Heather

This article led me to this video.

He’s an artist I’ve always meant to seek out more of

“I’m a ghost of you, you’re a ghost of me”

Something about that line; it resonates with me. Perhaps because we forever carry pieces of other people and places with us no matter where we go.

I want to know what he meant by that line and found this interview. Fascinating website.

And later, down the YouTube rabbit hole…

What neat music videos!

I saw those pencils in an ad, and I had to know what they were.

I saw this kid bring a volcano alive with pencil

I suddenly had this pencil and no idea what to do.

Then I saw my coloring book collection, and it struck me, what if I take away the color?

And then an odd thing happened, “coloring” became more enjoyable.

I’ve had my coloring book collection long before it was cool. As in over a decade before, coloring became the “it,” “mindful” thing to do. The reason I emphasize that fact is because when coloring did explode on the scene, I couldn’t see how it contributed to “mindfulness” and calm. I colored because it reminded me of my grandmother, of the reason I can quickly recall my favorite color crayon in the Crayola box, of the moment my grandmother took me aside and taught me to keep the colors somewhat within the lines. But mindfulness? Absolutely not. It’s kind of stressful. Matching all the colors, taking a long time to match the colors only to find out that the colors you matched, don’t. Then two hours in, you’re flustered and annoyed, and you haven’t even finished a quarter of the page, and you look at it with just one question, so what was the point again?

And then I eliminated the color.

Suddenly, I paid attention to the subtleties: how hard I pressed on the graphite, which texture I wanted to apply to which section, how each part contributed to the whole, what my shading indicated.

And in an hour, I nearly finished. I had a sense of accomplishment. I created (or rather finished) something I deemed beautiful, AND I felt great.

Maybe there’s something more there, something about living. Eliminate the distractions and life itself is more enjoyable and meaningful. Or, perhaps I was just bored and wanted to justify the pencil purchase.

Will I ever break out the colored pencils again? Sure, the next time I have 6 hours to spare.

Not a song, a video. But, if we go with a song, “The Sky Is A Neighborhood”. That’s the first song they play in the background, and it’s silly but it drove me crazy until I could figure out which song was playing. It was on the tip of my tongue. Had to coax it out!

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Years ago, I stumbled across a video about how making your bed could change your life. The video snippet sort of had me convinced, but I’d always meant to go back and check out the full commencement speech from which the snippet had been pulled. When I finally made time to listen to the address, I absolutely LOVED what Admiral McRaven had to say, and I became a bed-making disciple. I started each day by making my bed, and the difference it made felt terrific. I highly recommend watching the video and conducting your own experiment. However, this post isn’t about how life-changing making your bed is, it is about the book spun-off from that speech.

Earlier this morning, I stopped to read his chapter about sugar cookies. I didn’t expect the turn that the story would take, and perhaps that is why it was so impactful. I believe that everyone should read this story. The perspective is well worth the 5 minutes it takes to get through it. Below I have scanned in the “sugar cookie” chapter. I hope it serves you well. I also hope publishers don’t find this blog.

Sugar Cookie Chapter

Short Version of Speech
Speech in Entirety
New CBS Sunday Morning Interview (post amended 5/19/19)

A few years ago, I read a biography about JFK. The book mentions Jackie Kennedy and her adoration for poetry. She had verses memorized, and on a dime would frequently recite bits for those around her, namely her children. Something about that passage struck me. I later realized that I appreciated her adoration of poetry because one of my greatest childhood memories of my mother stems from an assignment that I brought home in the 2nd grade. We had to memorize and perform “Bear in There” by Shel Silverstein.

For the entire month, my mother filled our hour-long drive to school with practice sessions. I can recall her gentle prompts, make sure you’re looking at the audience, make more eye contact, raise your voice just a bit at that part, speak a bit faster, a bit slower, emphasize this, de-emphasize that. Simple as they are, memories of those moments are some of the fondest that I have of my childhood. And all from a simple school assignment.

17 years later, I decided to re-memorize “Bear in There,” and then I decided to begin memorizing more poems. Perhaps due to my initial association with Silverstein, I enjoy going through his books. Childish though they may seem, he tackles difficult topics with ease. One of my recent discoveries is “She had blue skin, and so did he.” It’s a simple rhyme. I quickly memorized it, but the message is powerful. If you don’t live life to express your unique self, you will miss finding the person and the people to love that self. The message is especially prescient and pressing during this time of social media, the era of filters and photoshop and “influencers.” Often, we are made to feel as if we are insufficient or inferior, when really, we aren’t. We are all extraordinary human beings, and there are people to love our special if only we let our light shine.

