…And now, a response about the “F” word and the “W” word
June 23, 2009
Well, I wish I had been at that show so I could have gotten up on the stage and agreed with you
because the war in Iraq is a fucking war based on lies that has cost many lives and billions of dollars.
I went to see Butch Hancock at Uncle Calvins in March. His new CD is almost nothing but anti-war songs.
I don't remember him saying fuck but it would have been OK if he did. I will contact Uncle Calvins and tell
them I'm not offended at the thought of you saying fuck of fucking war on their stage or anywhere.
I know Bill Nash a little and don't see him as getting upset about that.
I hope I see you perform soon and we can talk. One more thing before I go: war is fucking bad but fucking is good,
Baylis
posted by Sara Hickman at 01:37 pm
comments (1) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
The Life of Artists and The Reality of the Game
Darknet: Echo Artist clients face imminent web shut-down
When news broke in April that Echomusic of Nashville (popularly known as Echo) was being closed by parent company Ticketmaster
Entertainment, it wasreported (all too briefly) as a story of some 60 lost jobs on Music Row. What hasn’t been reported is that early
next week, on June 15-18, between 100 and 200 echo clients – most of them small or mid-level, independent or indie-label bands
and artists – will see their websites go dark with no refunds and no ability to transfer their sites seamlessly to another host.
The echo platform, touted by the company for years as a unique integration of web site, e-mail list, merchandise sales and
fan connection tools, was built on an architecture so proprietary and one-of-a-kind that sites “powered by echo” must be
re-built from scratch. This is according to current and former Echo employees, as well as artist managers who are currently
scrambling to rescue their artists’ vital presence on the web.
“It’s shocking,” said the manager of a prominent Americana singer/songwriter who has at least a three-year relationship with
Echo. “You’d think with all the years and money he’s put in they’d maybe go not the extra mile but just the extra half mile. . .
We’re really being left with no options.”
Clients were formally notified in mid May that the sites would go dark on June 15-18, but managers and artists are reporting
that web designers and hosts need 60-90 days at a minimum to code and launch sites. Some, like country singer Travis Tritt,
have already posted placeholder “under construction” pages. Others are routing their domain name to a MySpace page. Echo
employees have been working overtime to walk clients through a seven-step process that will put them in a position to re-build
their websites elsewhere. Those clients are on their own for the unanticipated costs of the changeover, which run from a few thousand
dollars up to $10,000 or more. Moreover, the investments clients made in their echo sites, which are regarded as among the more
expensive in the local market, as well as their monthly maintenance and hosting fee (averaging $300/month but running up to $1,000/month),
are said to be unrecoverable.
Why is this happening this way and happening now? Well that’s where this gets really interesting, because it actually has to do with
one of the most far-reaching developments in the music business – a set of mega-transactions taking place far from Nashville.
Indirectly, it’s Irving Azoff’s doing. Briefly, Azoff, one of the most powerful and wealthy managers in the history of rock
(the Eagles are among his clients), recently presided over the merger of his company Front Line Management Group with
Ticketmaster. Simultaneously, Ticketmaster has announced plans to merge with Live Nation, the concert promoter formerly
known as Clear Channel’s market-dominating SFX. In other words, Azoff is about to assume corporate control over the management
of most of the biggest-grossing musicians in pop music, most of the venues in the U.S, and the titan of ticketing,
the much loathed Ticketmaster. And for those who haven’t been following Nashville music business news at all, Echo was bought
out by Ticketmaster in 2007 for a reported $25 million.
(Sara adds: FUNNY HOW NONE OF THE ARTISTS WILL RECEIVE ANY OF THOSE MONIES. YES, I THINK IT IS WRONG.)
So to use a strained metaphor, Echo, launched ten years ago as arguably Nashville’s most progressive digital music marketing
company, became a flea on the back of a dog being eaten by a bigger dog. And a money-losing flea to boot. While Ticketmaster
showed some patience in trying to let Echo be Echo from Nashville and find its way to profitability while growing rapidly,
the new company appears to have been in no mood to be nice to Music City or echo’s longstanding clients.
There are more specific injustices here worthy of investigation. Echo insiders knew for weeks that the shutdown of client websites
was coming but were forbidden by higher-ups to disclose it until the 30-day warning in mid May. Numerous clients were also
informed that a revised accounting of their fee schedule revealed sales tax that had not been disclosed on the front end.
One artist manager said she was informed that unless she paid a previously unknown tax bill of $900, Echo would not allow
her access to her artist’s digital assets, e-mail lists or transition services, and she doesn’t appear to be alone.
(Sara aside: ODD HOW THE ARTISTS PAID TO BE A PART OF THIS AND HAVE TO PAY MORE EVEN THOUGH THEY RECEIVE NO COMPENSATION
AT THE SELLING NOR ASSISTANCE IN THE ALLEGED "TAX BILL".)
Furthermore, it was hard not to notice that while Echo the local start-up of the late 1990s was a refuge and service provider for
many independent, non-star-trajectory artists, the Echo of recent years (especially post Ticketmaster) focused on big-time clients
like Rascal Flatts, Kanye West and Alicia Keys. In a triumph of inequity, some 20-30 of Echo’s largest clients are slated to remain
in the Echo system, managed from Los Angeles. Insiders say that it goes even deeper than that; when recent mega-clients signed
on to Echo, at least some had the $20-30,000 fees for their web design and setup WAIVED IN EXCHANGE (emphasis mine) for an
ongoing share of revenue generated through ticket and merchandise sales. This arrangement, according to sources, was not afforded
to mid-level clients, who paid cash up front.
(Sara adds: THIS IS, ONCE AGAIN, PIRACY AT IT'S HIGHEST LEVEL. AND, YES, I THINK THIS IS INCREDIBLY WRONG AS WELL. I'M HERE
TO TELL YOU THAT MID-LEVEL ARTISTS AND UP AND COMING ARTISTS DESERVE THE SAME RESPECT AS ARTISTS WHO HAVE "GONE ON
AND MADE IT". IN FACT, I THINK ARTISTS SHOULD HELP ONE ANOTHER...ESPECIALLY THOSE IN POWER TO SPEAK OUT AND DEMAND
IT.)
