Classic Clara

Into The Light !

2012-01-19T19:45:00.021-05:00

This post will be in the format of "snippets" ... some sassy, some classy; hopefully with equal representation from both of my cerebral hemispheres :)

ENTHRALLING BOOK --

Read this enlightening, lively, unique book -- written in such a spiritual yet earthy style ... connecting nature, people, animals, and spirit in a beautifully-woven bond. The title is "Strays"; the author is Jeanne Webster, who lives and works in North Carolina. Jeanne's website is at www.straysthebook.com. I believe we all are strays until and unless we find our own natural path.

INTO THE LIGHT --

If there is nothing much to like about January except for the birthdays of dear ones (my mom's birthday was January 8th and I remember each year even though she's gone), there is one other biggie to like about this month: the visible return of daylight. We are inching forward a little each day with a minute or so of additional daylight. That excites me! My daffodils are already up about three inches. It amazes me to think of the knowledge that is stored in the bulb of a daffodil, enabling it to know when to push its way upward through the cold, soggy earth ... toward daylight.

I know that there is usefulness and need for darkness. And there is also a certain kind of comfort in it, too. The inky, early nightfall seems like a soft, caressing black blanket, drawing us in. We do need a period in the year when we submit to the darkness, rather than flailing against it in defiance. I found that the giving-in helps me avoid autumn seasonal depression. The cycles of Nature know what they are doing and they are very experienced.

DIXIE-LEE --

For my readers who have followed my reports on my beloved dog, she is (this day and in this moment) doing well. We take it one day at a time. After six surgeries to clear up the fistula network she's been suffering with, it is either in remission or (may I even hope?) retreating. She is on oral steroids and antibiotics. My vet and I did try her on a chemo drug (as this condition acts in a similar way to cancer in fooling the immune system). But the drug made her so sick and uncomfortable that I stopped giving it. I wouldn't want anyone to give me medicine that made me feel even worse than the medical condition. The next day, she showed remarkable improvement and even picks up her toys now from time to time.

POLITICS --

Embarrassing. Wouldn't it be nice to have a candidate who actually cared about the citizens and couldn't be influenced by industry (and who would have a snowball's chance of getting on the ballot box)? Wouldn't it be nice if Congress would approve legislation that would benefit the country and the people rather than special interests and corporate giants? Wouldn't it be nice if money and political clout didn't decide who the candidates would be?

VIDEO --

My creative chiropractor/friend did a great video of Dixie Lee and me back in November; he included many shots of interesting wall-hangings and mementos that are in my music studio and put the whole thing together beautifully. Dixie looks great. I was wearing my patchy, baggy jeans (so comfortable). But I did a decent job on the two songs I played and sang. I wanted to put the video up here on the blog but found that videos can't be uploaded like photos; that surprised me. If you want a copy, please let me know and I'll send one out to you.

THE ART DECO TRIO --

Yes, I'm with a band now, a trio. We do a heady, eclectic mix of jazz, blues, be-bop, latinesque, funk, and ballads, originals and covers. When we first got together, we agreed that we would stay with the effort as long as it is FUN! And it is! So the trio is a democracy ... no bosses and no dictators ... but plenty of awesome music! Clay is a phenomenally talented guitarist and vocalist; Scott is a very creative drummer/percussionist; and yours truly does keyboard, vocals, and bass on the keyboard. We hope, soon, to have some stuff up on a page that Scott is setting up on a website called Reverbnation.

NEW SONG --

In B major. Lots of musicians avoid this key because it is difficult to play in. But it has a delicate, "thin", ethereal quality to it. And so I wrote this earthy blues in this ethereal key. I don't know if the combination would affect others this way, but when I do the song, it feels like it's consuming me -- in a seductive, sensuous, yet enthralling way. I hope I'll be recording it soon and am still polishing up my ability to do justice to the arrangement. It's called "Baby, Don't Be Blue".

LESS LITTER --

Please! Knoxville (and maybe your town?) desperately needs to have an anti-litter law with some bite in it. Litter is disgusting, disrespectful, and inexcusable. It's hard for me to understand why anyone would throw trash on the street or in people's yards or on our precious Earth that sustains us all.

WORKOUT ANYTIME --

This is a great gym! The staff is helpful and friendly. The equipment is the best and includes everything that anyone could want. And the place is clean, clean, clean, wonderfully clean. Perhaps best of all, you can be a member for $15 a month without being locked into a contract. I love the one on Broadway in Knoxville.

PIANO STUDENTS --

I am currently accepting a few new students. I teach adults and teens, using my three-fold approach of note-reading, chord-reading and understanding, and ear-training. Lesson rate is affordable and the studio environment is relaxed and enjoyable. I'm located near North Broadway in Knoxville; e-mail me at claralandau@yahoo.com.

THANK YOU --

Thank you, dear readers, for your continued support. Many of you send me e-mails in response to my blog posts; I love to receive those. I also love it when you send your comments to the blog so that other people can read them. It's easy. Just use the anonymous feature :) Oh, happy; I just counted -- I have eleven topic titles -- eleven is a really fortunate mystical number!

A Solstice & Holiday Musing ...

2011-12-14T16:20:00.011-05:00

Where I used to live (a spacious home on a couple of beautiful wooded acres in another part of town) was peaceful and quietly inspiring in many ways; I still miss my trees, many of whom I had named. Here, in the city, peace and quiet need to be sought after, coaxed, and often tricked with white noise machines. But here, the inspiration is the visible day-to-day effort, even struggle ... for humans, animals, and vegetation to survive. The relentless pursuit of life is evident here. I once saw a little brown snake in the backyard under the maple tree. The little snake was hiding from predators, so I carefully put the leaves back over it, though a few days later it probably had come out to find food and had been picked up and killed ... I think, probably, by crows. The maple tree, itself, has stood there for who knows how long; it's very old and very noble. It presides over the prime part of the city lot back yard. In the autumn it turns a brilliant solid gold color, so beautiful. And cardinals, red-headed woodpeckers, and many other birds visit the feeders in the tiny front yard. At dusk, a large raccoon emerges from and later disappears back into the street drain, where apparently he has an underground route, safe from traffic. The city teems with life ... who would have thought that?

A sad sight is the occasional abandoned dog, seen wandering the streets in search of having its needs met; in the country, his or her abandoned counterparts have more terrain to cover -- though fewer cars to dodge.

Two years ago, the week before Christmas -- I think it must have been December 22nd or so -- I happened to look out the front window and saw a young couple laboriously walking down the street in the direction of Broadway. Each of them was loaded down with huge dark green trash bags which held every bit of their belongings that would fit in the bags. The woman's face was bright red and she walked a couple of steps in front of the man ... she was straining to hold onto her bags and to keep moving; the weather was very cold, sleeting, and blustery. The young man took the heaviest bag from her grasp and, in a desperate moment, grabbed the empty garbage can that had been left lying on the ground near the road by my neighbor. He crammed the garbage can with some of the bags and then these two precious people continued trudging along, hardly missing a beat, with the garbage can in tow, bouncing and scraping along the pavement. I was rapt in awe and sadness. I realized that they had probably been turned out of their home for lack of rent or mortgage money; the economy had tanked and the downturn's effect was dominating the news. But when you see the fall-out walking in front of your house, the face of the news becomes unforgettable.

I have realized that when you get in touch with someone else's feelings, you get in touch with your own feelings, too. We humans truly are all connected; we living beings (all) are interconnected; it is a bond at both a spiritual and cellular level.

Yes, I can feel that this post is moving in the direction of finding the best of what is in us, especially at this introspective, longest-night time of year. Try to help one needy being ... a person, an animal, a noble tree. And if you can help more than one needy being, please do.

My wish for one and all is peace, love, light, joy, blessings, awareness, and compassion.

May I Have This Dance?

2011-11-16T18:29:00.007-05:00

The other day, temperatures here in East Tennessee were mellow. Here in Knoxville, my van's outdoor temperature gauge read 64 degrees. The wind was playful, but in kind of a nice way. After I parked the van and began walking along the sidewalk and driveway, I heard that delightful sound and saw that delightful sight that I enjoy every November: the happy, gleeful celebration of fallen dried leaves as they excitedly dance! The wind whistled while enjoying the event, gusting repeatedly, sort of like it was taking many encores in succession, as the leaves swirled and twirled, resembling mini cyclones ... rising and descending again and again, in an amazing dance.

To me, this dance is a tap-dance. I know because I did tap-dancing when I was a kid and young adult. In the northeast part of the U.S. (where I am originally from), tap-dancing was glamorous, exciting, fun. Here in the south, clogging is very much akin to tap-dancing. But it is also quite different. Both styles use shoes that have heavy metal "taps" attached to the toes, ball of the foot, and heel. While tap-dancing is all-encompassing in terms of movement (and floor area used), clogging seems more conforming with the line (of other dancers). Oh, I forgot to mention that tap-dancing is/was usually done by one solo dancer. The tap-dancer travels around the floor, sometimes in a sweeping circular pattern, all the while executing the most intricate of steps! Cloggers stand mostly in one place, mostly in a line; sometimes the line moves left, right, forward or back or rotates as if on an axis. Both tap-dancing and clogging are heavenly to watch and hear. I've tapped but never clogged ... I'd love to do either or both now, have never lost my fascination for the rhythmic precision of dancing feet in tap shoes!

I was a child music performer and, during some of those years (I'd say when I was around eight or nine years of age), there was an older girl named Mary Lou who lived down the hill from my house. She lived in a rather old house that had a huge front porch on which her very rotund mother would sit, evening after evening, sewing and sequining Mary Lou's dance costumes. Oh, I loved those costumes and envied Mary Lou, who I saw as a glamorous teen.

Well ... life itself is a dance. We dance, we get jostled around. Sometimes we take, and can savor, center-stage.

Update On Dixie Lee ...

2011-11-16T18:20:00.007-05:00

As everyone probably knows by now, Dixie Lee (my dog, best friend, side-kick) has been under the weather for several months, with a medical situation that her vet and I have been trying to cure. Last week I brought her to him again and, this time, I requested that he give her a steroid shot to relieve inflammation and to just plain help her to feel better. He complied and she has been greatly improved since. Now, the shot is expected to have two to three weeks duration. Hopefully, when that time period is over, her improvement will have become a lasting thing. For now, I'm very happy that she is happy and her normal beautiful self again.

The Art Deco Trio --

2011-11-16T18:07:00.003-05:00

Yes, the band is an entity! And the band has a name ... "The Art Deco Trio". We play classic blues, eclectic jazz, blues-rock, be-bop, ballads, latinesque, and swing. We have a great time. With guitarist and vocalist Clay Worthley, Scott Fugate on drums and percussion, and yours truly (Clara Landau) on keys, bass, and vocals, the sound is full and exciting. Invite us to your event or party!

"Catching Up With Clara" ...

2011-10-30T19:51:00.015-04:00

It's been over a month since I last posted to this (my "active") blog! So, at the risk of rambling, I'll try to leap six weeks in a single bound (and condense everything in this one post).

The 3 D's --

Dixie Lee ... Since April or May, my dog has been troubled by symptoms associated with the rare happenstance of having both of her anal glands rupture within her: infection, various fistulas just popping out on her perianal area, and bleeding. She has given me permission to tell my readers this personal information ... I'd been afraid she'd be embarassed. And she would have been embarassed at the beginning of all of this, but by now, she is just saying "Who cares if people know? Grrr ... I just want this !#?*!^/*\~@! to clear up". We have done four surgeries on her over a period of about ten or twelve weeks ... each time, creating communication between the fistulas and one surgically-made drainage site and tube. And, of course, she is on antibiotics. Each surgery improves the situation but hasn't made it go away. Dixie Lee is such a grand and beautiful spirit. I think she loves our vet and she definitely knows he is trying to help her. This most recent time he said to me "I'm not ready to give up on this dog"; so in two weeks, we will try again.

Disappointment/Disillusionment/Distortion

Well, sometime in mid summer, Jerry expressed his wish to do something really, really nice for one of my family members; he asked my opinion and I gave my whole-hearted approval. We got the family member's excited positive response and so Jerry paid the legal fees to schedule this nice thing to happen. A few weeks ago, I was blind-sided by a disturbing telephone call from the family member, who loudly proclaimed my shortcomings and many additional negatives. Even more harmed by the call than I, was Jerry who felt very hurt and, of course, most of his $550 fee was non-refundable. I later sent the family member a "thinking of you" card, requesting peaceful communication, in the hopes of neutralizing things for all of us. Peace is a nice thing to have.

Dennis ...

Readers may recall that I've written a few posts over the years about my prison (via a church program) pen-pal. He is in a prison in another state (not Tennessee), but I cannot say which state it is in.

He was "up for" early release a couple of months ago. He had completed all of his required remedial courses with very high grades, always excelling and striving. He has developed a great sense of humor and philosophy. The system was getting him ready for release...even initiating the processing for his driver's license and his parole board gave him approval. Then, as the release date approached, he got the news that his early release would not happen and that he may remain incarcerated for another five years. This coincided with the resignation (for health reasons) of his chaplain.

Fortunately, his strength and his guitar (he's an accomplished musician) are seeing him through this. Folks, we in the "free world" know not what an inmate often endures in prison --overcrowding, brutality, being cut off from or shunned by loved ones. I did a music concert in '07 at a maximum security prison in Tennessee ... I want to go back and do another one. If I could (and was permitted to do so) I'd bring music into Dennis' prison and many other prisons, too.

And Some More Alphabet Soup:

Gigs ...

Things have been revving up, gig-wise, for me. I did a Halloween party music gig this past Friday and it was great fun. A week before, I had a speaking gig for Animal Ministry at a wonderful neighborhood-homeowners' meeting ... what a great audience there! Coming up in November, I'll be playing piano for the Vegetarian Society's Thanksgiving Dinner here in Knoxville; I've been to many of their Thanksgiving dinners in the past ... always enjoyable.

Yes, and speaking of gigs, recently I got together with two amazing musicians (Clay-guitarist and Scott-drummer) and we're at that juncture now where we need to decide on a name for ourselves as a band! I've got two selections in the hat, so we'll see if one of them wins approval :)

Magic Mountain ...

Recently I made the drive to the mountain home of the man who conducts the drum circle way up the line here in Tennessee. We talked and talked about many things shamanic ... it was awesome. The scenery there is breathtakingly beautiful.

"This Day" ...

Often, I compose short songs for my piano students to learn. I do them in manuscript (notated) format and in lead-sheet format so that the students gather experience in reading music the way they will often have it handed to them. Sometimes, these little songs really are very special and I add them to my set lists (as little interludes, lead-ins, what-not). "This Day" is a bright, happy, and hopeful song ... sincere and forthright. So I'm glad it's joined my repertoire.

Painting, Painting, Painting! ...

First there was the bathroom which had absolutely horrible wallpaper that had to be scraped and swamped (I put that sequence in reverse) and which gave me an injured shoulder blade that took eight days to feel better; that injury was immediately followed by a painful finger injury, also from the wallpaper removal process; the finger injury took almost three weeks to successfully heal. The bathroom is now painted and looks WAY better!

This all was followed by an asthma bout (now tapering). So, the kitchen awaits my painting attention (scheduled for tomorrow). The wallpaper has already been removed (I did that just before I started the bathroom's paper removal).

Winter Hyacinths ? ...

Happy, happy! I found and rescued the planter pot that contains my dormant hyacinth bulbs. A gang of weeds was growing in it; they are now removed. The bulbs, I trust, are safely sleeping beneath the soil's surface. So I brought the planter pot into the house and situated it in the loft where the bulbs came to life last year.

How I Spin It ...

Yes, a mix of troubles, some of them major ... and some bright spots. All in all, though, it's an OK autumn. It's largely what we make of things, I believe. Friends (one very special friend in particular), my music and instruments, great and illuminating books in-hand that were written by enlightened authors, my wonderful dog, the beauty and wonders of Nature that never cease to amaze me -- these all make me know that I am blest. I am so thankful. And maybe that's a perfect lead-in to Thanksgiving, a most worthy holiday.

Singing Praise!

2011-09-16T22:20:00.008-04:00

Heroes are important in my life ... I think they are important in anybody's life -- and so I honor mine here in this post:

My guardian angel(s) who come to my rescue every time I call.

My beautiful Dixie Lee.

World Vets and all the other people and organizations who work as advocates for and rescuers of animals and our earth.

The musical artists who write, sing, and play about truth in their music; the visual artists who state truth in their drawings and paintings; God bless the musicians and artists, who persevere and create and help lift the world's burdens.

Philip (deceased and very sadly missed), my multi-talented musician friend who was also my most ardent and steadfast fan.

Gerald, who shares the gift of humor and his generous heart.

Dr. Griffith of Knoxville, TN, who is a wonderful person and the very best M.D.

Dr. Stewart of Knoxville, TN, who is a wonderful person and the very best chiropractor.

Dr. Lentz of Farragut, TN, who is absolutely the most knowledgeable, kindest, best, and caring veterinarian.

Diana, who exemplifies integrity and strength.

William, who has illuminated many things for me, especially about myself.

My students, each of whom is a very special light in my life.

The men at TVUUC who helped save my life on 7/27/08.

My mother (deceased), who had an amazingly giving and generous spirit and who was a back-stage mom, my cheerleader and promoter.

My paternal grandmother (deceased), who was my childhood playmate and talented mentor.

