Fandom Friday

I suppose I should write this before I calm down, because then I won't be irritated any longer and probably won't even write this at all.

First off, let me get this out in the open right up front for all to see.

I am a Fangirl. Yes, in all of the horrid ways you are most likely envisioning.

Aside from being a Fangirl, I am almost 56 years old. "So what?" you ask. And if you are indeed asking, then I adore you. Because to me, being a Fangirl makes life fun. It gives me things to enjoy, introduces me to like-minded people, and has brought a wealth of new friends into my life over the years.

Being almost-56 I have seen a number of fandoms come and go. Shall I name them? Why yes I shall, thank you for asking (again).

Elvis, The Beatles, Herman's Hermits, The Monkees, Bobby Sherman, The Partidge Family, David Cassidy (see "The Partridge Family"). Skip ahead a few years to Star Trek. Included in that would be Star Trek: TOS (the Original Series), Star Trek: TNG (the Next Generation), Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, and Star Trek: Voyager. Skip ahead again to Pop Music, specifically, The Backstreet Boys. No they aren't dead, no they didn't break up, yes, they're still recording and doing concert tours. I should know, I just attended two of them last week.

My first concert was to see Sonny and Cher back in 1967 at Hialeah Race Track. In 1968 my mother let me attend the WQAM Pop Festival at Gulfstream Park. (I was in 9th grade.) I got to see Iron Butterfly, Jose Feliciano, Three Dog Night, The Grassroots, The Turtles, and a bunch more whose names escape me. I saw David Cassidy there just a few years ago. He's old now, like me. So are The Monkees, I saw them in 1986 and 1989.

Let's not forget seeing "Hard Day's Night" and "Help" in the movie theaters and wearing out the soundtrack LP's. Herman's Hermits made a movie too, "Hold On". I wore out that LP as well.

Fast forward again quite a few years to my Sci-Fi years when I attended Trek cons (conventions, and no I didn't wear pointy ears) and met up with people I had met (gasp!) on the internet. None of them were axe murderers, I guess I'm just lucky that way. I met, had my picture taken with, and interviewed my crush from Voyager. Seeing him again at a later con, my family (yes, I got my family to go with me) was floored when he greeted me by practically leaping to his feet to hug me over the autograph table. "Wow, he really remembers you!"

Several years later my four year old daughter discovered the Backstreet Boys on their special on the Disney Channel, and I watched it guiltily when it aired again. I listened (guiltily) to their albums and then bought (guiltily) a copy for myself. She moved on to Britney and the Jonas Brothers (the apple is very close to the tree, folks) but I stuck with BSB. Why? Because I enjoy their music. It's singable, it's optimistic, it's romantic, and they aren't half bad to look at, either. I know I'm old enough to be their mother. There's really no need to point that out, is there? Bach was old enough to be a great-great grandfather of mine, but that has never stopped me from enjoying his music.

Who am I hurting by enjoying myself? You? The guy down the street? Have I ever mocked the music or the things that you like? No, I haven't, because my mama taught me better.

Now, all that being said, I have concert photos, who wants to see? ;)

Randomossity at its finest

Fasten your seat belts, this might get bouncy. *g*

My thoughts are all over the place today. Still remembering the dream I had last night. It was a mix-tape of my current life as an interim choir director, and my high school life of many (many!) years ago. I was rehearsing the choir for the piece they are doing next Sunday, and all of a sudden I felt the need to show my h.s. chorus teacher what I was doing now. So my entire choir trooped over to the h.s. and proceeded to sing for him while I made sure he saw me conducting. "See? Look what I learned from you!" it seemed to say. It was a lovely reunion, especially when some folks from my old church showed up. I can't recall who was in my choir, but it wasn't the regular members. And I couldn't remember the words or the tune to my h.s. Alma Mater. Now that part is a nightmare. They teased me unmercifully, too.

So. odd.

This past Sunday was so neat! Our women's organization ran both services, from the hymns all the way down to the sermon. Imagine my surprise when I was one of three that was presented with a service recognition pin! Among the accomplishments named was the fact that I'm a "computer whiz".

And then yesterday? Yesterday, I was attempting to copy a database from one site to another, and ended up overwriting the one site with code from the other site. The entire. site.