The larger tragedy here is that just as a new generation of artists were challenging the dominion of a calcified record label
system and its decades-long chokehold on career development, tour support, radio play and national album distribution,
along comes another, unanticipated near-monopoly (Sara adds: Uh...let's just call it what it is: A MONOPOLY!) with vertical
control over the most lucrative and influential parts of the music business – touring, ticketing and management. And then that company,
through a few orders from on high, is able to dismantle a company that at one time carried many of Nashville’s hopes
for a self-determined, locally-controlled digital music infrastructure.
There’s a precedent for this parable. In the late 1990s, Gaylord Entertainment, which had built The Nashville Network (TNN)
from its origins into one of the most successful cable companies in America, sold the network to a company it
knew and trusted. That was Westinghouse, a diversified corporation that had for years been TNN’s marketing partner.
Little was to change, they agreed. TNN was still producing programming from Nashville, and
Westinghouse was supposed to give the network access to new advertisers and larger amounts of capital to go
to the next level. Then, abruptly, CBS bought Westinghouse and then Viacom bought CBS. And to Viacom, TNN
was the flea on the dog. Voom, it was absorbed into Viacom’s MTV Networks and the entire Nashville production
operation was shut down, throwing hundreds of TV people out of work. And TNN had its name and format changed twice
in two years – first to The National Network, and then to Spike TV, as un-Nashville a network as exists today.
One wonders if this is Nashville’s fate – if its most successful entrepreneurs are inevitably destined to lose control. It’s enough
to make one wonder how Music City will negotiate this new and unfathomable music business.
SARA RESPONDS:
I'd just like to say that everyday I struggle to answer emails, write on Facebook, answer mail, help my family, find time to be creative,
work on bookings, drive to gigs, find money for gas and homes to stay in (to save hotel costs), sing til I"m exhausted, go to rehearsals,
pay for rehearsal space, mail out product to the wide variety of sites that carry my cds, go to the mom and pop shoppes that still carry music (Waterloo/Amoeba), try to help
my community by performing (gratis) for benefits and for other musicians in dire straights,
and hope to find a check in the mail from BMI or Sound Exchange or Talent Partners to help me make ends meet.
And I'm fortunate, I know.
The most insidious part of all this bullshit is that we, the creators, the ones who write and paint and sing, we build
the empires like Egyptian slaves for the incredibly greedy bastards who don't care about our broken backs, our bleeding fingers.
I'm not sure how dark the world would be without the light of the creative soul, but it would be a bleak, ugly world. And, yet, we
make our art because it is our God given right, it is our calling, it is LOVE that leads us to
want to share our song. Our music makes you weep when you watch a touching moment in a film, we make you stare in wonder
at a painting of a landscape, through photos we capture moments otherwise lost, through dance we show
the strength and grace of the human body, through poetry we slam the politics and lies and untruths that must be told or
we remind you to notice the grace of the unfolding flower at sunrise.
Those who steal and gather wealth off our backs, and shut down sites or music venues or other opportunities for us creatives to be creative,
will have a hard time explaining this to God. That is, if they pass through the eye of the needle, first.
I'm sick and tired of those who have gifts being treated like "fleas on the back of a dog" (to quote the above article.)
It is just WRONG. Wherever morality and ethics went, I pray they return. I pray that people start heralded one anothers' gifts and
paying artists living wages and STOP STEALING WHAT DOES NOT BELONG TO ANYONE OTHER THAN THE ARTIST.
(This includes downloading without paying (unless offered for free BY THE ARTIST), but don't get me started on that.)
Sara
posted by Sara Hickman at 12:24 pm
comments (0) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
Dear Friends: Celebrate World Refugee Day!
June 18, 2009
Celebrate World Refugee Day
and welcome our newest Texans to Austin
on Saturday, June 20
from 1-5 pm
at The Bob Bullock Texas State History Museum!
This event is FREE, open to the public, and will offer a wide variety of activities for the whole family.
This year's World Refugee Day will feature: Sara Hickman, WinoVino, El Tule, a Refugee Fashion Show,
a naturalization ceremony, and performances by refugee musicians and dancers from Burma, Iran,
Ghana, Burundi and beyond!
Free refreshments will be provided courtesy of Catering by Rosemary.
Currently, 10 million refugees around the world are under the protection of UNHCR. Less than 1% will be
fortunate enough to be resettled in one of the 10 or 12 countries that have a formal refugee resettlement
program. For this year alone, the US is planning to accept and resettle a total of 75,000 refugees. In Austin
alone, we expect to resettle at least 600 refugees -- families from Iraq, Burma, Bhutan, Cuba, Iran,
Afghanistan, Nepal, Somalia, Ethiopia, the Congo, and Burundi.
Refugees living in Austin are legal, international refugees brought to the United States
by the Department of State because they have been persecuted in their home countries.
The US government only provides for short term assistance -- all refugees are expected to
be self-sufficient within 2 to 4 months of arrival regardless of their level of education, English
speaking capabilities and exposure to western society.
Refugees can apply for their permanent residency one year after arrival and are eligible
to become citizens as soon as five years after that. To celebrate this transition, a naturalization
ceremony will be taking place during the World Refugee Day for refugees who are becoming U.S. citizens!
Please join AAIM, The Bob Bullock State History Museum, Caritas of Austin, Catering By Rosemary, I
ranian Christians International, Multicultural Refugee Coalition, Center for Survivors of Torture,
and Refugee Services of Texas as we honor the unique journeys of refugees living in Austin.
See you this Saturday, June 20th!
Love,
Sara
AAIM Board Member
and
Lu Zeidan
AAIM Refugee School Coordinator
512.386.9145 ext 12
posted by Sara Hickman at 07:43 pm
comments (0) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
It Was The Love
http://jasonmolin.net/newspaperandtrumpet/2009/06/it-was-the-love/
posted by Sara Hickman at 05:23 am
comments (0) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
Ha ha ha! Me the night Elektra discovered me in Kansas City/1989
June 17, 2009
posted by Sara Hickman at 03:41 pm
comments (3) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
Sitting here with Mr. Molin
And this is one of the images from NEWSPAPER AND TRUMPET that Jason and I are working on as Carol and David. See? Doesn't
that make sense?
posted by Sara Hickman at 03:33 pm
comments (0) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
The Quote that Reminds Me
June 12, 2009
Martha Graham to Agnes de Mille
posted by Sara Hickman at 04:26 am
comments (0) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
They are locking up parents and children! This MUST stop!!!