The shamans and mystics who honor all facets of earth, the cosmos, and our natural world.

Shara, the lovely flower who is discovering her wisdom and strength and expanding her horizon.

Harry (deceased), the unlikely hero who seemed proud to be a curmudgeon -- his vision and honesty were refreshing and helpful.

Dennis, my prison pen-pal (via a church program), who is a talented musician and sketch artist, has an inspiring life philosophy and a great sense of humor, is a high academic achiever, and is a great joy for me to know.

My spirit council/counsel (both apply), ever willing to help me learn and evolve.

Each of the men who stopped and assisted me years ago along the highways, when my cherished classic but very old vehicles became disabled.

Each of my dear friends.

Myself, for my fortitude and (what I (believe is) a loving heart.

September Song

2011-09-15T20:17:00.024-04:00

When I was a kid, around 9 years old or so, I sang (on radio and stage) a song entitled "September Song" -- "Oh, it's a long, long while from May to December, But the days grow short when you reach September. When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame, One hasn't got time for the 'waiting game'." As a nine-year-old, I was sort of clueless about the song's message, but now I understand it perfectly. And where I lived then (Connecticut), the autumn weather and flaming leaves did come in September; here, in the south, not so. I'm winging it again :), but fortunately, I did think of a title for the post before I got it completed. Well, it's turning out to be a wild and crazy month … mostly good.

I re-recorded my song "Ode To Source" (at Songwriters Studio here in Knoxville) and the song's title has been changed to "The Source". One of the reasons is that William (the studio's talented owner and engineer), suggested the title change. I agreed because the new name is more attention-commanding (as is fitting for the song's vastly powerful topic). The mastered recording is up on my website's Song Page in the player box … please check it out. This song came to me as a healing vehicle following my July bout of depression; it came effortlessly, with lyrics, chord progressions, and melody all falling in together simultaneously. I think that maybe the song can help other people, too.

Dixie Lee had the needed surgery to fix an ongoing problem that was causing her a lot of discomfort and which had an unknown (discovered during the surgery) pocket of infection. She is again on antibiotics. The left side of the affected area has healed but the right side (which was the initial trouble spot) may need to be reopened and further treated in about a month. Meanwhile, though, her appetite has returned and she is much more like her normal self -- happy, gorgeous, and comical!

I did some extensive additions and edits on my website at http://www.claralandau.com/. It now has three new page links and the initial pages have been reworked. I think you will like it. Of benefit to me, also, is that I had to find my way through various facets of website building and I came out of the experience with a lot of new knowledge.

With September comes relief from the summer sizzle here in east Tennessee; my loft (where my computers and many things dear to me are situated) is now tolerable again … during the summer it would get very hot up here, even with two giant, faithful fans running. Last night I played several amazing blues CDs up here on my stereo player … I played them at very high volume, which is what I like to do when I feel the need. That particular need is kind of hard to describe, but it's sort of an emotional purge. Well, music is my drug of choice, most definitely.

So sorry I have to forego a trip to the beach this autumn, unless a bunch of money drops down out of the sky. I don't want to go into my remaining reserves. But I can hear those ocean waves in my mind. I have a white noise machine in my bedroom … it runs all night every night and is sorely needed here on this loud street that also has the 5:30 a.m. motorcycle next door. The white noise machine is set on "ocean waves" (complete with the sounds of sea gulls), so I can drift and dream to my heart's content :) But I'd really like to make the drive down to Folly Beach.

I've been going to drum circles whenever I can and I draw a tremendous amount of benefit from that activity and environment. I've reopened my old (years ago) shamanic studies. I think that many, or at least most, people are "taking their place" or looking for their place so they can take it … at the present time. It feels like people are searching, more intensely than ever, for something meaningful enough to hold as their comfort and "truth". Peace, respect, the natural world, the cosmos, the sacred and visionary dimension and energies of sound, transformation, and healing, and the unity of all beings at a cellular level -- the shamanic path is it for me.

I had a birthday on September 1st and Party City gave me what is becoming my "annual free balloon". I walk in and ask for one red balloon for my birthday (I love balloons) and the saleslady smiles and gives me one on-the-house. The niceness of that gesture adds to my enjoyment of the balloon (which is still tied to the back of one of the chairs in my music room). The present time may be nearing the end of the dance for me, in terms of life span, but I'm fine with that. Maybe next year I'll throw myself a party.

Please do check out http://www.claralandau.com/.

Winging It!

2011-08-15T20:18:00.006-04:00

Almost always, I type out my blog posts in my Word Perfect program, then edit out typos and tweak everything, before I copy and paste onto my blog. I'm not doing that this time, so this isn't going through much "filtering" :)

I'm enthused about a few (well, more than a few) things! The new song I mentioned in an earlier post has been cast aside and outdone by one I wrote last weekend (that would have been the 6th and 7th of August). This song literally flew into my head, effortlessly, amazingly. It is different than anything I've done, in that it's inspirational (purely and genericly), is also bluesy (which I love), and gospely (I know I'm making up words ... I love to do that). It is those three things simultaneously. It is called Ode To Source. Its intro is captivating and the lyric lifts me up so very much. I'm practicing the arrangement every moment I can and plan to record it as soon as I can do it effortlessly (translation: without thinking).

Another good thing coming down the pike is the resurrection of my musical esoteric healing practice (which combines with other holistic facets). I'm looking forward to helping and lifting other people with music. When and after I was in school (Ph.D. in holistic health), one of my favorite courses of study was esoteric musical (and color) healing, which is based on vibration, the very basic energy that unites all people, all animals, all trees, all living things ... at a cellular level. Everything has a vibration, though the human ear only hears a relatively small segment of those vibrations. I did a whole lot of extra research on this topic, which fascinates me. Taking it farther, I've done the correlation of each music tone to color, chakras of the body, and even to cosmic (astrological) spheres. It's mathematics, folks. That's truly what it (music) is. Those intervals of tones harmonizing at various distances apart, or rubbing up against one another, or traveling in counterpoint ... I love them!

I'm going back into editing, too ... manuscripts, biographies, quarterly publications. I've always enjoyed the interviewing, writing, and editing.

Today's postal mail brought me a beautiful birthday (September 1st) card from my prison pen-pal (through Church of the Larger Fellowship's Prison Ministry). Dennis and I have been writing to each other for over three years now. He is a talented musician and wise philosopher. I know that I benefit every bit as much as he does from our "match" (which was coordinated by the ministry's chaplain). Oh, I want to add here that my beautiful Dixie Lee celebrated her 9th birthday on August 1st!

For those of you who read the Red Nail Polish post recently, it was a nice place to visit (and I will again), but I'm back "at home" with my silver pearl polish (the color of moonstones, my favorite gems).

OK ... winging it was fun to write. Blessings to one and all!

Grace Notes!

2011-08-02T02:36:00.007-04:00

These are the two words that describe those little musical enhancements that one can see on notated music and hear when music is performed. Having their origins in classical music, I first met up with grace notes during my childhood piano lessons. They are cute little notes in their printed appearance and appear to be flying around in the song (my description of them). I hear them and play them a lot in jazz pieces and have found, particularly when one of my students asks me how and what I'm doing when I demonstrate a musical passage, that I use them also in blues, as well. There they feel and sound like cousins or some other close relative to the classical and jazz grace notes. I'm going to look up the official definition in my music dictionary so that I can give the best possible credit to these graceful, often very playful, lovely little notes. OK ... here it is according to the Wm. Collins Sons "Concise Dictionary Of Music -- printed in Great Britain": "Grace Note = ornamental note used to decorate or embellish melody. Normally printed in smaller type". Well, OK, that's accurate but I don't think it really speaks to the spirit of grace notes. I mean grace notes would be very conspicuous if they were absent. When actually playing them on piano or keyboard, these notes are touched in a different way than "regular" notes. They require a much lighter touch. And they "grace" the musical piece, giving it charm and enriching its character.

The reason I thought of writing this little post about grace notes, is to lead into my thoughts about grace itself ... a "state of grace", a "grace period", religious "grace" which usually equates to "salvation". Grace, then, is something extra and special that is given (my definition). My Oxford Dictionary says "a delay or postponement granted as a favor not a right".

So that's how one could choose to look upon life ... with appreciation and thanks and a sense of wonder. And the reason for this post is to present my note about grace, my little Grace Note. Often we are given opportunities to insert grace notes (delightful embellishments) into life, especially when we do something nice for somebody else, not because we are required to, but because we choose to.

Red Nails!

2011-08-01T20:10:00.004-04:00

I usually have my toenails and fingernails painted with silvery pearl polish -- I love it. But recently, I temporarily switched back to Revlon's "Cherries In The Snow", that long-time (years and years) favorite shade that can still be found in stores. It's a beautiful, luscious shade of cherry red. It's funny how red nails make a woman feel … sexy, pretty, a bit more intriguing, elegant, out-there! Yes. So, for my female readers, my advice is to do yourself a wonderful favor … dispense with the clear, black, gold, orange, pink and blue nail polishes (or lack thereof). Red is the one to wear! I'm expecting great things while I'm wearing it :) And for my guy readers, be intrigued, be brave ... and expect great things from the lady in red!

Goodbye July …

2011-08-01T20:01:00.006-04:00

July 27th 2011 has come and gone. It was the third anniversary of the horrific shooting at my church. For some reason, this year seemed more difficult for me as the calendar entered the month of July and the weeks and days advanced; during the past couple of weeks, my depression (which lifted on July 28th) hit, with a wham, bam, boom. It could have been exacerbated by the full (I hope it's full at this juncture) scope of injury fallout with which I'd been dealing. Anyway, my piano playing and hand drumming make all negatives disappear. Bless music and music-making, my life-line and most enduring passion!

This past Wednesday (the 27th) I went to a lovely noon-time special service at TVUUC. It was very inspiring and I could identify with the emotions and behaviors mentioned in the sermonette the church minister presented. A prayer offered by our pastoral minister was beautiful and comforting. I sat in the same seat I had occupied that morning of the shooting; I noticed other people were doing the same thing. I was fortunate to be accompanied at the service by a wonderful person who totally proved his friendship that day. Thank you, dear heart, for your patience, humor, and caring spirit.

Coming Soon --

2011-08-01T19:46:00.004-04:00

Plans are in the works for a video of me and my music … and a house concert, featuring yours truly. I've seen a sample of this man's video work and it is awesome! I'll write more about these as the details begin to roll out! God bless my friends.

Animal Lovers --

2011-08-01T19:34:00.013-04:00

For readers who love animals (and I hope that includes everybody), here are three websites you can visit daily to click on the button that helps animals. When you click on two of them, a portion of pet food is donated to shelter animals. The third one saves a portion of rainforest with each time you visit and click on the button. Below are the the links that will take you to the sites:

http://therainforestsite.com

http://theanimalrescuesite.com

http://freekibble.com

All three websites offer lots of interesting animal-related information and products, if you're so inclined. It is totally free to click and it only takes a couple of seconds and then you can leave the site and be on your way. The free kibble site has a cute and informative one-question "quiz" about dogs and one about cats; whether you pick the correct answer doesn't matter, as the kibble is donated to the animals anyway; it's fun seeing how often you can pick the right answer and, again, it only takes seconds to do. So please consider putting these three website "clicks" on your daily to-do list for the animals.

Clara's Scintillating Update!

2011-07-18T21:58:00.007-04:00

Sensitivity is vital to an artist and to a mystic and is important to a scientist, as well (I consider myself to be all three of those). Sensitivity serves me well — usually.

Over the past couple of weeks, though, I found myself gradually becoming what I would term "hypersensitive" -- a blurry thing was descending ... sneaking up on me and distorting my perspective. When I realized what it was, it was a relief to be able to neutralize it. The date is the 27th and it is the upcoming third anniversary of the church shooting in which I and others were hurt and two people died. I have plans for that day and will spend a reverent half hour at the church and then ... hope to have an afternoon of the kind I love best-- starting with a walk in the park and then escalating to less passive, more magic things! Happy, happy :)

Yesterday afternoon, I happened to look out my front door window and, at that moment, a large number of birds – assorted birds – were busily having what appeared to be a party in the front yard, with the little (it is very small) bird bath being one of the focal points of their activity. Alongside the bird party, there are four different types and colors of rose bushes, a crepe myrtle, butterfly bush (complete with butterflies), a pot of petunias, and a flowering plant that I wintered over from last year (purple, I don’t know its name). My little bird community was such a comforting and spiritual sight to look out upon.

About a month ago, I began writing a new song (honestly, I didn't want to compose another song) called "Coming Home To Me"; I think the song's concept came to me as a revelation: this is what I must do now … come home to myself. My plan is to re-implement my holistic practice, centering it on music as a healing medium, and augmenting it with herbal and mystical remedies (they are in my medicine bag). My piano students remain some of the most important people in my life, each one a joy.

I'm still majorly enjoying the program and people (and results) at Curves … I go there every day and, I do say, I have nicer curves now :)

A couple of days ago, I acquired a little, old-fashioned xylophone from Goodwill. It has two and a half octaves. I'm going to put it in the music studio on its own shelf (I need to hang the shelf within the next few days).

I've been attending a weekly "centering prayer" group at church in the evenings. It's actually a meditation, with emphasis on "consenting" to the divine to indwell. I like it. Also, I've been going, sporadically, to a drum/shaman circle in Seymour, TN, which meets weekly. It has a beautiful ceremony, wonderful energy, the opportunity to drum … and is in a remote, natural setting with plenty of woods and meadows around. I also hope to get back to the mountaintop drum circle.

I may be doing a house concert soon (hope to do several at different locations). Plans are underway!

Speaking of concerts, the cicadas are singing up a storm outdoors tonight here in East Tennessee. What an amazing sound!

And what a sizzling summer!

Let's Talk About This, Silence No More!

2011-07-18T21:38:00.007-04:00

I wish everyone (and especially our hypocritical politicians) would read a very astute, accurate article in the July 11, 2011 Time Magazine. I came across it last week while in the doctor’s waiting room. Entitled "The Way Forward" and written by book author and New York University teacher Jorge G. Castaneda, the article speaks to the drug wars in Mexico and their relation to U.S. politics, as well as setting forth painfully obvious changes that could end the problems.

The piece is very comprehensive but I will get to the part that says the most important thing: it points to the U.S. nature (which the author says the U.S. cannot/will not change ... and I agree) and the U.S. politics (which the author hopes will change ... and so do I) regarding the ridiculous "war on drugs" and the illegality of marijuana. He advocates (and so do I) the legalization of marijuana and possibly other drugs. Many great minds of our time, including George Shultz and Paul Volcker, Mr. Castaneda tells us, support legalization; so do U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan, our former president Jimmy Carter, and several Mexican ex-presidents. The onus is on Obama and our federal legislators to legalize the valuable and multi-use cannabis (its real name) plant for medicinal and recreational use. This action would deflate the drug cartel, end the (unConstitutional) search and property seizures, end the imprisoning of marijuana growers and users, and stop wasting American tax dollars.

I would really like to see this legalization in my lifetime ... so you'd better hurry, Mr. President and D.C. people. I'm an herbalist and I believe it is a travesty that this Nature-given herb is not allowed to be grown for its many industrial uses and medicinal virtues.

It is time! And the article is in Time. Just in time.

Buffat Gets Buffeted!

2011-06-24T09:44:00.010-04:00

Buffat Mill Road, that is.

Several times, I thought of clever ways to walk my way into this post. But, at this very moment, it seems more important that I express sincere thanks to the KUB crews who worked long and hard (and are still working) to restore power to the homes and businesses in Knoxville. Not that I like KUB's very annoying phone-answering robot (who refused to acknowledge every telephone number I've ever had and then had the gall to say it couldn't recognize my account number that I've had for 25 years, and then to say "goodbye" and hang up on me. That emergency phone-answering system needs some humanity to be worked into it, KUB. The crew workers, though, are top-shelf and the one I chased down my road (I was on foot--he was driving his truck) had managed to keep his sense of humor, too. He stopped and I indicated "please roll down your window"; he motioned for me to open the passenger door and, once I had the door open and was half-way inside the truck, I realized he couldn't reach across the seat that was full of equipment -- to get to his window handle. He patiently listened to my report of wires being down in my yard and then we had a brief discussion about the weather people's denial that Tuesday's storm had produced tornados. We agreed that if they didn't predict it (especially a storm of this intensity), then they certainly couldn't admit we'd had a tornado. The newspaper played along with it and none of the editors challenged it. "Straight winds", a "severe thunderstorm". Yeah, sure, the public is THAT gullible? No! A clerk at the post office confided to me today, "The Lord knows it was a tornado even if they (weatherpeople, newspaper, etc.) deny it."

