Happy Fourth: Fireworks & Your Own Reaction

Driving home last night, I happened upon an early Fourth of July celebration, a burst of fireworks originating near the Oakland Coliseum viewable over the water from the Bay Farm Island Bridge. A day before the holiday, it caught me by surprise, the lights and glare inspiring my instinctual appreciation for fire anew.   

 Last year we spent the fourth at Kwame's uncle's house in Seal Beach, en route between a string of shows we were doing in Southern California and the Southwest. In Seal Beach, we walked over from the house to a local field crowded with half the neighborhood to ooh and awe over the multiple displays going off along the Southern California Coast. 

Growing up, July always seemed like the hottest month, but somehow the heat didn't disrupt the desire to set off a firecracker. Because we were inland a few miles, we'd often take our holiday fireworks to Manresa or Beer Can Beach to set off after dark. The fireworks sold at stands at that time packed a punch, and watching the official displays in Watsonville and Santa Cruz was nearly secondary to the rogue displays going off at home and along the coastal beaches. We'd buy what are likely now-illegal bottle rockets and other items promising high voltage glitter and thrill from a roadside stand outside of town. During the week leading up to the holiday, we'd preview our cache of snappers, sparklers, and those weird charcoal snakes that grow before your eyes with the strike of a match, on our brick patio. One never knew exactly what would happen once the firework was lit, which was the real fun. Would the firecracker be a dud or amazing? One year, my dad shot a defective firecracker off early that flew low into a small conifer and burst into flame, a fire that was fortunately easy to contain. Considering our impulsiveness, we were lucky to escape being burned badly or worse: there's good reason so many fireworks are illegal.

The thrill in lighting your own fuse is primal, and the beaches of Santa Cruz were crazy on Fourth, as they are likely are now, crowded with similarly reckless pyromaniac types intent on figuring out how where to best roll the keg in the sand, light the brightest bonfire and set off the loudest explosion. The folks who wanted bigger and brighter on their own terms bought their fireworks from vendors in Mexico or through other underground routes and their were always some impressive, if dangerous, unofficial displays.

Tonight, we'll venture out into the middle of the Bay on the boat to see what we can see. The forecast is calling for the East Bay to straddle the fog bank that's been hovering along the coast the past few days, so the display could be muted.  But who knows? Maybe we'll drum up a few sparklers of our own before nightfall. In the meantime, here's another preview track from the KCDC project, "Your Own Reaction." Happy Fourth!

Earth Day is Every Day

 I didn't plan for Earth Day 2014 and my mammogram to go hand-in-hand. In fact, I didn't put the two events together until I was sitting in the "butterfly room" of the Breast Center, in Oakland, with all the other ladies who'd donned medical-center-issue white robes to wait our turns for our screenings. I appreciated how those who designed the breast health center had made efforts to make the whole visit as pleasant as possible: different rooms are marked with various flowers (I got a lotus), or butterflies, and the sound of bird song comes through the speakers as you wait for your named to be called. And I appreciated those who founded Earth Day to rally more folks around valuing the planet and the environment. But I'm too aware of the fact that butterflies are faced with their own climate-related problems and that mammograms may or may not be that helpful in preventing breast-cancer related deaths. So the transformative symbolism of beautiful creatures used as decor perhaps didn't have the desired effect on me. But the whole experience did jar me into thinking of my friend Samantha, who passed away 6 years ago, at 41 years of age, due to breast cancer.  

