But I did get to celebrate a \u201cLet\u2019s-Make-Believe-It\u2019s-New-Year\u2019s-Eve\u201d party last night at the retirement home in the valley.\u00a0 This was a great big family affair where all gathered in the sprawling dining room which was festooned with cheery decorations, party favors and colorful balloons.\u00a0 No one got drunk enough to grab one, undo the knot, suck in some helium and do their best Donald Duck imitation.\u00a0 It was a sweet celebration.<\/p>\n
We start early at 7:00 P.M. and in less than an hour I am leading a conga line around the room as we sing the familiar refrain\u00a0rollin\u2019, rollin,\u2019 rollin\u2019 down the river<\/span> from \u201cProud Mary,\u201d collecting seniors, children and the energetic service staff along the way.\u00a0 One wheelchair-bound woman joins in with gusto, after all, \u201crolling\u201d can be done sitting down.\u00a0 In fact many wonderful things can be done sitting down.<\/p>\n We do sing-a-longs and rock n\u2019 roll until the magic hour of 8:00 P.M. when it’s time for some serious make-believe.\u00a0 We imagine being transported to Time\u2019s Square, and since it’s our fantasy, we decide it’s a balmy 70 degrees in New York City (global warming, perhaps).\u00a0 The giant crystal ball slowly drops as we countdown together \u201c10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.\u00a0 Happy New Year!\u201d<\/p>\n This is the first year of the second decade of the new millennium.\u00a0 Can you believe it?\u00a0 It\u2019s been a hard year for a lot of people and we want it to be better in 2011.\u00a0 But come on, every year is a mixed bag.\u00a0 Every decision we make has an upside and a downside.\u00a0 I watch the families interact at this party where we are encouraged to \u201cmake happy.\u201d\u00a0 But the truth is we struggle sometimes\u00a0and I figure when all is said and done, we\u2019re just doing the best we can.\u00a0 There\u2019s a kind of poetry in that.<\/p>\n Last year I wrote a\u00a0blog about \u201cDaisy,\u201d<\/a> one of the residents at this retirement home.\u00a0 She is a wild woman.\u00a0 All 96 years of her.\u00a0 Even though her eyesight is failing and she is more achy and tired these days, she\u2019s still gorgeous, fashion-forward and when she gets out on the dance floor and shakes her booty the older fellas can\u00a0only wish\u2026 <\/span><\/p>\n She reminds me that life is short, even when we live long.\u00a0 So kick up your heels in 2011 no matter what happens.<\/p>\n (To the left, Cali and “Daisy” celebrating an early New Year’s)<\/p>\n I\u2019ve been a busy holiday elf, doing a sleigh-load of gigs this holiday season and meeting a lot of nifty people who have signed onto my elist.\u00a0 Thank you and welcome to my extraordinary ordinary life.<\/p>\n The CC Strummers, our band of intrepid ukulele players who meet the \u201cage requirement\u201d for irreverence, wisdom and membership at the Culver City Senior Center, have gone YouTube wild again!<\/p>\n I brought my video camera to class, handed it over to our adopted videographer, Debbie C., the queen of multi-tasking at the Senior Center, and we went to town on \u201cJingle Bells!\u201d If that isn\u2019t enough, we end the video with a holiday joke where everyone gets to deliver the punch line together. \u00a0Feel free to \u201cborrow\u201d a little ho ho ho<\/span> and spread it around.<\/p>\n Click this link<\/a> to watch our video.<\/p>\n Over the months we have been learning new songs, chords, strums and sharing stories about our families and friends and summer vacations. Like any group, our ukulele \u2018ohana (which is Hawaiian for family) is a microcosm of communities everywhere. Some of us have gotten sick, our hands hurt, we\u2019ve lost loved ones, we\u2019ve boarded airplanes and travelled to exotic places, we\u2019ve stayed close to home, we\u2019ve remodeled a house, cleaned out the clutter and done our twenty minutes on the treadmill every other day. We\u2019ve laughed a lot and I mean a lot. The miracle is that we have each other and we\u2019re loving this sweet instrument, the ukulele, which makes it possible for almost everyone to play music and be part of a convivial group like ours. Life is too hard to do it alone.<\/p>\n So during this time of year when we celebrate endings and new beginnings, it\u2019s okay to dance on the ashes, sing through the tears, have an extra cookie and jingle some bells.<\/p>\n Happy Holidays to you all!<\/p>\n Growing up in the wilds of northwest Washington D.C., I remember my little girlfriends dressing up their dollies and playing house.\u00a0 I also remember thinking \u201cshoot me now\u201d because that\u2019s the last thing on earth I want to do or play or be.\u00a0 Fortunately today, this contrarian view of motherhood is a bit more acceptable, but believe me I\u2019ve had a bumpy road on the journey of being\u00a0true to myself<\/span>.<\/p>\n So now you understand why I haven\u2019t crossed into the alien world of babies, even for a brief visit, but this Thanksgiving was different.<\/p>\n My husband\u2019s best friend, Steve, is part of a big, robust extended family.\u00a0 During those rough and tumble adolescent years, Steve spent many evenings hanging at Craig\u2019s house.\u00a0 And now, all these years later, Craig and I are hanging out with him and Grandma and Grandpa, the aunties and uncles, nephews and nieces and brand new baby Aaron, who is all of three weeks old. Somewhere along the baby story trajectory, I learn that daddy bites the teeny-tiny finger nails of his little boy, so they stay short and tidy.\u00a0 You could have knocked me over with an emery board.\u00a0 They hired a \u201cdoula<\/a>\u201d to help them through the process of labor and all the\u00a0 bodily-function stuff that follows, which apparently includes nail care. \u00a0(That’s daddy and baby, below left).<\/p>\n Well I can\u2019t shake this image so it\u2019s front burner in my mind the next day when I visit Maria, my favorite hair stylist at Fantastic Sam\u2019s.\u00a0 My messy mane of red hair grows almost as fast as bamboo, so Maria and I have gotten to know each other very well over the years.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat else did you mother do?\u201d I ask.\u00a0 Well, like her mom,\u00a0when her babies had stomach aches, Maria would rub her own saliva onto their bellies.\u00a0 Thank God I\u2019m sitting down, because like, this is news to me\u2026\u00a0\u00a0 Now the saliva has to be the \u201cnatural kind\u201d which happens\u00a0before<\/span> you brush your teeth.\u00a0 Her son is in high school now and reports that when he has a stomach ache, he spits on his hands, rubs the goo on his belly and feels a whole lot better.<\/p>\n I don\u2019t know about you, but I\u2019m going to try it the next time I am in gastric distress.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat else?\u00a0 I ask.\u00a0 When her kids started teething and were in obvious discomfort, she\u2019d give them a scallion to chew on and that took care of that.\u00a0 After all, why use drugs, over-the-counter or otherwise, when something like saliva and spring onions will do the trick.<\/p>\n And I just put scallions on salad\u2026<\/p>\n I recall my high school biology teacher telling the class that we are biologically irrelevant if we don\u2019t reproduce.\u00a0 I admit that I took that personally.\u00a0 For a long time.\u00a0 Even though biologically speaking, it is a legitimate point of view, I like to think of\u00a0LIFE<\/span> as one gigantic gestalt where everyone is doing their little part to keep the human\/earth thing moving forward.<\/p>\n As for me, I am thrilled to be invited into the \u201cbaby world\u201d for this brief moment in time.\u00a0 I may be watching from the bleachers, but oh what a sweet show. November 22, 2010 — More on Mentors and Thanksgiving<\/span><\/p>\n After I pushed the \u201csend\u201d button on my last blog, \u201cLosing A Mentor,\u201d it didn\u2019t take long for my in-box to fill up with beautiful email responses from you.\u00a0 Oh my goodness, I was really overwhelmed by your heartfelt messages.\u00a0 Thank You.<\/p>\n And I want to share a few excerpts with you:<\/p>\n I was wondering if you have a picture of your mentor that you could share.<\/span><\/p>\n Several of you asked about this and I actually laughed out loud because I don\u2019t have a picture.\u00a0 I got nothin\u2019 and it seems ridiculous but here\u2019s the scoop.\u00a0 Miss Laura Hart, who was cute as a button, was not into posing for snapshots nor did she allow her voice to be recorded.\u00a0 In this age where we splatter \u201ceverything-about-me\u201d on our Facebook page, her attitude was, shall we say,\u00a0unusual<\/span>.<\/p>\n I remember one afternoon when I decided to break the \u201cLaura Hart Rule\u201d and secretly tape our lesson.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know what I was thinking because I\u2019m not CIA material and have never been able to pull off anything \u201csneaky\u201d without getting caught.\u00a0 But I tried anyway, smuggling a\u00a0cassette recorder in my big purse and turning it on before she entered the room.\u00a0 But the lesson ran long,\u00a0 the off-button snapped and you could hear the dull \u201cthud\u201d echo back and forth against the walls.\u00a0 Laura knew immediately what I had done and at that moment I thought flying monkeys would crash through the windows and carry me off to purgatory.<\/p>\n Fortunately I promised never never, ever ever to do that again, gave her the cassette, all was forgiven and we moved on, but now that she is gone, I wish I had that tape to listen to.\u00a0 You\u2019ll never know the joyful lilt in her voice or the deep wisdom in her eyes.\u00a0 The footprint she leaves in this world cannot be captured on paper or iPods.\u00a0 It is pressed into the hearts of her students and those who love her.<\/p>\n I have lost many mentors, friends and tormentors over the years!\u00a0 Not an easy part of life.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cTormentors?\u201d\u00a0 I\u00a0love<\/span> that.\u00a0 The people who create the most drama in my life (besides me\u2026ha ha)\u00a0 are the ones who push my hot buttons over and over again.\u00a0 Whether they know it or not, they are jamming a mirror right in my face.\u00a0 Most of the time I push the mirror aside and trudge on, but once in a while I get a hard honest look at myself, which brings us to the next email.<\/p>\n You’ve reminded me that friends come and go in our lives and yet the ones we remember most fondly seem to have involved a complicated relationship.<\/span> Very good reflection on your friend.\u00a0 I too have many, but never thought about it in detail like that.\u00a0 Almost every day I mention “Lew, Mike, Byron, Walt, Bert\u201d and more mentors.\u00a0 Just mentioned them, without thinking.\u00a0 Each one helping me down the road.\u00a0 Didn\u2019t realize how much they meant to me but now I do\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n This Thursday is Thanksgiving and many of us will share time and food and conversation with people we love and with people we don\u2019t love, with people who\u00a0get us<\/span> and with people we hope we never see again.\u00a0 It\u2019s complicated.\u00a0 We bring the \u201cLew\u2019s and Mike\u2019s and Laura Hart\u2019s and tormentors, galore\u201d to the table too, because they have helped make us who we are.<\/p>\n In her song \u201cPrayer 2000,\u201d singer-songwriter Eliza Gilkyson says it this way:<\/p>\n “Thank you for my tears, Happy Thanksgiving and Thank You\u2026<\/p>\n She was singing teacher, she was friend, she was \u201cgood mother.\u201d\u00a0 She was my mentor for over twenty years.\u00a0 But that is just a number because she was also \u201cseed planter\u201d and I am astonished how these seeds have taken root and pushed to the surface long\u00a0after she and I parted ways.<\/p>\n Such is the influence of our mentors —\u00a0 the people who guide and cajole, who lovingly point us left as we lean right and strong-arm us right as we lean left.\u00a0 They endeavor to keep us on the path of our own unfoldment.\u00a0 And if they are extraordinary, they will honor our path and not try to push us down theirs.<\/p>\n Her name was Laura Hart and I just found out that she passed away peacefully in her home.\u00a0 She guarded her age like a palace Beefeater protects The Queen so no one knew exactly how old she was at any given time.