June 11, 2009
Vigil and Rally at T. Don Hutto Detention Center
Taylor, Texas
Saturday, June 20th (World Refugee Day)
12-1pm Congregate at Heritage Park; 4th & Main Sts
1-2pm: March to T. Don Hutto Detention Center
2-4pm: Vigil and Rally
For more information, please contact:
Jay J. Johnson-Castro Sr.
(830) 734-8636;
posted by Sara Hickman at 01:51 pm
comments (0) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
If The “F” Word Offends You, Don’t Read on but if the word “War” does not, please do….
June 06, 2009
there needed to be new ways to deal with one another as human beings submerged in critical, unyielding problems. I was bombarded
with letters from angry men (not a single one from a woman) who told me I was unpatriotic or didn't know what I was talking about,
that I should stick to singing and keep my mouth shut. It was a wierd feeling, to be verbally slapped for speaking out against the mayhem,
atrocities and longevity of something so heinous, but I continued to speak out. I was banned for three years from Uncle Calvin's in Dallas
for saying from the stage, "The world has gone fuckng crazy" when I referred to the recent Presidential announcement we would be going
to war. What I said was not said in jest, and, certainly, it was not said to antagonize anyone. It just came pouring out of my mouth, as
I sat there on stage with two other musicians, one other who had also used the "f" word, yet I was singled out and denied a place
to perform until I apologized to the church and audience. (Which, I did, in a letter.)
For three years, I was not allowed to perform at a place I had loved and cared for and raised money for and laughed in and wept in for over
10 years----this church, the very place where I believe God most undoubtedly expects us to be OURSELVES, the very person and heart
He/She created us to be!---because I had offended people by using the word "Fuck" but not the word "WAR". A sign was put up in the
green room for all musicians/performers to read and agree to: no payment would be given if any foul words were said from the stage.
I believe, contractually, you also have to sign off on this warning, as well. Yet, there was no sign warning about the sin of war. No sign
encouraging others to use their noodle and ask folks to think about the long term affects and consequences of violence worldwide.,
even though that is what folksingers do night after night....
I've always assumed the word "fuck" refers to the act of sexual intercourse, rather aggressive intercourse,
and I dare say, over the course of my life, I have engaged in lovemaking that, at times, was playfully rough but never harmful.
I laugh, now, when I think of my two dogs, many moons ago, who got stuck in my back yard after much passionate howling, who
I realized had become painfully stuck, and I had to help release from one another, who immediately licked not only me in gratitude
upon their uncoupling, but turned to one another and sniffed and licked and jumped around the yard, as if to say, "I love you!
Let's get on with our happiness, here, in this green, green world!" (I'm sure they were also thinking, "I love that lady! She
sure is nice! Hooray for her! Oh, look! Squiirel!")
... and yet the word "WAR", which I have never been associated with on any level except to march
against or sing/speak/write out against, didn't seem to horrify anyone in attendance at Uncle Calvin's that night (mind you
I know many people that were there, and they are, also, against war and they do great work in this world). I heard some
gasps as the words came, heartwrenchingly, and not angrily, from my unplanned lips, but I immediately recognized
it was that recognizable betrayal gasp of, "You've said a naughty, naughty word!", not the gasping communal intake of,
"Good God, she's right! War is fucked up! What are we approving our government to do!?"
Although speaking out can be altruistic and/or sobering , it is never scarring for me, nor life changing for innocents hearing my
words, no matter what the elders at Uncle Calvin's believe....
I've never had to live the following when I speak of war, when referring to the intense, immense
and irrehensible act of damning violence, the taking of lives, the destruction of homes and offices and children on fire,
mothers dead babies clinging to empty breasts, the starvation and slaughter of thousands upon thousands, and, yet,
for me to put these two words together, I was removed from the one seat that has brought me the ability to share
my greatest God given gift----the ability to make music and share emotion.
So, I wanted to share the following article my friend Patrick Cosgrove sent my way as another reminder that we
all have a responsibility to speak out on issues that are important to each of us. No matter the consequences,
let those words slip from your tongue, shaking or not, and work towards finding alternatives to war.
By the way, for those of you who feel the word "fuck" itself is violent, I've worked really hard to remove it
from my vocabulary. And I do ask for forgiveness, which I did many years back, here in my blog, for those
I've offeneded, including Uncle Calvin's (do a search) or emotionally hurt along my journey through life.
I'm working hard to figure it all out, and I've made mistakes along the way. I'll always make mistakes,
but, hopefully, I'll never stop growing from them.
And, lastly, I know a relationship with God is a very, very personal relationship. I've always talked openly
about my belief that there is a God. For those that wonder why God would allow such horrors, as war
or disease, I would like to say that God does not create chaos----man does. We do. Disease, many times,
is an end result to how we have overwhelmed our planet, our bodies, ourselves. God is the essence of love,
and God is wanting us to come to our senses, to unite in a human understanding, but that takes
wisdom and compassion and patience and alternative, new thinking. I still believe we can come to
a universal fellowship, I just hope we can come to it before it is too late.
In grace and gratitude,
The Optimistic Fool
War Is Sin
Posted on Jun 1, 2009
By Chris Hedges
The crisis faced by combat veterans returning from war is not simply a profound struggle with trauma and alienation. It is often, for those who can slice through the suffering to self-awareness, an existential crisis. War exposes the lies we tell ourselves about ourselves. It rips open the hypocrisy of our religions and secular institutions. Those who return from war have learned something which is often incomprehensible to those who have stayed home. We are not a virtuous nation. God and fate have not blessed us above others. Victory is not assured. War is neither glorious nor noble. And we carry within us the capacity for evil we ascribe to those we fight.
