My hubby and I had to make a quick run to the Fry’s grocery in Oro Valley to get some tamale supplies, and as we were leaving we heard the bell ringer out front along with another sound, the sound of brass instruments warming up.
I told hubby to go ahead and take the bags to the car while I investigated.
I took this pic of our bell ringer who, despite the mask, was joyful and full of cheer as she greeted me.
Across from her sat this group of fine gentlemen musicians warming up and preparing to bring cheer to the harried shoppers.
They are a group called Dulce and this is what their name means:
As hubby and I got into our vehicle we heard the cheery sound of four brass instruments filling the air with “Joy To the World.”
Last night I watched a program about Linda Ronstadt, a Tucson AZ native, called “The Sound of My Voice” and man did it stir me.
When asked about music she said that she just wanted to sing, she loved music and she wanted to be around music and sing. I know exactly what she means.
Another similarity between Linda and me is that when my family got together we would sing. Lots of singing. Hers was the same. My grandmother had a beautiful soprano voice, my grandfather carried a tune in his rough bass/baritone and we all have memories of them singing their love song – harmonizing to each other.
I have a new grandbaby due in January and that little peanut has DNA flooded with vocal music ability from both sides. I can’t wait to sing to and with that wee one.
Once, years ago I auditioned for a band with Linda’s arrangement of “Heat Wave” and booked it! I’ve been told I sound like her, especially when I was younger and could really belt out a ballad. I can still do a good job covering a song, age hasn’t stopped me yet. I’ve always wanted to sing the standards in a little combo, that played in a night club.
I remember when my grandmother was in her 70’s hearing her sing the voice was not as strong but the love for the music was there and she always was in tune.
At the end of the program, watching Linda and her family sing together truly moved me. She had to stop them at one point because she knew, in her mind, the note she wanted to sing, but it wouldn’t come out. The show ended with her finishing the song – hitting the harmony beautifully. I put my hand over my heart as I watched her sing and could see the Parkinson’s tremor in her hands.
Damn that disease for taking the voice of one of the best singers in the world!
O HOLY NIGHT is a Christmas Hymn that isn’t really a favorite for many because its a bit hard to sing, and most people consider it a song for a soloist.
I’ve sung it quite a bit, but this morning I had Christmas music playing and this song came on. In this case the third verse was sung and it blew me away. The words are powerful and profound. Take a look and see. It takes on a new meaning, kind of like the other verses of the National Anthem do.
Truly He taught us to love one another;
His law is love and His Gospel is Peace
Chains shall He break, for the slave is our brother
And in His name, all oppression shall cease
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we
Let all within us Praise His Holy name
Christ is the Lord; O praise His name forever!
His power and glory evermore proclaim
His power and glory evermore proclaim
Memphis…music, people, food, music. It is a remarkable place. Yes the Mississippi River is muddy, broad, and moves forcefully past this amazing city.
But it is the inside of the town. The guts, the brain, the voice of a place filled with the passage of people and time that grabs you. I really dug it.
The sidewalks were well worn. The stores and club fronts showed the appearance of years of bodies leaning against them to get out of the heat or rain and watch humanity pass by. Beale Street had the character and style of an old railroad car with a fresh coat of paint. While we were there part of the street was cordoned off for a mass of bikers, a bikers meet and greet if you will.
There were dozens of bikes, with riders milling around, laughing, drinking, smoking, and calling out to people passing by. It was friendly and fun.
I was raised by a man who loved motorcycles, and when I see one, especially a Harley, I am warmed by memories of riding with my dad. I wanted to get right down in the middle of them. 😍
Beale St is full of music.
Passing clubs, pubs, and bars the music pours out, drenching the sidewalk with jazz, blues, rock, and country. The first three are the ones I wanted to hear. I craved sittingt near the stage listening to live musicians give it their all. We popped into several establishments on our way to the place I wanted to be.
BB Kings House of Blues. Yeah dog! I did that. That’s me and BB Kings guitar. The food was good, we took our time, and then Corey Osborn and his band took the stage. It was a religious experience.
Corey was a teenage prodigal guitarist when BB King discovered him. We sat through two or three hours of food and music. Hubby and I were loving it. We met him and his band, bought a CD and had it autographed by them all. Looking back it was a special moment in time because only a few years later Corey was killed in a car accident. It’s hard to find his music now. That CD is really special.
Elvis was there too, in music, and memorabilia.
Even a musical note on the sidewalk bears his name. We left BB Kings and walked around in the evening, lots of lights shining and people milling around, such atmosphere in this city by the Mississippi River.
We asked for a random guy to take our picture together, he laughed and told hubby to cozy up to that woman!
He did and it was a wonderful memory of the park across the street from the House of Blues.
I would love to go back and spend more time there. The food, music, and history of this city is compelling, exciting, and covers you in mood. That mood is up to you.
When we realized how close we were and that we had enough time, hubby and I took off for Memphis from Tulsa. We were in Tulsa, Oklahoma for a family reunion, so in our rental car we started east. This trip was full of some amazing and interesting places along the round trip. I had never been to the Ozarks or Little Rock. Never been to Arkansas. We got to Memphis, having spent a lot of time deciding what we would want to see. I had two places that were must see for me: Graceland and Beale Street. Fortunately hubby was with me on those. We also wanted to get some Memphis BBQ.
Graceland, what can I say. My parents were huge Elvis fans, they took us to every movie, listened to his music and we loved to hear the story dad told about meeting him in Paris while he was stationed in Germany. I had to go and I was so glad I did. It was great.
The business of Elvis is vast. When we arrived we parked, bought our tickets and waited for the shuttle to Graceland. Elvis Presley Blvd is a tree lined, busy road with the Elvis complex – a huge museum across the street from Graceland, and his private aircraft parked there, available for tours.