Here's what happened at my house on Tuesday evening. Dixie Lee (my dog) and I were at home, sort of gearing down for the evening. Rather suddenly, she began to act agitated and I thought, "Gosh, I haven't let her out for a while" and opened the back door for her to go out. Ever obedient, she went out the door and quickly turned around as if she'd changed her mind. I said, "Mommy will come out with you, Dixie" and I stepped onto the porch, noticing a weird combo dark and light sky. A fraction of a moment later, a roaring sound began and the air was swirling. Startled, I grabbed the storm door and said something like "Oh my God"…the roaring noise escalated into something that seemed to be other-worldly and the door in my grasp was suddenly blowing so hard and upward, I was almost airborne. I was screaming Dixie's name, full of fear for her, as I thought she had gone out into the yard. Then, as I looked downward, there she was, pushing me back into the kitchen. The wind lost interest in my door (which I quickly closed) as it went for bigger targets. Instantly, our house was plunged into darkness as the power was knocked out. Dixie and I ran into the bathroom and, as we sat on the floor, terrified, I held her tight, so that we could, at least, blow away together instead of each dying alone. The freight train noise I'd read about had become reality for me and for the next few minutes, we heard trees and other items toppling, cracking, whooshing, and smashing all around. Our house began a strange sensation as if it had become alive and was sort of quivering or breathing -- expanding and contracting. I thought it would leave its foundation. A few moments felt like such a long time as we huddled there. I had my cell phone in my pocket and took it out to dial a friend; if he'd answered, I don't know what I would have said … I probably would have shouted the words "Hide" or "Find shelter", though I knew it was too late. A few minutes later, things outside calmed down and Jerry called me; I didn't recognize the incoming number and I knew he didn't have his cell phone with him -- he asked me if I was OK. I think I just whimpered "Scared".

When I ventured outside, I found that my yard and neighborhood were almost unrecognizable. Huge trees were toppled and telephone poles were cracked into pieces, with utility wires dangling, swaying and lying all over the place. One of the trees had fallen from the other side of a neighboring yard and had completely filled and blocked my driveway (the van and truck were safely parked under the carport, but they were trapped there). I took a flashlight and slowly found my way around the wires that the tree had brought down, so that I could get to the truck and get Jerry's cell phone (the battery in mine was almost totally discharged).

The next morning, I attacked the fallen tree limbs that were imprisoning my van, reasoning that if the power was out, so were the wires. True, fortunately. Once out on the roads, I saw the devastation in the area. A conversation with a man in the parking lot of a closed business (almost all businesses in the area were closed for lack of power) proved very fruitful because an hour later, he came to my house with his helper and chainsaws. He worked on sawing and pushing aside the multiple limbs (such a bouffant tree) so that the driveway was usable. Eventually, a message came through on my cell phone from my friend, who had called many hours earlier ... he was OK. Late Wednesday night, the power came back on at my house. The wire for my landline telephone is still lying on the ground and may be restored by next Tuesday (!) Thanks, AT&T.

Dixie and I are writing this from our motel room on Thursday afternoon. We will be going back home tomorrow. Honestly, there are things I like about my house and there are things IN my house that I treasure (my piano, plants, drums and other special items) … and there are things in my yard that I love -- my maple tree (which bravely withstood the onslaught and only lost one limb), my wildflowers, my mock orange bush; but, there are times when the house just feels like a hell-hole … and this was certainly one of those times.

But today I got to play my piano again and affectionately look upon my brave trees ... and notice that over the past couple of days, several of my potted wildflowers have burst into bloom. And, at last, the sun is shining!

Curvy, Alluring Curves ...

2011-05-29T23:32:00.004-04:00

On May 11th I visited and signed up with Curves, the ladies-only aerobics/strength-training circuit facility. I've been attending every day and feel way more than 100% better; my clothes are now slidey ... that is, they are loose. There are congenial people, very effective pieces of equipment, and exercise routines that let you work as hard as you want (and I work hard). Exercise was always a big part of my life and I belonged to one fitness club or another until four years ago. Now, I'm back at it and this is one of the smartest things I've done in a while. Keep exercising, keep moving, keep dancing! It's all good, good, good!

James Taylor Concert --

2011-05-29T23:19:00.005-04:00

Last Monday evening, my friend (and former piano student) Sylvia, called me with a "last-minute invitation" to the James Taylor concert at the coliseum here in Knoxville. Of course, I said "Yes"! Ninety minutes later we were safely anchored in our seats and the concert began. Phenomenal! I hadn't seen JT in concert in I-don't-know-how-many years. He looks the same; he moves the same way; he sings and plays the same way, except smoother, and with more grace than before. This man is ageless, timeless, and so is his music; absolutely evergreen. There were people of every age range in the packed audience. That, in itself, was thrilling to realize. He did all the well-known songs of his repertoire, plus four or five others. What a wonderful, awesome evening! Thank you, Sylvia. Thank you, James.

Bliss & Spirit --

2011-05-29T23:12:00.004-04:00

Quite a number of years ago, I began shamanic studies (back in the late 1980s - to mid 1990s). I practiced alone and felt alone.

A week or so ago, I attended the marvelous shamanic ceremony and drum circle at Center For Peace in Seymour, TN. The spirituality, sincerity, and drumming bliss were beautiful and a memorable experience among kindred souls. I hope to be returning there very often.

Last evening, a friend of mine took me along with him to a shamanic drum circle that meets in a distant location (from Knoxville), somewhere up beyond Sneedville. The people were welcoming and sincere in their devotion to earth, nature, and the beautiful energy that the drums and drummers brought forth.

I know this type of spirituality isn't for everybody ... but if it could be, our world would be a much more peaceful, compassionate place.

Dixie Lee's Surgery --

2011-05-29T23:01:00.007-04:00

Yes, well, Monday night's beautiful concert helped fortify me for what took shape the following morning. I'd been very concerned about Dixie Lee's continuing inflammation and non-healing anal gland fistula ... I knew it had to be dealt with and suspected that a surgical procedure was needed. Dixie Lee and I arrived at our vet's office just before noon; it's a drive from here, as it's way over on the other side of Knoxville. His usual assistants were not available because of the lunch hour, so the doc (dear Don ... you are a treasure) ... showed his confidence in me and just positioned me at the operating table and I assisted as he sedated Dixie Lee and then punctured the affected area so it could drain. Dixie Lee had fought the sedation, but eventually went into a light sleep. When I got her back home she began to be her "normal" self very quickly. ...her appetite returned and her anxieties were gone; it was then I realized just how uncomfortable she had been and for so many weeks. I think the infected/impacted/imploded gland had reached the serious stage before any external symptoms had presented. Well, she's doing fine now, is on antibiotics, and each day I lightly sponge the affected area with warm water to allow healing to take place from the inside-out. There is no limit to my love for Dixie Lee; she is such a wonderful being.

Please Check Out My Website Revisions!

2011-05-29T22:57:00.004-04:00

Although all the pages are tweaked ... fancier fonts, etc., the Home Page and the Bio have revised content, as well ... and are much nicer, more lively to read than they were previously. I hope you'll take a few minutes to look the site over. The website address is http://www.claralandau.com/. Thanks !

I'd Rather Have A Vampire ...

2011-05-29T22:34:00.006-04:00

...Living next door, that is. The yard next door to mine used to be landscaped, colorful, and neat. Then its owner moved away and rented the home to tenants. Over the past 2-1/2 years, the property has become almost unrecognizable ... so overgrown that KUB has had to come in twice to trim the jungle in order to restore our electricity. The yard is now full of debris, piles and piles of various kinds of stuff. The front roof has a line of heavy twine running the length of the house and one end of the string is attached to a camera, while the other end slid downward months ago and is now hanging off the roof at a peculiar and comedic angle. The cat pee smell is so bad it burns your nose and throat if you inhale while in the yard; during and after rainstorms, it hangs like a cloak over our house and our exterior doors have to be opened and closed hurriedly, lest the odor find its way indoors. The tenant empties his cats' used litter on top of the soil and pavement in his yard where it has accumulated over time; of course, this creates a risk of toxoplasmosis in addition to the smell. This is the same man who starts his motorcycle at 5:30 a.m. daily and roars, 7 or 8 feet away from our bedrooms, past our bedroom windows. This is also the same man who ran outside in his underwear, his camera in-hand, moments after two trees and a utility pole that were struck by lightning fell across Buffat Mill Road during an April storm ... he wanted to capture the moment when, in the darkness created by blown-out street lights, the first fast-traveling car encountered (crashed into) the fallen trees and pole in the road. I'm happy to report that the car was able to slam on its brakes and stop just in time to avoid disaster (the traumatized driver slowly backed up, turned the vehicle around to change direction, and drove away safely).

Yes, this tenant is socially inept, inconsiderate, and bad news. The bottom line, though, is that the landlord (formerly a good neighbor) hasn't ever come back during the 2-1/2 years to inspect the house and property. This (and I'm sure more if anyone was to look inside the home) is what can happen when someone rents out a property and then cares only that the rent check continues to arrive. So you can see why I'd rather have a vampire next door ... he'd probably be cuter, too (remember the vampire on "Being Human"?)

Getting Ripped Off By Lifetouch --

2011-05-29T22:28:00.008-04:00

I registered my complaint on a website called the Complaint Board at www.complaintboard.com (never knew it existed until I came across it a few days ago). Lifetouch is a photography company that goes around taking school and church photographs. Everything would have been fine if the photographer had cared about what he was doing. He mishandled the entire session and transaction. On the plus side, one of the company's customer service reps did her best to help.

Oh, Shell-Pink Little Left Ear --

2011-05-05T20:41:00.006-04:00

You are so cute. You are so favored (as my telephone ear). You love the moonstone earring that dangles from your lobe and matches that of your ear-mate. You have heard many a song, figured out many a tune and arrangement, listened to the whispered words of childhood playmates, been so faithful in carrying out your duties, absorbed words of love and passion, blissed out with the sounds of Nature, and suffered the fateful three shotgun blasts three years ago at church. It was the first of those blasts that knocked out, forever, the "reflexes" or filtering system inside of you -- forever.

That day, someone in the hospital ER, during their cursory exam, suggested that your owner see an ear specialist. Well, your owner didn't (doesn't) have med insurance or medicare, so she was hoping for the best, hoping to get lucky. At first, you heard sound only in garbled fashion. Time went by. You did your best to function and function well. You did very well, actually. But loud and shrill sounds became terrible for you to bear and pain became a frequent visitor -- and your owner found herself putting those benzocaine drops into you from time to time.

Last week, she finally made an appointment and went to an ear specialist, with some saved money bunched up in her pocketbook. She was lucky and had found a talented and understanding doctor. A week later, she drove back to his building and you were fitted with a tailor-made sound filter. It works beautifully.

So, little shell-pink left ear. you are, again, able to be comfortable. Your owner appreciates you and your commitment to her, so very much. Life is so much the richer for your steadfastness that endured even through those awful blast moments when you were knocked out. Your owner is lucky! Your owner is blest and grateful.

Mis-Matched Socks!

2011-05-05T20:20:00.004-04:00

One morning several months ago, I got back from my chiropractic appointment to discover I had my jeans on backwards. Sure enough, there were the slash pockets in the back instead of the front ... and the poufier shaped rear part of the jeans were sticking out there in front of me. I guessed I'd fairly jumped into the pants while the lights were out in my bedroom. My chiropractor who is a patient, considerate, compassionate man, of course had seen the backwards pants. I mean, I was lying both forward and backward on the table as he worked on me. I heard nary a chuckle and he didn't say a thing different than the usual patter. I'm reminded right at this moment (by a small but vocal group of super-tidy brain cells that are sort of like the ultra conservative tea partiers) that I have a Ph.D. and am a classy scientist who must strive for perfection at all times -- particularly in matters of reputation, and that I am an artist who must always look prepared to step up and take a bow). Yeah, well, I can be just as smart while wearing mis-matched socks.

On occasion (not often), I pull out my ghastliest clothes combination ... faded tee shirt, motley pants, socks that don't match or that clash with the shirt and pants, and to top it off (actually bottom it off), my big, black Kmart work shoes that I use for yard work. This outfit is, in its own way, liberating, as I inwardly declare that I can and will do whatever I want; a second benefit is that I wouldn't answer the door or put myself in any public situation during this time, so it's a way of guaranteeing a day of solitude for myself. I know some people can't stand solitude ... they think of it as loneliness. Those two conditions are way different from each other. It's miserable to be lonely, but it's wonderful to have solitude. Of course, there's a delicate balance between hyperactivity and excessive idleness, between being very busy-productive-involved and temporarily stepping back to regroup. I think that sometimes we need to give ourselves permission to seek this balance. I know I do.

Recent Storms, The Elements, and Energy --

2011-05-05T20:04:00.004-04:00

Recently, I was discussing, with a dear and very enlightened friend, some of the many particulars about Energy, the elements (wind, rain, sunshine, earth), lore, and spiritual practices that honor Earth and call upon the Universe's energies. I was remembering my father's rich knowledge of Nature and lore; his sharing of that knowledge with me was the one abiding bond we shared.

I can't help but notice the extremes that the weather is now doing ... tidal waves in Japan and elsewhere; earthquakes, deadly lightning, winds whose usual frivolous and even caressing manner have sometimes become destructive and hurtful to people, animals, and those usual playmates of the wind -- the trees! The poor trees ... so many were cracked into pieces over the past couple of weeks here in east Tennessee; some landed on cars and houses. I was saying to someone recently that it's tough to be a tree. I mean if wind and lightning aren't knocking you down, there are insects attacking your leaves and bark, kudzu creeping up on you and blocking the sunlight and air you need, developers bulldozing you down. Well, actually, it's tough to be anything, I guess. Probably trees enjoy the birds that nest in them and the squirrels that scamper up and down.

The April 27th tornadic storms dumped a huge amount of water here in a short amount of time. Two "spigots" appeared in the side wall of my basement, through which poured two waterfalls ... onto the basement floor. I heard the splashing noise while upstairs and dashed down the stairway just in time to be able to walk on the dry patch of cement to where the pump's connection cord was. As soon as I plugged into the outlet, the little pump went to work and, within about two hours, the water was almost all gone and I unplugged the pump so it wouldn't burn out. Of course, at that time, I didn't know the extent of the damage elsewhere and the number of lives lost in other, relatively nearby areas (no TV or Internet service had been restored at that point in time).

Earth and Mother Nature seem to be really upset and uncomfortable. Maybe it's the destructive wars, power-hungry politicians, and corporate greed that's making Earth ill and ill-tempered. Stress -- it gets to all of us, doesn't it?

Storm Excitement ...

2011-05-05T19:46:00.005-04:00

For three days recently, following the April 25th storm here, I was without Internet and television (also without power for a day or so), so I didn't even know the April 27th tornados were expected and on their way. The Comcast call-in line put callers through the usual paces and menu choices and then had a recording that said they were having extensive internet and TV problems. This message ought to have run at the very beginning of the call. I bought the New-Sentinel on one of those days for the first time in a long time ... because there was no other way to get any news about storm damage, upcoming weather, or outages. I found no mention at all about Comcast's outages, although KUB's outage statistics were bravely stated. The KUB crew guys were out, in force, through the night and day ... and I salute them; I truly do. After three calls to Comcast. a customer service rep said he was scheduling a service call for two days forward. Something told me that he wasn't being truthful, so I drove out to the facility, where a lady at the desk confirmed my suspicion that no service call had been scheduled; she then scheduled one and the following morning, a technician came out and looked the situation over. I told him about my sense of despair about his company; he listened. He said that since there were no problems at my property, he was supposed to turn the call over to the maintenance department ... but 30 minutes later, he came back to my door, handed me a copy of a work order ticket on which he had handwritten the exact location of the problem (downed cable two streets away) ... and said he had turned in the ticket's information for the repair crew. Early that evening, my Internet and TV (and that of all the other houses in this area) were working again. Even with my general sense of doubt regarding Comcast's calll-in customer service reps, the lady at the desk (Cathy) and the technician who went the extra mile to get our service restored (Jonathan) are to be commended; I really appreciated their help.

The Story Of A Soldier & His Dog --

2011-03-14T00:37:00.005-04:00

Very recently, Yahoo News carried the story of a U.K. soldier and his bomb-sniffing dog ... their names were Corporal Liam Tasker and Theo. They were devoted companions who were inseparable friends as well as partners in the military. Theo was a Springer Spaniel. Corporal Tasker was a handsome young man, who was worried about the prospects of having to leave Theo behind when his tour of duty was over. On a fateful day about a week ago, Liam was killed by enemy fire; within hours, Theo, grief-stricken, suffered a fatal stroke. Godspeed to them both as they take what the article poignantly called their "final journey together".

I've read other stories about (U.S.) soldiers who were tormented with worry and grief when they were forced to leave their dog partners behind, to an unknown fate. War dogs and their soldier partners develop a very close bond and should be allowed to remain together afterward. Governments need to realize this and make it possible!

Our Hope: Spring!

2011-03-14T00:24:00.003-04:00

Spring brings, always for me, a renewed hope ... for things that, in the stark character of winter, seem (or are) locked in static mode. So, even while so much of the world seems to be tottering on the brink of an unidentifiable abyss, my hope surges ... because it is Spring.

I wonder how many songs have been written about Spring ... and have the word "spring" in their titles. Well, we can start by listing my "Spring Is In The Air", a light classical melody and lyric; then, there is that old song that was my father's favorite, "When It's Springtime In The Rockies". There's a song called "Spring Will Be A Little Late This Year" (it is about a lost love affair), perhaps in contrast to "It Might As Well Be Spring" (also about love, but very happy).

Please let me know if you can think of a song about Spring. Send it through to me as a comment (it's easy -- choose the Anonymous mode and just unscramble the letters -- you can still sign your name so I'll know it's from you ... and I hope you will).