I have been to many incredible concerts. I’ve long meant to sit down and write them all down, but it’s one of those mental lists, constantly made that seemingly never meets paper. With or without the list, I would undoubtedly tell you that my favorite performer is Anderson East & Co. There’s a singular electricity, a life, at his shows that few artists find. I’d been to the Anderson East show 5/8/18 at Thalia Hall. Once that year was not enough though. I knew he was headed to Bloomington 8 days after my birthday. And I was hell-bent on that being my 2018 birthday present to self.

I thought Anderson East couldn’t get better, but they did. Seeing them at the Castle Theatre was the most incredible experience. If Thalia Hall felt small and intimate, Castle showed me that I didn’t know the meaning of those words. I am beyond grateful for having been there. I made it down there in the largest part thanks to Sergio. We then made it back in an even larger part because of him, or should I say in spite of me? Thank God for the best of friends.

More Videos:

Because even stripped down there’s so much soul and passion:

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Roger Miller.

He’s the voice of my childhood.*

“The Robin Williams of country music”

And not like I needed another reason.

Miller was my grandma’s favorite.

Running across this article I found the following video, my “song” of the week.

*I could wax poetic about that movie’s soundtrack all day long.

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This article came to my attention and am I ever happy that it did.

The description for the album reads,

“This is what one of the most talented humans to ever live, at the cusp of his creative and commercial peak, sounds like when he’s barely even trying.”

Prince was not just a singer, not just a guitar player. He was a true musician. And that is what matters. He is one of those who you listen to and just hear the music coursing through their veins.

As I ambled around the internet, looking for song interpretations, I ran across an article in the Guardian. His fellow band member Lisa Coleman described Prince far more eloquently than I ever could.

“He was working day in, day out at being something great. If that meant recording himself at the piano and studying it later he would do it. … He wanted to make sure that when the time came – and he was going to make that time come – he would be something that would make the world go, ‘Wow.’”

The beat. His voice. How raw the recording is. His unfailing dedication. Wow.

If finding this gem was not enough, the next video auto-played and it too was fantastic. Gosh, listening to him play that guitar at 7:30 as I watch the thunder and lighting out my window. What a joy.

472020

Living in Vegas, I was very lonely. Call it culture shock, but the adjustment to Vegas from Chicago was tough. Back home, you freely talked to the person sitting next to you in a waiting room, or even a person sitting at the restaurant table right next to yours. In Vegas? You found blank stares. People wondering why a stranger wanted to talk to them, why a stranger would even dare to bother them. Much of the time, my work kept me sane, I made “40-minute friends”, learning about the many different regions, cultures, and cities of the US, and the world. I would come off tables, writing notes on places I had to visit: the Blue Ridge Parkway, Peter Lugers in New York, a West Point football game in the Hudson River Valley, Arches National Park,the Santa Cruz County Fair & Rodeo in Sonoita, AZ (where the other horse statue is). I would also leave the tables writing down stories I had heard: the outrageous, the funny, and the inspiring. I wanted to journal those stories and remember to share them with others.

That said, I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that now and again, you had mean customers. Ones who belittled you smoked cigars in your face, ones who tried to cheat you. And it was on those days when I suddenly remembered that I was alone, 3600 miles from my family and my friends. I saw no other option but to cheer myself up, and frequently I did so by you-tubing 3 simple words, “ Robin Williams interviews” There is something about watching those interviews, which makes me so happy. It should be no surprise then that my ultimate comfort movie is Mrs. Doubtfire. It is beautiful how another person was able to utilize their gifts and make a positive impression on so many lives.

Which shows bring you comfort on the days you need it?

Some Snippets:

On Johnny Carson w/ Jonathan Winters
Just Robin w/ Johnny Carson “and you realize it was one of the doctors” ha!
Mork and Mindy
This article

As a young teenager, I used to bash on concerts. I thought it was the dumbest waste of money. Really, you just stood there for a few hours, heard what I figured you could otherwise hear on a CD, and then walked away with what I deemed “nothing.” What I didn’t understand then was how powerful it can be to watch an artist perform live: the nuances that you pick up, the way they match their music to the venue, the collective feeling of listening along with others who feel just as passionate about the music as you do.

At some point, my attitude changed, and I think it had to do with Bruno Mars.   