Those who return to speak this truth, such as members of Iraq Veterans Against the War, are our contemporary prophets. But like all prophets they are condemned and ignored for their courage. They struggle, in a culture awash in lies, to tell what few have the fortitude to digest. They know that what we are taught in school, in worship, by the press, through the entertainment industry and at home, that the melding of the state’s rhetoric with the rhetoric of religion, is empty and false.
The words these prophets speak are painful. We, as a nation, prefer to listen to those who speak from the patriotic script. We prefer to hear ourselves exalted. If veterans speak of terrible wounds visible and invisible, of lies told to make them kill, of evil committed in our name, we fill our ears with wax. Not our boys, we say, not them, bred in our homes, endowed with goodness and decency. For if it is easy for them to murder, what about us? And so it is simpler and more comfortable not to hear. We do not listen to the angry words that cascade forth from their lips, wishing only that they would calm down, be reasonable, get some help, and go away. We, the deformed, brand our prophets as madmen. We cast them into the desert. And this is why so many veterans are estranged and enraged. This is why so many succumb to suicide or addictions.
War comes wrapped in patriotic slogans, calls for sacrifice, honor and heroism and promises of glory. It comes wrapped in the claims of divine providence. It is what a grateful nation asks of its children. It is what is right and just. It is waged to make the nation and the world a better place, to cleanse evil. War is touted as the ultimate test of manhood, where the young can find out what they are made of. War, from a distance, seems noble. It gives us comrades and power and a chance to play a small bit in the great drama of history. It promises to give us an identity as a warrior, a patriot, as long as we go along with the myth, the one the war-makers need to wage wars and the defense contractors need to increase their profits.
But up close war is a soulless void. War is about barbarity, perversion and pain, an unchecked orgy of death. Human decency and tenderness are crushed. Those who make war work overtime to reduce love to smut, and all human beings become objects, pawns to use or kill. The noise, the stench, the fear, the scenes of eviscerated bodies and bloated corpses, the cries of the wounded, all combine to spin those in combat into another universe. In this moral void, naively blessed by secular and religious institutions at home, the hypocrisy of our social conventions, our strict adherence to moral precepts, come unglued. War, for all its horror, has the power to strip away the trivial and the banal, the empty chatter and foolish obsessions that fill our days. It lets us see, although the cost is tremendous.
The Rev. William P. Mahedy, who was a Catholic chaplain in Vietnam, tells of a soldier, a former altar boy, in his book “Out of the Night: The Spiritual Journey of Vietnam Vets,” who says to him: “Hey, Chaplain ... how come it’s a sin to hop into bed with a mama-san but it’s okay to blow away gooks out in the bush?”
“Consider the question that he and I were forced to confront on that day in a jungle clearing,” Mahedy writes. “How is it that a Christian can, with a clear conscience, spend a year in a war zone killing people and yet place his soul in jeopardy by spending a few minutes with a prostitute? If the New Testament prohibitions of sexual misconduct are to be stringently interpreted, why, then, are Jesus’ injunctions against violence not binding in the same way? In other words, what does the commandment ‘Thou shalt not kill’ really mean?”
Military chaplains, a majority of whom are evangelical Christians, defend the life of the unborn, tout America as a Christian nation and eagerly bless the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan as holy crusades. The hollowness of their morality, the staggering disconnect between the values they claim to promote, is ripped open in war.
There is a difference between killing someone who is trying to kill you and taking the life of someone who does not have the power to harm you. The first is killing. The second is murder. But in the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, where the enemy is elusive and rarely seen, murder occurs far more often than killing. Families are massacred in airstrikes. Children are gunned down in blistering suppressing fire laid down in neighborhoods after an improvised explosive device goes off near a convoy. Artillery shells obliterate homes. And no one stops to look. The dead and maimed are left behind.
The utter failure of nearly all our religious institutions—whose texts are unequivocal about murder—to address the essence of war has rendered them useless. These institutions have little or nothing to say in wartime because the god they worship is a false god, one that promises victory to those who obey the law and believe in the manifest destiny of the nation.
We all have the capacity to commit evil. It takes little to unleash it. For those of us who have been to war this is the awful knowledge that is hardest to digest, the knowledge that the line between the victims and the victimizers is razor-thin, that human beings find a perverse delight in destruction and death, and that few can resist the pull. At best, most of us become silent accomplices.
Wars may have to be fought to ensure survival, but they are always tragic. They always bring to the surface the worst elements of any society, those who have a penchant for violence and a lust for absolute power. They turn the moral order upside down. It was the criminal class that first organized the defense of Sarajevo. When these goons were not manning roadblocks to hold off the besieging Bosnian Serb army they were looting, raping and killing the Serb residents in the city. And those politicians who speak of war as an instrument of power, those who wage war but do not know its reality, those powerful statesmen—the Henry Kissingers, Robert McNamaras, Donald Rumsfelds, the Dick Cheneys—those who treat war as part of the great game of nations, are as amoral as the religious stooges who assist them. And when the wars are over what they have to say to us in their thick memoirs about war is also hollow, vacant and useless.
“In theological terms, war is sin,” writes Mahedy. “This has nothing to do with whether a particular war is justified or whether isolated incidents in a soldier’s war were right or wrong. The point is that war as a human enterprise is a matter of sin. It is a form of hatred for one’s fellow human beings. It produces alienation from others and nihilism, and it ultimately represents a turning away from God.”
The young soldiers and Marines do not plan or organize the war. They do not seek to justify it or explain its causes. They are taught to believe. The symbols of the nation and religion are interwoven. The will of God becomes the will of the nation. This trust is forever shattered for many in war. Soldiers in combat see the myth used to send them to war implode. They see that war is not clean or neat or noble, but venal and frightening. They see into war’s essence, which is death.
War is always about betrayal. It is about betrayal of the young by the old, of cynics by idealists, and of soldiers and Marines by politicians. Society’s institutions, including our religious institutions, which mold us into compliant citizens, are unmasked. This betrayal is so deep that many never find their way back to faith in the nation or in any god. They nurse a self-destructive anger and resentment, understandable and justified, but also crippling. Ask a combat veteran struggling to piece his or her life together about God and watch the raw vitriol and pain pour out. They have seen into the corrupt heart of America, into the emptiness of its most sacred institutions, into our staggering hypocrisy, and those of us who refuse to heed their words become complicit in the evil they denounce.