Anyway, Spring is Nature's showiest, most beautiful and optimistic season and I think it influences us, ever so subliminally, much more effectively than does New Year's and the resolution thing. For me, there is this passionate undercurrent that I remember feeling even as a budding teenager. No wonder it's such a romantic time. New love, renewal of dreams and fancied possibilities -- at some level, they all seem sort of within reach now!

Bittersweet Local Flood Cleanup --

2011-03-14T00:07:00.006-04:00

Here in east Tennessee, we had major rains and floods at the very end of February. For the second time ever (since I've lived here), the basement flooded with about six or seven inches (some parts of the floor are lower than others) of muddied water. Many of the items that are stored in the basement had been elevated on platforms fashioned out of old tires and plastic milk crates after the first flood about a year ago. So there weren't many things bobbing along in the water this time. But a crate full of my music CDs that I'd neglected to take off the floor was ruined and a huge, old photograph album of treasured pictures had somehow become dislodged from its moorings and tumbled into the lake. Of course, to avoid electrical shock, I couldn't walk there to save it until the water receded (magically the next day). Then, I got busy removing each photograph from the old-style black construction paper pages on which the pictures had been mounted with double-sided sticky tape. It was a big and murky job, but the pictures were salvaged, largely because each of the paper pages had been inserted into a plastic page-protector. For a day, I had the pictures lying on any appropriate surface in the house, to dry. Now they are loose, in a lidded plastic container, upstairs.

My bicycle, Zelda, had been soiled by the standing water, so she has been cleaned and polished and is now in the highest and driest part of the basement. I found a deco-basket of my mother's crocheted items that had fallen into the water. Fortunately, laundering made them as good as new. A plastic tub containing her mementos was unharmed. I slowly went through each of the items she had cherished, seeing each one as if it was the first time (it wasn't). The one that struck a chord in me is a nice, color brochure from a construction company in Tennessee's Smoky Mountains, advertising log homes. Over the years (in Connecticut and later when she lived in California), my mother had often said that her dream was to live in a log cabin. Apparently, having this brochure in her possession brought her dream seemingly (and maybe tantalizingly) closer ... I wish it had come true for her.

Prayers For Japan --

2011-03-13T23:59:00.004-04:00

For all the people consumed by the earthquake and tidal wave and for those driven from their homes. For the brave nuclear plant operators who, at this moment, are at ground zero, trying to quell the dangerous nuclear reactor situation. For the confused dogs pictured who seem to be searching for their owners along the beach. For those people whose homes and treasures have disappeared forever. For the spirit of all beings who are suffering there. Send our prayers, send positive energy, send help.

A Tree Speaks --

2011-03-13T23:51:00.003-04:00

Put your ear to the trunk of a large tree and you can hear the energy (the inner workings) of the tree. Trees are putting on their finest garb right now ... and over the coming weeks, will be wearing their Spring finery!

Trees are very wise, especially old trees. What stories they could tell. Young trees appear, to me, to be trusting and optimistic ... and they seem to be saying, "I've been planted here (by whatever means) and here I shall grow". How sad when a beautiful tree is cut down. There was a very pretty saucer magnolia on Washington Pike (I mention the location for readers who are in this neck of the woods) who was needlessly removed during the past autumn. When I drive by that spot, I miss her.

E-Mail Purgatory --

2011-03-13T23:30:00.005-04:00

What happens if you send out your e-mails and they neatly appear in your "sent" folder? They have gone to the recipients, right? Well, that's what I thought, too. But my internet provider turned off my outgoing e-mail (it was off for about 12 days) and I didn't know the "sent" e-mails really weren't going out, as they were in the "sent" folder, looking very normal. Around the 4th day, I realized that people weren't getting my e-mails and I began a series of phone calls to the provider (talking with phone menu robots, entry-level service representatives, and, finally, to their higher tier of technicians). On the twelveth day I got a technician's e-mail saying that if I remove my blog links from my signature, my e-mails will go through ... that my internet provider regards them (suddenly) as spam. I removed them and, sure enough, my test messages got through to people. That evening, a representative at the company's "national level" or maybe he said "international level" (not sure) phoned me ... he was hard to understand as he had a very heavy foreign accent; he harshly scolded me about the blog links (since removed) and about my website link that he said should not be typed even in the body of an e-mail. Where I had my inspiring little sentences "music is the universal language, humor is the best medicine, compassion is the finest emotion", and "thanks be to all that is good for the breath of life", he said that phrases in each of those sentences are or can be links to websites someplace (in the world) and were spam. He said that the "breath of life" phrase is a link to a church in South America. In short, he was ridiculous and I told him so. He then said that I could include whatever I want if I switch to a commercial account (!) ... and he sounded a little disappointed when I turned him down.

I attempted to get a different internet provider but found that the one I have is the only one that serves this forsaken, impoverished part of town (sigh and boo-hoo). So, I notified everyone in my address book to please change my e-mail address from the "net" account of the provider to my Yahoo address that I've happily had for years; I also opened a Gmail account. Privately, please e-mail me at claralandau@yahoo.com or naturesdaughterclara@gmail.com.

Bringing Back An Old Friend --

2011-02-17T09:29:00.005-05:00

My life is being revisited by my old buddy and cohort, Clarence Wolfe. Clarence wrote many powerful pieces for my Janna Publications animal and environment advocacy newsletter during the 1990s, taking over many of the hard tasks behind the scenes that involved topics that wouldn't have been taken as seriously if penned by me. There was, at that time, a lingering tendency to attach more value to what a man would say or write, particularly when the aim was to influence the reader's opinion.

I think Clarence would like to join in my musical efforts and I think I'm going to invite him to do so!

Lunar Return In Leo --

2011-02-17T09:25:00.003-05:00

This Friday's full moon is in Leo, the home of my natal chart's Moon. It's a wonderful lunar position, softer than the solar Leo. Having the powerful combination of both a natal Moon and Venus in the sign of Leo and in my chart's fifth house (of creativity) probably deserves most of the credit for my sense of drama and my endless love of art, music, and the process of creating.

The Allure Of Sequins --

2011-02-17T09:19:00.005-05:00

I remember writing a blog post about sequins (on Lady Wolf's Notes) two or three years ago. I should scroll back and find it and re-read it. I love sequins. When I was a little girl, the thing that most fascinated me throughout all the years I spent on the stage, was sequins. Beautiful costumes worn by dancers and, occasionally, by other performers and show biz people, were my absolute delight!

I have several sequined items -- including a jacket, handbags, sash -- and I'm about to add one or two more. I found sequined beret hats on the Internet. I cannot resist. I bet that Clarence would like one, too. And maybe I can find him a sequined necktie.

In some ways, it seems sort of contradictory that I would love something that is glitzy because my preferences, almost across-the-board, are for clothing items and other things that are natural in their appearance, texture, feel, and character (except my satin sheets). I wonder if anyone else shares my passion for sequins.

A Grand, Enthralling, Divine Mystery ...

2011-02-17T09:01:00.006-05:00

(written on 2/16/11).
Today, my walk in the park wasn't really about exercise or the avoidance of treadmill boredom. Today I walked rather slowly, aware of putting one foot down and then the other, soon becoming conscious of the winter-brown grass and bare trees that extended out in all directions. There was the occasional scampering of a squirrel or the rustling among some of the dead leaves and dense growth in the uncultivated areas -- the tiny sounds of birds and small mammals that hide in bushes. My gaze went upward toward a sky that was gray, but broken up in one place by the burning determination of a golden sun that was peering down, seemingly, at me. Within moments, I felt a great unburdening, an uplifting, a connection ... and it became easy and natural for me to begin a conversation aloud, as I walked, that began with "Oh, great universal Energy and Spirit, how amazing and awesome you are"! The wind became a gentle and caressing breeze. My cares seemed to float away. For a split second I thought that maybe I should ask for something, but realized that the only thing that mattered at that moment was to express my gratitude ... and I did, simply and sincerely.

Power, Power, Energy Of Music –

2011-01-20T20:42:00.006-05:00

There is absolutely nothing like it. For a musician who has been easy-pedaling along, dodging the hard truth, smiling coyly (well, I am a girl albeit an older girl), and down-playing its importance for the past couple of years, the truth is ... that solo is nice, teaching is wonderful, but playing – playing with other musicians – is the pièce de résistance ... the best piece of the pie. I love doing music therapy. I love teaching aspiring musicians (I truly do). I love showing off and shaking my shoulders (and other things) and casting that spell...as the solo singer, songwriter, keyboardist. But there is nothing that can surpass the total release and honesty of playing and sharing energies with kindred spirit musicians!

Time, in the short term, will tell if we meld, do well together; and in the long term, if we will like what we have enough to keep it going.

What It Means To Be A Girl –

2011-01-20T20:34:00.005-05:00

...From this jaded standpoint :)
I honestly like being a woman. I honestly like (love) liking men. When I was young (centuries ago), I was right in there with all the things that young girls of today are concerned with ... mainly boys, hairdos, body measurements, how to be the femme fatale (thoughts about this started at age 11 for me and really haven’t changed much).

Over the years, I found out that being a girl (in the time of my flowering) brought many challenges for a 1) musician; 2) scientist; 3) seeker. I was those three things, maybe more. I would tell myself "Try harder. Knock yourself out." It would be hard and painful for me to try and describe the many ways this manifested in my life. I would try (still do) to present myself as part of the common denominator (guys). Mostly it only partly worked. I’m a woman in a (still) male-dominated industry – music. When I say "music", I mean working behind my instrument, sweating, with the rest of the band ... not standing out front as the singer, looking pretty and swaying my hips (although I inadvertently do the hip thing behind my keyboard). I’ve been much more easily accepted in the scientific realm, as a peer.

Blues – ooh, ooh, ooh!

2011-01-20T20:30:00.004-05:00

Make that an "ooooohhhhh"! The Loft is wired for sound; well, I mean a whole lot of blues and jazz and all forms of delicious music. I have a new system up here (the price was right) ... a left-over CD still in the multi-rack was a really good rock CD (I’m not good at identifying the sub-genres of rock ... but this sounds hard, tough, semi-melodic, and rhythmically amazing). That was Bonus #1. Bonus #2 is that this unit could be hooked up with my old wooden-framed Aiwa (awesome) speakers. And the sound ... the sound ... supreme bliss! Right now I’ve got Charlie Musselwhite’s album "Stand Back – Here Comes Charlie Musselwhite’s Chicago Blues Band" playing. I’ve got his "Delta Hardware" in the next slot.

Once Upon A Sunbeam –

2011-01-20T20:27:00.002-05:00

I’ve lost track of the weeks, days of gray, snow, wintry stuff, with occasional rays of sun peeping through. Last week’s cancellations and uncertainties about possible cancellations wore me out. Today, there is sunshine. Sunshine! The other day I did an assisted-living gig at a place where I go several times a year. The people were harder to rev up. Ever determined, I knew I had to try even harder and I did. Usually I get them to dance, throw off their walkers, hoot and holler; they were quieter this time. Then, towards the end, I did my Thanks For Sunshine song with the inter-active chorus and they came alive. I ended with my Spring Is In The Air and the vibe in the room took on a lovely tone that, that would have been a beautiful hue if viewed visually; golden.

Dynamics Of Experienced Sunbeams?

2011-01-20T20:14:00.005-05:00

There may be a better name for this post ... suggestions, please. I think the writing of this post was motivated by the assisted-living gig mentioned in "Once Upon A Sunbeam". I’m guessing that the residents in that audience range from their fifties into their mid-eighties. As I’ve visited this particular facility (and others) on the average of two or three times a year for about 20 years, I notice when some familiar faces aren’t there anymore and when they are there, but the faces’ owners have deteriorated. When I say "deteriorated", I’m talking about in ability and/or willingness to communicate and participate.

What I’m about to say may cause a stir or some dismay or annoyance, but I’m very convinced that by herding members of the older population into residences where they are continually surrounded by others in their own age group (or older) stifles them; there just is not enough stimulation to keep those synapses active and regenerating in their brains. They are gently forced to conform to being just like their companions ... and to become infirm. I see depression and resignation sometimes. Admittedly, there are some people who have been placed in assisted-living or nursing-care residences because they are already affected by dementia with which family members cannot be expected to cope. I’m not talking about those individuals ... I’m saying that the people who go into these facilities with their brains functioning normally, are definitely put "at risk"; they risk accelerated loss of their mental and social functioning; I do admire the efforts of the more dedicated and caring activity directors, some of whom do a good job of planning stimulating activities for the residents. In the "olden days" that I can remember as a young child, the eldest generations were still a physical part of families; in fact, they were very valued, particularly by grandchildren. And children keep the elderly young-at-heart and mentally adept. I remember my paternal grandmother as my best playmate up until the day she died when I was ten years old. She was a beautiful, talented, and vital lady. I really believe that if more of today’s children had a grandparent in their household or readily accessible, every member of the family would benefit.

To me it seems that everybody in today’s world is "regimented" – bunched together by age or whatever. There is a lack of softness, warmth, and friendly, non-competitive activities; rather, there is much that "feels", to me, hard-edged and angular. Here, I’m tempted to digress and say something about kids’ sports (I wrote a great post about this on Lady Wolf’s Notes a year or two ago). Kids’ sports, in the distant past, were kids’ games (and they were fun) until parents got into the act and made everything a "must-win" thing. Now, if the kids do win, the good feeling can hardly be savored ... it is fleeting and very temporary, because the next scheduled contest is already being talked about.

Well, by now, I’ve probably gotten every age group irritated with what I’m saying. That isn’t my intent, but if we think about it, the causes of a lot of stress, across the gamut, become clearer to identify.

Undoubtedly, the huge increase in human population in the past ten or twenty years, is the driving force behind the need (from a logistics standpoint) to regiment, structure, specialize, intensify, micro-manage our activities. That is a whole other book to write. For now, I’ll just add that I value the warm and fuzzy element, the feeling of acceptance (when it is present), and the opportunities to pursue peace, harmony, science, and creativity. If I grow old, I want to do it with my mind turned on and my spirit free!

2011 –

2011-01-01T13:45:00.003-05:00

May we hang on, hang in there, attune ourselves to the needs of these times, honor ourselves and others, love ourselves and others, and love and have respect for our earth and our fellow-travelers, the animals. This may not be an "easy" year for many of us, given the political and economic climate (and the ecological climate), but let’s do believe in ourselves and our abilities to apply ourselves and accomplish great things; let’s affirm our divine connection to the Universe and its amazing and responsive Energy. This is my way of saying "Happy New Year"! Blessings to each and all.

More Than Murphy’s –

2011-01-01T13:30:00.008-05:00

How many things can go wrong at once? What a mix came with the onset of Christmas – (all of the following):

Wintry weather, cold, snow, ice;

A toilet that was ailing, leaking, gasping, wobbling, busted, replaced, removed and then perched alongside the chimney on the north side of house (next to the birdbath that I store there)-- upside down and, thankfully, carted away (thank you, Jerry) so as not to join that comical yet tacky red-neck scene of toilets that are parked along roadways and in front yards;

Main fuses (yes, this old house still has fuses in two fuse boxes...one indoors and one outside) that were blown and some of their new replacements that were defective;

The tenant next door revving his small but loud, rat-a-tat-tat motorcycle underneath the windows of our bedrooms around 5 a.m. many mornings in a row (the main problem being the reverb created in the space between the two houses, which amplifies the noise). Yes, I’ve nicely asked the tenant not to do this and have notified the house’s owner, who has done his best to help. The situation could be alleviated if the tenant would walk the machine up the driveway to the street before starting it up (or park it in the front of the house away from our bedrooms); or, failing those strategies, we may just need to make our own inner peace with the issue.

I was pleased, this morning, to take down the 2010 calendar :)

But there were also good things ... things that went right!

My christmas quiche (I made two of them) turned out perfectly.

Our power (translate that to "heat") stayed on, throughout the awful weather and severe cold.

I heard from people who are dear to me.

My dog and I renewed our vows (to love, honor, and cherish each other).

A sparkling new toilet now resides in my bathroom.

We got all our fuses replaced.

Remedies are planned to make peace with the motorcycle morning olympics.

I’ve got a beautiful, blooming rose bush (potted), up here in the loft; also an orange hibiscus bush blooming in Jerry’s room (it’s on a dolly so I can move it around in his room to follow the sun), and, of course, those fragrant hyacinths are in the dining room.

No asthma symptoms!

A lovely 60+ degree day on December 31st.

The magic midnight hour of New Year’s Eve spent with a very dear friend, this being the first year in a long time that I watched the ball come down with someone other than my dog. This was decidely more fun!

A brand new year dawns!
　

Early Harbingers Of Spring –

2010-12-15T20:45:00.001-05:00

It’s not too early to be talking about Spring ... not in my opinion anyway. Last April I repotted the hyacinth bulbs that had been blooming so vigorously when I brought them home from Kroger’s a month or so earlier. I put the pot upstairs in The Loft and gingerly watered it whenever I’d bring water up there to my many other plants. A few weeks ago, I spotted the tiniest signs of emerging plants and this week the bulbs are coming into bloom again! My dining room is full of their fragrance and tender beauty. So outside everything is encapsulated in a frozen pop tart; in my house there’s a hint of Spring! What a wonderful and unexpected gift to receive, especially during these very cold and wintry times.
　