\u00a0 She didn\u2019t want to be pigeon-holed or categorized according to cultural-bred expectations and I think it was her way of thumbing her nose at the status quo.<\/p>\n Laura was a radical vegetarian long before it was hip and enjoyed hanging out with fellow eccentrics like Gypsy Boots.\u00a0 I remember her unbridled joy as she pried open an enormous tin of jumbo-sized cashews delivered to her front door from some exotic country abroad and scooped out a handful for me.\u00a0 She never wavered from her diet and claimed she could smell people who ate meat.<\/p>\n Because I admired her so and in my youthful na\u00efvet\u00e9 wanted to be like her, I tried to be a vegetarian too.\u00a0 But my recurring dreams of In & Out burgers finally did me in.\u00a0 Even though I sprayed on an extra whoosh of \u201cCharlie\u201d perfume before a lesson, I was pretty sure she could smell that I had fallen off the vegetarian wagon.<\/p>\n She wore polyester stretch pants in pink, yellow or robin egg blue with a matching loose-fitting blouse so she could comfortably work her abdominal muscles as we sang.\u00a0 Her hair was Lucille Ball red and artfully sprayed into a perfect upswept \u201cdo\u201d which she decorated with matching bows.\u00a0 I never saw her out of\u00a0uniform<\/span>.<\/p>\n When she answered the phone, you could hear a smile in the word \u201chello\u201d as if she was one hundred percent de-e-e-e-lighted you called.\u00a0 But God forbid you telephone before noon because she stayed up late with her lover and her cashew nuts and soy tempeh and slept in while the rest of us joined the morning circus.<\/p>\n It was serendipitous that I even met Miss Laura Hart in the first place.\u00a0 One mystery person saw me singing at a piano bar and suggested I give her a call.\u00a0 I was insulted because I thought I was doing just fine, thank you, and don\u2019t need\u00a0no singin\u2019 teacher<\/span>, but I kept the piece of paper with her name and number anyway.\u00a0 A few months later another mystery person made the same suggestion and slipped me her name written on a cocktail napkin.<\/p>\n Oh what the hell.\u00a0 I called her, set up a lesson and arrived at her doorstep in Sherman Oaks, which is in “The Valley” part of Los Angeles.\u00a0 I played and sang a few songs including ones I had written and she said that she\u2019d like to work with me.\u00a0 I suddenly realized that in fact I had been auditioning for\u00a0her<\/span>.<\/p>\n \u201cHow long will it take to learn how to sing?\u201d I asked.\u00a0 \u201cFifteen, twenty years maybe,\u201d she smiled sweetly.\u00a0 I thought she was kidding but in retrospect, I wish it\u00a0had<\/span> taken only fifteen years.\u00a0 Then she asked me if I planned to be fat the rest of my life.\u00a0 Like what?\u00a0 I wasn\u2019t fat.\u00a0 Pleasantly plump, maybe.\u00a0 Okay, I was a size 14.\u00a0 Laura Hart was blunt and didn\u2019t mince words.\u00a0 I, on the other hand, went mute.\u00a0 No one had ever talked to me like that before.\u00a0 She took a chance that day because I could have easily bailed right then and there.\u00a0 But I didn\u2019t.\u00a0 A week later I returned and we began our long complicated relationship.<\/p>\n We spent whole lessons analyzing how Frank Sinatra phrases a song and Nat King Cole pronounces every syllable of every word.\u00a0 We listened to Aretha Franklin wail from her chest voice and tried to imitate her sound.\u00a0 We channeled Mae West in order to hit high notes.\u00a0 We stood in front of the mirror and clapped our hands and shook our bottoms to a rock beat, swing, a cha cha cha.\u00a0 She knew music is a body-felt experience and she wanted me to learn this too.\u00a0 Not in my head.\u00a0 In my body.<\/p>\n Laura was from the \u201ctalk-singer\u201d school of music.\u00a0 For her, as it is for me, singing is about having a conversation with someone, not singing\u00a0at them<\/span>.\u00a0 When we learned a new song, she had me recite the lyric first as if I was speaking to you over a cup of coffee and donuts.\u00a0 She taught me to support my sound from the gut, taking a deep breath and gripping those lower abdominal muscles like a vise.\u00a0 Because I tighten my throat and neck muscles when I get nervous she introduced me to \u201cHerman the Worm,\u201d which I say aloud as I rest my tongue across my lower lip, sounding every bit like Kermit the Frog and slowly I feel the muscles relax.<\/p>\n Indeed she was a master vocal technician, but it was her presence that most informed my life.\u00a0 Laura had been an entertainer in her youth and understood how it feels to be a performer, reminding me that I\u2019m not on stage to\u00a0impress<\/span> anyone, but rather\u00a0express<\/span> and share what I love.\u00a0 Doing a show, singing, writing\u2026it isn\u2019t about me, it\u2019s about\u00a0us<\/span>.<\/p>\n She was a \u201cgood mother\u201d too.\u00a0 I needed positive role models in my life like morning glories needs sunshine and she gave me that at the very time I needed it most.\u00a0 I shared my secrets with her.\u00a0 She listened, fed me rice cakes smeared with almond butter and a sprinkle of Spike on top and she didn\u2019t push me away.\u00a0 She loved me back into the world.<\/p>\n She grew me up and that meant that someday I would have to leave.\u00a0 Nothing lasts forever and relationships change.\u00a0 After all those years together, some of her teachings were no longer resonating with me and I wasn\u2019t buying into the whole program.\u00a0 She had brought me onto her path, but the time had come to take what I had learned and forge my own way.\u00a0 We rarely spoke after that.\u00a0 I don’t know why.\u00a0 Maybe we were all talked out.<\/p>\n The last time I saw Laura I had stopped by the house, just on a whim, to say \u201chello.\u201d\u00a0 By now I was wearing size 4, doing gigs all the time and finally feeling more comfortable in my own skin.\u00a0 Suddenly she is striding towards me, her arms open wide and we embrace as if all the years have disappeared and we are meeting in some otherworldly place that is beyond time and space and joy and pain.\u00a0 It\u2019s a place where\u00a0all is well<\/span>, no matter what.\u00a0 The passing decades have left a gentle dusting on her face, the shoulders tilt slightly forward, but her spirit is ageless.<\/p>\n In her long career as a teacher she saw the parade, a revolving door of students who yearned to learn something deeper, almost metaphysical, about singing and acting.\u00a0 Everyday working musicians like me to big Hollywood stars pulled into her driveway and quickly learned that if you enter, you may be transformed.\u00a0 I was one of the few who stayed around long enough for a little magic to happen.<\/p>\n Sky, her husband and lover, sent an email last week saying how proud she was of me and that I was loved.\u00a0 These words, coming from a mentor, are like grabbing the brass ring.\u00a0 These same words coming from \u201cthe good mother\u201d are succor that lasts a lifetime.<\/p>\n The only way I can thank her now is to stay true to myself and continue doing what I do.\u00a0 Her essence is imbedded in every note I sing.\u00a0 As for her age, that superfluous numeral we give to the number of spins we take around the sun, my guess is that Miss Laura Hart made it almost a hundred times.<\/p>\n This Sunday, October 17, I am doing my \u201csinger-songwriter\u201d\u00a0 thing, as the guest artist at\u00a0Boulevard Music\u2019s Monthly Variety Night<\/a>.\u00a0 What exactly does that mean?\u00a0 Well there are eight people who have already signed up to play or sing or do something personal on stage for ten minutes.\u00a0 Because I am the guest artist, I get twenty minutes to do the same thing.<\/p>\n I say \u201cbravo\u201d to those brave souls who wander forth into the spotlight to bare their souls to an audience that is not otherwise distracted by alcohol, food, conversation, smart phones or football on the plasma TV.<\/p>\n I recall seeing a survey that asked average people like you and me about their greatest fears in life.\u00a0 You would think that something like \u201cdying\u201d would top the list.\u00a0 But no-o-o-o.\u00a0 It\u2019s public speaking.\u00a0 I will include public singing in that too.\u00a0 Okay?<\/p>\n Having played open mikes myself and gone catatonic with fear, I know how it feels to want people to like me or at least like what I do.\u00a0 And when that doesn\u2019t happen and I’m on stage by myself and the audience is sending poison darts my way, well my friends, it does feel like dying.<\/p>\n That said, there are riches to be found in the land of \u201ckiss your ass goodbye.\u201d I am happy to report there is life after humiliation.<\/p>\n A few years back I was hired to do two very different performances for the same awards luncheon.\u00a0 To begin the afternoon, I am alone on stage with my synthesizer playing pretty instrumental music.\u00a0 Stuff like \u201cMoon River.\u201d<\/p>\n Soon the hall fills with hundreds of talkative senior citizens who have trouble hearing each other anyway so they talk louder and the room gets noisier. The person in charge asks me to turn down the music, which I do until I can barely hear it myself.\u00a0 By now I have put my fingers on auto-pilot and am just hoping for the best.\u00a0 But people are still holding their hands over their ears and glaring at\u00a0me<\/span>.\u00a0 This is not a good sign.<\/p>\n A man, who has a strong resemblance to a pissed-off gargoyle, marches right up to the stage and orders me,\u00a0orders me<\/span> to \u201cstop da noise.\u00a0 Stop da noise!\u201d\u00a0 Before returning to his table, he turns around and glowers with his beady little eyes.\u00a0 Is he hoping I will vaporize right then and there and suddenly there will be silence?<\/p>\n The room is noisy because there are four hundred people talking at the same time but I guess there are occasions when blaming the piano player is the path of least resistance.<\/p>\n So after an hour, per the contract, I \u201cstop da noise\u201d and slide out of the convention hall, past the salad carts and disgruntled folks who are looking mighty relieved to see me go.\u00a0 I head straight for my sanctuary, the ladies room, where I ensconce myself within the sacred walls of stall number one.<\/p>\n I just breathe.\u00a0 In and out, in and out because I know my job is not done.\u00a0 After the awards are handed out I am back on stage doing my “Let’s-Whoop-It-Up” Show for these very same people.<\/p>\n Slowly they begin to respond and clap and sing along.\u00a0 Well about half of them do.\u00a0 The rest are carrying on full-throated conversations across the big round tables.\u00a0 I’m not proud to admit that at this point I crank up the volume just to see if anyone in the audience will explode.<\/p>\n Finally I sing my last song, congratulate the award winners and much to my surprise, a phalanx of people gather in front of the stage, asking for\u00a0business cards and telling me how fabulous I am.<\/p>\n Like, what???<\/p>\n One moment I suck, the next moment I don\u2019t.\u00a0 That afternoon was a turning point for me because I really got that\u00a0blame<\/span> and\u00a0praise<\/span> are two sides of the same coin and moving targets at that.\u00a0 I can figure that at any given moment some of my audience like what I do, some don\u2019t, some could care less and alas these opinions can change like the weather.\u00a0 Of course I prefer praise to blame, but both are rather tenuous and built on the shifting sands of personal opinion and preferences and points of view. Here today, gone tomorrow…<\/p>\n Ultimately my job as a musician is to share what I love and the rest is none of my business.\u00a0 Well in a perfect world, maybe.\u00a0 But in the face of rejection or \u201cdying\u201d on stage, it takes tremendous courage for all of us to be true to ourselves, moment to moment, to be who we really are and let the chips fall where they will fall.<\/p>\n But on the other hand, we don\u2019t exist in a vacuum either.\u00a0 We are connected to each other in big inexplicable ways and our behavior is contagious.<\/p>\n I have no answers.\u00a0 A dear friend reminds me that \u201clife is a mystery to be lived, not solved.\u201d<\/p>\n So let’s sing…<\/p>\n Variety Night is Sunday, October 17, 2010 from 8:00 to 10:00 P.M.\u00a0 My set begins at 8:30. Boulevard Music is located at 4316 Sepulveda Blvd., Culver City, CA 90230, which is near the corner of Culver and Sepulveda Blvds.