Chantepleure Reincarnated

I got a call from a woman at the Huron Valley Council for the Arts. She said she was calling about an author luncheon. Great! Who's the author? Well, you are. There were several more minutes of me questioning whether she had the right Linda Robinson. There is another Linda Robinson who has several books. No, she was pretty sure she wanted me and my book. I told her I could ask a couple of other real authors I know. Did you call because I'm a member of HVCA? Oh, are you? How nice! There may have been more but I'm embarrassed enough already. She named the book (pronounced it correctly) and told me what the word means. At the end of the call, I said sure, I'd be glad to participate. Then I waited for the call telling me their original choice was now back in town and said yes. Then the announcement showed up in my facebook feed, with my mug right in the center. Chantepleure was written during NaNoWriMo in 2007. 60,000 words thrown in a document. For the next year, the Sweetgrass Writers wrestled it into a story. We thought it was two books maybe. Perhaps it still is, but I'm not the dividing this after 10 years. We printed it, handed out chapters and segments to each other to edit, question, clarify and finish. Part of the ongoing endeavor was to figure out best way to get it into the hands of readers. I don't remember if it was submitted to traditional publishers: I doubt it. I'd gone through that years before with children's books I wrote and illustrated, only to find that traditional publishers don't want authors illustrating their books. They want their illustrators. Most authors don't ever meet the people who draw their stories. So, we self-published. Lulu for a printed book (very expensive still) and Smashwords later for an ebook. I filed the book with the Library of Congress, had our local librarian stick it on Ingram (where libraries can order) and then forgot about it. I wrote Chantepleure to bring to life a closed, boarded-up shop in our little town. The Artcraft Shop had lived as a bits and bobs arty store. I still have a couple of packages my mother bought there. The Artcraft Shop was in a series of decrepit storefronts that included the South Lyon Herald offices on one corner. The Herald moved out and Grande Trunke moved in. High end home decorating. Kathleen's was a nice clothing store on the opposite end, and then the whole block was bought and Kathleen was forced out by 200% increase in rent. That became a remodeling company. An auto paint store opened in the middle. Then The Artcraft Shop was rented, renovated and lives now as The Lemon Tree. I also wrote Chantepleure to gather my dead friends in one place, so I could visit with them again. This surprise reincarnation of Chantepleure fits beautifully with the restored Artcraft Shop. My friends are content.

New Orleans Jazz and Blues at Salem-South Lyon District Library

Donna Olson Introduces

"John and I go back 40 years..." RJ Spangler began. Back to Sully's Blues Bar in Dearborn, where Jimmy Lesnau brought in acts from all over the world. Blues legends. Scroll through the pictures - Duke Robillard, Terry Garland. The chance to back up great musicians and songwriters. Johnny Adams. Earl King (Come On, Baby Parts 1&2. More on that later.) Professor "Fess" Longhair, the rollicking piano man.

RJ Spangler and TBone Paxton played Sunday with Matt LoRusso on guitar, Jeff Cuny on bass. Jeff just finished his Master of Music in Jazz at WSU. Bravo!

Storytelling + music + history. Does it get any better than that? RJ is reading a book by Ned Sublette, musicologist that traces the African/Caribbean/Cuban roots of New Orleans music. New Orleans history, back to the Bourbon cousin French/Spanish colonizers.

Go Down to New Orleans. John "TBone" Paxton took the lead on this song to start us swinging. Note on Professor Fess Longhair - there's a bust of him in Tipitina's Bar. Enjoy another cover of Tipitina by Dr. John and Johnny Winter.

The 2nd song in the set Basin Street Blues, written by Spencer Williams in 1928, made famous by Louis Armstrong the same year; this video featuring Jack Teagarden on trombone. RJ mentioned Dr. Michael White, swinging clarinet player. We were treated to an experimental combination, starting as a ballad and switching it up swing. We heard it here first!

Strongly featured in the richness of New Orleans music, and as shared with us by RJ, are producers/players like Dave Bartholomew, who produced Fats Domino. His son Don B. continues the family music dynasty. The Batiste Family. Neville Brothers. Marsalis Family.

Iko Iko is a call and response Mardi Gras Indian tune. Big Chief, Flag Boy - designations of parade positions in a turf war that became a friendly costumed musical rivalry; raising money for charity and to bury the familial departed. Grateful Dead, Dr. John - even Jimmy Fallon and The Roots have covered this fine example of clave rhythm pattern.