Bruno Mars was set to perform in Chicago. My mom asked my sister and me, 3 times during the year, “Do you want me to buy you guys tickets to see Bruno? I hear he is supposed to be pretty good, we can go together”. And every time, I offered some iteration of “who is he?”, “I don’t listen to that music.” or “I don’t know that I would like his music.” It was when she asked me the fourth time that it hit me. SHE wanted to go to the concert.

Bruno was headlining the summer before I left for college. I knew that my mom would miss me, and I wanted to do something special for her. I bought the tickets, came up with an elaborate scheme, (bringing her to the United Center for our friend’s “recreational hockey league super-important-we-can’t-miss-it-championship tournament ;P ”) and surprised her. I don’t think I have ever seen my mom tear up at presents, but she was so surprised and shocked that someone cared to take her, that her emotions got the best of her.

Lead-up to the concert, I had been listening to his CD (my mom played it EVERY DAY. Probably an indication that she really liked him… it led to my lightbulb, ticket-purchase moment). On the CD, he sounded pretty good. At the concert? Blew my ever-loving mind. Bruno Mars is a phenomenal showman, and I came away with a new appreciation for his work. Since then, I make concerts a priority.

Now, years later, I heard this woman in concert. She’s talented, has a powerful voice, and the whole show I swore, she (as a performer, not her songs) reminded me of Adele. She was someone you wanted to invite over for family dinner. I realized then what those albums don’t show, spark, charisma, life.

Give it a listen or watch a music video. Jade Bird is great!… Her cover of “Grinnin’ In Your Face” was my song of the week back on May 28, 2018 🙂

As a child, one of my favorite periods of the school year was when they sent us home with the scholastic book catalog. I would sit down and go through with my colored pens circling what I wanted and then what I really wanted. I am sure that some of the books ended up on my list for Santa, or even caught Santa’s attention and ended up under the tree, but up until second grade, I had never actually ordered from the catalog. As a kid, even a $10 price tag seemed astronomical. And then as an 8-year-old, my Grandma Liz came over one day and saw me going at that catalog as if I was coloring in pictures. She asked me what I was doing, and I showed her how cool it was that my school gave me this pamphlet for FREE! After I finished explaining all the different books (about 7 of them) to her, she told me to order them.

I remember being totally beside myself and excited because I never expected to ever get to order them all at once. It was also the first time I ever saw a check. My parents probably heard about the books for the rest of the school year. One of the books was called Words That Built A Nation; I have no idea why I picked it or why I found it fascinating. As I flipped through the book, I latched onto the words, “My fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.” I am not sure why I picked that out of the entire book, and I have always been surprised that I somewhat understood the words at such a young age. But, to me, those words were remarkable and at 8 years old they moved me to research President Kennedy and write my own little “report” on who he was complete with a crappy printer reproduction of the presidential portrait that for many years I swore was “that picture of JFK with the yellow background”. And then I grew up and forgot all about JFK, except that his visage graced a picture of that old campaign poster that hung on our basement wall. But what I never forgot was the spirit that those words stirred in me. Growing up, I know that words like President Kennedy’s, whether directly or subconsciously, formed my adult attitudes and approach to life.

Then early this year, my friend asked if we could read “Jack Kennedy Elusive Hero” together. I said hey why not, and then the memories flooded back, and I remembered how much I idolized him as a child. Now, as I’ve grown, and read other biographies, like Dalek’s, President Kennedy is no longer on the pedestal he sat on when I was a child. I can recognize and cringe at his flaws, but at the same time, acknowledge that we all have vastly different life experiences that shape us. But what I know is that regardless of the “Camelot exaggeration” and the at times, saucy besmirchment, President Kennedy was a man who was not by any stretch of the mind perfect, but he was a man that moved people to be better and do things greater than themselves.

That sheer joy, excitement, and surprise that my grandmother,  with a single action, gave me have always made that catalog episode one of my fondest memories of my grandmother. She could have never expected how that unselfish act so formed her granddaughter. I learned how simple acts of kindness could make others feel incredibly special, and later, I learned how defining those moments could be. I am incredibly fortunate to have that support system and those people in my life. I’ll take today to be thankful for all those who have loved me, those who inspire me, Happy 101 President Kennedy, and those who defend my right to be loved and encouraged, safe and free. To all the veterans who have served and to those who currently serve, thank you.