\u00a0 (310) 398-2583.\u00a0 Tickets are $4.00\u00a0 No reservations necessary, just show up.\u00a0 There is street parking, coffee shops and restaurants nearby.\u00a0 I look forward to seeing you.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n It all began in May when a gaggle of eager senior citizens gathered for our very first Ukulele for Beginners Class at the Culver City Senior Center.\u00a0 We introduced ourselves and our ukuleles, went over the body parts (of our ukuleles of course), learned to hold our little puppies close to our hearts and played our first song, \u201cRow Row Row Your Boat,\u201d because it has only one chord and alas you can strum all four strings of the uke without doing anything with your left hand and it sounds so sweet.\u00a0 We got our first taste of \u201cuke joy\u201d that very day.<\/p>\n The class was supposed to last only two months, but it became apparent, almost from the get-go, that we couldn\u2019t stop ourselves.\u00a0 We were having too much fun.<\/p>\n We also agreed that \u201cCC\u201d stands for Cute and Cuddly.\u00a0 Maybe we are talking about our ukuleles and\u00a0maybe<\/span> we are talking about ourselves.\u00a0\u00a0 Or maybe it\u2019s \u201cC.\u201d\u00a0 All the above.<\/p>\n You decide\u2026<\/p>\n Because now you can see and hear us on our brand new music video which we have posted on YouTube<\/a>.<\/p>\n In just a few months we have gone from Rowing our Boat to playing and singing Nat King Cole\u2019s jazz classic, \u201cL-O-V-E.\u201d\u00a0 In fact the title of our music video is \u201cCC Strummers Do L-O-V-E,\u201d which I thought was particularly catchy.<\/p>\n I set up our own account on YouTube and was stunned that in all the world, from New Zealand to New York, no one had snagged the name \u201cCC Strummers.\u201d So I did!\u00a0 It\u2019s especially fortuitous when the\u00a0YouTube channel name<\/a> is actually who we are!<\/p>\n I posted our video last Monday and by the time we met Thursday for class, it\u00a0 had already gotten 75 views!\u00a0 Ray, who always takes his front row seat, confessed he had logged on 10 times.\u00a0 Lou reported that his family members declared he is a virtuoso!\u00a0 And so it goes.<\/p>\n This class is about having fun AND learning to play an instrument AND making music together. In the words of the great teacher,\u00a0Shirley Orlando, of Island Bazaar<\/a>, learning to play the ukulele is \u201chit and miss.\u201d\u00a0 We hit a few chords, we miss a few chords and whatever happens is okay.\u00a0 The important thing is that we are here together, at this moment, in this place, practicing joy. \u201cWhat is reality, anyway? When my friend is away on vacation, I step in to do music therapy with her client, a woman with Alzheimer\u2019s disease.\u00a0 I sing for groups of people with dementia but working one-on-one with a person who has lost the story of her life, well that is a whole different experience.\u00a0 It is personal and intimate and I\u2019m learning to swim with her, in her ocean, not mine.<\/p>\n Many times, I have witnessed how music and rhythm can open a window to memories and emotions.\u00a0 This process is deep and mysterious and primordial.\u00a0 The chattering mind has nothing to do with it.\u00a0 Sure the effect is temporary.\u00a0 But everything is temporary.<\/p>\n News Flash!\u00a0 We\u2019re all just passing through.<\/p>\n So twice a week I visit \u201cJane\u201d in her high-rise apartment for our hour of singing and tapping and clapping along.\u00a0 Her caregiver helps her onto a cushy chair then reaches for the small box of make-up and jewelry behind the dining room table where we are sitting and carefully applies lipstick and blush to Jane\u2019s face.\u00a0 Not that Jane needs much help.\u00a0 This woman, who is ninety-something, is stunningly beautiful.\u00a0 Her wedding picture, a snapshot in time of the ebullient couple beginning their long life together, sits on the bookcase behind her.\u00a0 My guess is that Jane always took pride in her appearance and why should that change now?<\/p>\n As the caregiver drapes a long strand of green beads around her neck, sets out a glass of cranberry juice along with a tambourine, I perch my mini-keyboard on the table.\u00a0 My fluke ukulele, with its flat bottom, sits within easy reach next to a vase of freshly cut flowers. We begin with a big hug!\u00a0 I wrap my arms around her until she takes a deep breath, a kind of heave-ho.\u00a0 We do several \u201chug\u201d breaks like this throughout the hour and I seriously believe that these touchy-touchy moments are as healing as the music.\u00a0 They certainly are for me.\u00a0 I am filled up by her hugs.\u00a0 For a brief moment she becomes the grandmother I didn\u2019t have.<\/p>\n I sit as close to her as possible so my tapping foot rests on her foot or against her chair because I want her to\u00a0feel<\/span> the rhythm in her body.\u00a0 We human beings are drums after all.\u00a0 Our hearts “buh-buh” away.\u00a0 It never ceases to amaze me how something as basic the \u201cthud thud thud\u201d of a percussive instrument can transport us–body, mind and heart–to some ancient and quiet place inside.<\/p>\n Sometimes Jane is so submerged in her world that she doesn\u2019t speak or sing, but she will lightly tap the tambourine.\u00a0 On rare occasions she can\u2019t even do that, so I keep a keyboard base line going with my left hand and hold her hand with my right and together we move to the music.\u00a0 I trust life and I trust the body and I trust that something is registering with Jane even when she doesn\u2019t show it.<\/p>\n Then there are times she suddenly \u201cappears\u201d and literally bursts out singing.\u00a0 I swear they can hear her down to the busy street below.\u00a0 She finishes a song with a rousing high note, takes a deep breath and sings the note again.\u00a0 \u201cRow Row Row Your Boat\u201d is one of her favorites.\u00a0 Actually she doesn\u2019t really sing the official words to any song but rather belts out a chorus of nonsense syllables punctuated by a real word or phrase here and there.\u00a0 And this is good enough.\u00a0 One day she may respond to the keyboard and a few days later, the ukulele will lead her out of the fog and back to the present.\u00a0 Her excitement is self-generated and we sing a song over and over and over again.\u00a0 When we finish, her smile lights the room.\u00a0 \u201cThat was a good one,\u201d she says.\u00a0 I applaud like a happy child and hold her hand.<\/p>\n But mostly her sentences make no sense at all.\u00a0 At least to me.\u00a0 In the beginning, I would soldier on anyway, grabbing a real word like \u201chouse,\u201d from the gibberish, and ask her something like \u201cdid you live there?\u201d\u00a0 Well that didn\u2019t work.\u00a0 Now when she talks I just smile big and say \u201cyes.\u201d\u00a0 That\u2019s all.\u00a0 \u201cYes, yes, yes!\u201d<\/p>\n I can\u2019t begin to know what\u2019s happening in her head, but I know how \u201cyes\u201d feels to me and I hope that my saying \u201cyes\u201d means that I\u2019m bearing witness to her experience at this very moment, without an agenda to change or fix anything.<\/p>\n And who is to say that her experience is any less real than mine anyway.\u00a0 Perhaps the difference is that she alone inhabits her world, along with the images and thoughts that are conjured up in her consciousness.<\/p>\n But I share my world, my so-called reality, with millions of others.\u00a0 We have agreed to call \u201ca toaster a toaster.\u201d\u00a0 But does that make it real, or true?\u00a0 There was a time everyone agreed the earth was flat.\u00a0 We know how that turned out.<\/p>\n So working with Jane helps me feel a little more comfortable with the whole mystery of it all.\u00a0 The threads of her past are disappearing\u2014the people she loved and lost, the places she called home, the events big and small that brought her joy or scared the hell out of her\u2014going, going, gone.<\/p>\n But something remains and I can feel it when I see her beautiful face and I can feel it when we hug and I can even feel it when she is completely lost in the disease.\u00a0 It\u2019s a gossamer presence, a song that is Jane\u2019s and Jane\u2019s alone. And I trust that\u00a0this<\/span> is what we really are.<\/p>\n Moments after my husband and I arrive Saturday morning at Beringer\u2019s Vineyard Winery, folks are nodding \u201chello\u201d and calling us by name.\u00a0 I\u2019m thinking \u201cwho are you, nice person?\u201d\u00a0 Oh-oh, you are a Facebook friend?\u00a0 A YouTube friend?\u00a0 This festival is the intersection between modern technology and a neighborhood block party.\u00a0 Finally I begin putting names and faces together and it\u2019s like meeting old friends again.\u00a0 For the first time.<\/p>\n And so it goes throughout the day.<\/p>\n But first I get to do my thing on the Promenade Stage.\u00a0 Only a couple days before my friend\u00a0\u201cThe Dominator<\/a>” invites me to play backup with him during his set.\u00a0 Please don\u2019t get the wrong idea about a man who calls himself \u201cDominator.\u201d\u00a0 It\u2019s not what you think.\u00a0 Dominic is a monster player who posts miles and miles of tablature arrangements online, for free, so others can play his stuff too.<\/p>\n The night before our performance, we meet in his room at the ol\u2019\u00a0Calistoga Village Inn<\/a> and jam on the songs I will be playing.\u00a0 Now here is the thing:\u00a0 I have worked as a solo artist my whole life, because that\u2019s just the way it happened, so rarely do I have the opportunity to play with other musicians, and when I do, it\u2019s like I\u2019m rolling in chocolate because it\u2019s just too yummy.<\/p>\n His songs are new and unfamiliar to me and I have to think and play in ways that stretch me as a musician.\u00a0 As I recall, it is the great In the picture to the right, Dom and I are playing the fun Hawaiian song \u201cOpihi Man,\u201d along with two mystery hotties (in the black teeshirts) from Santa Cruz.\u00a0 Opihi, a saltwater snail, is a rare and expensive delicacy in Hawaii.\u00a0 It takes a brave man, with a sharp knife and uncanny balance, to pry them off the rocks before the next wave slams to shore.\u00a0 It\u2019s dangerous work and that\u2019s why we don\u2019t find opihi at Trader Joe\u2019s.<\/p>\n Of course my husband and I bring the video camera, along with bottles of water, business cards and bags of almonds, but I forget to pack the tripod, which is why the YouTube videos I posted from my set look a little shaky.\u00a0 Craig has to hold \u2018er steady for thirty minutes.\u00a0 Hey folks, this is life, unedited.\u00a0 You can check out my songs\u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s Easy To Play The Ukulele<\/a>\u201d and the theme from The Andy Griffith Show \u201cThe Fishing Hole<\/a>” on YouTube.<\/p>\n Let it be known that we are a Two-Ukulele family and\u00a0Craig<\/a> gets his turn later on.\u00a0 He is a hugely talented musician, playing jazz and lush chord melodies.\u00a0 Not the kind of stuff one expects to hear on the uke.\u00a0 Our styles are as different as opihi and giraffes, which is why, in order to preserve our marriage, we don\u2019t play together.\u00a0 That said, this summer, after years together, we finally put our artistic\u00a0differences<\/span> aside long enough to work on one arrangement together.\u00a0 Oh my God, are we finally growing up?<\/p>\n So after lunch, we get cozy in a quiet gazebo away from the action and begin to play that one song, \u201cWatch What Happens.\u201d\u00a0 By the time we finish, an enthusiastic circle of people has gathered around us, smiling and applauding our efforts.\u00a0 The moment is heartwarming and especially nice because Craig and I get to share it together.<\/p>\n Just then, Dominic\u2019s wife, Joanne, flies through the gate, wearing a bathing suit and the big fluffy towel over her arm that she picked up at the front desk for her dunk in the mineral pool.<\/p>\n \u201cYou won\u2019t believe what the desk clerk just told me?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u00a0 What did he say?\u201d\u00a0 Whooee, this is getting exciting\u2026<\/p>\n He said, \u201cYou\u00a0k-n-o-w<\/span> what they\u2019re\u00a0d-o-i-n-g<\/span> back there, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n Apparently she doesn\u2019t look like she is\u00a0one of us<\/span>\u00a0and he feels compelled to warn her, or at least prepare her for the shock of seeing a small village of musicians singing and playing the ukulele version of \u201cShe\u2019ll Be Comin\u2019 Round The Mountain.