News Comments –

2010-12-15T20:38:00.004-05:00

They go over-the-top, off-the-wall, very low, to the left, to the right, and down the middle. Have you read the comments that are submitted anonymously at the bottom of Internet news articles? Some of them are carefully and reasonably thought out. Occasionally one of them will hit the mark with great precision and wisdom, even if that wasn’t the sender’s intent. Some of the comments are sadistic and horrifying – horrifying because there is mean-spiritedness that has no value at all and is coming from a faceless, unidentifiable person who could be anyone among us. The most noticeable common thread, though, even among the most polarized comments, is that of people’s thoughts and feelings (more-so their feelings)... fear, anger, frustration, betrayal, and resistance. People are expressing their feeling that our whole governmental system is self-serving and corrupt; that it is dividing us, that it has been and is on a power and wealth trip; that it has out-sourced our jobs; that its love affair with corporate money and influence has perverted its business decisions, that it fosters war and destruction, that its penchant for politics-for-the-sake-of-politics has done away with conscience. Not a pretty picture; nonetheless an accurate one.

So these news-reaction comments do serve a purpose, besides letting people rant: they are very revealing in many ways. After reading them, though, I try to maintain my sense of balance by reading beautiful poems and/or spiritual quotes. Peace does, after all, reside in a person’s mind.

Minding Our Manners!

2010-12-15T20:33:00.008-05:00

This morning when I turned on the ignition of my van, Harley, he did that noise he does on cold days ... I would describe the sound as somewhere between a swoon and a moan. But always before, the level and pitch of the sound would gradually taper downward and then disappear after about ten or fifteen seconds. Not this time. The temperatures here in east Tennessee have become absolutely frigid ... in the low teens at night and below freezing in the daytime. I gave Harley some time to "warm up" his working parts, before putting him into gear. The moan persisted and actually got louder as I drove. It only went away about 30 minutes later when I was on my way back home. I should add here that my van is "good for 30 below" (my mechanic's words) although I dare say I'm not good for 30 below (degrees Fahrenheit) and I can't imagine anyone, whether van or man, who is "good for 30 below".

While I was out doing my errands, one stop was at one of my homes-away-from home ... the copy and fax department at the local Office Depot. The man behind the counter and I exchanged a few comments, mostly about the weather and he told me that his gloved hands had begun to perspire while he was loading some stuff into his vehicle at 4:30 a.m. when the temperature was 12 degrees (Fahrenheit). He said that he’d never experienced not being able to bend his hands without the frozen perspiration crackling in the process. So I said "This is the South ... that’s not supposed to happen here" and then I sweetly smiled "So I’ll leave you with that", turning to leave. It didn’t even take him a moment to counter "Well, it did happen ... the weather has no decorum". A second later he realized what a gem he’d come back with and his face broke into a twinkling smile as he proudly added "And I’ll leave you with that".

Some Needed Time Away –

2010-11-21T23:29:00.002-05:00

The past week found me (and Jerry and Dixie Lee) at Charleston area’s Folly Beach. What a beautiful and friendly place it is. My favorite restaurant turned out to be Loggerhead’s. Bert’s Store is right there, too – always open and amazingly full of anything one could need and want.
The weeks leading up to our departure date had been fraught with my illness (there was a 10-day reprieve – sort of like the eye of a storm) that had returned with a vengeance a few days before we left. Nevertheless, I drove the seven hours from Knoxville to our destination. I was determined to get to my healing balm – the ocean.

Our stay at the Folly Beach house was short, but wonderfully restorative. Of course, I brought a collection of shells and rocks back to landlubberville (Knoxville), along with a container of beach sand. Jerry seemed happier than he’d been in a long time and Dixie Lee totally enjoyed being there.

These six posts were handwritten (no computer) on the evenings of Tuesday and Wednesday, November 16 and 17. I’ve put up three pictures that accompany the posts.

Lester –

2010-11-21T23:24:00.006-05:00

Meet Lester!

Here’s the story: I’d printed a menu of Loggerhead’s (restaurant) from the Internet days before we left for Folly Beach. Jerry, Dixie Lee, and I went to Loggerhead’s on Tuesday around 11:45 and I asked if it was open yet. The manager smiled and said, "It’s a little early but – sure – we’re open, come on in". I was delighted to find that Dixie Lee would be welcomed on the deck which is dog-friendly.

While waiting for my take-out order (which was exquisitely delicious), Jerry pointed my attention to a piano which was standing against the far wall, next to the stage. Of course I walked over to play it. Well, it’s appearance was pitiful. Two or three of the bass keys had been pulled or otherwise tortured from their sockets; the keyboard was covered with layers of grime, dust and speckles of who-knows-what. A dead moth lay on one of the lower keys. Nevertheless, I ventured a few passages of my "Smile Your Smile" song ... and the beautiful, lilting tones of this piano’s fine spirit poured forth. It was an amazing piano. Then we played "Rock Me Baby", "Catalyst, "Clara’s Slow-Dancin’ Blues", and the Santana "Evil Woman", with me completely avoiding the injured keys. Marvelous!

What a wonderful friend to find waiting there for me! The question of how long he had been waiting resonated with me. As I played, he was singing with glee. I saw that he is a "Lester" piano. I’ll look that brand up on the Internet when I get home. Lester made my day, giving me my piano "fix" so deeply needed. I returned the following day to play him again.

We never know where we may discover a precious and unforgettable friend.

(Per the Internet: Lester Piano Company was a manufacturer located in Philadelphia and made pianos from 1888 to 1960. The brand, although not very well-known, is reputed to be very good).

A Kind Man –

2010-11-21T23:10:00.002-05:00

I’d been battling illness (again) for almost a week, but was driving now ... was on the road, seeking my oceanfront beach home destination and the sense of renewal I always get from the ocean. Seven hours of driving and the sun’s rays were now sinking closer to the horizon in the western sky. This was bringing feelings of anxiety, as I was trying to make sense of the computer print-out of the local driving directions and wanted to find the address before dusk.

Stopping at a little gas station, I went in and asked the clerk for help, readying my pen and paper. She did her best to explain, but what she said didn’t jive at all with the Google directions. A man entered the store and indicated he would wait patiently while the clerk repeated her directions. He was African-American. I noticed that all of his front teeth were missing (yet his words were perfectly and very clearly pronounced) and he had what seemed to be a severe eye injury. I left and, as I was about to get into my truck, the same man drove up in his vehicle, approached, and said "I could tell you were confused about the directions. Follow me and I’ll take you to the street that you need". He drove rather swiftly and I clung close behind his Grand Caravan, as he swirled and turned through the streets. When he stopped, he motioned me to pull up alongside his driver’s side. I started to ask if I need to make any more turns and he pointed his arm forward and declared "straight ride" – he said it twice. As I called out my thanks, he disappeared. Man or angel?

Swing & Sway –

2010-11-21T23:06:00.001-05:00

It’s a seismic thing, I’m quite sure. I noticed it during my first evening at the beach house. The winds outside were calm, not howling as they were last night. No matter. Periodically (often), the chair or bed or floor swayed under me. I concluded that the winds that were blowing or not blowing against the house had nothing to do with it. It must be the degree of vibration produced by the tide as it comes and goes. Though a bit disconcerting each time it’s felt, the swinging and swaying sensation is interesting to experience. I can see the water in Dixie’s drinking bowl quivering. The house, like all beachfront houses, is on stilts (there is probably a more technical name for what I’m referring to as "stilts"). Their ability and willingness to "give" is probably a positive thing – sort of like a tree that can bend to avoid breaking. The sensation is an undulating one – not shaky or erratic like a tremor. Has anyone else experienced this under similar circumstances?

The Morris Island Lighthouse –

2010-11-21T23:02:00.002-05:00

I am lifting the words of George Bernard Shaw from the brochure of Save The Light, Inc., the organization that is working hard to save, stabilize, and restore this lighthouse (please see picture). "I can think of no other edifice constructed by man as altruistic as a lighthouse – built only to serve, they weren’t built for any other purpose".

The Morris Island Lighthouse, built in 1876, has a long and rich history, but has suffered many years of severe neglect and vandalism. The land on which it stands is now surrounded by water due to erosion. I hiked the very long, desolate and overgrown with tall brush (though picturesque) path to see it for myself. Please visit www.savethelight.org if you love lighthouses.

Plumb The Pipes and Pay The Piper!

2010-11-21T21:38:00.001-05:00

My house is an old house. In many ways, it’s a proud old house and certainly well-constructed. The galvanized original supply pipes were rusted and a pipe clamp had been put on one of the slow leaks about a year ago. This week, the house was re-piped. The plumbers did a fine job.

Last week, the gutters were replaced with the larger 6" gutters needed to handle water run-off from a metal roof. So these were two needed upgrades and I’m glad they’ve been done.

Chapter 13 of "The Caboose" --

2010-11-21T21:07:00.010-05:00

(Caboose" chapters were written during spring, summer, autumn of 2010)

Well, this is turning out perfectly ... 13 chapters. Contrary to popular belief, thirteen is a good number. What is "normal"? Well, I can tell you what the new normal is. The "new normal" is what we arrive at when we recover from post trauma. I’ve happily officially rejoined TVUUC, too. The display board I created for our UUAM chapter is beautiful ... containing humane slogans and pictures of animals. At the top center is a placard that says "TVUUC Animal Ministry" and beneath that is another that says "Love is the spirit of this church and service is its law" (beautiful words that the congregation recites at the beginning of each service).

I’m ready to band-up again. It will be me on vocals, keyboard and bass; a solo instrument, hopefully, saxophone but guitar or harmonica will be fine; a percussionist (hand drums, full kit, partial kit, whatever).

I’ve found an asthma inhaler that works for me ... and I found a Canadian pharmacy where I can buy it for between one third and one half of the U.S. cost. Emotionally and physically, this has the potential to do great things for me and I am now relatively free of fear (of asthma and its implications).

I’m still/will always be in awe of how Nature has the heart to try and manage to survive and swirl around us, even as we clog our roads with ever-increasing numbers of vehicles, assault our woodlands, and pollute our oceans.

It occurred to me that I should mention, for anyone who wants to read it, my post called "Quiet Miracles" on my Lady Wolf's Notes blog at http://ladywolfsnotes.blogspot.com. It and another post called "Mind Talk" relate to the shooting to which I've alluded a couple of times in "The Caboose". You'll need to scroll down a couple of times to access "Older Posts".

This writing wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t mention my love of and semi-addiction to root beer floats (with vanilla ice cream). Yes, float away with one of these and it’s possible to forget the world’s problems for a little while :)

I can add that a beach trip is on the autumn horizon. I’m getting Dixie Lee psyched to be a beach doggie again. Everyone who knows me is aware of the longing I continually have to be at the ocean, taking in its energy, seeing it, listening to it. I have a bedside white noise machine that plays ocean waves and sea gulls all night every night. I’ve got little lighthouses stationed in several parts of the house. To me, the lighthouse is such a wonderful symbol .. of the sea, of enlightenment, of truth, of finding the way.

Well, how does one know when it is time to conclude, really conclude, her/his memoirs? It feels like it’s now for me. It seems logical and right that there are still questions, open endings, unfinished things that remain to unfold and be untold.

Chapter 12 of "The Caboose" --

2010-11-21T20:26:00.007-05:00

("Caboose" chapters were written during spring, summer, autumn of 2010)

At some point in this Spring 2010, I said that I’d be completing this "Caboose" over the summer months. I was unable to do that for two reasons: 1) it was too hot up here in the Loft where the computers are, even with the portable air conditioner and a large fan running. By the time it would cool down even somewhat, it was 10 p.m. or later each night ... and 2) I took on the composing of another song, "The Move On You" (which I’ll talk a bit about in a moment), writing my sermon, doing my walking program, and organizing the UU Animal Ministry program (this latter activity taking a LOT of time and work ... which had to be done during the late-night cool hours). Now it is late September and it’s still 90 degrees during the day, but more "moderate" in many ways. I can now leave the computers turned on during the day. In recent months, I spoke on my Classic Clara blog about my plan to run a series of posts – one segment at a time of "Caboose"on one of my blogs. I decided that’s what I’ll do, though I’ve put together a hard-copy version of it, too.

"The Move On You" is a song with an edge...it’s a sexy song, tasteful and pretty. But it is a departure from the type of songs I wrote in the two years following the shooting (those songs are philosophical, uplifting, beautiful, classical-oriented, and musically techy) and the earlier two years during which I played with a guitarist; the titles which easily come to mind are: "Today", "Let’s Celebrate Love", "I Feel Like Singing Again", "Make Time For Love", "Earth & Animals Song", "Ode To Harmony", and "Just Play One Song". I hope I didn’t leave any out ... I don’t think I did. "The Move On You" is about veiled aggression, kind of a delicate predator and prey concept, in which I reveal a very real part of my selfhood and inner workings. I recorded it at a professional studio, with a drummer and guitarist. I did the vocal, keyboard, and bass. I think that this song’s creation means that I’ve come back to that part of me that had gone partially missing for several years. The recording, though, seemed somehow lacking in spirit and so I transposed the song’s key and re-recorded it (solo with my own home-equipment). Update: the home-made recording came out well and is on the Song Page of my website at http://www.claralandau.com/.

Chapter 11 of "The Caboose" --

2010-11-21T20:18:00.009-05:00

("Caboose" chapters were written during spring, summer, autumn of 2010)

Again, after the writing lapse, here I am at 5 a.m., writing to this Addendum ... oh, that’s right – I’m calling it "The Caboose". Bubba, Jerry’s dog on a downward spiral health-wise for quite a long time, was put to sleep yesterday afternoon, after suffering what was probably his third stroke. He was 13 years old. I brought him to the vet. Thankfully, the assistant who is most kind and understanding was on duty. She and I and the vet lovingly and gently eased Bubba into the spirit world. I was standing at the head end of the table and petting his head; therefore, I saw his eyes immediately before, during, and after his departure. That is why I’m sleepless tonight. It was an experience that I don’t think I can describe (or that many people would want to read about); for lack of the right words, I will say that it was a deeply spiritual, moving, sad, hopeful, traumatic experience. At the time of this writing, Jerry is taking Bubba’s departure hard, as I expected.

A friend (husband of Westside congregant pal) e-mailed me some wise Native American (he is Lakota) words somewhere during the past several hours about decisions, the spirit world, and other pieces of wisdom; they were very helpful to me. It’s often hard to console Jerry, though, because his way of dealing with things sometimes is to shut down or distance himself. Tonight, as I lay in bed wondering if I’d sleep at all, childhood images and conversations drifted across my mind. I remembered my father and the lore of Nature, animals, and trees that he’d, in his own way, taught me about.

Chapter 10 of "The Caboose" --

2010-11-21T20:10:00.004-05:00

("Caboose" chapters were written during spring, summer, autumn of 2010)

In Spring 2010, I was playing and singing one of my newer inspirational songs at a (Westside) church service. The song went beautifully, although as I began the closing passage -- the last couple of measures --, my right arm suddenly became useless and numb, shaking my hand so severely that I couldn’t get my fingers onto the keyboard. After several failed attempts and a spoken apology to the audience, I improvised an ending with my left hand. My right arm remained numb with pins and needles for about 45 minutes and the experience left me shaken and bewildered for days. I’d had some occasional problems with the right arm acting up while using utensils at some luncheons and with some tasks at home. But, I never dreamed anything could affect my music! But, remember, I had two or three brief, successive seizures during the shootings in 2008. A neurologist visit confirmed my suspicions. I came home with an anti-seizure Rx, to control episodes that include elements of myoclonic, atonic, and petit mal seizures. I do not plan to take the medication, though; rather, I’m relying on the Vitamin B-12 with which I’ve begun dosing. Update: October of 2010 – the situation has greatly improved and I’m now getting monthly vitamin B-12 shots, taking no prescription drugs for the condition.

Chapter 9 of "The Caboose" --

2010-11-08T21:34:00.002-05:00

The June 2010 musical celebration here at my studio brought together all but one of my students, Bill (guitar player with whom I used to play), and my lay minister from Westside (church); Jerry was here too and was a tremendous help with parking assistance, food and beverage serving and logistics in general. I had lots of good food on hand ... and beautiful red roses, picked from my garden, adorned the table. We had a great time. Within a short while, everyone got acquainted and chatted. The music came easily and was a lot of fun to do. Our last tune of the day was my "Mother Earth Blues", which we dedicated to the Gulf and, along with the piano and guitar, we had the drum going, the maraca, and the tambourine, too. The understated theme was music and its healing energy.

My walking program is working wonders for me physically and spiritually. The treadmill is one thing (my least favorite, but very good to have), but walking in the park or on a greenway is my favorite pursuit.

Chapter 8 of "The Caboose" --

2010-11-08T21:24:00.004-05:00

I’ve taken some Dreamweaver tutoring and know how to make changes and updates on my website and how to add the coding for songs. The website is at www.claralandau.com. My blogs Lady Wolf’s Notes and Classic Clara are joys to work on and I’ve become proficient at blogging, putting up pictures, etc. The blogs are at http://classicclara.blogspot.com and http://ladywolfsnotes.blogspot.com. Recently, I bought a mini camcorder and plan to make some videos of me playing piano and singing and of my dog, Dixie Lee, just being herself. The thing I dislike about YouTube (as well as MySpace and Facebook which I have not joined) is the "friends" thing. I consider the word "friend" to mean a very special person, one I love and cherish. I’m put off by the word being used so super-casually, referring to people who sign on via computer to be "friends".
　
Speaking of YouTube, I feel I must provide a link, here, to an amazing and wonderful video that came out in January of 2009; it was filmed at London’s Liverpool Street Station and has 400 selected dancers (people of all ages and backgrounds) – and an unsuspecting public. Whoops – is that me coming down the escalator? Dancing has always been important to me and I need to do it regularly again (time to dust off the sequins). See the 400 selected dancers and an unsuspecting public dance in a frenzy of happy humanity. Hear the music! Join in! I hope this video remains forever. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQ3d3KigPQM.