“There’s sadness for anyone that dies before their time, and specifically ones that seem to affect people positively. It doesn’t matter if it’s Whitney Houston or a nameless, faceless person on the street. That’s just as big of a tragedy for me.”- Chris Cornell

Summer is a lot of things. The smell of tomato plants. Driving with the windows down, jamming to my music. It is also traveling to art fairs with my dad. On our way home, I heard a guy over his CD player, and my initial reaction was, “hey, this is pretty good music.” My dad said, “This is Chris Cornell and the Stone Temple Pilots,” and I responded with, “the guy who just died right? “That’s right.”

Later that summer, I finally remembered to google Chris Cornell, Stone Temple Pilots… and couldn’t figure why Soundgarden and Audioslave kept popping up, but yet Stone Temple Pilots was left off his Wikipedia page. Then I realized that I had never actually heard Cornell’s music, I’d heard Scott Weiland’s. I questioned how my (super cool and extreme music fan) Dad could have made the mixup. I chose to answer that question myself, so I listened to Cornell’s music. Best music decision I’d made in years.

I have this theory that we will always have a connection to that first song that pulled us in. In listening to Cornell, I first heard Black Hole Sun. There was something about that song that made me play it repeatedly. It was so sad, but it left me feeling grateful. I am incredibly fortunate to have something to look forward to each day, to not personally feel that sadness. And, I was struck by his voice.

I eventually bought his music and loved it. Then I started YouTubing his music videos, and his interviews explaining the music he wrote. Who was this artist, this man, whom “no one sings like anymore”? Then I saw his discussions on Andrew Wood, the Mother Love Bone lead singer who had OD’d at 24. I couldn’t help but tear up because Cornell could have been talking about himself. And it hit me then just how much it hurts to lose a force like his in the world. Someone who could take his guitar, his pen and paper, and by laying down the words of his own soul, touch the souls of countless others. A man who believed in standing up for helpless children and who made that one of his life’s mission. I shed tears for our loss and even more so, his family’s loss. And then today, when I read this, I teared up again.

His loss still hurts and always will, but hopefully, his hurting has, like the rain, washed away.

Two beautiful tributes:

Norah Jones
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XbQ08Ixczvo

Paul Cauthen and Cody Jinks
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDHRz8zBZCs

As someone who worked in the hospitality industry, I realize that you can work crazy hard, and at best, you make someone’s week. When I go out, be it to the grocery store or to a restaurant, I make it a point to celebrate people when I see them doing something right because I realize that the praise is hard to come by. In the same vein, I love celebrating the things and people that have made a significant impact on my life. I want to take this space to acknowledge the influential individuals in my life, in hopes that maybe they might give something to your life too.

While walking through the public library, I spotted “Life on the Line” by Grant Achatz and Nick Kokonas. Something about the cover drew me to the book, I checked it out, and the rest is history. Years later, I distinctly remember 3 things.

Firstly, I was so upset by Achatz’s cancer diagnosis, that I cried at several points throughout the day. I remember being surprised at how painful it could be to READ through and take the journey with someone I had never even met.

Second, that this “guy,” Chef Thomas Keller must be pretty cool if Chef Achatz named his newborn son, Keller, after his boss. Had this spark to look into Chef Keller been all I pulled from the book, the book would have still been hugely influential. I have learned so much since first declaring, “who is this Chef Keller???”

Lastly, I remember the magnolia passage. That passage forever changed the way I looked at food and eating. It never struck me how involved eating, and thereby cooking could be. That passage immediately made me think and nearly VISUALIZE the smells of my own childhood: sautéed garlic, Italian beef roasting in the oven, the rum bubbling away on the stove for rum cake, and the waft of peanut butter cookies. I realized then how vital cooking is. Vital for not just nourishment of the body, but of the soul.

Chef Achatz inspired me to read more (and more) on food, and chefs, restaurants, cultures, and cuisines. People have told me that I am crazy for reading cookbooks, but it is not as out there as it may seem. I have been able to learn about cultures and relate and interact with so many people that perhaps I would have never spoken with for lack of common ground. To my friends, I gush about this chef or that technique, or her restaurant, but I have never forgotten the first time I looked at something so familiar as food, and suddenly saw it so clearly. And I will always remember, who it was that helped me find that power. Thank you, Chef Achatz.

I have often said that if I were a multimillionaire, I would buy boxes (and more boxes!) of my favorite books, and then find ways to give them away. This would be one of those books. For my full list, check it out here. If you want to read Chef Achatz’s book, and prefer to buy the book, I include a link here. I DO NOT get paid for putting this link here, but this is one of my favorite online venues. For every book you buy, Better World Books donates one to a literacy charity.