My favorite was the mansion itself, and I was a bit surprised at it’s size. It appears larger in photos, but it was still majestic. It is a time capsule, a trip into the late 1970’s. The carpet, the furnishings, the TV’s, it was so special. As we walked in, our tour group, a chatty group of humans suddenly hushed, gasped, and sighed. Almost in an orchestrated manner. We stood, heads turning, mouths open and we took in this place, this shrine, this home.
It sparkled and shone, the glass free of prints, nary a speck of dust, nothing out of place. Yes, we all felt the fortune of being one of thousands who have passed through the columns flanking the open door.
The first thought I had was my favorite Elvis song “Return to Sender.” I started humming it as we passed though the house. The kitchen had appliances, counters, and arrangements were typical of the Brady Bunch house!😉 Then we were at the jungle room. OMG, I loved it!!
The TV room was also so cool, with yellow and blue,
TV’s banked the walls.
I could picture Elvis and his “mafia” gathered on the long couches.
Part of the grounds are a museum filled with movies, costumes, photos and his gold and platinum records.
We used devices that narrated the displays. I enjoyed it. Those costumes blew me away.
When we came out I saw the pool, then realized we were at
He was flanked by his parents and as you can see it was filled with flowers and mementos from visitors. The thing I noticed was the murmuring of the crowds. It wasn’t noisy.
The museum had cars, ones of his videos running, and his music filling the cavernous museum.
We also went out to where his plane, the “Lisa Marie” was parked. It was set up for comfort and as his home, very colorful. When I was living in Texas, I saw it parked at Meacham Field in north Fort Worth.
We spent a wonderful day in a magic place, then that evening found a fun diner where we enjoyed their memorabilia and in Elvis’ favorite fried pickles.
I have music on my old fashioned stereo which will play the radio, CD’s and believe it or not cassettes tapes, and there are iTunes on my laptop. I don’t have iTunes on my phone because it is an android-yuck. You see I have to have music, especially to be creative. Another thing I do when I am sewing is to chromecast from my laptop to a TV in my work room. I can watch a netflix movie and know how much time I’ve spent on a project, or turn it to YouTube and autoplay one of the channels I follow.
I’ve always had a soundtrack for my life. Inspiration, motivation, interpretation, recall, prompting, all of those words I get from the sound of music I love, or stories I like to watch. It colors the thought process, and the feeling of my creative surroundings.
Today the wind is blowing, the air is cool, the sky changes from clear blue with wispy clouds to a spreading overcast that changes the color of the mountains. It is a classical music day. Hayden I think, maybe Debussy later. I am glad for the solitary time I have at this moment to do some important research for my historical work. I’m looking for books or text written during 1868-1870 to get a feel for language and customs that dominated interpersonal relationships. How would a single young woman write to a young man she has know for her life, but now the relationship is starting to evolve?
I’m writing here. Writing and sewing. Mozart is cranked, wine is poured. I’m basking in the solitude of creativity. It is awesome!!
Almost 1000 words today. Anchor Bay is coming into focus.
My story has been at a standstill until the other night, after my stress meltdown. I picked up my story folder, read through some notes, and started to plot some scenes. Before long the cobwebs cleared and I remembered who these people were and where they were going. As I sat here today with those notes spread out, and the map I drew of my imaginary town in front of me, the good feeling of accomplishment filled my literary soul.
Behind me is my cutting table with the pieces of a baby quilt cut and laid out in order. It is going to be so cute. It is for my brand new great nephew Andrew. I also owe one to great nephew Bodie, and that one is next. I enjoy the process of quilting. To make quilts, cutting and measuring need to be precise. Quilters are the first to say that making a quilt is a lot of sewing and pulling it apart and resewing.
It gives us quilters a good excuse to buy extra fabric!! You know – just in case.
This weekend hubby and I start prepping for our Galifrey One costumes. Chuck is going to be the “The War Doctor” (John Hurt played him) and I am going to be “Sarah Jane Smith” played by the late Elizabeth Sladen. We have been thinking of Charlie being K-9 but his mom and I don’t believe he would put up with wearing the costume all day! Oh well. Aaron, Chelsea, and Melissa are playing various Doctors and Companions also. I am going to make matching T-shirts for us to wear one of the days of the convention.
Last Friday night I went with a friend to a show called “A Celebration of Joni Mitchell.” I knew some of her stuff, mainly the older things and the songs made famous by steady radio play, but I was rather surprised to learn of her music evolution in later years.
She developed industry collaborations with artists like Herbie Hancock and Charles Mingus wherein she delved into a bright, smooth, and moody jazz persona. I found I really enjoyed this style. I’ve always been a jazz/blues fan, and unlike others I can ride along with the waves of jazz improve and scat singing. This latter style is what much of this musical excursion was composed.
That night the crowd of Gaslight Theatre Music Hall was a bit older, a bit mellower, drinking wine, beer and lots of alcohol on the rocks. There were several men with their long grey hair pulled back in ponytails, and women like me dressed with a nod to the inner hippie with flowing tops, strings of necklaces, and long hair. There also were the retired couples who look like the AARP magazine covers, yet musically there was something for everyone.
The band, fronted by a woman named Kimberly Ford, were obvious professional musicians. Ms. Ford had a great voice, capable of flowing through the remarkable range of a Joni Mitchell song. She played her guitars, engaged with the audience and her band, while not missing a note of “Help Me” or “Coyote”.
I dug it.
It reminded me of a dream I once had of singing in a cellar club, with a combo consisting of drums, bass, keyboards, guitar, and sax. Doing Ella Fitzgerald and Johnny Mercer, along with some old big band ballads for an intimate group of nightowls. I guess we all have one of those dreams.