Back now to the Come on, Baby, Let The Good Times Roll, Parts 1 and 2. The 1960 recording by Earl King, has Part 1 on the A side, Part 2 on B. Written by Shirley & Lee, their 1956 recording climbed to #20. Jimi Hendrix covered it, as did these others.

Next up was a walking ballad. Do You Know What It Means to Miss New Orleans?

RJ shared more stories: of Guitar Slim in Florida with a young musician he let run the session. Ray Charles was the man's name. Danny Barker, who played banjo and guitar in Harlem in the 20s and 30s, joined Cab Calloway's band, then went back to New Orleans, where he helped rebirth the New Orleans brass band tradition.

For those of you who need to know where the music is playing when it's out of town, Offbeat Magazine has New Orleans on the Road. April 2018 issue cover feature is the French Quarter Fest Issue.

To close the set RJ, Tbone, Jeff and Matt treated us - and we joined in - with Eh, La Bas, traditional New Orleans song. You can play here with the Creole, French, English lyrics.

Standing room only!

This program is funded in part by Michigan Humanities Council, an affiliate of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

RJ Spangler Trio with Larry Smith

The RJ Spangler Trio featuring Larry Smith performed the first of four concerts in a 2nd Sunday jazz series yesterday at our Salem-South Lyon District Library. The sessions are sponsored by the Jazz Foundation of America, and the Metro Detroit Book & Author Society 2016 James Dance Performance Grant. You'll have a chance to see them perform again in Dec., Feb., and April.

L to R: Oliver Nevels, guitar; Larry Smith, alto sax; Greg Cook on bass; RJ Spangler, drums. Listeners were treated to standards from the jazz book, beginning with Body and Soul, 1930 music by Johnny Green, lyrics by Edward Heyman, Robert Sour and Frank Eyton.

The audience asked for Take Five composed by Paul Desmond, debuted with the Dave Brubeck Quartet on their 1959 album, Time Out. Take Five had a piano lead for Brubeck - we heard a George Benson arrangement featuring Oliver Nevels on guitar.

Take the A Train, composed by Duke Ellington. RJ shared the backstory on this classic: Billy Strayhorn had been sending compositions, arrangements to Ellington. The Duke finally told him he probably needed to join the Ellington organization. How to get there? The rest is superb jazz music history.

We heard Larry Smith's long rich music background, told by RJ, and - just so we didn't think it was myth - confirmed by Downbeat magazine. Larry went to high school with Henry Mancini! In Pittsburgh, he played with a George Benson R&B group. Benson noticed Smith wasn't playing the R&B grooves. What do you call what you're playing? Smith took him to a place with a jukebox, put a dime in the slot and Benson asked "who we listening to?" Smith responded, "Bird." "What's a bird?" And once more, the rest is jazz music history. 

After the concert I asked Larry Smith what maker built his horn. Bundy Selmer. He told us how saxophones used to be made of a combination of silver, brass and gold; offering a rich tonal resonance he doesn't hear in the new brass horns. My Dad's tenor saxophone is a Herb Couf instrument, and it still breathes music in the hands of Tony Lustig in NYC. Larry also talked about always having that special reed on hand, along with backup.

The concert closed with Watch What Happens, composed by Michel leGrand; a song that gives me goosebumps every time I hear it. Known for his movie scores (The Umbrellas of Cherbourg, The Thomas Crown Affair) leGrand wrote just as eloquently in jazz. Still composing, still musically strong, his 85 Concerts for My 85th Birthday World Tour is getting underway. Concert dates will be released by the end of this month 2016.

I'm missing one of the tunes because I got lost in hearing my Dad play his tenor in my mind, the background music to my whole life. When I was little, I went with him to rehearsals, usually in somebody's basement. I knew the words to Deep Purple, Little White Lie, and Darn That Dream before I was six. My father is second from the left, saxes. At the piano is Joe Fredal, our family's future dentist.

One of the days I was remembering yesterday afternoon. Dad on that gorgeous Herb Couf tenor, me on my Great Aunt Suoma's little organ. He's using a jazz mouthpiece! I didn't remember he even owned one of those. For my medicine bag when I was fighting cancer, I asked loved ones to contribute a powerful talisman to kick that mess. My father gave me a saxophone reed. One more beautiful example of the healing power of music, and the importance of always having that special reed on hand. And a backup.

 

2016 Michigan Notable Book Author in South Lyon

Doreen Hannon and Donna Olson

South Lyon, Michigan recently hosted a

Josie Kearns and Joe Matuzak

Pulitzer Prize-winning author for a talk and book signing. David Maraniss' newest book Once in a Great City: A Detroit Story is one of 20 Michigan Notable Books for 2016. Chosen by the Library of Michigan each year, this year's authors are visiting 50 libraries throughout Michigan during April, May, June.

