Today's The Day!

Starting today Quicksilver Amusements gets even more mercurial and mellifluous.

More info to come on that... Just wanted to write it down.

Remember!

There have been some difficult days of late. Things continue to look like they will get more difficult before they get easier.

I keep hearing, and seeing, people make stupid, pointless, mind-numbingly inane statments like, "This isn't change you can believe in..." as if any change comes this fast (it did after all take Dubya eight years to screw things up this badly!).

The forces of darkness - whether they come from a gun fired at a man standing in a church doorway, angry hypocritical attacks made by ugly political hacks , or the blathering mediocrity of the nation's most inane broadcast personality - are arrayed against the President, a progressive political direction, and basic human openess and decency. As a remedy for the depressed reaction that tries to raise it's ugly head as a response to that, I've taken to listening to this song more and more (and viewing the video in my head even when I'm not watching it on a screen).

It helps to, as the song says, remember, the place we've come from and the people we've come with.

And I've really only got two things to say about that:

1) Nobody said this was gonna be easy.

2) Like the sign on a deli wall in post-Katrina New Orleans proclaims...

I love the smell of bike tires in the morning!

Last Thursday morning, with my eyes still closed softly in sleep, a smile on my face, and visions of sugar plums dancing in my head... I had the dubious privilege of being rousted out of my nice comfy bed to trudge down to the corner of Petaluma Boulevard and D Street (Petaluma California's Walnut Park). Upon arrival I was commandeered to hand out coffee, apples, croissants, muffins, water and bicycle bags of souvenirs and information to 143 intrepid peddlers as they passed through downtown for their participation in Bike To Work Day 2009. I was joined by other hardy souls - a representative of Whole Foods who showed up with the victuals, a public affairs person from Kaiser Permanente who brought bike reflectors and bags, a student from a nearby massage school who enthusiastically provided hands on support, and a bike mechanic who came fully prepared (with his seeing eye dog in tow) to load bikes on his rack, give them a diagnostic spin and tweak them into performance perfection.

Most of the time I work from home, and have done so for the better part of twenty five years. I still have to travel to visit clients, or to research stories and interview subjects, but most of my time is spent in front of my computer in the same place where I eat, sleep and dream. I live in a section of my little town that allows me to walk to just about everywhere - the grocery store, my favorite pub, the bookstore and even the bus station. When it comes to transportation, I keep a pretty low carbon footprint, simply because I can. So for me, this morning was kind of a revelation. People were excited. They were enjoying themselves. Some of the folks I met ride their bikes to work every day, others were trying it for the first time. "I do this every day," said one smiling woman, "but today's the only day you get the booty!" I handed her a bag and a muffin and she rode on laughing. Kids rolled in and out on their way to school, and regular bikers talked about how encouraging it was to see other folks on the road. "So much of the time, you don't see anyone else," said another happy rider as she sipped her coffee and grinned. "This is fantastic!"

Every single one of the 143 folks I laughed with, handed schwag to, and waved at as they rode away were clearly juiced with the engagement of doing something to make a difference. As for me... I'm going out to the garage and pulling out my bike! They say misery loves company, but from what I saw this morning, so does happy peddling.

Happy Mother's Day Mom

One of my favorite songs, by one of my favorite (albeit perhaps guilty pleasure) groups is "Yes We Can" performed by the Pointer Sisters and written by quintessential New Orleanian, Allen Toussaint. In the song, when talking about all the things we can do if we try, he uses the wonderful phrasing, almost as an afterthought... but not quite. "And do respect the women of the world, remember you all had mothers."

That's kind of the way we are in the world... And it's kind of the way I've been for too much of my life as an individual. Remembering our mothers... remembering MY mother... is often NOT at the forefront of my mind. I think that's why Mother's Day is such a big day for the flower, card, and dining establishment; it's the one day a year when we REMEMBER our moms and all the other days of the year that we've taken them for granted.

