, you'd think you might be required to know where the local hot spots are!) I found Broadway in Nashville and a parking space just  a few blocks away.

Not sure where to go, I started window shopping. Lots of cowboy boots for sale but not a single pair as cool as the lapis-lazuli-colored ones I wear. I was amazed at how expensive cowboy hats were. None of them looked quite right on my big ol' head so I moved on. I just had to stop into a used record store that featured the most classic of Country and Western artists and I had to buy a little book of sheet music featuring Porter Wagoner and Dolly Parton - if only for the cover photo alone. Porter was famous for wearing garish suits and Dolly was dressed in what looked like fancy lingerie. Then I stepped into a little shop to try on a blouse. Coming out of the dressing room, I spied a straw cowboy hat with a lapis-lazuli band that matched my boots. It was sitting on a high shelf in the back. Low and behold, it perfectly fit my head AND it was on sale for 75% off! I didn't hesitate a second before I bought it and put it on. Now, I was ready to make my Nashville debut!

It was late on a Saturday afternoon but the strip was starting to come alive. The downtown arena was hosting a big hockey game in a couple of  hours and several tour groups were roaming around. Some places hired guys to lure passers by into their restaurants. Just ahead the blinking light stuttered "KAROKE!!" and I walked that way. But, just before I got there, I heard live music pouring out from the door of a club called Crossroads. I glanced in and saw a band (with a cute lead singer) and they sure seemed to be having fun on stage, so I took a seat on a bar stool to have a listen. The singer's name was Jason Link and man oh man could he sing! He could really play the guitar, too, and the band backing him was KICK ASS! In between songs, there was a lot of banter and foolishness. They were telling a lot of politically incorrect jokes. The band picked on the customers, in a good-natured way. But, I think they were kind of bitter at their big break on Music Row. At the most, only about 25 people were in the club at one time. Folks kept coming and going on their way to check out other hot spots on the strip. But, I stayed - for 3 hours. They really held my interest. I noticed that there was a man at the bar who kept buying them drinks. Turns out he was their manager. I realized after about an hour and a half that the band NEVER took a break. In order for the drummer to use the men's room, Jason had to sit behind the trapset and keep the beat for a few minutes! Every now and then, he would walk through the crowd with a tip jar and CDs for sale. Due to the glut of willing musicians in Nashville, the clubs don't pay them! They are allowed to play for tips. I hope the band didn't have to pay for the "privilege" to be at Crossroads, but I don't know.

Anyhow, after about 2 hours, Jason and his Keyboard player, Tim, pointed to me and said "lady in the red shirt, you'll buy 2 of our CDs for $20, won't you?" I turned around. "You - sitting at the bar - I'm talking to YOU!" I only had a dollar on me but I did have a checkbook. And, remembering the main purpose of my Nashville visit, I shouted "I will, if you let me sing with you!!" They did NOT expect that, but half-heartedly said OK. And then, I said "Will you take a check?" - Reluctantly, they agreed. I wrote out the check and handed it to their manager (and he asked me if it was a good check). After another song, Jason hollered for me to get up on stage. And so I did. Not sure what I could sing until I stood behind the microphone, I turned to the piano player and said "Since I Fell For You in B flat" (That is pretty much the only song I know that I remember the key) the bass player said "It is in G" -" true - the record is in G but I sing it in B Flat", I replied. I told them that I do the prelude to the song "When you just give love, and never get love, you'd better let love depart" etc. And, I think they, and the audience, were pretty blown away when I opened my mouth to sing.

I was a bit raspy, but overall,  having a VERY GOOD voice day. And, the magical muse took over once I started. Tim, Jason and the bass player and drummer played a "bump and grind" version of the song. And I hammed it up like nobody's business. The crowd was cheering. I was having the time of my life, singing with the best musicians I had ever sung next to. Jason and I stood back-to-back during the line "Oh you love me, then you snub me". At the word "snub", I reached over and pushed him away. Their manager came out from behind the bar and stood in the middle of the dance floor with his mouth agape! This was the most fun I have had in years - my only chance to sing on Music Row and I enjoyed the heck out of it. Of course, the song ended way too soon. But those 20 or 25 people in the crowd were applauding like crazy. A couple of guys shouted "let me buy you a drink!!" (and gave the bartender some cash to pay for it)  One of them (a good 15 years younger than me) came over to me and said "Why aren't you and I making love right now? (!!) We didn't but it was fun to be asked.

I watched Jason Link and his band for another 45 minutes or so. During that time, I overheard the manager ask him and the piano player what they thought of me. The piano player told him that "she's just a cougar and this is how she meets men." Ha! I wasn't insulted. I think I was so good that I scared them a little. I'll never know for sure but what I do know is that I made a memory that will always make me smile. I moved on and waved goodbye to the band, grinning like a fool as I walked out that door.