Chris Hedges, who spent nearly two decades as a war correspondent for The New York Times and other newspapers, is the author of “Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle,” due out in July. His Truthdig column appears every Monday.
posted by Sara Hickman at 03:51 am
comments (3) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
From Kim Richardson on Facebook
May 29, 2009
Exemplary points.
Love,
Sara
The following was written by Kim Richardson:
If marriage is a holy union between a man and a woman, and by holy I mean religious, then:
why are atheists allowed to marry?
why are people allowed to marry without any religious ceremony?
If marriage is for children to grow up in a home where they can be cared for by a man and a woman:
why is divorce legal? why isn't there a movement to make it illegal? isn't it the biggest threat to marriage?
why aren't people who create children compelled to marry?
why aren't childless married people compelled to create children?
why are there so many children in the foster care system?
why are divorced parents allowed to keep their children?
Does freedom from religion exist if law abiding citizens are denied equal rights because one religion disagrees with those rights?
Religion is a protected choice. IF homosexuality was a religion that believed marriage to be a union between a man and a man or a woman and a woman, would it be protected?
If marriage is a religious union, why does it involve the state at all? There is no state involvement in a baptism, or a bar or bat mitzvah. Why is marriage different?
What if marriage wasn't a state issue? What if all adults were able to join in a civil union or domestic partnership? And marriage was a religious ceremony held separately by people who practiced religions that believe in it?
posted by Sara Hickman at 01:55 pm
comments (2) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
Come out and celebrate!
May 26, 2009
the 2010 Official State Musician of Texas! Whoo-hoo! I need me some
friends and family so we can rock the capitol with laughter and love!!!
Thank you! Bless you!
An excited and humbled Sara
If you can't come out, you should be able to watch it all unfold at this link:
http://www.capitol.state.tx.us
On the right-hand side under "Legislative Activity" you'll see "video broadcasts" -
just click on "House" and you can see a live broadcast from the House chamber
(where we will be for the resolution).
posted by Sara Hickman at 07:49 am
comments (3) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
Weird and, yet, still wonderful
May 19, 2009
where she has moved him to...so, I would like to ask those of you in my sphere
to pray that: 1) my dad's health improves 2) my dad's wife will have a change
of heart and decide to share and 3) that we all just stay calm
during this weird time in life.
Sunday I went and saw Aubrey, one of the Super Pal Universe
band members, perform with her band, The Creepy Uncles,
at Saxon. I was so proud to see her up there, singing her own songs,
playing guitar (she's fingering barre chords, now, too!) and she even
took a solo, but dang! no volume pedal or anyone at the board to
raise her solo, so I struggled to hear it. The band was great...men
with tattoos next to 15 year old smooth skinned Aubrey in her
blue and black plaid jumper dress! I still think the vocals should
be over the music, but I guess not eveyone agrees with me.
Too bad. I really wanted to, still, hear what she had to sing
about with her lyrics!
Super Pal Universe opened, and they sounded stellar. I could
really hear the gel in their vibe, and see the growth in their
musicianship (as well as height!) I got a lot of flack when I suggested
the kids learn "End of The World As We Know It' by R.E.M., but
I was dead on RIGHT cuz it is really, really cool to hear Aubrey
belting out the words. Evan's mic wasn't hot enough, so couldn't hear
his backing vox, but I could hear Livvy, who has grown ever more
confident in her playing. Rush was slamming on the drums, right in
the pocket. He's always had it, from day one. Evan's lead playing
was sure footed, too, and he's grown into himself, although he
has always been a delight to work with. Cool and confident.
Jacob has finally caught up with the other kids---he used to
be the shortest, but now they are all eye level. He's born to
be an entertainer. It's in his blood. My heart hurt a little with
an ache for things that could have expanded with that group,
but, overall, I was just a proud mamasita watching her brood
jam out the jams! Aubrey sounded REALLY confident in SPU,
her vocals now memorized, a part of her physicalality. It takes
a while to "own" a song, to make it your own. I could see
that is what has happened with the entire group.
It' s nice to be in the Saxon with no smoke.
Then went and heard Cary Cooper at the Journey Church up
north. Wow oh wow. Loved her songwriting, loved seeing
how her brain works, loved the timbre and quality of her
voice---nothing fancy, just right to the point with a hint
of smoke (not the kind that used to be at the Saxon, mind you.
Watching her perform with her husband, Tom, was very gratifying
and not silly or sexy or nutty. Just sure and loving. Cool place, too.
Looking forward to singing there. Saw Kristin, she was shining, as
ever, and sat in with Cary and Tom and it sounded magical,
full....
Came home to the family. Wanting to be with them more than
ever these days.
I sing at Nutty Brown tonight. Hope there will be some families there....
posted by Sara Hickman at 10:45 am
comments (4) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
An idea to support Folk Music
May 16, 2009
has reached out to the music community, asking us what the administration can do better to help serve
our field...:
I agree that to be a part of the dialogue, one has to approach this opening with care and finesse. If I may suggest an idea,
it would be astounding if, once a month, a different artist was allowed to present music for 30 minutes for a concert
on the White House lawn, or inside. Old Town School of Music, in conjunction with the International Folk Alliance,
could be the presenters, and this would build relationships and greater understanding of what folk music is and how
it sustains and endures people, not only in the United States, but around the world. PBS could be involved,
or a cable show, to share the music that the president/staff/guests are being treated to,
and it helps expose different artists to a greater audience. I think to build a relationship,
the music has to be present. Nothing speaks louder than the art itself, and what greater
gift to give to the nation, and it's leader, than the very heartbeat of human creativity---
the human voice? Thank you for providing a format to discuss ideas.