I must mention, too, the specialness of my two years of correspondence with a prison pen-pal, under the Church Of The Larger Fellowship ministry; it is, at once, exquisitely human and spiritual. As I write this, I’m hoping for approval of a sermon and church service that I’ve scripted. It’s intended to be presented at one or more Unitarian Universalist churches, as it speaks to and about the UU 7th principal (which is overlooked in many congregations). I consider it to be visionary and of utmost importance. My sermon speaks to the spiritual and ethical necessity of protecting, respecting, and advocating for animals, flora and our planet Earth. I’ve discovered (online) that there is a UUAM (UU Animal Ministry) that I doubt that many UUs know about. It’s time to realize that human problems are not the only problems that need and deserve attention. The update to this (after a writing lapse of a few months) is that I went through all the processes to initiate and bring into being our local chapter of UUAM. There is now a working chapter at TVUUC!

Chapter 7 of "The Caboose" --

2010-11-08T21:21:00.002-05:00

I feel delicate, can feel very hurt by a harsh word, a cruel sentiment expressed. But I’m very resilient (I think I mentioned that in an earlier paragraph). I persist in living. I endure, even at those times when I wonder if maybe I’d rather not. Sometimes it’s as if two separate (maybe even opposing) currents are swimming alongside one another, inside me. Vibes and intuition have been steadfast guideposts for me, always. First the vibe comes and "notifies" me and then intuition tells me how to respond. When I listen, everything turns out OK. Intuition! Thank goodness for those "light bulbs" that turn on (or even flicker) in the intuitive part of our brains. And asthma weighs me down. An asthma episode can last for weeks and is scary, despairing, especially for someone without medical insurance. Breathe! Enjoy breathing. Thanks be to all that is good for the breath of life.

Chapter 6 of "The Caboose" --

2010-11-08T21:06:00.003-05:00

One of my newer songs is called "Ode To Harmony". It’s a beautiful and inspiring song. I don’t think I’ve mentioned this elsewhere ... when I write a song ... or, more correctly, when a song flies into my head and bangs on my brain demanding recognition, in every case, it has a "song partner", a second song that follows closely on its heels. The second song is frequently very different in genre, key, tone, mood than the first one. "Ode’s" partner song is "Just Play One Song". The latter is an 8-bar eclectic blues, soulful and 100% biographical. I honestly feel that the succession of songs written by me since the shootings (some of them very philosophical) were a musical convoy hurtling forward and carrying me toward a beautiful destination. Adding some visual to the scenario, the destination could be represented by a stately and tall lighthouse erected on a picturesque, stony cliff, overlooking the ocean. Inside the lighthouse, I stand there by the open window, my dog at my side. My houseplants are happy here. Somehow, some amazing furniture movers were able to get my piano up here to be with me, too. And my songs, all my songs, if laid end-to-end, would tell my story, but I keep them neatly stacked and bound together by elastic bands, although the scores to two of them are scotch-taped to the walls in my Loft.

Anyway, I can say everything that I think and feel in my songs and when I sing the blues, it feels like it’s coming up from my toes and all the way through me. I enjoy writing and doing jazz, although the ecstasy of jazz, for me, is in its creation, not in its listening. Blues music is so cleansing and comes very naturally to me...blues is for singing, playing, rejoicing, listening, suffering, loving, lusting, dancing, praying, uniting people in peace ... blues does all those gigs.

“Sins” Of Omission –

2010-10-29T10:57:00.003-04:00

Sins of omission, things I ought to have done or persisted in or ventured into or stuck my neck out for, but didn’t ... because I was afraid, didn’t have the needed courage, was threatened, or "drew a mental blank" during a defining moment in the distant past. These are the "sins" I consider most regrettable. There are five or six of these memories in my past of things I didn’t try hard enough to try to accomplish – memories that occasionally step into the corners of my conscious mind and, when that happens, I look at them again, apologize (again) and try and move past them to get on with the business of life.

We all have sins of commission, of course. Those are the flashy and popular blunders people make that a lot of preachers expound about; those are the "sins" which can garner sensationalized news headlines, make it into tabloids, create scandals, get people in trouble. But what of the unspoken, unfinished, untried positive things that we should do but don’t? They are often the unpublicized bigger regrets we are left to wrestle with, even much later on. Courage, backbone, spirit – they are essential! And this advice is for me as well as for my readers: If it needs to be done ... if it should be done ... do it!

“Sounds Of Freedom” –

2010-10-29T10:54:00.001-04:00

"Musicians On Spirituality And Social Change". I ordered this book a couple of weeks ago from Parallax Press. It is an amazing book! Author John Malkin presents his interviews with a number of well-known musicians, in which they give in-depth, very personal accounts of their feelings that connect music, spirituality, honesty, values, and freedom. It is, at once, revealing, inspiring, and overflowing with insight.

Shadow Self –

2010-10-29T10:43:00.005-04:00

During a recent conversation, a friend asked me to tell her about my creative process and my reactions to it when I decide to compose a song; I replied that it could be described as each song insistently banging its way into my head, or, just as accurately, if I likened each of my songs to a little lost puppy that lands on my doorstep, looking up at me with pleading, irresistible eyes. In other words, I don’t really have a choice ... I need to say "yes" and take it into my heart.

A while later (still the same conversation during which I was doing quite a bit of coughing), she referred, metaphorically, to my asthma as being a wolf ... either a hungry wolf or needy wolf, who comes to my door several times a year. I had quietly replied "Oh, but I love wolves ... I could never put a negative label on one". She acknowledged that she knows I love wolves (well, everyone knows that) and asked me if I am an alpha. "Yes", I said without hesitation. She suggested I think about the asthma and whether it could be a figurative wolf, perhaps another alpha wolf. An interesting concept, yes. So I have thought about it sometimes during the past week.

I have always hated the asthma. I have vehemently refused to "own" it or refer to it as "my" asthma. It has been a dreaded enemy that intrudes on my life for four to six weeks at a time. But wait! What if my needy/hungry wolf is someone I should love and nurture? It (she said it is a "he") always comes when I’m very stressed and in need of stepping back, of taking pause and of taking care. What if my asthma wolf is that part of me that needs nurturing and healing? Needs a time-out? Needs love? Needs a restorative time? I see the value in the wolf metaphor. And, if my asthma (see, progress, I said "my"!) is a wolf, then I should caress it (OK, "him") and care for him in a loving way. The wolf will feel better and I will, too. We will dwell in love and the promise of love. It could be much easier that way. The veil has been pushed to the side and now I can see the truth in the concept. It is liberating.

"The Caboose" -- Chapter 5

2010-10-29T10:31:00.003-04:00

As I add this segment to this Addendum, the BP disaster in the Gulf of Mexico has done irreparable damage to the ecosystems there, with birds, fish, animals, and flora perishing horribly. I’ve written about it on my Classic Clara blog. The bottom line is that these oil guys and rich mega corporations are gobbling up and killing everything of value in our country and world. How do you stop or even reign in a monster that has wealth (power and a lust for more) so vast that it boggles the imagination? Something very radical needs to happen.

There is much said about the year 2012, the exact date of "the end of life as we know it" forecasted to be on December 21st, my daughter Shara’s birthday, even at her birth hour. There is so much wrong in our world, it is easy to think the prediction could come true and could mean something very bad will happen. Of course, we could also suppose something very wonderful could happen to really change life as we know it. So, those are the possibilities for the predictions: something bad, something good, or nothing at all may happen.

I’ve written articles about the merciless slaughter and ill-treatment of horses, those most intelligent and beautiful animals; it sometimes makes me so ashamed to be a human; also, the barbaric slaughter of dogs and cats in China, for fur that decorates jackets and coats sold here in the U.S., and in Korea, for food and its reputed aphrodisiac properties – it is nauseating to think about. Yet I know there are many other humans who care deeply and try hard to make things right. The problem is that there are too many people (the critical mass) who bask in ignorance ... and there are those others who think only in terms of commodities, not flesh, blood, and spirit as they kill animals and turn them into products. Too, there is the amazingly obvious problem of human overpopulation, which everyone seems to ignore. Is it time to consider adopting homeless children instead of going the biological route? It could be the humane and thinking-person’s thing to do. Just as we say "adopt a pet", we could say "adopt a child". These paralleled concepts would prevent the needless deaths of thousands of surplus companion animals, provide homeless children with loving parents, and help save the earth and its resources, flora, and fauna. Win-win-win.

I’ve realized that the two divine entities that are pulling my life’s chariot are my passion for helping animals/plants/earth and my musical creativity. I make no apologies ... these are the things that matter foremost to me.

"The Caboose" -- Chapter 4

2010-10-29T10:27:00.002-04:00

I often make up words – for example: tweakdom (the state of being in editing, perfecting, finalizing, tweaking a song or project), stickerize (to affix a sticker on a piano piece well-learned), and various "isms" and an often expressed motto is "whatever works". My piano students get a kick out of this sometimes. Teaching really is my calling and I love it. I think I’m very good at it. One student has told me, repeatedly, that I "should be teaching the teachers". Teaching was my lifeline during the days and weeks following the shootings. It kept me in the moment and focused on the material at hand.

A favorite guitar player of mine has told me that I "push the edge of the envelope". Often I’ve thought that my ego is fragile, only to realize later that it is actually very resilient. I’ve solved and salved many of my hurts with my songs, writings, and visual art. Also, I’ve created things I treasure, using these same crafts. In my song "Today", I say "Creating now, I shape and craft, A piece of artwork that will last". How true. Life needs music and please quote me on that. Very soon I hope to get started on painting a portrait of God. I can see the image in my mind.

"The Caboose" (Addendum To Memoirs) Chapter 3

2010-10-29T10:20:00.002-04:00

Majorly switching gears now–I probably mentioned in my Memoirs that I had bands (various personnel) over the years. I wearied of that around 2004. During 2005, Philip and I finally got together in earnest and made a good duo; when he brought in a guitarist, the three of us continued playing together until Philip’s death (of cancer). He was very brave. I miss Philip. Funny, we had started out not liking each other much. But after things clicked, we were solid friends and he was the one I could talk with about anything. He was the one who cooked homemade potato soup to bring to me after I’d had surgery. Soon enough though, time ran out. The feeling is there that our purpose was to be together at this most meaningful level. We each said "I love you" to the other.

My high school closest friend, Barbara, died several years ago of lung cancer ... she’d begun smoking at age 14. I lost track of all but one (Liliana) of my other high school friends. I attended only one of my high school reunions, at which I sat at Liliana’s table. She looked amazingly the same as she’d looked those many years earlier when she had often been my mentor.
　

Chapter 2 of "The Caboose" --

2010-10-11T15:03:00.005-04:00

I’m very much a romantic – sentimental to the core. I always felt that my prince charming – that man who is my soul mate, was "out there someplace" (in my song "Blue Staircase" I say he’s "just around the corner") and that we would find each other, out there among the sea of faces. How totally I felt that, even as a young girl. Such a "story-book" thing. I remember times when I’d be gazing out a window, even a bus window, daydreaming. Now, I realize that it will not roll out that way and the ship – if it was ever even close to this harbor – has sailed. Well, there could be a chance happening ... there’s probably a remote possibility. We would be talking about a miracle and I can always talk about it in songs :)

And, oh, how I love the land. My vision, for a long time, was to have a residence on a big piece of acreage along an old-fashioned highway (I can see it in my mind’s eye), where the land is flat and my home houses me, my prince, my animals, my music/piano studio, and a reading and tea room venue for passers-by. The reading room is full of books and pieces of art that honor Nature, love, and compassion. In the back of the building is a tinker shop for my prince, whose business is also headquartered there. The lay of the land is good for a mini farm and we grow herbs, vegetables, and lots of trees. We are happy, fulfilled, and so in love!

I’m a tree-hugger. I miss the land and trees of Overland Trail, my dining room with its beautiful wooden floor and its nice window that looked out onto the woods and rolling hill of grass. We’d had a swimming pool installed and had used it once or twice before we knew we had to move. In the Springtime (each time when Springtime arrives), I drive past the property to "visit" my trees when they are in bloom. Some of them have perished from lack of care and the woods have been cut down by the new owners. Thoughts of those things can and do bring stinging tears, the kind of tears that stay behind the eyes and are not shed, do not show.

I have a love for many of the things about this house in the city where we now live ... I respect its solidness and its lovely little novel side window in the living/music room, its warmly hued wooden floors. I love the old, established backyard trees (who I consider wise friends) and the front yard’s flowers, rocks, and ornamental trees that I put in. I enjoy its nice neighbors. But we are locked in here now, with no foreseeable options; for a free-spirit like me, that feels confining. Also, while it’s true that a person’s age is just a number; it’s also true that it’s quite a real factor, as we all march forward. Well, Grampa’s finely-crafted old cane is handily (and sentimentally) hanging in my closet for when that day comes that it is needed :)

Addendum to Memoirs & Musings -- "The Caboose", Chapter 1

2010-10-11T14:45:00.007-04:00

A few years ago, I put together, in a booklet with a pretty cover, my Memoirs & Musings. Silly me ... I thought there might not be much to say after that. I was wrong! I’ve had a lot more feelings evolve and come to the fore, some "tower" experiences (think Tarot), and I’ve written more songs, some very important songs. So it behooves me to write an Addendum, which won’t be bound in a professionally-done cover, but will be stapled pages – lively, spirited, and interesting – maybe even fabulously interesting!

I’d like to do this as if I were sitting in a chair across from where you are sitting, just conversing – as the thoughts occur to me, so it is bound to do some rambling. If you happen to be reading this after my demise (for example, if a paper copy of it falls into your hands several years after it appears on my blog!), you’ll probably be in a mood to generously indulge my wishes to have you as my captive audience for the next little while :) If you read this while I’m still around, well, play it close to the vest or tell me about it; you decide.

You know ... well, maybe you know ... it took me a long while to reconcile myself to this ... I am a very, very free-spirit. For so many years, that seemed to be something I ought to feel apologetic for. It contributed to the guilt complex I had that made me so vulnerable to self-doubt and the criticisms. Thinking outside the box.... yep, guilty. Color outside the lines ... yep, guilty. Cross over the line ... yep, guilty. It seems I’ve longed for and found myself on a pilgrimage to what feels like my origin – my purpose, the spiritual yet animal vibe inside me. So I can make no apologies.

I’m very much at home with my personal spiritual life, finally. Truthfully, I’ve felt "different", almost like an aberration, during the earlier years. After all, I was the freaky little kid who scared people with my early musical skills and scientific bent ... and inwardly pondered and questioned some of the heavier facets of life – things that others seemed to easily accept and fall into line with. For a long while (during my teens and early adulthood), I tried to cultivate an ability to seem ordinary. I worked pretty hard at it. But I think I failed. I’m glad I failed. My friends liked me anyway. To me, friends are the most wonderful of blessings. And, if I consider someone to be a friend, I will practically pull myself inside-out in order to do anything I can to help, support, encourage, protect that person if he/she is going through bad times.

R.I.P. Bubbs...

2010-09-29T14:01:00.004-04:00

His official name was Bubba Bear, though it said "Bobby" on his cage card 13 years ago. Somehow, the Bobby name didn’t quite fit this big, fluffy puppy with the bear-face. An animal control officer suggested the revised name. We are not southerners originally, so the Bubba name wasn't chosen to fit any southern definitions that we knew/know of (we have since learned that there are some, but I remain ignorant about them). I called him Bubbs. He was the cleanest dog we ever had ... never had one accident in the house, even when he was a pup. He did chew several large holes in the carpeting, though -- and he ate a pine tree I had planted in the back yard. His weight and girth at maturity was a factor in the stockade fence at our previous house being knocked down (by him and the other, smaller dogs) when some utility workers decided to dally on our property (just outside the dog fence) ... probably to accumulate some additional pay hours. When the section of fence fell over under the dogs’ weight (they were jumping against the fence, trying to get at the utility workers), two of them ran to the corner of Gleason Road and one of them – my personal favorite – was fatally injured by a vehicle. That day, in early December of 1998, was the saddest of my life. My Lucky, my "Baby Girl", was gone, so suddenly. For a long while, I associated that happening, at least in part, with Bubba. Later on, I realized he was trying to protect his turf and his dog pack from the invaders on the other side of the fence. At the time of that accident, Bubbs was a little over a year old.

He was Jerry’s dog, which was good, because Shara and I had brought him home from the shelter to be Jerry’s dog. She and I had been hands-on volunteers there for a long time and I had since become the humane education director there. My mother had died in August, 1997, so a few months after her death seemed a good time to do something happy like bringing home a dog. At first Jerry didn’t want Bubba, but one needs to remember that I was a habitual dog bringer-homer and each time, he’d say "No more, absolutely no more dogs", in a loud, decisive tone, to which I blocked my ears. So Shara and I bribed him with a couple of glasses of wine, which worked wonders. Soon he loved the pup, who slept at the foot of his bed every night until recent months when Bubba was too infirm to walk the distance and needed to stay in the basement where it was easier to take him outdoors.