Computer whiz, that's me. Keep moving folks. Nothing to see here. Literally.

It's all restored now, but I had to do a ton of tweaking. There was no backup. *blush*

Boy howdy, that was special.

But the best news of today was the video clip that Anissa posted. Go look! That woman is kicking butt and taking names.

Wednesday, but not wordless!

My, oh my, what a wild 24 hours it has been!

First there was talk of my good friend coming down from Toronto for a visit in May or June. Then there was the rumor of our favorite boyband doing a concert a mere four hours away on June 1st, then there was talk of combining her visit with the show and maybe taking in a theme park, too, and it was glorious plotting and planning! And now today there is unconfirmed talk of another show right here in my home town. The day before the other show. *squeal* And yes, these two old ladies are crazy enough to do the local show then drive north the next morning to catch the next show. And then stay over and hit the theme park.

Insanity is awesome! You only live once, and we plan to enjoy every second of it!


Ok, I said 24 hours of news. There's more, you ask? Well of course there is!

Our daughter was accepted into the Performing Arts High School that she auditioned for last month! Her acceptance letter arrived in the mail yesterday, along with another acceptance letter to the Communications Program at yet another school. Combine that with her acceptance into the Bio-Medical/Environmental Studies program at a third school, and you have one proud set of parents. :)

Her heart is really with the performing, so that's where she'll be going. I'm so excited for her! I was singing and playing piano all through high school and I know what it's like to love what you do. She'll be great as long as she accepts that fact that she has a lot to learn. Oy, that's going to be interesting.

Ah well, that's what we pay the teachers for!*




*Don't hurt me, I was a teacher too, lol.

Sing, sing a song

In so many ways it seems like yesterday, although it wasn't. My Senior Recital in college was 33 years ago today. I was a Music Education major with an emphasis in voice (you can read about that saga here) and as such, had to present a recital in order to graduate. I have to laugh in looking at the program below. 8:30 pm? Isn't that awfully late to start something? I suppose when I was 22 it wasn't. *g*

Click on the image below to see the inside of the program. I shared the bill with a sister from Sigma Alpha Iota, the women's professional music society. (We were not a sorority, just ask any member. *g*)

Six Word Saturday (3/13/10)

Leading music - both rewarding and exhausting.


Hubby and I led the music for the Southeast District (FL) Methodist Women's annual "Day Apart" today. Good size crowd, and we were graciously received. We have been asked to be music leaders for the weekend retreat in September that encomapasses the entire Florida Conference. As tokens of appreciation, we both received service pins from the District today with a nice certificate.

I have a dream, a song to sing

In my career as a musician, I have had many mentors. They have all shaped me in one way or another, whether it be my teaching, conducting, piano playing, or singing. They have been the subject of countless essays over the years when I was asked to "describe someone who had an impact on your life."

The one I never wrote about, though, was the subject of a vivid dream I had last night. It was one of those that leave you disappoionted and even sad when you awaken only to realize that it was in fact, only a dream. You see, I lost touch with this person many years ago. My other mentors have either passed away or moved on and I know where they are, but this one? I don't have a clue and neither do any of the college friends I have reconnected with over at Facebook.

My Big Plan™ for my life was to be a choral conductor. When I was 5, I wanted to be like my church choir director. I even lined my dolls up and directed them, proudly telling my mother who I was pretending to be. Then there was horses, and being a nurse, or a mommy, or being married to Peter Noone of Herman's Hermits. (Or Davy Jones, Bobby Sherman, David Cassidy ... etc.) You get the picture.

Then came Junior High and I rediscovered choral music. That was when my Big Plan™ was firmly cemented. My music teacher convinced my parents I needed a piano and from that day on she became the subject of all of my essays. My high school music teacher encouraged me further and gave me my first voice lessons after school twice a week at no charge.

I went off to college to become a music teacher only to be told (snootily, over the rims of their well-educated reading glasses) that I didn't have nearly enough experience in piano to count it as my major instrument. Let's rewind that a bit, shall we? I was 500 miles away from home, already enrolled and set up in my dorm room. "The voice auditions are down the hall." They sent me on my terrified way and I was accepted as a voice major. Not that I (or they) thought I was that good, but at the age of 17, I was on par with other freshmen voice majors.