Sam and I met as idealistic undergrads at UCSC, majoring in Environmental Studies and adjusting to semi-adult life on and off-campus. While I'd grown up surrounded by nature, Sam was from LA and knew city sidewalks and paved highways better than the dirt trails and redwoods that were my familiar. Slightly jaded about the social scene, Sam was nonetheless completely floored by the natural world she discovered in Santa Cruz, and was wide-eyed and wondrous every time she spotted something new through her binocs. Wildness, the out-of-doors, birds and snakes and butterflies where new to her as a young adult, and her curiosity helped me realize how fortunate I'd been to be raised around trees and wildlife. Likewise, while I helped her identify birds, she showed me how to be comfortable at a party. She was fearless around loved ones and strangers alike. She'd tell you if she thought your boyfriend was no-good, loved elephant seals and Star Wars, Count Basie and the Steaming Hunks of Hot Love Chuncks college band, in equal measure. She ate with gusto, cooked nonchalantly, and would share her lunch anytime I stopped by her apartment on my bike ride up to campus.  On Earth Day circa 1990, you'd likely find her sitting in the great meadow, a butterfly painted on her cheek, watching the crowd, laughing and generally taking it all in. 

Sam knew how to live, and her natural openness toward people and nature went unabated after college... so it was especially cruel when she was diagnosed with breast cancer when at age 39, and crueler still that after a brief period of remission, the disease would come back swiftly and decisively two years after her initial diagnosis. I was grateful I got to say goodbye to her and acknowledge all she meant to me before she died, but like all deaths of loved ones, processing what meaning is to be found is ongoing and episodic.

The fact that she died so young almost hits me harder now, when I realize that she, too, went in for mammograms, on schedule, that all failed to detect what would kill her even as she reported other symptoms to her doctors. My sadness is only amplified by the fact that Earth Day 2014 finds us in a world where the disconnect between cause and affect seems at as great a distance as it was 25 years ago. Yesterday, a woman wished me a 'Happy Earth Day' while holding a styrofoam cup. I was too stunned to say anything. Just like I didn't question my technician as she set me up for my mammogram, at once skeptical and grateful I had insurance to cover the prescribed test.

In reality, taking care of one's health, and focusing on the well-being of the environment is every day.  Life goes on, with or without us, so how to appreciate the moment, this earth, this body, right now?

Tickets can be purchased from the Albany Twin Theater box office (and online) for $10 ($8 for seniors and students) after April 15th.
There will be a screening in Albany next week: Transition Albany & Transition BerkeleyTuesday April 29, 7 pm ARISE Albany Twin Theater, 1115 Solano Avenue, Albanyhttp://arisethemovie.org. Tickets can be purchased from the Albany Twin Theater box office (and online) for $10 ($8 for seniors and students) after April 15th.Check out the trailer here:

http://youtu.be/kAalNQQDttM

Preparing for winter

Playing shows and touring is a great way to catch up with friends & family as more often than not that's where you're staying after the shows. Such was the case this sunny fall weekend, playing in San Luis Obispo & Santa Cruz. At the former, I caught up with college friends who are avid gardeners (and newbie beekeepers) who sent us home with a bag of newly harvested potatoes and onions. In Santa Cruz, I caught up with my brother.
"What did you do this weekend?" I asked, wondering what game or movie I'd missed due to driving.
Living in the city, the question usually gets answers such as went to this movie or that parade but not there.
"I prepared for winter," he answered me, and told me of digging ditches and clearing tree limbs and stocking the woodpile in preparation for what the storms ahead can wreak in the country.
Back in the city yesterday, I saw the urban equivalent of winter prep: bike commuters were buying new fenders and rain jackets and the grocery was overflowing with the season's recently arrived winter squash. With no actual ditches to clear, I made soup.

Speaking of preparing for winter. A couple of months ago, on the way South to play the California Music Fest, we stopped at the old earthquake damaged Mission San Miguel which was closed due to retrofitting. Well the Mission has been restored! We stopped and checked it out. I hadn't realized during the last pit-stop that its full of murals that were designed by Esteban Munras and painted by Native Americans during the early 1800s.