\u201d<\/p>\n We all enjoy a good laugh over that one but nevertheless there is something telling in the clerk\u2019s remarks.\u00a0 Though perspectives are changing, the ukulele is still seen by many as something you buy at \u201cToys \u2018R Us\u201d and those who play are relegated to the bell curve of \u201cwack-a-doo.\u201d\u00a0 But that\u2019s not my experience at all and while we\u2019re at it, ask financial wizard and longtime ukulele aficionado Warren Buffet to strum a tune for you\u2026because\u00a0he can<\/span>.<\/p>\n Playing the uke is not so much about ego (I mean, come on\u2014the thing looks like a puppy) but rather expressing the joy of being with one another and making music together, one song at a time.<\/p>\n \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n And big surprises too!<\/p>\n So many that it will take another blog to share all the goodies.\u00a0 But let it be said, ukulele players are the sweetest people in the world and I\u2019m not kidding when I tell you there is a global community that embraces this instrument and we are enormously supportive of each other, no matter where we live or how well we play.<\/p>\n Craig and I leave a couple days early because last Thursday was our wedding anniversary and why not celebrate by driving Interstate 5 through the San Joaquin Valley.\u00a0 I\u2019ve heard people liken this excursion to a slow death by roasting, but we stop at the clean travel centers, buy chips and soda and are delighted by the cashier near the cutoff to Bakersfield who invites us back on Sunday afternoon to see \u201cthe famous country singer\u201d who will be performing by the fish and tackle department.\u00a0 We have never heard of this singer but then again we don\u2019t live in Bakersfield.<\/p>\n We arrive at the\u00a0Calistoga Village Inn<\/a> late in the afternoon.\u00a0 You have to know that Napa Valley is the high rent district but this place is off the beaten path and kind of creaky.\u00a0 I prefer “funky” and altogether charming.\u00a0 And affordable.\u00a0 We love it.\u00a0 They have three geothermal mineral pools in the back.\u00a0 One is warm, one is warmer and the last one, well throw some veggies in and a chicken or two and you\u2019ll have soup in about ten minutes\u2026<\/p>\n We need to scope out a nice restaurant for our anniversary dinner and what better place to learn the lay of the land than at the two-room Calistoga Public Library where the librarian introduces us to Jack, the man who knows everything about everything in town.\u00a0 He rises from his chair, looking every bit like an elderly Big Bird, towering over my 6\u20193\u201d husband.\u00a0 He has a big generous smile and gives us the rundown on the restaurants, who owns them, what kind of food they serve, what\u2019s good, what\u2019s not.\u00a0 Then he invites us to his house on Saturday night for his monthly mystery evening party that he gives for neighbors and friends.<\/p>\n \u201cBut Jack, you don\u2019t even know us,\u201d I sputter.<\/p>\n \u201cWell you\u2019re not carrying an axe are you, so I think you\u2019re okay.\u201d\u00a0 We decide then and there that Calistoga people are really cool. I live in Los Angeles.\u00a0 The local shopping mall here in Culver City is probably the size of Santa Rosa (okay I\u2019m exaggerating\u00a0a little<\/span>), but I\u2019ve lived in a small town too and I get what she is saying.\u00a0 I remember the \u201cstillness\u201d in the land and the air and the trees.\u00a0 It\u2019s quiet enough to remember the mystery and wonder of it all.\u00a0 Sure the same stillness is everywhere, including Los Angeles, but let\u2019s face it, the noise and all the whoopee-doo stuff, that\u2019s what grabs my attention these days in the big city.\u00a0 Visiting places like Napa Valley helps me remember, again, what\u00a0 stars\u00a0feel<\/span> like when I look into the sky.<\/p>\n The next morning, another waitress at Caf\u00e9 Sarafornia shows us the picture on her cellphone where she is standing next to the breakfast menu posted on the caf\u00e9 wall.\u00a0 It’s written in Japanese.\u00a0 Like, huh?<\/p>\n You never know in this world.<\/p>\n Coming next:\u00a0 If you\u2019re going to do a ukulele festival, do it at the beautiful Beringer\u2019s Vineyard Winery in St. Helena<\/p>\n September 4, 2010 — The Wine Country Ukulele Festival<\/span><\/p>\n Next week we\u2019re off to the vineyards in Northern California for the annual\u00a0Wine Country Ukulele Festival<\/a>, Saturday, September 11 through Sunday, September 12.\u00a0 The Promenade Stage will be “ukulele central” for a galaxy of performers who will entertain both days.\u00a0 I snagged the early bird slot:\u00a0 Saturday at 11:15 A.M.<\/p>\n This is pretty darned exciting.\u00a0 I\u2019ve entertained in many different places–behind a hedge, standing on a table, in the middle of a parking lot and a meadow, on big stages and small, in a kitchen, restaurant booth and the crammed waiting area at Nate and Al\u2019s Deli in Beverly Hills.\u00a0 But I\u2019ve never played at a ukulele festival.\u00a0 So whooo-whooo!<\/p>\n The whole extravaganza takes place at the Beringer Vineyards Winery in St. Helena.\u00a0 It doesn\u2019t occur to me to use the words \u201cwine\u201d and \u201cukulele\u201d in the same sentence, but apparently it will be a very \u201cjoyful\u201d event and I figure people will be so pleasantly buzzed that I could stand on the stage with a grass skirt, coconut bra and sing \u201cStairway to Heaven\u201d and we\u2019d all be happy.<\/p>\n Beautiful Northern California was my home for two years.\u00a0 I went to Humboldt State University, behind the redwood curtain, a few miles north of Eureka. I did get drunk.\u00a0 Once.\u00a0 It happened at the house of my La Raza History professor.\u00a0 He threw an end-of-the-semester party for his students.\u00a0\u00a0 On a large ornate table were plates of delicious homemade guacamole, chips and a huge bowl of frothy Sangria wine with various fruity things floating on the surface.\u00a0 The concoction tasted like fancy Hawaiian Punch so I helped myself at the trough.\u00a0 Several times.\u00a0 The last thing I remember is smearing guacamole across the front of my white sweater because apparently I could not locate my mouth.<\/p>\n It\u2019s a short drive on the interstate from his home in Eureka to the campus and I would say one of the luckiest breaks in my life is that my drunk girlfriend and I made it back without killing someone or ourselves or getting hauled off to jail.<\/p>\n However I did want to die the next morning.<\/p>\n Somehow I managed to drag my body up the slippery wet steps to La Raza class.\u00a0 Everything looked kind of gray and tasted like wine and smelled like an old bar.\u00a0 Oh, that\u2019s me.\u00a0 The prof asked if I was okay and made some allusion to \u201cthe guacamole thing.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0 There were a few chuckles in the room.<\/p>\n I decided then and there that drinking is not for me.<\/p>\n Ironically, I learned how to be a good entertainer singing in bars, piano bars, and often customers offered to buy me drinks.\u00a0 I’d smile sweetly and ask for cranberry juice. \u201cYou\u2019re no fun,\u201d they\u2019d say.<\/p>\n So those wine tasting tables at the big ukulele festival will be wasted on me.\u00a0 This time it\u2019s all about the music!<\/p>\n Grace, the bass player, picks us up in her jeep en route to the music jam near Ha\u2019ena, along the gorgeous road that dead ends at the majestic Na Pali coast on the north shore of Kaua\u2019i.<\/p>\n We\u2019re heading to Dave\u2019s house and thankfully Grace is driving because we\u2019d never find his place on our own as it\u2019s located on a blind curve and partially obscured by curtains of tropical vegetation.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, a spider house,\u201d I purr.\u00a0 That\u2019s my nickname for a home that is built on stilts.\u00a0 In fact Dave\u2019s house doesn\u2019t start until the second floor, but he\u2019s turned the covered ground level into the band rehearsal plaza, complete with speakers, amplifier, comfy chairs and a communal music stand.<\/p>\n It\u2019s lush, jungle-like and damp in these parts, but not as soppy as Mount Wai\u2019ale\u2019ale, the volcano a few ridges over that is the wettest spot on earth.<\/p>\n \u201cHow long does your equipment last in this weather,\u201d I ask Dave.<\/p>\n \u201cAbout three years.\u201d\u00a0 But that\u2019s only half the story.\u00a0 Apparently geckos are attracted to amplifiers too.\u00a0 It\u2019s not the music.\u00a0 Amps are toasty and an appealing hideaway for love-making.\u00a0 Dave has pried open a crackly amp only to find two geckos, fried and preserved in their final love tryst.\u00a0 The only gecko I know is in the Geico Insurance commercials and I\u2019m pretty sure that little guy is neutered\u2026<\/p>\n Both my husband and I are strumming our ukuleles, Dave plays a tiple, which looks like\u00a0 a\u00a0 small guitar but is tuned like a uke and sounds festive and sparkly.\u00a0 Bruce adds his excellent lead guitar and petite\u00a0 Grace is playing the big electric bass.\u00a0 We jam our way through their songbook of 60\u2019s rock which includes a bounty of Bob Dylan and Elvis tunes.<\/p>\n Suddenly Everybody stops as Dave quickly sets down his tiple and runs in front of me towards the biggest mo-fo bug I have ever seen in my life.\u00a0 I hear the word \u201ccentipede\u201d and think of a cuddly caterpillar, butterfly-bound, but apparently that is not how things work around here.\u00a0 In the jungle.\u00a0 This bug is about 8 inches long, pudgy-thick and from my vantage point, looks like it has a thousand legs as it scurries across the cement floor towards my husband.<\/p>\n Dave is a big man with big feet and he stomps the thing over and over again.\u00a0 I\u2019m speechless.\u00a0 At home, I\u2019m the one who captures each bee that flies into our condo through the open screen door.\u00a0 I trap it against the wall with a Dixie cup, cover the opening with an index card and release it back into the wilds of Culver City.\u00a0 Furthermore, my idea of \u201cdoing jungle\u201d is running my hand over the bamboo cutting boards at Bed Bath and Beyond.<\/p>\n After the initial stomping, the centipede is only momentarily stunned so Dave grabs a kayak paddle off the wall and begins whacking the hell out of it some more.<\/p>\n \u201cYou can\u2019t kill them.\u00a0 Cut them up into little pieces and they\u2019re still alive,\u201d Grace calmly chimes in as Dave scoops up the squirming remains and dumps it in the backyard, which is basically the beach.<\/p>\n \u201cAre they like, poisonous?\u201d\u00a0 I ask, once I find my voice again.<\/p>\n \u201cIf one bites you, you won\u2019t die, but you\u2019ll wish you were dead because it hurts so damned bad,\u201d Bruce laughs.<\/p>\n Dave soon returns, picks up his tiple and we play \u201cLove Me Tender.\u201d<\/p>\n Aloha… The island-fresh air is a healing balm as I breathe in and out.\u00a0 In the summertime, Hanalei Bay, an undulating\u00a0 palette of turquoise and azure, is calm and warm.\u00a0 After it rains, waterfalls appear like silver ribbons unfurling down the tall mountains that wrap around Hanalei Valley.<\/p>\n And of course, there are the people of the north shore.\u00a0 We stay at Beach Bums Bungalow, a lovely studio apartment built over the garage that belongs to Jill & Steve Landis who are transplants from Long Beach, California.\u00a0 She is a teacher turned successful romance novelist and is so cute you want to pinch her cheek.\u00a0 Steve is a teacher turned actor, slack-key guitar player and is one buff \u201csixty-something\u201d who just won First Prize with his paddling team of \u201colder fellas\u201d beating out the favorites from O\u2019ahu and the Big Island in the State Championship Race.<\/p>\n They have a giant avocado tree in their backyard that produces fruit the size of a small chicken.\u00a0 We did our food shopping at the Big Save in Hanalei\u2019s Ching Young Village and a bag of tortilla chips took us through several big bowls of homemade guacamole.\u00a0 Did I mention the papayas that I snagged at the local Farmers Market?\u00a0 Four beauties for five bucks and they are fresh off the tree.\u00a0 Are you tasting the sweetness.\u00a0 Just a little?