My mother is amazing. She always has been, and the older I get the more and more and more I see of her in me. So much of who I am and what I want comes from this woman whom I have basically taken for granted for nearly 55 years. She was born in Philadelphia, raised in Manhattan and on Long Island, and then later in Miami. As a teenager she was the first female "copy boy" at The Miami Herald (there was even a columnist at the paper who wrote about his amazement at this confounded new development). She started a radio show with my dad (Time for Betty & Tom), she was a model back in New York, and the host of a cooking show in Cincinnati (no doubt the origin of my own fanatical obsession with food and things foodie). After I was born and my family returned to South Florida, my mom worked the late show movie on local TV (where I got to perform as Santa Claus one year) and as a freelance camera person for a TV station on Florida's West Coast. One of my most vivid memories from childhood is of standing on the tarmac at Palm Beach Airport as Air Force One was arriving with President Kennedy and my mom was dashing toward the plane, Bolex in hand, shouting to my dad "What's the F-stop Tom!?"

Later, when we moved to Arizona, she learned how to paint and she spent hours working in oils on scenes that brought the desert to life on our walls. My favorite of these (from a time in my life that was definitely not my favorite, but then what teenager ever likes their life!?) is still hanging on the wall in my little apartment in Petaluma. I have lugged it around with me to every place I have lived as an adult and it is always one of the first things I put up to know that I am home.

Through all of my life, my mom has been my champion and supporter. Five years ago when Jennifer graduated from college the day before I ran the Dipsea for the first time, mom and dad came out from Florida to be there for both. I still get an enormous amount of joy from remembering the way mom looked at me after the race, a combination of astonishment and pride, mixed with just a little bit (well, maybe a lot) of concern for the health - both mental and physical - of her first born.

Throughout my life, I have certainly not been what she might have dreamed for me to be. I remember one time during that hellashish high school period when I wrote her a song called "I'm Sorry." I still feel that way a lot of the time. I'm sorry mom for the ways I haven't been appreciative, the ways I haven't "lived up to my potential" and the ways I've gone astray. I'm also thankful for the things you gave me that have led me (and still lead me) to do right, to be loyal, to try hard, and to live fully.

Thank you for borning me, raising me, loving me, and still... over and over and over again... supporting me in so many ways.

Happy Mother's Day Mom. I Love You.

-------

And to the mother of my daughter...

As a post script on this Mother's Day, I also want to salute the mom of my daughter. Jean and I have been through 34 years together; some of them wonderful and fun, and some of the hard as hell. Though only 8 of those years were as husband and wife, she has been a great friend and a steady support for all the rest of the time as well. She gave birth to and mothered a grand and glorious girl/woman of our own, and I am grateful and proud of them both. Happy Mother's Day Jean!

Vicariously NOLA

Today is the beginning of the second weekend of the greatest music festival held anywhere, The New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival at the Fairgrounds Racetrack in New Orleans. It's been looking a little cloudy and even a little rainy on the webcams, but for most of the day tht will probably meant that the weather is just a little cooler and the dust is just a little more tamped down.

As for me, I am sitting (as I have done too many times in recent years) back in California listening to every minute as it plays out on WWOZ and thinking about my plans for next year. At the same time, I'm actually working on a project that gives me the opportunity and excuse to listen to Fest and imagine myself there. It's a small comfort, but it IS a comfort and I enjoy it.

On Monday night I took the evening, made myself a wonderful dinner, opened up a bottle of wine, and pulled up a chair next to the computer where I rocked out all evening long listening to WWOZ's Piano Night celebration from the House of Blues.

The event was a celebration of the life of Eddie Bo, who died recently. The last time I got to be at Piano Night, Eddie Bo was the honored guest and it is one of my great memories of my life to see Eddie on one piano directly across from Marcia Ball on another piano with Joe Krown on another piano at the back of the stage, John Cleary on Hammond B, and Dr. John on guitar (they had run out of pianos!!!)

Piano Night (always the Monday after the first weekend of Jazz Fest) and the whole reality of Jazz Fest is a celebration that manifests the amazing heart of New Orleans, that in fact is the heart of America.

What a Wonderful World!