Thinking About Trees

I was at a gathering last night, were someone brought a bowl of fresh plums from their tree to share. Biting into the fresh plums reminded me of home, growing up with a whole bunch of fruit trees out the door, and how over the years, I had a relationship of sorts with those trees--who was bearing, who was best to climb, who was best for shade, who wasn't going to last the winter, which one my dad planted before I was born. My friend of the plums said the tree was from her Community Garden space. They fed a half dozen of us and there were plenty left over. Despite the urbanity, there are plenty of trees in San Francisco, and I've been enjoying a summer sublet near a wonderful park with a nice selection of trees. I took a break today from all the tour planning and sat contemplating some of the trees at Alta Plaza, none fruit bearing, but stalwart all the same.

Strawberry season: keep it organic please

Nearly every day for the past few weeks, I've come across after-work fieldworkers selling they're quota of strawberries on street corners. I'm had to stop for one amid a lot of events which involved bringing food to share.
"Organic?" I asked.
"Si! Organica," he assured me. And I was off with my half-crate, glad to have had a choice of something healthier to offer my friends. I grew up in the strawberry capital of the world...at a time when organic food was not even much of a concept in people's mind. Pesticide use was rampant (and still is in most parts of the world). Lucky for us, the tide is turning. Some resources below if you're having a hard time deciding to get unconventional.
The Organic Report
Tips for Buying Organic on the Cheap
Organic Trade Association
Grow A Farmer (trains Organic Farmers)

Process, progress & vision: Songwriter Amy Obenski

I first met Santa Cruz songwriter Amy Obenski shortly after we'd both released our first Cds in 2003. Now, multiple tours and CD's later, Amy is one of the Bay Area's most thoughtful troubadours whose sound and reach continues to expand. I asked Amy a few questions before she set off on a West Coast tour to promote her latest effort, "From the Deep."

Q When did the light bulb go off, when you said, 'I must play music'? or How did you start?

AO I'm not really sure when this first happened. But I've wanted to sing since I was a very little girl. I wanted to be a famous singer and buy a threatened rain forest. I was very into nature and animals and had pictures posted all over my room from World magazine. I started singing in choir when I was five at my elementary school, and I remember singing Annie's "Tomorrow" for a family audience when I was maybe four years old.

Q Who is your main influence? What, or who, inspires you?

AO What really inspires me is watching my friends play their music. I have big name inspirations like everyone else. But I find my true inspiration comes after seeing my friends or regular people play like you and me. I think it's because I can really relate to them, and they aren't some blown out of proportion rock star on a pedestal. Not that rock stars aren't regular people, of course they are, but it registers differently for me. I guess I'm just more inspired when I can talk to them before and after, and they are just being themselves.

Q Can you describe your writing process? What comes first-words or music?

AO This changes all the time. Often the words and melody come at once, and then I add the instruments and chord changes afterward. Sometimes I write the instrumental first and then add a melody and words. The melody and words almost always come at the same time. Occasionally, I have a melody and I take a poem I've already written and slip it in there.

Q How has the recording process changed the way you work?

AO Wow. This is a big question. I've become more of a composer and I think this is due to the recording process. For my first album, my approach was to just record what I had and not put much thought into it. I invited other musicians to come play and just jam out on the recording. But then after seeing how that went, I decided to start taking a more methodical approach. Now I take more time to think about each instruments parts and discuss it with the musicians, as well as composing some of the parts myself. I'm also much more careful with the production of the album, my overall vision, and the quality of the sound.

Q What will you do next, do you think?

AO Well, I'm going to play a lot of shows this year and probably start writing and recording again next year. This is how the cycle goes. Every time the CD Release comes around the response is a little bigger. Really I just want to connect with people, share my music, and hopefully contribute to some folks in a positive way.

Amy's tour kicks off with a show in San Francisco on June 6th, 2pm at the Mama Art Cafe, http://www.mamasf.com.

Sand and Water

"Solid stone is just sand and water, baby
Sand and water and a million years gone by "
— Beth Nielson Chapman*

I'm sunburnt. I went to a beautiful, local's beach in Santa Cruz county that I didn't know about until yesterday. Thank you Sally! Sand and water. More good medicine.