<\/p>\n Pat and Bev have been married forever and live with their extended family in an area on the island that is reserved for native Hawaiians.\u00a0 In this economy, especially, they are struggling, so on weekends, Pat, his friends and the hunting dogs head off to some secret wilderness on the island and hunt wild boar.\u00a0 I\u2019m such a city girl.\u00a0 My idea of hunting is catching the early shift at Trader Joes.\u00a0 As Pat describes a recent hunt, it\u2019s like I\u2019m watching a National Geographic special on cable.\u00a0 He mentions the words, \u201cjuggler vein,\u201d several times and informs us that his dogs have GPS hooked onto their collars just in case the boar drags them off into the jungle, which apparently happened last week.<\/p>\n \u201cWild boars are very healthy and delicious.\u00a0 If they get sick, they know what plants to eat to get well.\u00a0 They eat stones too.\u201d Bev adds.<\/p>\n \u201cStones!\u00a0 They eat stones???\u201d\u00a0 Suddenly a childhood memory tumbles out of my mouth:<\/p>\n \u201cOh my God, I used to eat paper bags!\u201d\u00a0 Everyone looks at me like I\u2019m fricking nuts. Which of course I am.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, when I was little.\u00a0 I helped my mom carry the grocery bags from the market and nibbled at the serrated tops on the way home.\u00a0 I wonder what disease I was staving off.\u00a0 Maybe family dysfunction.\u00a0 Is that a disease?\u201d<\/p>\n They had no answer.<\/p>\n Pat did three tours in Viet Nam and hasn\u2019t worked since.\u00a0 He\u2019s a walking medical miracle, lifting his shirt and proudly showing off his battle scars.\u00a0 His chest and belly look like a road construction zone and imbedded near his right shoulder are a pacemaker AND a defibrillator which fires if his pulse goes over 138 beats per minute, which apparently happens often (I mean considering hunting boar and all that).\u00a0 When it does happens someone yells \u201cPat is down\u201d and administers nitroglycerin.<\/p>\n When we walked into the backyard, I put my arms around his waist and said \u201cPat you are SO tall!\u201d\u00a0 \u201cNo you are short,\u201d he laughed.\u00a0 We\u2019re both right.<\/p>\n He was 6\u20198\u201d until the auto accident when their car was smashed by a tour bus in front of the famous Coco Palms (yes, where Elvis filmed \u2018Blue Hawaii\u2019), and he lost 2 inches after the spine operations.\u00a0 But he\u2019s like the Ever-Ready Bunny, plugging along, and I like him very much.<\/p>\n As Bev and I played through several songs together, she unraveled the mysteries of her island strums.\u00a0 I will not forget her joyous laugh and warm generosity of spirit.\u00a0 I feel like a musical archeologist, mining for strands of technique that have grown indigenous in Kaua\u2019i and are new discoveries for me.<\/p>\n As a musician, I bring \u201cmy story\u201d to each performance.\u00a0 That includes my big-city-girl aesthetic, my connections with family and friends, what I value and don\u2019t.\u00a0 It all plays out in my music and now I can add a little bit of Kaua\u2019i to the mix.\u00a0 I will never play like Bev, but what is important is to be true to who I am.<\/p>\n Isn\u2019t\u00a0that the work of a lifetime?\u00a0 To finally feel comfortable in our own skin?<\/p>\n <\/p>\n<\/div>\n August 14, 2010 — We Didn’t Crash!<\/span> For me,\u00a0vacation<\/span> starts the moment the taxi arrives to take us to the airport and doesn’t end until another taxi delivers us back to our front door.\u00a0 It helps that we fly Hawaiian Airlines.\u00a0 With their lilac\/pink-lit interiors, luau music piped through the speakers, wahine flight attendants who wear big flowers in their hair and the sweet aroma of plumeria wafting through the cabin, we\u2019re already falling under the spell of\u00a0aloha<\/span>. Our flight to Honolulu is sublime.<\/p>\n That said vacations don\u2019t always go as planned, in fact they rarely do.\u00a0 We never know what will happen next, really, whether we stick to the same square mile of \u201chome\u201d or venture forth.<\/p>\n And fly.<\/p>\n I guess\u00a0dem<\/span> big airplanes are like airborne buses these days, roaring along the gigantic freeways in the sky.\u00a0 We take Flight \u201cHA1\u201d from LAX to Honolulu, which immediately is relieved of its passengers and cargo, then restocked, reloaded and gussied up for the return flight.\u00a0 Ah the circle of life, at least in the airline-industry world.\u00a0 The engines barely stop whizzing before new passengers buckle in and prepare for the flight, now called \u201cHA2,\u201d back to Los Angeles.<\/p>\n So we expect to see our beautiful airplane at the gate waiting for us when we arrive at the airport in Honolulu, refreshed from our vacation and ready (almost) to go home.\u00a0 Instead, there is a big sad empty space and a flashing sign that indicates the incoming flight has been delayed a couple hours so our flight back to LA is also delayed.\u00a0 I ask the nice lady at the desk \u201cis there a\u00a0problem<\/span> with the\u00a0plane?<\/span>\u201d\u00a0 Her response includes these words: \u201csomething mechanical.\u201d\u00a0 Do you wonder what that means?\u00a0 I wonder what that means.<\/p>\n But right on time, two hours late, the plane arrives from its first leg.\u00a0 My fellow passengers applaud\u00a0and I soon forget (or go into denial) about this mechanical stuff even though I press my face against the big window peering eye-level into the cockpit where a mechanic is poking around.\u00a0 I watch the captain do a walk-about on the tarmac, checking the tires, perusing the engines, but we are soon buckled into our seats and I\u2019m doing my usual ritual of memorizing where the nearest exit is.<\/p>\n At the airport in Honolulu, the plane taxies for what feels like forever, as if it\u2019s on a scenic tour, past rivers and golf courses.\u00a0 My husband comments \u201care we\u00a0driving<\/span> home?\u201d\u00a0 Finally it\u2019s our turn to take off.<\/p>\n But you know something is wrong when the plane should be moving and it\u2019s not.\u00a0\u00a0 Like isn\u2019t it time for him to put the pedal to the metal?\u00a0 What we hear instead is the crackle of the intercom and the captain reporting there is a warning light and he\u2019d rather be safe than sorry so we\u2019re going back to the terminal.\u00a0 That\u2019s when he makes a sharp U-Turn, big-plane style, on a teeny-weeny circular road, right off the runway.\u00a0 I bet the captain can parallel park an eighteen-wheel semi too.<\/p>\n We fidget in our seats as the mechanics in their elevator trucks surround the plane and the flight attendants move quickly, very quickly, through the cabin.\u00a0 We learn later that this \u201cwarning light\u201d business probably caused the initial delay out of Los Angeles and the captain is having no part of it again.<\/p>\n All this waiting makes people want to go to the bathroom.\u00a0 Have you noticed?\u00a0 And the lines get longer in front of the lavatories.\u00a0 But soon we are solemnly filing out of the airplane and returning to Gate 27, The Holding Pen, as a sweet-faced Hawaiian Airlines manager updates us every few minutes over the intercom.\u00a0 I\u2019m happy to say that my fellow travelers are pretty well-behaved, albeit concerned and frustrated.\u00a0 Finally we are told a new plane is ready, but a fresh crew won\u2019t arrive for five hours.\u00a0 The dinner vouchers help soothe us, although a palpable groan fills the hall when it is reported the $15 gift certificate will not cover alcoholic beverages.<\/p>\n My husband and I become intimately acquainted with the bustling food court at the airport.\u00a0 I love freebies and am embracing this whole thing as a grand adventure (after all, we are\u00a0still<\/span> on vacation).\u00a0 This sort of equanimity is not always my default, but we have just spent over a week on Kaua\u2019i and that will change your attitude or else your innards are made of cardboard.<\/p>\n Later the staff of Hawaiian Airlines offers us more apologies, water, juice and $200 travel vouchers per passenger.\u00a0 The weary travelers break into spontaneous applause as the three-man cockpit crew rolls in an hour before take-off.\u00a0 By then our disparate group of some 250 people has already bonded in mysterious ways, after all, we have been hanging together for several hours now.\u00a0 Strangers talk and laugh together, others stretch out on the floor, as if they are home and don\u2019t care who sees their ass hanging out of their shorts.\u00a0 The younger ones plug their assorted techno toys into the wall sockets, creating small Wi-Fi enclaves.<\/p>\n When the plane actually lifts into the air, we applaud again.\u00a0 Later the captain announces that those with a window seat can view the Perseid meteor shower tonight.\u00a0 That would be me!\u00a0 I set up my own dark-out curtain with the blanket wrapped around the window as I watch shooting stars streak across the black sky.\u00a0 The best way to view this annual event is to get out of the city.\u00a0 Talk about good timing…<\/p>\n By 7:00 A.M. my husband and I are watching the dazzling array of bags drop onto Carousel #1 at LAX and we are hopeful ours will soon appear too, just as the baggage manager had promised back in Honolulu, but a woman standing to my left groans on.\u00a0 Her nasally voice sounds like she does helium inhalers.<\/p>\n \u201cI better get my bag.\u00a0 I can\u2019t stand it if something else goes wrong.\u00a0 I mean nothing has gone right with this flight.\u201d<\/p>\n Yes we’re all exhausted, haven’t slept for over 24 hours and are pissed off because our plans are shredded like confetti and some people have missed connecting flights, but let’s look at the big picture here…<\/p>\n \u201cHey our plane didn\u2019t frickin\u2019 crash and I would say\u00a0that\u2019s a good thing.<\/span>\u201d My retort is oozing passive-aggressive niceness.\u00a0\u00a0 She nods in agreement and without missing a beat, continues to bitch until her suitcase slides down the chute.<\/p>\n Here\u2019s the way I see it.\u00a0 These aircraft have millions of parts that have to work together \u201cjust so\u201d and stuff wears out, wires short circuit, spark plugs fizzle and frankly it\u2019s a long way down from 38,000 feet.\u00a0 This time I\u2019m damned grateful our pilot erred on the side of caution.\u00a0 We arrived safely, so did our luggage and with those nifty travel vouchers in hand, my husband and I are already planning our next trip to the land of\u00a0aloha<\/span>. Forget the \u201cJune Gloom\u201d in July, it\u2019s been quite an exciting month for me in my famously bifurcated career.\u00a0 Besides entertaining my beloved senior citizens and teaching a ukulele class for beginners, I put on my \u201csinger-songwriter-hat\u201d and did three concerts\u00a0du jour<\/span>.<\/p>\n It was all ukulele and fun at\u00a0Island Bazaar<\/a> in Huntington Beach where I was part of their first ever Ukulele Variety Show.\u00a0 Folks, it was a sell-out (and then some) which is why the powers-that-be had fingers crossed the fire department wouldn\u2019t show up.\u00a0 Variety means there\u2019s a little something for everybody.\u00a0 Maybe vaudeville is back!\u00a0 Don\u2019t believe me?\u00a0 Just spend an hour on YouTube\u2026<\/p>\n Gary Mandell\u2019s extra fine\u00a0Boulevard Music<\/a> Summer Festival in Culver City hosted another cavalcade of acoustic acts, ten minutes at a time and it was a blast to be the only chick uke player.\u00a0 Folks in the audience set up tents, lounge chairs, laid towels on the grass and with their coolers of food and exciting drink enjoyed a whole afternoon of music.\u00a0 There were enough eclectic acts to sate the senses.\u00a0 Despair not; acoustic music is alive and well.\u00a0 (Check out accousticmusic.com<\/a>)<\/p>\n But for every\u00a0yin<\/span>, there\u2019s a\u00a0yang<\/span> and this July, I was \u201cyanging\u201d at The Kahnmanpalooza Comedy Show in Long Beach. Yes variety reigned supreme here too.\u00a0 The guys sang about boobs, butts and relationship issues (which involve boobs and butts).\u00a0 I was the only girl in this land of \u201cmook\u201d humor and opened the show with my rather tame (in comparison) set of humorous originals.\u00a0\u00a0 One might wonder why I was even there since my stuff is relatively PG, but apparently several of my goofy songs are played in these comedy circles,\u00a0which is news to me<\/span>.<\/p>\n But I found out.