Sara Hickman
posted by Sara Hickman at 06:10 am
comments (2) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
Update on my Dad
May 12, 2009
I stopped in La Grangeto have coffee with Mike and Ginger, at their ranch,
where I was blessed to have the first sign of the morning---a brand new
purple martin home that Mike had just put up the day before...and as I
popped out of my car, Mike excitedly said, "Look!" and up a-top of
the three story home, perched in the sky on a long, skinny pole, there
sat a beautiful, proud purple martin, warbling away.
"Welcome! This is your home!" Mike exclaimed. He then turned and
said, "You brought him with you...it's our first one! I can't believe
he found us!" and then he smiled and talked about the purple martin
house that Holly and Julie want to install in honor of my dad. I felt
very elated to see the purple martin, his new home, my friend, Mike,
happy as a clam, the song of the martin filling the air. A good sign,
indeed!
After a blessed time of conversation and hugs, and little Tinker,
the fluffy, sweet dog sitting by my side, we said our goodbyes
and I got into my car to head off down the road.
As I was leaving the property, I pulled over off
the freeway, almost immediately!.
I saw a gigantic turtle about to make a ba-a-a-d decision.
Sitting at the edge of the freeway, considering a pass at
crossing across...
He was a heavy bloke, and although he was kicking frantically, I managed to
carry him across the busy road and into a reedy, wet swampy area.
"Good day, sir!" I said as I plopped him down, gently. "You are my second
sign!"
There were some phone calls as I drove, updates on my dad and how
he might be moved from the facility he is currently at...This is all
very complicated and family related, so I won't say more here. Just know
that I was trying to drive the way of the turtle---steady and calm,
knowing I would arrive just when I should. Listening to "Purple Martin"
by Brian Cutain, who had just handed me the song on Friday, also in
honor of my dad. And what a gorgeous, lilting, lovely song it is.
I was surrounded, in my car, by nature's spirit.
I arrived to find my mom waiting for me in the reception area, and we
hugged and gathered ourselves and went up to see Dad.
Well, he was very bright eyed, and just since Saturday, he seems to
be more responsive, and my mom was surprised at how
healthy he looked. He seemed to follow my mom with his eyes around
the room, and that was very good news! I was able to talk with
one of his doctors, the head nurse, to talk with the COO, and that gave
us more information on my dad's status. I was able to sit with him
for lengths at a time, just holding his hand, just talking about
art or life or helping the nurses with the variety of things they
have to do...letting dad know what was about to be injected or
helping him to relax.
This is all very nebulous, I know. It is for our family, too. I am trying
to walk the thin line of sharing information about my father, and
keeping his level of privacy, as well.
He is no longer on life support, but still being assisted and unable
to care for himself. I am hoping that he will continue to strengthen.
As my mom said in a beautiful prayerful email she sent this morning,
"Perhaps he will someday be able to paint, again..." That is his
life long passion, and I know if he is able to hold a paint brush again,
someday, that is what will happen. Art. And it will be astounding,
at that.
I have no doubt all the prayers on behalf of my dad are helping.
Thank you for keeping good thoughts of David in your mind
as you walk through your day. And hug/love/honor/celebrate those
you love as you see them/think of them...let them know they matter
to you. Help them to gather memories being made that they can treasure...
In gratitude,
Sara
posted by Sara Hickman at 07:35 am
comments (2) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
My friend, Mike McGee: Vote for his art!
so let's support him in this endeavor! GoooOOOOooo, Mike!
I've submitted some photos to Jones Soda to see if one of them might end up being on one
of their labels. Some of what I submitted is artwork, some actual photographic images.
Here is my "page" (3 total):
http://www.jonessoda.com/gallery/index.php?search[text]=Mike%20McGee&offset=1
If you could, please take the time to go here and vote on a photo or two that might make a good soda label.
You know what I win if my image gets picked? Nothing!
I help advertise a corporation's wares for free.
So there's no reason not to do it, right?
posted by Sara Hickman at 07:31 am
comments (1) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
thank you to my cousin, mike
May 09, 2009
i wanted to agree with that story, that miracles happen all the time, but sometimes they are happening
and maybe we are too busy or too unbelieving or aren't even aware, in general, that a gift is taking place.
i'm a doofus because i'm grateful for every sign i get, even if i'm fooling myself into thinking something
positive and/or miraculous has just happened. and i believe the more i am aware and grateful for
those special moments, the more they happen. it's a circle of awareness followed by gratitude.
so, today, i am going to be grateful for the story you sent because it is going to remind me,
again, that God is saying, "Look, and you'll see..."
i'm on my way to houston this morning to see my dad for the first time in a week.
i'm grateful because i'm going to get to hold his hand, because my family is traveling with me,
and because i feel something wondrous is going to happen today. i know my dad is most likely gone,
i don't expect a grand miracle that he will sit up and open his eyes, but i know that a quiet whisper of something
beautiful is going to unfold, and if i am very still, i will get to hear and see the Grace that is in the room,
and that is the gift i want to share with my dad today.
NOTE: my cousin, mike, and i grew up together among the friendship and family of our
siblings, cousins, elder family members over the course of many, many summers and family
reunions in the hills of arkansas and missouri, laughing and playing with frogs and jumpin'
in swimmin' holes, catchin' crawfish, pretending we'd grow up to be opera singers or architects,
putting on skits and singing songs for our grandparents in the basement of aunt loretta's enormous
house...complete with a pool table and a fridge stocked with pepsi. we'd all run down to the
pasture and play in the creeks and hop on, bareback, to the miniature ponies or sometimes, if
we were lucky, my grandpa would come down and saddle up the big horses, which our cousin
amy knew how to ride. we'd all pile in my grandpa's car before fourth of july and go to the local
fireworks display and we'd load up the trunk with fireworks to take out to the cabin on eagle
lake, where the adults would BBQ and we kids would dare to cross the rope bridge, or go down
the long, winding stone steps to the bottom of the hill where the lake was running like a lazy
snake (which, sometimes, we'd find, too!)...we'd build little boats of sticks and cotton, and then
throw rocks to sink them to the bottom...they'd ring a big, brass bell at the top when dinner
was ready, and we'd fill our bellies 'til they felt like they'd pop, and then it was time for
the fireworks to explode, and we were excited as a bunch of kids can be...i have tons of photos
of uncle harold with duke, his big, black lab...and i remember the mounds of dishes of
pies, cakes, jellies, marshmellow gooey yummy stuff with fruit and the sugar rush
completed with a glass of homemade lemonade, not too sweet, not too sour. the american
flag waving proudly from the porch. falling asleep at night, windows open (screens on!) in a
room full of cousins, everybody whispering, straining to catch what the older kids were
jabbering about, the hazy quiet lull of sleep, waking up the next morning to sunshine
and realizing everyone was already down at the lake, swimming...