*Beth Nielson Chapman is another one of those under-the-radar, super great, super respected-by-her-peers working songwriters (she's partly responsible for at least one Faith Hill mega-mainstream hit but really, buy her CDs). I heard her at a conference in Santa Barbara perhaps 5 years ago and was completely blown away by her transformative singing and playing.

Remembering Samantha Szemeredi

"What lies before us is the opportunity and imperative for a thorough cultural transformation, what ecophilosopher Joanna Macy calls the Great Turning, the transition from an egocentric "Industrial Growth Society" to a soulcentric "Life-sustaining Society," or what economist David Korten in The Great Turning calls the transition 'from Empire to Earth Community.' The cultural historian Thomas Berry refers to this vital endeavor as the Great Work of our time. IT is every person's responsibility and privilege to contribute to this metamorphosis." — Bill Plotkin

As I was going to a memorial for someone who had died way too young, I took care to pad the time around the few sober hours I was about to spend at Santa Cruz Memorial Park. Tuesday, one of the hottest on record in the Bay Area, was great for an early morning drive down the coast to check in with the ocean, hawks and berry farms. When I got to town, I popped into the venerable Bookshop Santa Cruz. One of the last of the independents, after several decades, it still seems to have some of the best stocked shelves and well presented titles (call me biased and it's easy to trust staff picks in a University town with a sensibility like Santa Cruz). Newly on the must-read list, Bill Plotkin's "Nature and the Human Soul: Cultivating Wholeness and Community in a Fragmented World."

Fortified by some of his words, I made it to the cemetery to find a couple hundred of Sam's sad and stunned pals, family members and coworkers from all facets of her life packing the church. Another of Samantha's UC Santa Cruz friends, Rhonda, aptly opined during her speech that "Sam had the unique ability to see things exactly as they were and still remain optimistic." Yup, some of us had to go to all points of the globe to get clue about things Sam knew all along about living, loving well and being in the moment. She is going to be very, very missed by her friends, many of who were also angry and scared by Sam's cancer and medical experience. More than one of her diagnostic tests had been stalled in the course of her illness. Some of us were simply scared at the odds that were in our face.
"Five of my friends have had cancer in the last year," another of her friends told me as we stood amid the gravestones for the commitment part of the service, sweltering in the heat. Spurred by the bout of sobering reports, he was planning to move to Oregon, to 'simplify.'

One thing about spending time with the dead is it reminds you you're still alive. Later in the day, I spent some time picking lemons and lavender with Sally and two-year old, Leo, who like Sam, knows how to laugh amid the chaos.

Down to the river....

"O sisters let's go down
Let's go down, come on down
O sisters let's go down
Down in the river to pray"
— Alison Krauss

On my way to a show in San Luis Obispo, I got one of those calls you dread. My college friend, Samantha Szemeredi's breast cancer had not only recurred, but with a harrowing vengeance. I was glad I'd already planned a visit to Santa Cruz after my show on my way home Sunday (thanks to Linnaea's and pals Mat, Becca & Talia for making the southern leg of the weekend happy), not that thrilled that it would include a stop at Dominican Hospital. Sunday, I was very grateful to have some time with her and her big bright spirit, and her great loving family and friends. And of course, mad and sad. 41 years old, a new husband, a wonderful son.
Home, quite, stunned, I did a bit of research. The Breast Cancer Fund
confirmed much of what I've come to believe:
"No more than 10 percent of breast cancers are genetic, and science increasingly points to toxic chemicals and radiation as factors in the sharp rise of breast cancer incidence."
The fund is doing many things to counteract this:
"Through public education, policy initiatives, outdoor challenges and other innovative campaigns, the Breast Cancer Fund mobilizes the public to secure the changes needed to stop this devastating epidemic."

Oh sisters.....

Samantha passed away June 30, 2008