<\/p>\n Take \u201cDino-Mike,\u201d a tousled-haired cutie-pie in ragged jeans who followed my set with a song about a particular body function issue:\u00a0 Apparently he (or someone very much like him) can\u2019t pee in the men\u2019s room when someone else is in there too.\u00a0 The next day, when we \u201cfriended\u201d each other on Facebook, I told him this has happened to me (in the ladies room, that is).\u00a0 It\u2019s nice to know I\u2019m not the only one!\u00a0 What a relief.\u00a0 (No pun).\u00a0 Then this adorable twenty-something said he\u2019s been listening to my comedy album (\u201cCali Rose Gets Goofy\u201d) for years.\u00a0 YEARS!\u00a0 And knew every word to\u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s A P.M.S. Kind of Day.\u201d<\/a>\u00a0 Did I see him singing along at the show?<\/p>\n Um, no\u2026<\/p>\n But my husband captured this very performance on video, which I posted on “You-Vaudeville-Tube”<\/a> so you can sing along too, just like Dino-Mike.\u00a0 Bet you\u2019ve been waiting all day to do that.<\/p>\n Thank you for supporting my work and live music everywhere, after all, variety IS the spice of life.<\/p>\n July 5, 2010 — South Pacific<\/span><\/p>\n The husband and I had a wingding of a fight a couple days ago.\u00a0 It happens.\u00a0 Or it better happen because I don\u2019t think it\u2019s possible to live with someone without a \u201cblow-up\u201d now and then.\u00a0 If you don\u2019t agree with me, well, how are things going for you in fantasyland?<\/p>\n So, I need to get the hell out of the house and why not spend the afternoon at the\u00a0theater<\/span> by myself, alone, with two thousand other people.\u00a0 I end up downtown, at the Ahmanson, for the matinee performance of \u201cSouth Pacific.\u201d\u00a0 Eventually I locate the ticket booth and cross my fingers.\u00a0 Yes there is a\u00a0Hot Tix<\/span> for one and I gleefully shove a crisp twenty-dollar bill through the slot in the glass window.\u00a0 I\u2019m in!<\/p>\n It\u2019s a long show so I do a quick pit stop before climbing the stairs to the next level where I show my ticket to the usher.\u00a0 He points upward to another set of stairs.\u00a0 \u201cOh, okay,\u201d I chirp.\u00a0 The baby-faced usher at the top directs me still higher.\u00a0 \u201cOh-oh, more stairs?\u201d\u00a0 Apparently my seat is located halfway to heaven.\u00a0 Back row, center, to be exact.<\/p>\n That\u2019s what binoculars are for.\u00a0 Ever prepared, I am carrying my father\u2019s old Bushnell\u2019s.\u00a0 Good enough for planets, good enough for \u201cstars.\u201d\u00a0 Fortunately my view of the stage (the\u00a0very little<\/span> stage from this altitude) is unobstructed by heads or big hair or hats.\u00a0 My husband and I are really busy and we don\u2019t make time to go to the movies or, dare I say, the theater or concerts, so this is an extraordinary event for me, from any view.<\/p>\n When the orchestra begins the overture, that magnificent Rodgers and Hammerstein score \u2014\u00a0Bali Ha\u2019i, Some Enchanted Evening, Younger Than Springtime, Happy Talk, This Nearly Was Mine, I\u2019m Gonna Wash That Man Right Out Of My Hair, There Is Nothing Like a Dame<\/span> \u2014 I get all teary and don\u2019t stop dripping for the next three hours.<\/p>\n I grew up on this kind of music and can feel the cells in my body open like buttercups open to the sun.\u00a0 It\u2019s funny\u2026\u00a0 Even though I am a professional musician, sometimes I forget the power of music in my own life.\u00a0 But here I am and here it is, resonating as if this building is a great big drum and I forget where the chair ends and my body begins.<\/p>\n From the pit musicians and the sign language guy and gal who act out the entire libretto perched on their stools near the stage to the jaw-dropping performances, I know how lucky I am to be here, breathing the same air as these talented people who have put in their 10,000 hours or so of practice and rehearsal and sweat to grow into consummate artists.<\/p>\n At the end of the show, Emile de Becque, the mysterious Frenchman, and Ensign Nellie Forbush, the \u201chick\u201d nurse from Little Rock, grasp hands beneath the dinner table.\u00a0 This gesture signals that she has risen above the prejudices of her southern upbringing to embrace her \u201csoon-to-be\u201d family, in all its ethnic diversity.\u00a0 (Wow, it only takes three hours to overcome early childhood conditioning!)\u00a0 And it is mighty good news that Emile actually survives his potentially suicidal mission to rid the islands of enemy militia.\u00a0 It does appear he will soon get laid, I might add.<\/p>\n The music rises to a glorious crescendo as folds of Polynesian bamboo curtains unfurl to the stage floor.\u00a0 There is thunderous applause as we rise to our feet, whooping and whistling.\u00a0 By now my face is awash with tears and I\u2019m asking myself one more time \u201cwhy don\u2019t I wear waterproof mascara?\u201d<\/p>\n South Pacific is based on James Michener\u2019s \u201cTales of the South Pacific.\u201d\u00a0 After the cast members take their final bows the last paragraph of his book is projected onto the bamboo curtains that now rest on the stage.\u00a0 Squinting through tears and mascara I am left only with a sense of what he has written \u2014 something about how all the events of our lives, the people, the stories, the history, eventually fade into the mists of memory until they disappear forever.<\/p>\n Much lip service is paid to \u201cbeing here now\u201d but I need look no farther than my own life to see how much has already disappeared.\u00a0 After I get home from the show, my husband and I kiss and make up.\u00a0 We don\u2019t know how long we have together or anyone has together and there is no time to waste on anger or petty resentment.\u00a0 We are surrounded by mist.\u00a0\u00a0 And music.<\/p>\n June 29, 2010 — Living Aloha At Island Bazaar<\/span><\/p>\n Would you like to take a mini-vacation to Hawaii without boarding a plane or a really big boat?\u00a0 Well there is an island oasis right in the middle of Surf City<\/span>, USA where four entertaining ukulele artists will enchant the kanes and wahines (guys and gals) of SoCal.\u00a0 It all happens Saturday evening, July 10, 2010 at 8:00 P.M.<\/p>\n I\u2019m talking about the world-famous\u00a0Island Bazaar<\/a> in Huntington Beach and am tickled to be part of the line-up for their first-ever\u00a0Ukulele Variety Concert<\/a>.\u00a0 The rocking, frolicking night includes\u00a0Ukulele Bartt <\/a>(who has the greatest hair in the ukulele kingdom),\u00a0Pat Enos<\/a> (who is a beloved player and performer) and\u00a0King Kukulele<\/a> (who keeps the little ones and big ones laughing and singing along at Disneyland).\u00a0 I\u2019ll be strumming and singing and telling my wacky stories too.<\/p>\n Island Bazaar is located at 16582 Gothard St., Suite #R, Huntington Beach, CA\u00a0 92647.\u00a0 Parking is plentiful and free.\u00a0 Tickets are $20 and you can order by phone at 714-843-9350.\u00a0 I\u2019ve been told this concert is getting \u201cbuzz\u201d and I\u2019m not talking bees.\u00a0 They are expecting a sell-out crowd, so you may want to buy tickets, like now\u2026<\/p>\n All this horn-tooting aside, I want to tell you about Island Bazaar.\u00a0 It is the love and passion of\u00a0Shirley Orlando<\/a> and Danno and Beach Bum Tom and several others who invest their heart and soul in this very special place.\u00a0 You can taste \u201caloha spirit\u201d the minute you step in the front door.\u00a0 Ukuleles of every size and color and design hang from the walls.\u00a0 If ukes could smile, they\u2019d be grinning like Cheshire Cats.\u00a0 Colorful Hawaiian doo-dads beckon the visitor to \u201ctouch me, touch\u00a0 me.\u201d\u00a0 It feels like home.<\/p>\n Those of you who follow my blogs know how I rhapsodize over the power of the ukulele to bring people together.\u00a0 There are several groups at Island Bazaar that play and perform in the community.\u00a0 Last year Shirley invited me to be a \u201cguest artist\u201d at their Thursday Ukulele Jam where I got to share a few songs.\u00a0 But the real joy of the evening was playing along with these lovely people as they rehearsed for an upcoming show.\u00a0 Shirley is a force of nature as she leads us from chord to chord, strum to strum, ever the cheerleader and coach.<\/p>\n That evening was a real turning point for me, although I didn\u2019t know it at the time.\u00a0 A few months later when an opportunity suddenly arose for me to teach beginning ukulele to senior citizens in Culver City, I said \u201cyes, yes, yes,\u201d because I saw Shirley do it and while I know I have tons to learn about teaching the ukulele, the joy of that evening is what stays with me and that is what I try to share with my students.<\/p>\n So Shirley and her crew will move the racks of ukes to the back of the store, set up a hundred chairs, or so, facing the stage and prepare for the big show!\u00a0 I thank her for supporting live music in this YouTube Age and for supporting local artists, like myself.\u00a0 Please join us for this special evening of aloha, music and fun!<\/p>\n Ukulele For Beginners The class was supposed to end at the end of June, but damn it, we\u2019re having too much fun to stop now. I tell my students there is no graduation, so get over it. When it comes to playing a musical instrument, there\u2019s always more to learn. So we\u2019re going to keep on strumming!<\/p>\n Time to get started with a new song, the great Nat King Cole classic, \u201cL-O-V-E.\u201d They make it through with gleeful smiles and almost sonorous tones. Suddenly these words burst from my lips: \u201cWe\u2019re going to do this song in a show!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNext year, maybe\u2026\u201d comes the reply.<\/p>\n \u201cUh-uh, this year!\u201d I retort, a second or two before realizing the depth of commitment I just made.<\/p>\n Perhaps it\u2019s human nature that we need an end goal to work towards. My father was a writer and his creativity burst into full bloom as deadlines approached. I don\u2019t want to put that kind of pressure on anyone, especially senior citizens who have never played music, except on the radio, but just the idea, the scent of something exciting like singing and playing for other people, is a game changer.<\/p>\n So I decide to try something radical. We revisit our first two-chord song, \u201cPolly Wolly Doodle,\u201d playing and singing through it a couple times. Then I ask them to turn their music over so they can’t see the words or chords. We’re going to play this song BY EAR. You\u2019d think I asked them to steal a car.<\/p>\n \u201cRelax my lovelies. There are only two choices. C, G7, C, G7! Now make lots of mistakes!” I want them to begin to feel<\/span> the chord changes in their bodies.<\/p>\n When I goof up at a gig, I tell the people in the audience “that<\/span> was jazz.” Ha Ha Ha! I recount this story before we begin because I am hopeful that sharing my musician tricks will buoy their spirits. Thankfully, the ukulele is a very forgiving instrument. Even if you are just in the ballpark or even the ballpark parking lot, it still sounds pretty good.<\/p>\n These feisty seniors get through it, the song actually resembles \u201cPolly Wolly Doodle\u201d and of course they make lots of mistakes. I am so proud of them I\u2019m jumping up and down now.<\/p>\n The marvelous jazz singer and pianist Betty Bryant is in my class. Her son gave her a ukulele for Mother’s Day and she’s determined to learn a few songs but struggles with that dreaded G7 chord like most of the others. After we run “Polly Wolly Doodle” into the ground, she shares her music trick with us. When she hits a “wrong” note on the piano, she goes out of her way to make the same mistake three more times so the audience will think it\u2019s part of the arrangement. Isn\u2019t that wonderful?<\/p>\n “Charm, rather than perfection.” That’s my motto.<\/p>\n At the end of class, Betty rises to her feet with palpable pride and announces she\u2019s a grandma! Twins! Look at the picture of the baby girl and boy she copped from her Facebook page. This beautiful woman has waited 80 years to become a first time grandmother. There is much oo-ing<\/span> and ah-in<\/span>g. It\u2019s a display of shared joy that is known only within the secret society of grandparents.