i love my memories, and i love the roberts family, my grandmothers' sister's side of our family.
i love my grandma's wedding ring, which i wear proudly, now, as my own, and my grandmother's
steinway piano, which i can't play very well, but my kids' are learning to play. and i
am grateful for family when words fail and hearts can swell because you share something
that words can't express...a love that has grown over time and travel and quiet and loud
and phones and letters and it is something i only wish my children could experience---
which i try to share through passing on of stories---but i wish they could, truly, have jumped
in the swimmin' hole with me, and seen cocoa, the giant brown quarterhorse, munching on
my tee shirt, his mouth green from grass, and me having to run up the hill to my grandma's,
half naked, laughing, free, a child with no worries in a time and space when life is
lush with possibilities and love is all you know.
posted by Sara Hickman at 03:31 am
comments (2) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
A little bit of fun…"Learn You Like A Book” in a song contest
May 05, 2009
Vote for my version of "Learn You Like A Book" and if it wins song of the year, you'll have helped
me and my friends, Colin Boyd and Tricia Mitchell, who wrote the song! Plus Colin is singing on
the song with me...It's a win-win for us...and for the state of Texas! Whoo-hoo!!!
Love,
Sara
posted by Sara Hickman at 04:52 am
comments (1) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
My cousin Mike remembers my dad and his love of creating art…
May 03, 2009
his big smile, his loud laughter, his amazing paintings and i said my prayer. i wished that he can release
and move on to another place where he finds all these paints and brushes and canvases and that everything
he paints - he loves and it looks amazing to him and that the colors and paintings flow off the canvases and
spread out into engery and love and happiness... it was kinda weird but i could visualize/feel it and it
made me smile for a minute in my sadness. i also had memories of uncle allen, aunt martha, summers in
arkansas that we all shared as children. we are lucky and blessed. hugs to you all. give my love and support to
all the family. we're all thinking about you guys at this hard time.
posted by Sara Hickman at 11:39 am
comments (2) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
More dad memories
April 30, 2009
laying in the grass with our two guinea pigs, Charlotte and Nibbles, on
his shirt
Brisket
Seeing rows and rows and jars and jars of hand mixed acrylic paints
on hand made shelves my dad built in his painting studio
Popping in to say "goodnight" to my dad when his painting studio
was still upstairs in our house, the bright light of the overhead
bulb, walking in to see my dad's back as he was intent on finishing
a line or stroke
My dad buying my mom a beautiful piece of handmade jewelry
from...rats...hmm...what is his name? Well, we all had matching rings
my dad had made by this artist. My dad's was gold with lapis lupis (dark
blue stone) and my mom's was gold with ivory, with a small gold dot
in the middle, and my sister and I had matching gold rings with
half-lapis and half-ivory. I still have mine and wish I had my dad's.
Watching my dad laugh until he cried! When I am really goofy or
extremely tired, I do the same thing. It's an awesome feeling, to
laugh that hard!
My dad coming to visit my elementary school and to talk about
life as an artist. He brought HUGE paintings. I remember running around,
I was excited and nervous! And kind of embarrassed, too. So, I've always
remembered that feeling and tried my hardest to let my girls' know that
I"m coming to teach at their schools WAAAAY ahead of time so they
can, hopefully, not feel wierd when I show up.
Taking long family road trips in the car, a station wagon with
fake wood paneling, and my dad telling hilarious stories, sometimes
sad stories, that he would make up as he would drive. I vaguely
remember one about a hawk and a catapillar and their long journey.
Rounding the corner in a rainstorm in Maine to a GIANT dinosaur
tail up above the road! We pulled over...it was a dinosaur sculpture park,
with thunder and lightning---ppzzzapp!---and no one else at the park.
This was during the time I wanted to be a paleontologist, so I'm grateful my
parents pulled over for us to look at these strange creatures in the middle
of a wooded no where.
posted by Sara Hickman at 12:17 pm
comments (3) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
on the cusp of understanding those gentle dreams
April 28, 2009
i see their gaping mouths
they suck me up from ragged sheets,
the sweat soaked pillow,
the anger i had wallowed in
swallowed up long ago
when, once, it did begin
now a full blown habit
of unending dis-ease.
the halls and lines of walls
and dusty, hardened floors
of wood and sod and concrete and
plaster and mold and hair and
past and unseen
blood and tears
i walked these years, again and again,
searching for a secret
i can not see or know how to find
this lack of mine own eyes able to sigh
and stretch and flutter still,
these eyes that crane their neck
towards every sight between the blink
every sound a gong
these eyes are never going to
let me see the cooling
shades of nightfall
the harmony of rest
the waking of a dawn...
no one knows the horrors that have
crawled under my skin
others rise refreshed
while i struggle, just, to be my best.
love,
sara
4/28
waiting for word on my father
houston, tx
10:09 a.m.
posted by Sara Hickman at 10:03 am
comments (2) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
Take it easy…Take it slow. Slow parenting…
April 24, 2009
What is Slow-Parenting?
By LISA BELKIN
A running theme on Motherlode is that life simply goes by too fast. Carl Honoré thinks he has the solution.
He is the author of “The Power of Slow: Finding Balance and Fulfillment Beyond the Cult of Speed,” and, more recently,
“Under Pressure: Rescuing Our Children from the Culture of Hyper-Parenting,” which is being re-released in paperback
in the United States today.
Together the books have become a bible of sorts for those who are part of what has been dubbed
the “Slow Parenting” movement, although, as Honoré will tell you in a moment (patience, patience),
that is not his term.
He and I talked by email — Honoré home in London, me home in New York. The conversation, fittingly, meandered over several days. My questions and his answers were these:
What is slow parenting?