I was in The Lyon Theatre, listening. How did this extraordinary event happen? A notable book author in South Lyon?

Dedicated people made this happen.

South Lyon has a 3-year-old Cultural Arts Commission and the commissioners are working to bring more arts and humanities to South Lyon. Pictured lower left is Josie Kearns, South Lyon Cultural Arts Commission.

Ten months ago Donna Olson joined staff as Adult Services Department Head. SSLDL became a Michigan Center for the Book (Library of Michigan) affiliate. You can meet Donna at SSLDL. Her enthusiasm is catchy and her smile is instantly recognizable (see pic top right.) Doreen Hannon, SSLDL Director (pictured top left) brought Donna to our library from Howell Carnegie District Library.

The Michigan Humanities Council has used surveys in the past after cultural events. In connection with SL CAC, Joe Matuzak, University of Michigan Institute for Social Research (pic bottom right) volunteered to help design a survey for before events. Not how did you enjoy what you just experienced, but what experiences would you like to create?

And David Maraniss came to the South Lyon Theatre for a free presentation. Thanks to all the entities mentioned in the Hometown Life news article. These encounters, free to the public, are brought to you by the Library of Michigan, Michigan Department of Education, Michigan Humanities Council, the Library of Michigan Foundation, Meijer and the Michigan Center for the Book. Kudos, all!

I have, and will continue to, personally thank Doreen Hannon, Josie Kearns, Donna Olson and Joe Matuzak. You can too, whenever you see these energetic and involved people in South Lyon.

Our library is a living member of the community. Arts and art events make it breathe, and the heart of our town, dedicated to bringing more memorable cultural events to South Lyon, is a marvelous working engine.

You can be involved in this endeavor, this cultural renaissance. What would South Lyon residents like to see more of in town? You can share your thoughts here through the end of June. You can participate in events scheduled as as each occurs by checking the South Lyon Cultural Arts Commission website, the City of South Lyon website, and the Salem South Lyon District Library site. I just created a South Lyon folder on my bookmark toolbar. I'm so proud of us!

2012 Garden: Tomato Tombstone

Mom said life has 3 physical stages. One, you can do everything you want. Two, you can do everything, but you're going to pay for it. Three, you can't do anything. I'm sort of in two. On recent mornings, having worked in the garden for a few hours, getting out of bed is a slow process. The 1800 square feet of garden is a daunting breadth of ground to get the grass off, and get the seeds in. The onions and sugar snap peas, planted the weekend of April 21, have growth. That's exciting. The two varietals of spinach, golden beets, radishes, green peppers have not much to show yet. And I'm sore from all the weeding and shoveling and bending. I planted Bonny Best and Beefsteak tomato heirloom seeds in compostable cups. Tomatoes from seeds wasn't my first choice, but Dad remembers these plants fondly, and so I'm growing the seeds. This is an amazingly complicated undertaking. My idea of growing is 1) stick it in the dirt, and 2) pick the result. I'm hauling tomato plants in and out/up and down like kids in brainy baby programs. No temperature under 62 degrees. Not too moist, but not dry. Don't crowd. Too much direct sunlight and the seedlings will get leggy. Use a growlight with the leaves almost touching the bulb. For an hour a day, if there is no breeze for the plants to play in, use a fan. But direct sunlight is good, too, especially if there's a breeze. When the plants are 6 inches tall, separate into 2" containers. But don't touch the stems, and don't jostle the roots. Keep away from the leaves while you're about it.  And the soil temperature of the new pot must be the same as the old pot. Use a thermometer. Moisture level, ditto. Oh, remember the fan. And the moist, but not wet, but not dry. Did I mention the fan? And the growlight? I told Dad today on the tenth trip up and down the stairs toting a tray of tomato plants - it's the tomatoes that are going to get me. Dad said I put Lilies of the Valley on your mother's tombstone, I'll put tomato plants on yours. I told him just make sure the soil isn't too moist. Or too dry. Skip the fan and the growlight.