<\/p>\n Our lives are such a mixed bag, aren\u2019t they? The oil is spilling in the Gulf of Mexico and we have our own mini-catastrophes and losses that spew and roil and change everything. We learn a fun song to play and sing. We welcome new babies into our world. We make mistakes, tons of mistakes, but somehow the earth keeps spinning ’round the sun.<\/p>\n All is well, even when it\u2019s not.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n May 28, 2010 — Harry Rocks<\/span><\/p>\n It\u2019s still May and every year around this time, I entertain for the Volunteer Luncheon at a very special senior community in San Pedro. The building itself, inside and out, is lovely. Much thought has gone into design and color and ambience. There’s whimsy too! Hanging just to the right of a hand-painted wall-to-ceiling fresco of a quaint Italian village scene is this sign: \u201cHome of Pick Pockets and Loose Women.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLoose women? Pick Pockets? I had no idea,\u201d I declare to a charming silver-haired resident standing nearby. \u201cDear, it\u2019s about time you know the truth about us,\u201d she giggles and tiptoes away. Volunteers gather for their pre-show celebration. There are slices of sticky coffee cake, fresh fruit and enough cappuccino to keep the entire population of this beachfront town buzzing into June.<\/p>\n Members of the staff have worked here for years and consider this retirement home just that, home<\/span>, and the residents, the families, the visitors and the volunteers are regarded as cherished members of the family.<\/p>\n Volunteers teach Spanish (very s-l-o-w-l-y), bring four-legged smoochy dogs to pet, they sew on buttons and give beloved garments from the 1970\u2019s another year of life, they lead sing-a-longs and mini-church services.<\/p>\n And then there is Harry, looking every bit like a Christmas elf with his sly smile and slightly crooked posture. Harry plays the violin–very well–and has a hot date with the retirement home crowd every Tuesday afternoon as he captivates them with sweet music and a little soft shoe. He also has a steady gig at the local pub. Pretty impressive, I would say. Harry is 97 years old.<\/p>\n Harry always attends the Volunteer Luncheon and happily accepts his box of cookies, raffle prize and heartfelt thanks for a job well done. But this year, we put Harry to work. He has to earn his damned cookies by playing violin with me! I\u2019ll tell you friends, you haven\u2019t lived until you\u2019ve heard \u201cAlexander\u2019s Ragtime Band\u201d on piano and Stradivarius!<\/p>\n When I grab the ukulele, it\u2019s time for Harry and me to get up close and personal. Hey it’s just like Las Vegas: \u201cWhat happens in San Pedro, stays in San Pedro.\u201d Harry is up for a quick chorography mish-mash and suddenly we are swinging our hips in unison to \u201cLet Me Call You Sweetheart.\u201d A little bump here, a big grind there. No script. No rehearsal. We’re like two kids in the sandbox. Never mind that I\u2019m dodging Harry\u2019s crazy bow that flies this way and that. He\u2019s the fiddler on the roof…er…rug. But it\u2019s glorious fun, no one is hurt during filming and the ladies in the front row are almost purring.<\/p>\n After the show Harry shoves off quickly. He\u2019s a busy man, after all, and his parking meter is about to run out. Oh yes, Harry drives\u2026<\/p>\n Playing an instrument is good medicine for our bodies and hearts and minds. And if we\u2019re really lucky, we get to share our music with others. Doing that has kept Harry young, effervescent and I might add, a little wild. I\u2019ve heard it said that in the end, what really matters is that we have loved well<\/span>. For me, love<\/span> looks just like Harry!<\/p>\n <\/p>\n May 11, 2010 — Ukulele For Beginners–Lesson One<\/span><\/p>\n I pull into the parking lot at the Culver City Senior Center and unload the giant canvas bag my husband gave me a few birthdays back. It\u2019s personalized with my name embroidered in maroon script (just in case I forget who I am), and stuffed to the gills with extra ukuleles and handouts for everyone.<\/p>\n It\u2019s our first class, \u201cUkulele For Beginners,\u201d and I figure ten people will show up because ten people have already phoned me to ask a few questions and probably make sure I’m not a crazy person.<\/p>\n I tape the \u201cUKULELE\u201d sign to the door, arrange the handouts and ukuleles on a long desk at the front of the classroom and wait.<\/p>\n \u201cOh God, what if no one shows up? What if everyone in the neighborhood shows up? What if a plane crashes into the roof?\u201d I\u2019m sorry about that last one but this is how I think sometimes, especially when I\u2019m nervous, which I am, because doing this “teacher thing” is new and scary and I might add, exciting.<\/p>\n Suddenly ten people arrive.<\/p>\n And they keep coming, bearing ukuleles of all sizes and shapes. 25 eager senior citizens in all. The chairs fill up, I run out of handouts and when we began, everyone is staring at me.<\/p>\n Maybe because I am the only one standing up? Oh-oh, it\u2019s because I\u2019m the teacher\u2026<\/p>\n Well this is rather un-nerving, so I begin by telling them about the wacky dream I had this morning: The class has gathered early, not in the classroom, but in my bedroom (is that Freud on line two?). They are waiting for me to wake up and begin the class, already. I am terrified as I leap out of bed, looking ever so frightful in my ragged teeshirt and tired old pajama bottoms. What’s more, I have to pee. At that point, fortunately, I really do wake up.<\/p>\n I\u2019ve had dreams like this for a long time. Same theme, different setting and I suspect it has something to do with fear\u2014that I\u2019m not prepared<\/span> or up to the job<\/span> or good enough<\/span>. Sound familiar?<\/p>\n I share this with you because I suspect this fear is epidemic in our culture. It\u2019s not just me. In fact, I bet there are people in the class today who are afraid too\u2014afraid that they will never \u201cget it\u201d or \u201ckeep up\u201d and be able to play a real musical instrument. And what about the arthritic fingers and the memory that resembles swiss cheese?<\/p>\n But you know what? We all do the best we can.<\/p>\n By the end of the class those dear people are strumming ukuleles that are pretty much in tune (well good enough<\/span>), playing a one-chord song (\u201cRow Row Row Your Boat\u201d) AND singing along. It is beautiful to see and outstanding to hear. The smiles on their faces would melt butter.<\/p>\n Learning to play an instrument, at any age, is good for our mind, body, spirit and this class made a believer out of me! The ukulele is like puppy. You want to hold it. You want to pet it…er…I mean strum<\/span> it and like magic a \u201cC6\u201d chord appears without doing much of anything and suddenly we are playing and singing together.<\/p>\n There are so many nasties in this world and we need all the ukulele players we can get to pump ‘dem<\/span> good vibes back into the air.<\/p>\n So when are you going to learn to play the uke?<\/p>\n Years ago, my treasured music mentor and dear friend, Bill Wyckoff, told me that he didn’t really learn about the guitar until he began teaching students how to play jazz. At age eighty-something<\/span> he can still play rings around 99% of the guitar-playing population. The truth is, we really begin to “get it” when we have to explain the what<\/span>, where<\/span>, why<\/span>, when<\/span> and how<\/span> of “it” to someone else.<\/p>\n Bill understands and appreciates the benefit of sharing his experience with others. \u201cPaying it forward,\u201d so to speak. For me, desire to do this too and the opportunity to actually \u201cdo it\u201d have suddenly merged into one delicious confection, right here in my own backyard.<\/p>\n I will be teaching Ukulele For Beginners at the Culver City Senior Center every Thursday morning, from 10:00 to 11:00 A.M. in May and June (we meet eight times). Just show up. No reservations necessary and are you ready for this? Are you sitting down? Each session is only three bucks!<\/p>\n There are some \u201crestrictions\u201d though, so this isn\u2019t exactly a three-for-all.\u00a0<\/span> You have to be 50 years or older, a member of the C.C. Senior Center and don\u2019t forget to B.Y.O.U. (Bring Your Own Ukulele).<\/p>\n We will start from the very beginning, like learning the anatomy and physiology of thy uke, holding your baby, strumming, what is a chord anyway, rhythm, melody, and quick as a wink, how to play and sing a song.<\/p>\n I am passionate about this little instrument. It makes \u201chappy\u201d and inspires a sense of \u201ccommunity.\u201d The uke is fun to play by yourself but even more fun to play with other people. The good news is that it\u2019s not difficult to learn the basics so we can play and sing in no time.<\/p>\n The first class begins Thursday, May 6, so be there or be square. The center is located at 4095 Overland Ave, Culver City, CA 90232, which is the northwest corner of Overland & Culver Blvds. Their phone is 310-253-6700.<\/p>\n And speaking of the Andy Griffith Show\u2026<\/p>\n Last week I did a really fun show for the Culver City Historical Society but such a presentation, for serious “history buffs,” called for some scholarly research. Several nights I abandoned my husband for Google (don’t feel bad because he abandons me for Facebook) and uncovered the most interesting stories and songs that are home-grown musical gems.<\/p>\n “Like what, you ask?”<\/p>\n One of my favorite tunes to sing and play on the ukulele is “The Fishing Hole” from The Andy Griffith Show (which today is my preferred viewing option to \u201cthe evening news\u201d). Fortunately this song has words because my whistling will clear a room.<\/p>\n I actually know people who speak wistfully of retiring someday, moving to Mayberry and, well, fishing. Okay, we all know that \u201cMayberry\u201d is a state of mind. But geographically speaking, Mayberry IS<\/span> Culver City. Yes, the show was filmed at Desilu Studios (which today is Culver Studios, right across the street from Trader Joes). Many of the outdoor scenes were shot at Forty Acres, the present-day eastern, industrial tract of Culver City.<\/p>\n I find this altogether thrilling.<\/p>\n So look at it this way:\u00a0 You can learn how to play the ukulele in Mayberry! Does it get any better than that?<\/p>\n Strum on!<\/p>\n Culver City, home of the game shows Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune, the old Desilu Studios and of course, MGM, where the Munchins welcomed Dorothy to the Land of Oz, Fred and Ginger tapped across the sound stages and Gene Kelly did his best as an American in Paris\u2026 Yes \u201cthat\u201d Culver City is also “my” home. I\u2019ve lived here for umptity-ump-ump years, so I guess I\u2019m feeling a bit historical too.<\/p>\n That said I will be doing a free show this Wednesday night, April 21, 2010 at 7:30 P.M., for the Culver City Historical Society AND the public is invited.<\/span><\/p>\n Singing and accompanying myself on the keyboard and ukulele, I will draw on the music \u201cFrom The Heart of Screenland,\u201d which is how Culver City sees itself. Eat that<\/span>, Hollywood\u2026<\/p>\n Please join us in the Multi-Purpose Room in the Veterans Memorial Building at 4117 Overland Ave in Culver City. Enter through the back of the building near the parking lot (which is also free).<\/p>\n You know me\u2026 The hour show will be fun with lots of songs, stories and audience participation. Did I mention IT\u2019S FREE!!!! Everyone is invited; no reservations are necessary (just show up) and I look forward to seeing you.<\/p>\n I met “Railroad Randy” at a piano bar gig in Santa Monica, long before personal computers and cell phones. We became instant friends and he\u2019d drive to wherever I was playing, near or far, to have a drink and enjoy the music and what, I hope, is my irreverent humor. “Like attracts like,” of course, and Railroad Randy is pretty irreverent himself.<\/p>\n He was, is, and will always be an Amtrak guy and worked as a mechanic on those behemoth train engines until he retired last year. One evening during a break at my Embassy Suites gig in El Segundo, R.R. confided that he had installed a real, honest-to-god train whistle under the hood of his car. Like, isn\u2019t that against the law? I thought it was bunch of hooey and dared him to blast the thing. His sneaky, satisfied grin kind of scared me.<\/p>\n After the gig, he followed me home. Going north on Sepulveda we entered the long tunnel, which above, is the south runway of L.A. International Airport and damned if he didn\u2019t blast that train whistle, which echoed and reverberated along the cement innards of the tunnel with ear-piercing ferocity for what felt like eternity. I nearly leaped out of my skin and can only imagine the other drivers were scared back to their previous lives. At least I had a sense of what was coming. As if that helped\u2026<\/p>\n As often happens, Railroad Randy and I lost touch over the years, but we reconnected this week over a couple Grand Slam Specials at Denny\u2019s. There was much catching up to do\u2014a divorce (his), kids growing up and getting married (his), driving & railroad trips to 49 states (his). Frankly, my life seems dull in comparison.<\/p>\n Then he tells me about Anna May Wong<\/a>.<\/p>\n![\"daisy](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/dorisandcali2010.jpg\")