So fast-forward: A lumbering 100 pound dog (Lab and Chow mix), Bubbs had numerous huge tumors, severe trouble with his hips, could no longer see or hear, and suffered his third stroke last week. I took him to our vet on Thursday to be put to sleep. Needless to say, this week has been difficult, especially as I was petting his head and looking into his eyes when his light went out and last breath was exhaled. But I'm glad I was with him, for him, at that moment. I really feel that he was comfortable with passing on and it was the right decision.

I figured it would be comforting for Jerry if I arranged for Bubba’s ashes to be returned to him (rather than disposed of at the crematory). Jerry, at first, said (typically) that he didn’t want them or any reminders. I think he figured he could maybe dodge the emotional fall-out by not having anything around ... collar, leash, ashes, food bowls. So I removed all those things and put them in a safe place until he would be ready for them. Tonight he requested the little pine box containing the ashes be kept in his room on his dresser. Progress. Rest in peace, Bubbs.

Medical Madcap --

2010-09-29T13:50:00.006-04:00

"Joint" = knee, knuckle, elbow, hip, toe, ankle, shoulder, cannabis unit, happening venue (good music, friends, beverages, food), a disreputable, unhappening, tacky place (drunks’ and cheaters’ hang-out), madcap venue (chicken wire catches beer bottles hurled by gregarious customers before said bottles hit band members), place in plumbing where pipes intersect, bank account that is shared -- hopefully in amicable fashion, venture entered into by two persons, prison (prefixed by "the").

The assortment of definitions for this word is rather amusing ... spanning legal, political, medical, recreational, punitive, and various levels of slang. I thought of this recently while experiencing some "joint" problems, namely a knee and a portion of my foot. Well, I needed to somehow infuse my pain with some levity :)

An acquaintance who is a very credible person suggested WD-40, saying that many people "swear by it" and its ability to make joints flexible and pain-free. Well, you know that desperate times call for desperate measures. Guess what? It works. It does work on joint stiffness and pain. And it doesn't smell any worse (IMHO) than traditional pain-relieving creams and balms. Different, but not any worse :)

Rush, Hush, No Longer Lush ... But Look!

2010-09-01T21:01:00.003-04:00

Beautiful September is here. It means a lot of different things to people, depending on where one is on his/her life path. To me, it will always be the September Song, a ballad that my mother had me sing often – at home, on the radio, on the stage – when I was a child. The lyric starts "Oh, it’s a long, long while from May to November, But the days grow short when you reach September, When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame, One hasn’t got time for the waiting game". How true, why wait? The time is now.

As the month opens (or even before then in some places), kids are scurrying onto the school bus and it’s time to open another educational year. Adults, too. They go back to college; they sign up for all kinds of courses and begin all kinds of activities. That quickened pace and the wave of excitement it brings is the Rush of September!

And then there is the Hush ... the quieting of the cicadas, the peaceful trilling noise of crickets at dusk, flowers with seed heads and silently exploding pods, the angle of the sun, the changing behaviors of animals and birds, the worn-out look on the leaves of trees and shrubs. Scorching summer heat begins to give way to cooler temperatures. Any day now, the Orb spider webs will appear on porches and carports. The September hush is reassuring, validating, and in a curiously detached way, embracing.

Yes, the Lush of summer is gone. Just a month or so ago, plant life was vigorous and dense and lush. Not now. A lot of leaves have already been shed. My roses and some of my other flowers, though, are still trying to keep up the blooming pace, even while their fatigue begins to show. I pick up on their vibes, as I’m Nature’s daughter, I have realized. One of my students jokingly refers to my being "Mother Nature Jr.".

Today is my birthday and a grand one it has been. The birthday hour (exact time) has just passed, uneventfully. I’m thinking now of my mother and the little lace handkerchief and a metal tool for grasping heated formula bottles that she gave to me a year or so before she passed away. The handkerchief was what she’d held onto all through the long hours of her labor on my original birth day. They are items I almost never look at because they call up a well of feelings. But I know they are there and that is nice. I guess that, for me, it’s part of the September hush. A little while ago, I went to Party City and got myself one beautiful red balloon (I love balloons!). The cashier smiled and pushed my money away and wished me a happy birthday. How did she know?

Christo Redemptor –

2010-08-20T21:02:00.008-04:00

"Christo Redemptor" is a hauntingly beautiful song; more accurately, it is a 12-bar progression of chords, repeated many wonderful times ... and having the power to captivate and mesmerize the soul. Composed by Duke Pearson (his own recording of it is on YouTube), I only recently came into possession of two awesome recordings (done during or around 1967) by Charlie Musselwhite on harmonica, Harvey Mandel-guitar, Barry Goldberg-piano on the longer recording and organ on the briefer version, Bob Anderson-bass, and Fred Below, Jr.-drums. One of the tracks is on a CD called "Harmonica Classics, Volume 4" and the other is on "Stand Back–Here Comes Charlie Musselwhite’s South Side Band". I was curious, so I looked up the song’s origin and found that it was inspired by Pearson's sighting of a statue of the Christ, located in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Pictures of the statute and surrounding mountainscape can be found on the Internet and they are dazzling. This piece of music is phenomenal, mystical, powerful, and amazing!

A Novel Thought And Suggestion On Peace & Good Will –

2010-08-20T16:06:00.008-04:00

A (seemingly) comedic, yet profound thought regarding the attainability of world peace recently occurred to me. It would involve the combination of a worldwide, simultaneous internet and television airing (with loud speakers in every public location) of a dance video such as the one done a year or so ago at the Liverpool station, London ... see/hear/enjoy it at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VQ3d3KigPQM ... coupled with a blanketing, global aerial spraying of a concentrated essence of cannabis, dropping and shooting down from thousands of planes onto warring people. Just picture it! All at once, the music and sweet smell would take over and carnage would grind to a halt! Everybody would enjoy and benefit from the uniting energy of music and dance and mellowing out in a friendly manner. Soldiers would lay down their artillery and begin dancing together ... or just sit under a tree (or half-destroyed building) and smile sweetly. Military people, civilian people, crooks, police, robbers, scammers, presidents, dictators, misers, terrorists, politicians, overly competitive sports rivals, tabloid publishers, lawyers, abusers, pimps, warmongers, and people who cannot act in a civil manner ... all would, at least temporarily, feel too good to fight. Animals would come out of hiding and new vegetation would begin to sprout, as the animal and plant life that takes such an undeserved beating during our stupid human wars and "no tree left standing" (indeed nothing vertical left standing) campaigns could, at last, have a respite. Of course, this peaceful "cure" would need to be re-applied, as needed.

Well, it’s been said that we can’t bomb the world to peace even if we bomb the world to pieces (and that is true), but, aside from medical supplies and food, no one has tried bombing with something that has the intrinsic value of promoting peace for its very own sake. Yes, yes ... it’s a radical idea :) Actually, isn’t peace itself a radical idea in this world? But I’m ever hopeful :)

A Little Story For Green Thumbers –

2010-08-20T16:00:00.004-04:00

During the second week of June this year, I spotted a tiny baby tree whose height was two or three inches, growing in the midst of a pot of variegated mini-caladiums I’d brought home from a garden center. "Oh, a baby silk tree must have germinated here", I thought. I smiled at the little seedling, as it looked so trusting and freshly emerged. Then, on the 27th of June (the day of my music party), I noted that the seedling was about five or six inches tall and was looking over the tops of its leafy companions.

I easily kept track of its progress because it is situated on the front step next to the door. Within a short time, it seemed prudent to put a support stake in the pot and tie little pieces of cloth around tree and stake to keep the tree’s soft trunk growing straight and avoid breakage. I marveled at the trunk's bright green coloring and the lacey leaves. Well, fast-forward. And, fast upward! By mid-July, the youngster was three feet tall. By August 1st, he was five feet tall; today, he is more than seven feet tall, has had a second (extension) stake added to the first, as an additional support. About a month ago, I realized he is not a silk tree, but a honey locust tree. The future thorns that are characteristic of honey locust, are tiny but visible – though still very soft and green, just like the trunk. It looks like the top of the tree will meet the overhanging awning at just around the time, seasonally and temperature-wise, that I can plant the tree into the ground. Not that I need another tree in this small yard (I often find myself wishing for the 2+ acres I had at my former residence so I could fill them with trees). This tree seems childlike and I hope it will be able to safely transition into the ground and into autumn and winter. I wonder when it is programmed to convert its soft trunk to a harder one that will weather cold temperatures. "Nature knows and will not forget to provide" I tell myself. If not, he may need to winter-over in the house (the basement has a tall ceiling!).

Heading Into Autumn –

2010-08-20T15:57:00.003-04:00

It doesn’t seem possible. I still vividly remember the deep-freeze of January! Time is not "marching on" as the old saying goes; it is galloping! Our days and nights spin along with such momentum, it seems astonishing to me sometimes.

Now, the hot intensity of summer will fade into that cool and pleasant feeling of detachment that is Autumn.

Moby – Where Are You, Buddy?

2010-08-02T22:21:00.005-04:00

Well, last Monday morning, I got a call on my cell phone (which is the only phone I have now) from a woman police officer in the sheriff's office in a little town in north Georgia. According to her, the man who had bought my classic 1985 Buick a few weeks ago, had driven it into her town, parked it and stolen a new, very expensive car. He had not re-registered the Buick, so it traced back to me and my music cards were still in the car...so I'm sure that's how she got my cell phone number. She was very cagey (my mother used to love that word) in her efforts to get information from me and let me know that because of the circumstances, I was a suspect ... that she had alerted Knoxville police and sent a police car to look in my yard for the stolen car. Further, she said the man had a string of aliases and was adept at making false documents (drivers licenses, etc.) She didn't use the word "adept". I wondered if she thought I was his accomplice. The situation raised other questions in my mind: Was the money he gave for the car (new $100 bills) any good or was that fake? A friend of mine had sold the car for me at his used car lot. I consider him very wise and savvy about those things, yet I had to take the money (which had not been spent) to the bank and have it verified to not be counterfeit, which would have then involved the FBI.

A trip to the Knoxville police department, per her instructions, provided reason for a wry smile on the face of the officer (who I’d half expected to handcuff me; after all, she had told me the Knoxville police were expecting me). The Knoxville officer didn't have any idea why she had sent me there and said that, clearly, since I had a photocopy of the makeshift bill of sale and a photocopy of the man's probably fake driver's license, the situation is not my responsibility. Yay!!! Also, he said she was "stupid" and I admit, it made me happy to hear him utter that comment. I mailed the woman the spare key I still had for the Buick (the buyer had taken Moby’s key with him when he left the car and drove off in his new model) so the Georgia police lady or whoever buys the car (which I think/hope will go to auction) will have an ignition and door key.

Anyway, all my cell phone minutes were used up for the first time ever. And do you suppose she called to thank me for the car key? Nope. I’m thinking now of that old song and joke about the "backwoods southern lawyers"; add to that the Barney Fife type of police officer :)

Moby, I swear I wanted you to go to a good home. Amen.

Jammin’ --

2010-08-02T22:12:00.006-04:00

Craig’s List really does bring in responses – there is no doubt. Those responses need to be weeded out, of course. Recently, I ran a post there, specifically seeking blues musicians to jam with. I got some comical replies, some pathetic ones, some irrelevant ones, and two or three worthwhile ones.

I jammed last week with a group of guys in another part of town. Their spokesperson/leader (the home owner/guitar player whose basement they use) had indicated that they play blues. Well, in actuality, they play ‘60s cover songs. I felt like saying "liar, liar, pants on fire", but I restrained myself. Instead, I’d start playing a blues song or phrase, and they would join in and some of these lasted ten or fifteen minutes. I did that several times. Well, I’d had a long drive out there and I wanted it to be worth my while – I’d promised myself that I’d bliss out with the blues and I did. Lo and behold, the bass player, at one point, suddenly pulled a blues harp (harmonica) out of somewhere and began to play it, quite well. I was so surprised and thrilled I screamed one of those oo-oo- eee-ooohhh!!! from-the-depths kinds of scream – the orgiastic scream of supreme excitement! There hadn’t been time for my brain’s inhibition department to kick in (and I didn't miss a beat of the song). I do believe the men thought I was an alien being that dropped down from some distant planet. Anyway, no one seemed to blink or smile; similarly, no one was visibly terrified, so that was good.

As time went on, I pretended not to notice the path being beaten to and from the door (to the outside) which was a natural result of the other path being beaten to and from the refrigerator’s beer supply. My trusty bottle of water served me well and, of course, as the only lady in attendance, I was told I could use the restroom upstairs, which I did prior to the drive back home.

I anticipate many more musical adventures and then maybe I’ll settle down and band-up again. I’m reminded, anew, that it’s awesome to be a free spirit!

Watch Out For The Bitchin’ Blues -- (actually a pleasant malady!)

2010-08-02T22:06:00.004-04:00

This new song’s complete title is (now) "Bitchin’ Blues – Move On You", a totally re-worked concept that was first conceived around year 2000; but this version is starkly different and amazing by comparison to the first attempt. It’s mainly a minor key blues and definitely has an edge.

Over the past two years (since the shootings) many/most of my new songs have been philosophical or strived to be uplifting (and are). This song deals with the more mundane, non-lofty, but very real human emotions. It’s a sexy song. It’s refreshing to be allowing myself to sing about more earthy feelings again and I’m enjoying working with it. I hope to record it soon, and would like to add guitar, harmonica, and drums to give it the full sound it deserves. Stay tuned.

Requiem For A Snake –

2010-07-22T23:55:00.004-04:00

One day earlier this week, I was driving on a city back-street and caught sight of something in the road that took me a few seconds to process; by that time, I’d passed by it. Was it a snake or a piece of hose or tubing? Wait – I was sure I’d seen it move. I turned around and drove back to the spot. Sure enough ... there in the road lay an injured ribbon or garter snake ... black with pale yellow stripes. Life was ebbing from the poor creature who was still trying to move toward shelter. I picked her/him up and carefully placed her (I’m going to say "her" because I somehow felt that the snake was a female and I don’t use the word "it" when referencing an animal) in the grass at the side of the road. Getting back into my van, I drove a short distance farther down the road and knew I had to turn back. I was afraid the injured snake would be picked up by a predator (crow or cat, for example) or mistreated by a passerby human (snakes take a huge and unfortunate amount of punishment from people who believe they are "evil’ due to biblical bad press). So, again, I carefully picked up the dying snake, put her on a towel in my van, and drove the rest of the way home. She occasionally flicked her tail section. Once home, I gently removed her and the towel from the van. Jerry gasped when he saw her, but then got busy trying to help and got an empty pizza box for her to lie in. We were able, then, to assess the extent of her injuries, which were severe. Blood, as red as my own, slowly pulsed from several ruptures on her body and an injury on her head. I shed tears and looked on as she faded and died. I’m posting about this experience and this snake (who appeared to be about a year old) because life is precious and sacred and so is each of nature’s creatures. This one really touched my heart and her karma mingled with mine. Snakey is buried in my backyard under a pretty shrub.

Walk That Talk ...

2010-07-18T21:20:00.003-04:00

I’m not sure when I began my walking program (that’s what I’m calling it now). Probably a couple of months ago would be accurate. I walk 30 minutes a day – either in the park or on my treadmill. Walking outdoors is definitely my preference, in terms of avoiding boredom. Summer heat and humidity, though, are a challenge, but one I’m willing to endure. I feel and, I daresay look, much better. This evening I was talking with someone about an exercise facility that was here in Knoxville back in the early and mid 1990s, called California Aerobics Plus (the "plus" was a segment of the class devoted to floor exercises). Of all the exercise clubs I’ve belonged to (throughout much of my adult life, I’ve almost always belonged to an exercise club), CAP was definitely my favorite. It was run by a woman and her three young adult daughters, with the four of them rotating instructor duties. Great workouts! Great fun! Classes were eagerly anticipated by all of us who attended. Eventually, they sold the business and that was a sad day; much about the club’s character changed under the new ownership and the new entity’s duration was short-lived. So, on with walking. I’ve also restarted my at-home dancing, accompanied by some of my favorite blues and jazz CDs (played at a hefty, motivating volume)! I have good neighbors :)

Tears For The Gulf –

2010-07-18T21:17:00.001-04:00

Hopefully, the cap BP finally managed to get on that horrible oil gusher will hold. I truly hope so. I’ve suspected, though, that the fracture in the well is way down beneath the ocean floor ... perhaps near the very bottom of the structure itself. That would have created the pressure that knocked out the previous "fixes" and may have even caused the initial pipe rupture. Time will tell. Regardless, though, no one can bring back the thousands of birds, turtles, fish, and delicate dune plants that perished and the many more that are still suffering. I don’t see that the effects of this will resolve in my lifetime or in many years beyond that. And there are those who want to drill more of these deep sea oil wells – it is more than greed, it is insanity. When we destroy the oceans, folks, we have definitely gone too far. I have, on my bedroom’s little shelf of precious items, a beautiful sand dollar that washed in on a wave and laid itself at my feet on Orange Beach, Alabama about seven or eight years ago. Treasured then, it has become even more precious to me now.
　