Garden 2012 The Launch

The garden plot on Saturday, April 21. South Lyon residents can sign for a section for free, the city tills for free and I'm loving South Lyon even more. I picked Number 9. It's a sacred geometry number, one of my favorite numbers of lore from my banking days, and it's a li'l piece of a Beatles tune. It is in the worst of all possible locations for watering, equidistant farthest away from the water spigots; but closest to the woods in case of an urgent biological need. SL workers mowed and tilled both rows of sites on April 1, so there was a fine skin of grass, easily removed with a twist of a hand shovel. From the 1st to 21st, I visited the place, overwhelmed by the 30 feet x 60 feet size of it. 1800 square! Oy! I've offered the back half to friends who might grow some lettuce here, a tomato or two there. Harry, who is 92, said he's in for advice and support. I ordered Dad some heirloom Bonny Best and Beefsteak tomato seeds, and they are germinating in compostable cups from the Tuscan Cafe. On Saturday I sent Dad to the store for string and potting soil, I walked to the garden and met them there. Dad stayed in the car, Scott sat in a plastic chair enjoying the breeze. I planted two rows of onion sets, and two rows of sugar snap peas. The work felt wonderful, but I'm hurting a little still today. I want to get the golden beets in, the two varieties of heirloom spinach, and at least one of the Detroit Red heirloom beet varieties still this week. Friends offered stakes and chicken wire, when the time comes to protect the nascent plants. I am excited, nervous, and overjoyed about this first foray into the realm of growing good food.

The Path to Where?

A steep path on the Huron Valley Trail near the high school. It's a narrow, rock strewn little path, and I do not yet know where it leads. Yesterday my camera was along on the walk, and I stopped to take a picture. The path wasn't where I thought it was, now that I was looking for it, and found it after doubling back. It's steep enough and I'm old enough that I looked for hand holds. As I was contemplating a good angle, and wondering if I was just going to walk away, a sun glint caught old metal. In the center of the path is a coil of barbed wire buried in the dirt, under rocks, and exposed by erosion. There are storytelling analogies galore to contemplate: assent to the unknown, elusive goals, obstacles, hidden dangers, aging. Years after sighting the intriguingly overgrown path, I saw a man clearing it. He was working hard and slowly, perhaps he was a special person like my brother. And soon again it became the visual for a path I'd read in a novel. I thought it was The Silence of Trees by Valya Dudycz Lupescu. But perhaps it was in The Tiger's Wife by Tea Obreht. Each book is a search, a path taken, a path walked by, a path hidden and revealed. One day before the rocks are iced, the path more treacherous, I'll climb and find what is at the top of this hill, once hidden, now revealed.

The Artcraft Shop

I'm mesmerized by this building. It captivated me the first time I saw it in downtown South Lyon. My mother bought some items when it was open - wooden beads and eyes for making felt reindeer recently found unused in her sewing box. The shop was an art/craft supply. Great name. Beautiful sign. Charming building. Magical presence. The shop has been abandoned and neglected for years. The city cites the owner, and the owner continues to pay the taxes and ignore the rest. There is a toilet in the middle of a room; the ceiling is falling in at the top of the stairs. The brick just under the roofline needs tucking. I used to stare through the tattered curtains and imagine the shop loved back to life, the bell over the door tinkling as guests arrive and depart. The window I could see through, and daydream around, is now boarded. The Celtic knot plaster work on either side of the recessed doorway is crumbling. My novel, Chantepleure, is about life changing events. And rebirth. The Artcraft Shop is a featured player in the story: I brought it back to life fictionally. It would be wonderful if The Artcraft Shop could truly be reborn. If you'd like to read Chantepleure, write me here and I'll send you a coupon for a free digital book via Smashwords. You might just love The Artcraft Shop back to life for real.

Manifesting

While we women were empowering each other yesterday, there were some wild side trips into imagination. One friend was describing picturing herself, not stuck in traffic behind a motorcycle, but on the motorcycle. Flying, hair streaming back. She could feel the abs on the motorcycle driver. We laughed around fantasies. Uniforms. Now, I like a uniform as much as the next, but I think few outfits can compete with Scottish ancestral regalia. Maybe it's as simple as a man in a skirt. I don't tell anybody this. I think it. Minutes later, in the door of a small town coffee shop in Michigan walked a guy in...Highland attire. Complete with sgian dubh. Minus the bagpipes. Now because I've never told anybody this preference, it was a shock to hear the laughter from a friend. "You manifested that." How the heck did she know?

Fountain with Tree Shadow

Taking 50 pictures to get 1 good one is worth the click work. I love this photo. This is the fountain in Paul Baker Memorial Park this morning, a tiny swath of lovely in South Lyon, Michigan. Mr. Baker was a Michigan entrepreneur, a beautiful human, and he left us for the other side at 58 years old. I rest by the fountain and contemplate with gratitude the good works of Mr. Baker, and think of good works I can do. Then I get up and go do some.