Grandmas, grandpas, sons, daughters, grandchildren, friends, the staff and me\u2014we blow our horns and sing “Auld Lang Syne.”\u00a0 Goodbye 2010!\u00a0 Albeit a day early.<\/p>\n
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\nDecember 15, 2010 — Jingle Bells and Ho Ho Ho<\/span><\/p>\n
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\nNovember 27, 2010 — Alien World of Babies<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/craigandcali.jpg\")
My mother was an only child, so was my father, and me, that makes three.\u00a0 I don\u2019t know squat about babies, human babies that is.\u00a0 Puppies, yes.\u00a0 But as far as this discussion is concerned, that is moot.\u00a0 My husband Craig, the teacher, who brags that he has 170 children, doesn\u2019t know babies either.\u00a0(That’s Craig and I to the left).<\/p>\n
\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/steve.jpg\")
Of course this adorable \u201ccreature,\u201d as Grandma calls him, is the centerpiece of the Thanksgiving evening and I find myself fascinated, almost hypnotized, by the baby stories.\u00a0 It\u2019s like watching a tennis game.\u00a0 Here\u2019s mama talking about labor, suddenly the baby makes a noise and we all swing our heads\u00a0that-a-way<\/span>.\u00a0 Daddy speaketh of eleven P.M. feedings and we look back at “the creature” resting in his vibrating baby hammock.\u00a0 Yes you read that right.\u00a0 Thanks to the magic of one \u201cD\u201d battery, his whole world feels like the gentle roll of a choo-choo train.\u00a0 \u201cWhy the hell don\u2019t they make those things for\u00a0us<\/span>,\u201d I ask the new father, who nods in agreement.\u00a0 Sleep deprived and exhausted, both new parents could probably use one right about now. \u00a0(The photo to the right is Uncle Steve, Mama and baby Aaron).<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/david.jpg\")
She is from a big family, eleven sisters, and I figure she knows babies, so I recount the whole \u201cnail biting story\u201d to her.\u00a0 She laughs and tells me how she used to bite the finger nails of her two babies until they were almost a year old.\u00a0 This is what her mother did and her grandmother and so on.\u00a0 Back, back, back\u2026<\/p>\n
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\nMy husband and I have just discovered the television show \u201cMad Men,\u201d albeit three years after everyone else.\u00a0 So we have been Netflixing the last three seasons in one long marathon.\u00a0 The characters are very \u201ccomplicated\u201d and their relationships are a witch\u2019s brew of honey and arsenic.\u00a0 I can see myself in every one of them.\u00a0 Maybe TV shows are easier to look at than mirrors.<\/p>\n
\nloved ones who forgave me.
\nThank you for my darkest years,
\nall the sorrow that made me,
\nand the beauty that saved me.”<\/p>\n
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\nNovember 14, 2010 — Losing A Mentor<\/span><\/p>\n
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\nOctober 14, 2010 — Open Mike Night<\/span><\/p>\n
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\nOctober 9, 2010 — All In A Name<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/ccstrummers10.jpg\")
So what do we call ourselves now that we are an official\u00a0group<\/span>?\u00a0 In the spirit of simplicity and a sense of\u00a0place<\/span>, we agreed on the CC Strummers.\u00a0 Of course the \u201cCC\u201d stands for Culver City\u00a0but our resourceful group did not stop there.\u00a0 The first key we learned to play in was \u201cC.\u201d\u00a0 In fact all you need is one finger to form a \u201cC\u201d chord and we like it so much we\u2019ll do it again.\u00a0 CC\u00a0that<\/span>!<\/p>\n
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\nSeptember 27, 2010 — Row Row Row Your Boat<\/span><\/p>\n
\nJust a collective hunch.\u201d\u00a0 Lily Tomlin (from \u201cThe Search for Signs of Intelligent Life in the Universe”)<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/flukes.jpg\")
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\nSeptember 18, 2010 — The Wine Country Ukulele Festival — Being There<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/craigcaliandposter.jpg\")
It\u2019s a big word with too many syllables, but \u201cegalitarian\u201d is what the ukulele community is all about.\u00a0 There is no rigid hierarchy between the headliners\u2014the virtuoso players and performers\u2014and the rest of us.\u00a0 We wear jeans and love the ukulele.\u00a0 I\u00a0feel<\/span> this connection in the virtual world of the internet where we hook up with each other on\u00a0ukulele bulletin boards<\/a> and\u00a0social networks<\/a>.\u00a0 But at the\u00a0Wine Country Ukulele Festival<\/a> in St. Helena, California, the virtual world meets brick and mortar reality!<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/Dominator_WineCountry_2010.jpg\")
Russian composer Rachmaninoff who said that music is enough for a lifetime, but a lifetime is not enough for music.\u00a0 There is always something new to learn, no matter what we do, and working in collaboration with others is \u201cthe ukulele way.\u201d<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/mineralpooljam.JPG\")
At the end of the day, we\u2019re hot, tired and goofy gleeful, as we head back to the Calistoga Village Inn where we discover it is teeming with ukulele players and they have formed a spontaneous group jam out back by the mineral pools.\u00a0 There is the sassy contingent from\u00a0Island Bazaar<\/a> in Huntington Beach and a raft of Northern California players.\u00a0 As more and more join in, we pull up extra chairs and chaise lounges.\u00a0 Some of us perch precariously close to the edge of the pools or just decide to ditch the uke and soak instead.\u00a0 The air is warm and sweet, the stars are big enough to snatch from the sky and it\u2019s one lovely moment after another.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/napaballoon.jpg\")
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\nSeptember 14, 2010 — The Wine Country Ukulele Festival — Getting There<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/winecountrycraigandcali.jpg\")
Where do I begin?\u00a0 Our trip to the Wine Country Ukulele Festival<\/a> is a whirlwind of sights — vast stretches of exquisitely trimmed vineyards that wind through the bucolic Napa Valley of California and up up up the mountainsides.\u00a0\u00a0 And sounds — dulcet tones arising from every nook and cranny where hundreds of people with ukuleles gather under trees, on lawns, benches and in gazebos, workshops and performances, in groups of one to several dozen.\u00a0 This is what \u201cjoy\u201d sounds like.<\/p>\n
\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/serafornia.jpg\")
Craig has a way of smelling out the local breakfast hangouts and he finds\u00a0Cafe Sarafornia<\/a> the next morning.\u00a0 Our waitress, the one with the thick chestnut-brown braid that swings over her butt, tells us about her five acre ranch nearby where she grows grapes and how the neighbors all pitch in and help each other through harvest and grape crushing and how it\u2019s really hard for her to go to Santa Rosa because, oh my, it\u2019s just too big.\u00a0 At 165,000 people, Santa Rosa is the largest city in Wine Country.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/serafornia1.jpg\")
Well do you remember the movie \u201cSideways\u201d?\u00a0 It came out a few years ago and is the story of a couple guys who take a road trip to the Santa Inez Valley in search of wine and women and of course things don\u2019t turn out the way they\u2019re supposed to.\u00a0 Last year, big boys with money decide to remake the movie in Japanese with Japanese actors.\u00a0 They film in Napa Valley and the female lead plays a waitress at\u2026drum roll\u2026Caf\u00e9 Serafornia.\u00a0 Our waitress, Sally, who lets us in before the caf\u00e9 opens so we can have a cup of coffee, plays an extra in the movie.\u00a0 Basically she portrays herself, serving dishes of eggs and hash browns to actor-customers, take after take after take.\u00a0 Apparently the movie was a blockbuster back home.\u00a0 Now Japanese tourists stop by Cafe Serafornia for pictures and ask Sally for her autograph.<\/p>\n
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\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/HumboldtDorms.jpg\")
Speaking of\u00a0Eureka<\/span>, let\u2019s put it this way, the number one cash crop in Humboldt County is NOT tourism.\u00a0 Apparently they grow the best marijuana in the universe in those damp misty hills.\u00a0 Not that I would know.\u00a0 Actually I didn\u2019t find out until years later, long after I graduated.\u00a0 Yes I missed the whole party.\u00a0 I often wondered how some students seemed to handle the stresses of college life with such grace.\u00a0 I ate cake, put on thirty pounds and yelled at people who yanked my clothes out of the dryer before they were done.\u00a0 My dorm mates took long walks through the redwood forests and returned with big smiles on their faces.\u00a0 And I thought they were just having sex\u2026<\/p>\n
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\nAugust 23, 2010 — No Bugs M’Lady<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/mermaid.jpg\")
One more tale from the North Shore…<\/p>\n
\nGrace
\nscreams
\nCENTIPEDE\u00a0<\/span>!!!!!!!<\/p>\n
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\nAugust 18, 2010 — Hunting Wild Boar On Kaua’i<\/span>
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\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/hanaleivalley.jpg\")
<\/span>There is big mojo on the north shore of Kaua\u2019i, which is why my husband and I return again and again.\u00a0 You can see a thousand shades of green in the trees and taro fields.\u00a0 Just count them.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/patandbeverly.jpg\")
Over the years Jill and Steve have welcomed us into their Kaua’i family of friends and that\u2019s how we met Uncle Pat and Auntie Bev.<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/beverlyandcali.jpg\")
Bev, who comes from a family of famous Hawaiian musicians and songwriters, carries on the local traditions and indigenous music.\u00a0 On the island of Kaua\u2019i, she teaches hula and music in classes that include mostly non-Hawaiians now.\u00a0 Beverly also sings with that exquisite Hawaiian falsetto style and plays the ukulele with extraordinary skill.\u00a0 Over the years, I\u2019ve watched her perform and tried to figure out what the hell she is doing on the uke.\u00a0\u00a0 Well this time, I bought a lesson with the master herself and that\u2019s when she and Pat showed up at the \u201cTiki Lounge\u201d (also known as the carport at Beach Bums Bungalow).<\/p>\n![\"\"](\"http:\/\/calirose.com\/images\/hanaleisunset.jpg\")
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\nJuly 28, 2010 — Variety, Vaudeville & Va-Va-Va Voom<\/span><\/p>\n
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\nJune 13, 2010 — Making Mistakes<\/span><\/p>\n
\nLesson 6
\nThursday Morning
\nCulver City Senior Center<\/p>\n
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\nApril 26, 2010 — Teaching Ukulele and The Andy Griffith Show<\/span><\/p>\n
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\nApril 19, 2010 — Cali Rose Gets “Historical” This Wednesday!<\/span><\/p>\n
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\nMarch 13, 2010 — Railroad Randy and Miss Wong<\/span><\/p>\n