Song With An Edge –

2010-07-18T21:11:00.007-04:00

I brought out into the light of (present) day the title and concept of a song I composed some years back, minorized it (that is code for saying that I set it in a mostly minor key format), and shifted and morphed the lyrics. Bitchin’ Blues is reborn! Its new incarnation still has the edge, but it is a very attractive, mesmerizing, and sexy edge. I’m learning the arrangement now and will be recording it soon with piano and vocal. If it turns out as well as I think it will, I may go the distance with it and do/redo it with guitar, harmonica, and drum tracks. I think the arrangement is that good! When I get it done, I’ll put an mp3 version of it up on my website at www.claralandau.com.

Seize The Moment ~

2010-07-08T13:18:00.008-04:00

About a month ago, I was playing and singing one of my newer inspirational songs at a service at church. The song went beautifully, though as I began the the final two measures of the closing passage, I felt like someone had suddenly "unplugged" me and my right arm became useless and numb, shaking my hand so hard that I couldn't get my fingers onto the piano keys. After several failed attempts, I improvised an ending with my left hand. The experience was unnerving. I'm aware of occasionally having experienced small occurrences that I'd describe as sort of being 3 or 4-second "times-out" in other, more mundane situations, and I've realized that a more extensive glitch event happened to me during the (church) shootings in which my consciousness came and went several times. But I never dreamed that anything would even momentarily visit during my music. A neurologist appointment confirmed my suspicions and I came home with an Rx for myoclonic and atonic seizure symptoms. I don't plan to take the medication, though, unless the situation doesn't respond to the Vitamin B-12 with which I've begun dosing, as I like to avoid prescription drugs. Having the cause confirmed really does clear up the scariness. I think that all will be well.

Celebrate Music!

2010-07-08T12:45:00.008-04:00

A recent musical celebration here at my studio brought together all but one of my students (Sylvia, Sara, Dr. S., Gloria, and Doug), friend Bill (guitarist), and friend Pat (lay minister from church), with Jerry serving as co-host and parking valet. I had lots of good food on hand, beautiful red roses from my garden decorating the table, and balloons, balloons! Bill and I played together for the first time in two years! Within a short time, everyone got acquainted and enjoyed chatting. The music came easily and was a lot of fun to do! Blues, blues, jazz, love ballads, and rocking blues, as we concluded our "program" with my spirited and timely "Mother Earth Blues", complete with conga drum, tambourine, and maracas joining in, played by Dr. S., Sara, and Jerry, respectively. The understated theme of the day was the healing energy that music brings to us. What a memorable and wonderful afternoon we had.

Coming At You Soon (wink) --

2010-07-08T12:32:00.007-04:00

The Addendum to my "Memoirs & Musings"! Yes, that pretty little booklet of memoirs is about to have a sibling/sequel. This one reads easier and, in my opinion, is somewhat of a delight. I enjoyed writing it. The very act of writing my Memoirs & Musings had been a liberating one, as long-held secrets were released. The experience was somewhat like a voyage through a dark canyon into the light. The Addendum is richer and more pleasing to take in. The process of its writing felt recreational to me, even while talking about serious and startling happenings. I'll publish the Addendum here on this blog very soon. For a copy of the Memoirs & Musings, please contact me.

A Job Well Done --

2010-06-18T13:27:00.010-04:00

Over the past couple of weeks, the utility company that serves the Knoxville area has had a large crew of construction workers here in my neighborhood. This week saw a huge, concentrated effort on the section of street where I live. They have been digging in the street and at connection points in yards, in order to install new sewer lines. What a mammoth project! And not one I would normally expect to be writing about. Of course, I'd been dreading what might be coming ever since the form letter arrived weeks ago, giving notice of the sewer plan. Would my driveway and cute circular paved area be spared? What about my beloved mock orange bush and other plantings?

I needn't have worried. And the reason I'm writing this is to give credit to this (extremely) hard-working crew ... for their courtesy and consideration, even under the most adverse (100 degree heat and 10 or 12-hour work days) conditions. With the road blocked to traffic, sometimes on both ends, there were a number of times when I had to let the men know that my students were due and needed access to the street and driveway, or that we needed to get out to get to work or errands.

Too, it was an amazing process to observe and understand -- the not-too-graceful sewer and certainly not at all lyrical process of sewer line connections and functions. Huge trucks, little and big bulldozers, and a crane/derrick that looks and moves like a dinosaur, its jaws opening and closing with "teeth" flashing, extending, retrieving ... its neck swiveling, its torso sometimes undulating. What skill it takes to operate that dinosaur. At a rate of accomplishing three to four house connections per day (road digging, yard digging, pipes, tie-in, closing up street, closing up house ditch, leveling and clean-up), this is, to me, a project of mind-boggling size; this entire part of town is scheduled to be done. I'm glad this was their starting point, to be very honest. Now they just have to have the pavers come in and patch/pave the street. The men carefully re-planted my one privet hedge that was and is again out in front of my house, near the street. That hedge serves as a kind of sentinel guarding the gate, a beacon beckoning me into my driveway. I don't know if it was originally planted by a person or by the birds -- a single large, roundish privet hedge that apparently thinks it's a prized shrub! I'm not sure if it will survive having been dug up for almost an entire day during the extreme heat, but I'm giving it extra water, so we'll see.

After a while, it seemed natural and normal to see and hear the crew and their equipment out in front of the house. The men spoke to my dog, Dixie Lee, yesterday when she and I were weaving our van in-between the bulldozers, trucks, and cranes, in order to get to the park for her Thursday outing. One of the men said to her, "Bye, Big Dog", as she sat there proudly enclosed in her seat belt. She really is very big and sits in her seat belt just like a person.

The name of the contractor company is Portland Utilities Construction Company. Their courtesy, hard work, and consideration is appreciated by this homeowner.

Something's Oily Besides the Gulf --

2010-05-29T14:19:00.006-04:00

Are you totally disgusted with the Gulf oil disaster, which never should have happened and should have been remedied immediately? I am. These oil guys and corporations care about absolutely nothing except money and more money and, obviously, they consider themselves above the law (if there even is a law that applies to them). We see happening, before our very eyes, tragic destruction of animal and plant life, the total financial collapse of the livelihood of Gulf coast fishermen, and the loss of beautiful beaches. The people who are supposed to be in charge seem completely clueless about stopping it. That BP could have this ill-conceived drill operation going without a complete and thorough plan in place for a situation such as this, is beyond outrageous. I see them as out and out scoundrels.

Something quite radical needs to be done to take away some of the corporate power and give it back to the people. Something quite radical is apparently also needed to dispel the rhetoric being spewed by these same arrogant corporations and their monied political cohorts, who routinely deny the validity of environmental concerns, in favor of further padding their wallets.

Just Twirl It Around–

2010-05-20T21:37:00.005-04:00

I learned how to eat spaghetti, finally! Actually, I really didn’t know ... that I really didn’t know ... how to eat spaghetti. Until last Monday evening. I’ve always loved spaghetti and it seems to be the only thing that "cures" me when I’m feeling low or if I’m recovering from anything; plus, I like it when I’m feeling fine, too! I never much minded the struggle cutting it with a knife and then having it sometimes whip back across my face when I’d get it to my mouth. A friend of mine and I have a dinner date once a month at our favorite restaurant in town and this time I ordered the angel hair marinara pasta. When our food arrived, I mentioned the exceedingly round-shaped spoon that accompanied the dish of pasta and, off-handedly wondered aloud what it was for. My friend spoke up immediately, "It’s to eat spaghetti with". She quickly took the spoon and her fork and super-efficiently illustrated how to twirl the spaghetti around and around on the fork, using the spoon underneath the fork, as the prop or bottom support for the operation. This procedure is repeated with each forkful, just in case there is anyone else out there who needs spaghetti-eating instructions. Excited, I was a success at it from my very first attempt. "That’s how the Italians eat spaghetti", she then added. "Well, how did you learn it?", I asked. "I’m Italian". Oh, I didn’t know that. Now I do. I marveled at my ability to amuse her with my "new skill". It set the stage for a million other laughs we shared during that dinner hour. Levity with a good friend is a very good thing ... sometimes exactly what we need :) Thanks, Deb!

The Chariot ...

2010-05-09T19:39:00.008-04:00

Yes, I am talking about a vehicle, but perhaps not one you might expect. It has occurred to me (I often think in terms of images and visualization) that my life is (like) a vehicle. I am seeing it, at this moment, as a chariot -- quite picturesque, stately, persistently in motion -- and with its nicks and dents and worn spots. It is, I can honestly say, hitched to two powerful passions: the first is the music and art that surge through me with an irresistable electricity that makes me feel like a conduit ... ever submitting to it, creating and putting it (music) out there. The second is my primal love of and reverence for nature -- animals, trees, earth, heavens, weather elements ... experienced by me as a divine Energy. We know, via the Laws of Thermodynamics, that energy cannot be created or destroyed. But it can be and is moved around, transferred, even summoned. It can wreak havoc and it can bring and assist all sorts of good things: inner peace, compassion, healing, love, sexual feelings, creativity, protection. It is an amazing thing.

It may seem that I am going far afield of the topic of vehicles, but I'll try to connect my dots. My two stated passions propel me along and have been doing so for a long time. Here I sit, in my chariot, holding the reins (or trying to hold onto them), sometimes gliding, sometimes bouncing along. Sometimes I holler "Whoa"! I think that most people refer to that as "stepping back" or "taking a time out". OK, that's what it is, but it nevers lasts long with me, and then I'm driving again.

What brought on this thread of thought, one may wonder. I'm probably always aware of it but why am I thinking about this today? Probably because, although I'd sort of sworn off composing any more songs, another song pushed its way into me the day before yesterday. It was irresistable because it is so honest. It's a simple, but very harmonic 8-bar blues and it talks about/reveals my need to sit and play piano the very first thing every morning and at various spontaneous times in the day or night, whenever I want a coping mechanism. Each time I do this, especially if I have other things I ought to be doing instead, I'll say to myself, "just play one song" and that one invariably becomes two or six or twenty. I guess it's the lube that keeps the chariot's gears and muscles supple and summons/transfers that Energy.

I am eternally grateful!

Mean Woman Update!

2010-05-09T19:32:00.004-04:00

Two lively comments have come in on my quest for opinions about mean women and whether/why many men are reputed to prefer them. Please check out that post's comments, below!

Clara’s Compilation CDs –

2010-04-24T16:45:00.008-04:00

I’ve just completed work on two compilation disks; one is entitled "Very Classic Clara – Collection of 14 Favorite Cover Recordings" and the other is "Very Classic Clara – Collection of 15 Original Songs".

These are definitely "legacy" CDs in a true sense of the word. The "covers" disk’s "I Had The Craziest Dream", "Easy Baby", "Body & Soul" and other scintillating, seductive love songs complement its "Rock Me Baby", "That Old Black Magic", and other delicious up-tempo song renderings. On the "originals" CD, there are several of my very newest songs, along with time-tested favorites. These songs and arrangements really are my very best jazz, blues, torch, and eclectic offerings!

The CDs are available by contacting me at claralandau@comcast.net or (865) 659-5383. I burn them individually, "to order". Each comes with a double-sided page of lively, candid anecdotes and personnel information.

Classic Clara & Lady Wolf’s Notes – :

2010-04-24T16:42:00.001-04:00

Classic Clara invites you to read the important and timely mini-series I’ve got going on at Lady Wolf’s Notes. http://ladywolfsnotes.blogspot.com.

No Takers On My Mean-Woman Quest!

2010-04-24T16:38:00.003-04:00

I wonder why. Guys, you could answer anonymously and no one would be the wiser :) Ladies, I bet you have some definite thoughts about whether many men prefer/are attracted to mean (bossy, bitchy, difficult) women. Well, if you think of anything you’d like to say, I’m ready to hear it!

Dixie Lee Foils Robber –

2010-04-24T16:34:00.002-04:00

One afternoon not long ago, I came home from a trip to Kmart to find my front door ajar. Of course, I was gripped with fear and apprehension, mostly for the sake of my dog who was in the house. So I stepped inside (I know, I know ... I should have called the police and waited outside, but I had to see if Dixie Lee was OK). When I entered the house, she came leaping at me, then stopped apologetically when she realized it was me. Together we walked through the house and I hoped to get my hands on my rifle. I hadn’t been home more than three minutes when Dixie Lee went into post-trauma mode and began vomiting and dashing around. I realized that she had repelled the robber and that this had happened just moments before I got back home. She is now OK, but her sense of awareness is very heightened and she comes to the front door now each and every time I step inside the house, even if I’ve just gone out for the mail. Dixie Lee is many things to me...companion, friend, sister, confidant, advisor, playmate, and now I add "hero" to that list.

Hoping ...

2010-04-11T13:31:00.006-04:00

I'm hoping that a reader or two or six will scroll down about nine posts, read my February 19th "If You Want A Mean Woman" post, and send in their comments on the subject. Whether you put a humorous, serious, or outrageous spin on it, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Use the anonymous option if you'd like! Pul-eeezze.

Check Out Lady Wolf's Notes ...

2010-04-09T10:37:00.006-04:00

Lady Wolf's Notes (my first blog) is up and running again, presenting my mini-series of articles about specific groups of animals who need urgent remedies for their situations. Even if you think you've heard, read it all elsewhere, I can almost guarantee you will find information here that you need and of which you would want to be aware.

The first article is about Horses. The link to Lady Wolf's Notes is http://ladywolfsnotes.blogspot.com. Please continue to also check Classic Clara, as each blog will carry its own posts. Thanks!

Boing, Boing ... !

2010-03-25T21:29:00.019-04:00

Retractable antennae ... that fit neatly inside the head and can pop out at appropriate (or inappropriate) times ... I tell you, such things are among us, folks.

A week or so ago, I was called by the manager of a local posh-looking venue (let me recall for you and for myself, right now, that old adage that says "you can’t judge a book by its cover"). Amen. He asked if I’d do a "fill-in" on the coming Wednesday, which was just four days out. I asked what format he wanted and he said anything I want to do (he is acquainted with me and my material and knows I do an eclectic mix of jazz, blues, ballads, latinesque and he’s had some great jazz guy musicians there in the distant past). "OK", I said, and got four hours of a good mix of material ready. When Wednesday evening rolled around, I’d gotten the help I needed from two very kind souls (one of whom is my chiropractor) with the moving of my equipment, got my gear into the venue and set it up. I talked with a couple of friends until it was time to play.

As soon as I did my opening tune and spoke my "Good evening ..." etc. greeting, I immediately felt an almost palpable strange flatness of energy in the large room. It felt like, for lack of a better term, "deadness". No momentary sense of anticipation in the audience. No applause. Another song and some brief lively patter from me, no applause. By the third number, I decided to knock myself out impressing myself (like I sometimes do in my own music studio when I’m alone and blissing out). After about an hour and a quarter of punching out successive very wowie arrangements, I took a "break" and started to walk around the room, as I normally do on my first break, smiling and saying hello to people. The three or four tables I went to all acted the same, did not return the smile, glared past me, did not speak. At that point, I noticed that all the women had the same short, "spiffy" (that’s a word my mother’s generation used a lot and I think it means "dressed up to be pointedly stylish") hairdo that was kind of swept out to one side, and little pleated short skirts; the men all were gray-haired, clean-shaven and seemed to greatly resemble one another; they were all somewhere in their 60s. Now, I am notttt young, folks (or innocent), but I felt like an innocent kid, by comparison. It was so weird. Remember the theme song from "Twilight Zone"? The sameness of the Stepford Wives?

At the end of my second set, my friends left, at which time, a posse of men approached my keyboard and mic and began shouting at me. One said, "You have a lot of talent, but that’s not what we need here" (which was the nicest thing said to me that evening); another waved an unfolded paper napkin upon which was inked a list of about 20 old show tune titles, such as "New York New York", and demanded that I do these songs which are their "dance numbers". It was then announced to me by one of the women that they are "eastern swingers". Within moments, another man stepped alongside where I was sitting on my piano stool. He sort of snarled "I don’t even recognize half of the stuff you’re doing"! So I said, "Well, those would be my originals ... I’m a songwriter". His response: "You’re a songwriter, huh?", accompanied by a knuckled blow to my shoulder. Yep, he hit me.

In retrospect, I realize that his antennae must have been at full-tilt at that moment, but I didn’t take the time to notice; rather, I got busy calling housekeeping for a good strong man to help carry my stuff back to my van.

The next day I faxed a full report to the manager and his boss, the super-duper major manager. The former was angry or feigned anger at the situation and assured me he will find the culprit and that he wouldn’t intentionally have brought me into a situation like that (he had left after I’d set up). I asked if the venue had surveillance video that they could look at; he said "no".

Well, I’ve presented this accounting with a smirky kind of humor, dear readers, but the truth is that the music scene here in Knoxville venues that book local talent (which was always clique-y and sometimes mean-spirited) has gotten worse and is far from funny. But humor is one of those things that can get us through difficult times. When/if someone mistreats you, just look at him/her and think "boing, boing" and visualize the antennae he or she is sporting :)

There is a side of me that has always leaned toward comedy. A few weeks ago, I happened to catch a Joan Rivers television appearance (on one of the daytime talk shows). Some of the one-liners that she did were absolutely fall-off-the-couch funny.

Life really is amazing. Keep smiling and stay tuned!

Clickity-Clickity!

2010-03-25T21:25:00.005-04:00

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