Painted Turtle Healing

Loved ones were troubled and in pain this morning. A good friend had a disturbing experience that kept her awake through the night, my beloved sister is doctoring without answers or relief, and my little brother had an accident at bowling and had to come home, embarrassed and dismayed. I walked to the post office, head down, heart aching, trying not to cry. I was worried about my sister, and wanted to send comfort. My mom has passed on, but I said aloud, "go to her, Mom," and as I said the words, on the sidewalk was a forsythia bloom. I stopped, turned around and round. There is no forsythia bush on that route. I picked it up, kissed it, put it on the grass and thanked nature for mom's message. Coming back from the post office, I was weeping. I still felt despondent and helpless. As I walked up the small rise to cross the railroad tracks, I saw a painted turtle crossing the sidewalk. We both stopped, surprised, the turtle swiftly pulled in legs and head. I waited, amazed. The turtle relaxed, lingered just a while, and then continued on its way to the grass and its next adventure. I am drawing painted turtle for a poet, and providence gave me a thoughtful patron, and a beautiful creature to appreciate. Changing despair to joy, painted turtle brought a healing lesson, blessedly accepted.

Community

A friend told me a friend of hers had moved into South Lyon, and I called her. We met today and I feel strongly that we will be sharing: the neighborhood, questions, thoughts, nature. We are both learning and growing, and it feels good and I am grateful! Susan shared this image today (as well as good company and good coffee.)

Bicycle Journal with Treehuggers

Brought my camera on this sparkling day bicycle ride, planning to stop for batteries at the drugstore. I crossed the busy street one way, and pushed the walk signal button for the next cross. Walk signaled, I stepped out and was halfway across when I caught a car making a left turn in my direction. She was braking/forward/braking/forward right on my back wheel. I gave her a big frown, and turned away. She drove into the parking lot, pulled in front of me, and rolled down the passenger window. "You were in the crosswalk when it was a no walk signal," she growled, holding up her hand, palm out, as though I might not recognize a don't walk sign. "I left on the walk signal," I started to say. She interrupted, "Well, you were still walking when it said don't walk." Flabbergasted, and pissed, I said, "Look, just watch out for bicyclers, okay?" "YOU, TOO!" she yelled, and sped away. So, being in such a big hurry she needed to nudge me out of her way with her car, she then wasted more time explaining to me how thoughtless she was. The ride improved immediately, thanks to the gorgeous sky, the applauding cottonwoods, brilliant asters, sumac, the beautiful Huron Valley Rail Trail, and the fragrant air of Michigan in autumn. I took a picture of my favorite treehuggers: trees that stood beside each other season after season and then came down together, (or were shoved by a frustrated motorist) and there they rest, becoming one with the swamp.

DIA in South Lyon

The painting is Reading the Story of Oenone, 1883, oil on canvas by Francis David Millet. It is installed on the Lake St. side of the South Lyon Herald/Milford Times building. The plaque reads, in celebration of the 125th anniversary of the Detroit Institute of Arts, the DIA, in partnership with SM/Art Editions, will feature 40 of its most famous works on buildings in Wayne, Macomb, Oakland and Washtenaw Counties. You can click on the interactive map on the DIA site to see where you can see the art. Named DIA: Inside/Out, the exhibit runs from Sept. 10 to November 30, 2010. An incredible idea! The plaque continues that the project "aims to connect with audiences outside of museum walls." I'm going to find some partners to see all the art by bicycle.

Vicious Vandals

Last night, in the dark, sneaky vicious vandals broke windows on 10 cars in the parking lot. We live in a senior community. The people whose cars were trashed range from 60 to 88 years old. Our people have had strokes, hip replacements; lost friends, spouses in the last year. They want to live their remaining time in peace and safety.

One man, still weak from his last stroke, is cleaning up the glass, while his wife, who struggles heroically with rheumatoid arthritis, can only watch.

I try not to be vindictive; struggle to be nonjudgmental, decry revenge in all its vile forms.

I struggle not to hate.

But I want the thugs who committed this mass crime to learn what their reprehensible deeds have done. If they are young, I want their parents to know what's been perpetrated; what they have failed to teach their children.

Old people are sweeping and picking up, with weak hearts and fragile musculature. Old people will have to report this to insurance companies that will probably raise the premium on those policies. Old people on fixed incomes will have to pay a deductible. Old people will have to get their cars to the repair shops and wait for their only form of transportation to return.

Old people will now have more trouble sleeping, listening for felons in the night.

Old people are crying, fruitless rage weakening already frail bodies.

I hope you are found, sneaky vicious vandals. I hope one day you understand the fear and loss our people are feeling today.