I spent the next three quarters trying to "find my vocal placement" and feeling like a failure when I couldn't. Apparently it was the Holy Grail for singers and I just didn't get it. Fast forward to the following summer when I was officially informed that I had flunked out. Who knew you actually had to attend classes? Sheesh, it sure was harder than high school had been. Tail between my legs and embarrassed to the max, I went back home and signed up at the *shudder* Junior College. The one my sister had attended fourteen years prior, and the one my parents had wanted me to attend in the first place. But no, I was a big girl. I was Going Away to College!

I was assigned to Rosemary as a do-over freshman, and she was a breath of fresh air. I was no longer pigeon-holed into singing things just because they suited my voice, or being told "you can't sing that, it's not written for Your Type™." Sounds condemning, yes? It did to me, too.

But Rosemary let me try anything and everything. Too high? So what, let's work on the breathing instead. And on and on it went. For two years I was exposed to a wealth of vocal music the likes of which I would never experience again, at least not in a private studio. We laughed together, she directed the small ensemble I was part of, she even had a hand in introducing me to my husband of almost 35 years.

Last night I dreamed that I found her. She simply showed up to an event that now has no significance. All I know is that I was elated to see her again and she had hardly aged a bit, and I told her so.

I don't know where she is. I have Googled her, I have asked others, but I just don't know. I never thanked her for what she did for me. I was too young to know how important that was for a teacher to hear. As a former teacher myself, now I understand.

Rosemary? Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

How many seas must a white dove sail?

Her music touched a generation. As a ten year old in 1964, I was just beginning to understand what was to become my lifelong passion for music. I was enamored of Elvis Presley, The Beatles, and Lesley Gore, and then my best friend Ellen invited me upstairs to her dad's studio and introduced me to Peter, Paul and Mary. Not in person of course (that wouldn't happen for many years) but to an album of theirs - "Peter, Paul and Mary" - released just two years prior.



The war in Vietnam wasn't a concern of mine, but I had a beloved cousin who was in the Army; there was talk of whether or not he would go to war. John F. Kennedy had been assassinated only a year before and he had young children and a handsome smile. He had a passion that was contagious and I could relate to him. Civil rights was a term that I only new as segregation, and I couldn't understand it. My best summertime friend, Terry, was black. She lived close to my grandmother's house in West Virginia and I carried her school picture in my wallet. In Junior High, when I was suddenly in an integrated school, I fared much better than some of my friends who had been so unfortunate as to have only experienced friends with the same color skin as they. I thought them very unfortunate to have had such a narrow existence.

Mary Travers sang of love, she sang of fairy tales, she sang of lemon trees and cruel wars and I sang right along with her. I learned to strum a guitar from Sears and Roebuck and I bought a Peter, Paul and Mary songbook. I was in heaven - now I could really play along with her!

Her songs brought me to tears because I understood what was in between the lines. I got it. Not everyone did.

Fast forward forty years.

I'm a professional musician -singer, director, teacher, and now editor- and Peter Yarrow was one of my husband's clients. I met him on several occasions, but then came the night in 2004 when we went backstage to meet Paul Stookey and Mary Travers. I was able to clown with Peter for a photograph and tell Paul how much "The Wedding Song" had meant to me in all the years I'd been singing it, but Mary? Mary was a presence that was almost unapproachable. I knew she was ill, she was in the early stages of leukemia and didn't hang around long for autographs or kind words, but I shared the air in a room with her for a brief moment. I listened as she spoke with others who had gathered and it was enough.

Her death has touched me more than any of the other deaths of celebrities this summer. I admired the others, I enjoyed their work, and maybe even gushed a little when some of them were on screen, but Mary?

Mary touched my life. She touched my heart.


Mary Allin Travers (November 9, 1936 – September 16, 2009)


Peter, Paul and Mary's first album is bright with enthusiasm. No gimmicks. There is just something GOOD about it all. Good in the sense of Virtue, that is. And the news that something this GOOD can be as popular as this is can fill you with a new kind of optimism. Maybe everything's going to be all right. Maybe mediocrity has had it. Maybe hysteria is on the way out. One thing for sure in any case: Honesty is back. Tell your neighbor.

-- from the liner notes for Peter, Paul and Mary, released in 1962