Why Do I Get So Mad?

I did it again. Tried not to. Tried to control myself and not be judgmental. Tried to be "tolerant", once again. But, why am I always the one who has to be tolerant? Why, when confronted again and again and again by pomposity and smugness, do I have to turn the other cheek? I know these "opportunities" are thrown in my path for a reason but I am only getting angrier and not more compassionate. I thought I'd change, eventually. But no.

Since I was a very young girl, organized religion has been an extremely hot button for me. It began when I was seven, when I was given that stinking banana popsicle by the ladies in the Church of Christ during Vacation Bible School (a reward for being "saved") and continued a couple of years later when I chastised both the pastor and the youth pastor (at different times) for their hypocritical statements and blatant bribery at Decatur, Illinois' West Side Church of the Nazarene, until just this past Fall at my mother's place of Worship, St. Catherine's in Harrisburg. I have always thought that the church, in all of its denominations and divisions has misrepresented the Word of God. Heck, I had broken it off with God altogether, until July 19 or 20th of 2010 when, in a hilarious move, we made up in front of an ice cream truck in Portland, Oregon. God and I are good now.

But, apparently, organized religion and I have a loooooong way to go.

I did it again today. After a nasty head cold, I finally felt healthy enough to walk to the coffee shop about a mile away. I treated myself to a hot chocolate and sat at a cozy table towards the back, leafing through a big coffee table picture book about Italy. I was happily minding my own business and mentally traveling to Sienna  . The coffee shop was populated by adults, most of whom quickly left when a pack of about 20 college-aged kids started lining up at the counter. I noticed that they were dressed in school colors from a place I was unfamiliar. Couldn't read the emblems on their sweaters. But, I didn't have to. They were polite, thanking the elderly gentleman escorting them for the afternoon excursion. Very quickly, I overheard that this was a Christian group.

"Ah, no wonder they are so well-behaved", I thought. They were awfully perfect looking. 90 percent white - one black kid and one Latina in the bunch. They were quiet and good-natured - for a while. They were kids (a little too Stepford-looking for my taste) so there was laughing and joking. Some of their conversations were introspective and I thought that, "hey, maybe this religion thing has its place after all?"

Well, all it took was one boy to set me off. He started talking about the "burdens of being a Christian" and that, "as Christians, we need to set an example because people are looking to us for guidance..." My face went red hot and all I could see was my own rage.

NO THEY'RE NOT!!! The only people who are looking to you ARE YOU!!! YOU ARE MASTURBATING, you tool!!!! I did not say this.

But, automatically, I stood up and threw on my coat and gloves and said "IDIOTS. IDIOTS. WHEN WILL YOU PEOPLE REALIZE THAT RELIGION IS THE ANTI-CHRIST?????" I stormed out and slammed the door behind me, without even thinking.

I am sure they prayed for my soul afterwards. Well, at least I hope they did. You see, I feel guilty for my reaction (or over-reaction). I keep trying to live and let live. Since I have been back in Pennsylvania, I have happened upon many devout people and religion has been a major topic of discussion at the house where I am staying (not my mother's). I keep trying. Is it just a numbers' game? There are so many more of them and only one of me. Clearly, after 51 years, I am not going to change my mind on this. I have kept my mouth shut for so long about religion. I firmly believe that it is only a means to control people and gain power. As I have said in previous writings, I understand the need for community and connection. Most of the devout people I have spoken with seem filled with love and compassion. But put them in a group setting and I feel outnumbered and get defensive.

Maybe I am supposed to be a hermit and live in a cave?

This is Important - Voting Rights Corporatized and Stripped?

Bev Harris is a tireless voting rights activist and she speaks the truth! Please check out www.blackboxvoting.org! The headline reads "Global Internet voting firm buys US election results reporting firm". Holy crap. I did NOT know this: When you view your local or state election results on the Internet, on portals which often appear to be owned by the county elections division, in over 525 US jurisdictions you are actually redirected to a private corporate site controlled by SOE software, which operates under the name ClarityElections.com


PLEASE visit her site: www.blackboxvoting.org

Bed and Breakfast and Bail Bonds

It was dark and I was tired so I took the next exit off of the Interstate on a random Southern road. Just didn't feel like the usual Motel 6 or Super 8 that night and something kept me driving on the empty stretch and make a left. About a half mile later, I saw a stone building (with two Confederate soldiers flanking a cannon out front) that was lit up with about ten-thousand Christmas lights. One small sign said "Bed and Breakfast" and just below that, another read "Bail Bonds". Well, that was just too good - enough to pique my interest to take a look at the place, so I parked the car and went up to ring the doorbell. The  grandmotherly woman seemed like she was ready to head to bed, so I apologized for the interruption but asked if she had an available room for the night. She hollered for her husband.

Out from the back came a refined-looking genteel man with a voice that sounded like smoked hickory and honey. I could tell he loved to show off the place and was quite the talker. He began by telling me the mansion was built by slaves about one-hundred and fifty years ago, before the war(the Northern Aggression war, as he put it) and that all of the land surrounding the place, for miles around, was once part of the property. A famous Confederate General used to own it but I am not up on my Civil War history and couldn't place the guy. Then dollar amounts started to fly out of his mouth. "It took a million dollars to buy the place and another two million to renovate and I'm still not done". I was surprised that he did not seem to stress over that amount of cash and later on, pointed to his brand new Cadillac Escalade and Corvette, out front. I was shown the two available rooms for the night. The big one, downstairs came equipped with a jacuzzi tub and fireplace. The smaller room, in the back, had a regular bathroom across the hall and was much cheaper. Being the budget traveler, I chose that one.

After we had taken care of the bill, I was given a series of parting gifts: Two pens, one with a pull-out calendar for the new year, a key chain, several brochures, and a wall calender that included his Bed-and-Breakfast and Bail Bonds advertisement prominently placed, a NASCAR schedule, and local emergency numbers. Finally, I was handed a few business cards to pass out to my friends. On the front, was a photo of the bed-and-breakfast, complete with the Corvette and Confederate soldiers outside. But, on the back was a photo of a little kid in black-and-white prison garb looking glum behind bars!!! That side advertised the bail bonds half of his business. I thanked the man profusely for this priceless bounty! I was then escorted to the great dining room, which was festooned with holiday cheer. Tins and boxes of cookies and candies lined the walls (damned this wheat allergy!) and ceramic roosters shared space with Santa and Mrs. Claus. After being offered one of those Keurig-type coffees (I chose hot chocolate), the owner expounded on the virtues of the machine and mentioned that he was purchasing several others. By this time, it was clear to me that he and his wife were not in the hospitality business for the money, so I asked him why he rented out rooms? "Because I like meeting the people, and it helps offset the cost". Seemed reasonable enough.

Once I got to my room (very modest but did include a mini-fridge stocked with soda and bottled water, coffee maker and microwave) I knelt on the comfy bed and looked at the interesting painting on the wall. It was a copy of DaVinci's "Last Supper", except in this one, Jesus and the deciples were all either Middle Eastern or African-looking. Perhaps the owner was more progressive than his Confederate leanings suggested. Before I got settled in, I was given a tour of the back porch where a rangy stick-figure of a man was waiting to be driven home by the guy - he was the day laborer who was helping rebuild the porch (a forty-thousand dollar job to make it look authentic) and next to the parking lot was a trailer with a huge sign advertising the bail bonds. Then I found out that there was a prison just down the road. Ah hah!

After a night's rest, I declined the breakfast since my food allergy makes me travel with my own vittles. Mr. Owner started with more story telling. He asked me if I'd ever been to Colorado because he once had to chase down a man who skipped bail in that state. But, he assured me that he was definitely NOT like that Dog the Bounty Hunter guy from TV. However, tracking down (and shaking down) runaway scofflaws was part of his business. I looked over again at his nervous-looking wife. She didn't contribute to the conversation. Somehow, the topic changed to higher education and he informed me that after he was 50, he went back to college and got his Bachelor's, Master's AND PhD - in 6 years. Of course, his major was criminal justice.

I started counting backwards. I figured he must have held a government job and was able to retire early. He told me that he fought in Vietnam and had a gun put in his hand at the age of 17. My heart broke a little and I told him I was sorry he had to fight so young. But, his face never changed. There was no remorse or emotion of any kind at that memory. Then, I realized that his eyes stayed the same way throughout all of our conversations. While recounting story after story, his face was friendly, but immobile. This wasn't the case with his wife, who seemed to be glancing out the door every 10 minutes or so. Then it hit me. I knew there were "secret" underground government facilities in this part of the country. The interest in crime. The vast amounts of money at his disposal. The brilliant mind able to speed through three college degrees in six years and that immobile face. Now, maybe I spent too much time working for a late-night talk show but it suddenly seemed clear to me: This guy was maybe former FBI but more likely, ex-CIA!! That was it!! His calm demeanor was more robotic than human. The stories with that Southern drawl were a tad too perfect. In my mind, I saw him as a trained killer who obviously had an interest in criminal justice and after a lifetime of service, was now allowed to live out his life in peace, with the help of a generous severance package.

I had spent the night with the enemy.

Sometimes Wandering In the Wilderness Will Take You Far