You know, the funny thing is that I don’t use the term “slow parenting” anywhere in Under Pressure.
I felt it didn’t communicate all of the complexities and nuances of modern childrearing. It seems to me
that today we are speeding up children too much in some ways (academic hot-housing, for example)
while slowing them down too much in other ways (not letting them walk to school alone until they’re, um, 23).
That said, the phrase “slow parenting” has gained currency — and so I’m happy to use it.
I take it to mean “slow” in its broadest sense. My first book, “In Praise of Slowness,” examines how the world
got stuck in fast-forward and chronicles a global trend towards putting on the brakes. That trend is called the
Slow movement.
“Slow” in this context does not mean doing everything at a snail’s pace. It means doing everything at the
right speed. That implies quality over quantity; real and meaningful human connections; being present
and in the moment.
To me, Slow parenting is about bringing balance into the home. Children need to strive and struggle and
stretch themselves, but that does not mean childhood should be a race. Slow parents give their children
plenty of time and space to explore the world on their own terms. They keep the family schedule under
control so that everyone has enough downtime to rest, reflect and just hang out together. They accept that
bending over backwards to give children the best of everything may not always be the best policy. Slow
parenting means allowing our children to work out who they are rather than what we want them to be.
Slow parents understand that childrearing should not be a cross between a competitive sport
and product-development. It is not a project; it’s a journey. Slow parenting is about giving kids lots
of love and attention with no conditions attached.
How did we get this off track in the first place?
We have stumbled into a unique moment in the history of childhood where we feel i
mmense pressure to give our children the best of everything and make them the best
at everything – to give them a “perfect” childhood.
We got here because a number of trends have converged at the same time to produce
a cultural perfect storm. The rise of globalization has brought more competition
and uncertainty to the workplace – which makes us more anxious about equipping
our kids for adult life. The consumer culture has reached a kind of apotheosis in recent years
and the net effect is to create a culture of soaring expectations: we now want perfect teeth,
perfect hair, a perfect body, perfect vacations, a perfect home – and perfect children to round off the portrait.
Demographics have also changed in ways never seen before in history. Smaller families mean
we have more time and money to lavish on each child. Parents are more anxious because
small families give them less experience of parenting and put their genetic eggs in fewer baskets.
Parents of both genders are having kids older, or after many years in the workplace. As a result,
we end up importing the office ethos into the home. We think, “Well, how can we parent better? Why
don’t we do what we do at work when we want to improve our performance: bring in the experts,
spend lots of money and put in long hard hours – we will professionalize parenting.”
The bottom line is that parents in this generation have lost their confidence. That makes us easy
prey for companies hawking unnecessary tools for childrearing (helmets to protect two-year-olds
from toddling injuries, anyone?). And very vulnerable to pressure from other parents
(“What, you mean your child doesn’t have a tutor?!?”).
Is the recession a possible reason for parents to slow down?
The recession could play out in two ways.
It could cause parents to push their children even harder in the belief that the
world has become still more competitive and if they fail to conquer Mandarin
by their fourth birthday they can forget about going to college.
But I prefer the optimistic view, which is that this recession will force us all to
rethink every aspect of our society – from the way we run the financial system
to the way we consume to the way we raise our children.
When there is less money around, then signing up for every single extracurricular
activity suddenly seems like a less attractive option. In these belt-tightening times,
and after a period of wild and reckless spending, maybe people will start to rediscover
the simple pleasures in life. For families, that means spending time together that does
not revolve around buying stuff, following a schedule or building the perfect resume.
This transition will be hard because we are all so marinated in the idea that we have to push,
polish and protect our kids with superhuman zeal. That we have to strain every sinew in our bodies,
and stretch every dollar we earn to the breaking point, to give them the best of everything and make
them the best at everything. But with time I think many parents will feel relieved that they have been
liberated from the tyranny of supplying the perfect childhood.
Here in London where I live, one father I know lost his job in banking. The result was his two
highly-scheduled children got yanked from most of their extracurricular activities.
For several weeks he felt like a failure but last Sunday he woke up and realized that the family
had a completely free day stretching out before them (instead of the usual manic dash to take the
kids to multiple activities) – and he actually felt good about it. “I exhaled and it was like I was letting
out a breath that I’d been holding for years,” he told me.
posted by Sara Hickman at 08:43 am
comments (0) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
The Metalpecker
across our concrete floor.
He went to check it out.
Sitting here at the computer, I heard him say, "It's coming from the fireplace...."
I shouted from the office, "Maybe it's a raccoon?"
The next thing I knew, he informed me it was a woodpecker.
He had gone outside and seen a small, red headed woodpecker peckin' away
at the top of our fireplace vent...
which
is
made
of
METAL.
Just another fun day here at the H.S. household!
Lance says, "It's flown away, but I saw it, sitting up there..."
Not more than five minutes go by, and we hear it pounding away again...
So we both sneak outside...sure enough, there it is. It's little beak
trying to gain entrance into a very solid surface.
Lance and I just stood there on the mound of grass behind our house, staring,
wondering.
"Maybe it's a young woodpecker?" I mused.
It stopped. I think I must have insulted it because it flew directly over our heads
and hasn't returned.
I guess, perhaps, we've discovered a new species?
posted by Sara Hickman at 06:36 am
comments (1) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
My Dad Is Laying in ICU in Houston
April 23, 2009
would fall asleep when the t.v. was on
he loves m&ms
he loves to paint until 4:30 in the morning
he loves to read
he loves, with all his heart, matisse
he loves the color purple
his middle name is coleman
he has one sister
he has a little white dog named max that looks like a mop!
he has an orange cat with a smushy face
he was a marine
he lives in new ulm, tx in a house that has 14, 000 square feet!
he used to collect beanie babies and put them on his dash board
he made his own furniture
he once hand sewed himself a purple suit (pants and jacket)
he was a christian, for awhile, and painted a beautiful portrait of
jesus at the well
he was married three times
he teaches art
he has two daughters
he loved waylon jennings and jane (darn, can't think of her name...french singer)
and a guy from "the dukes of hazard" who put out a record
his parents were named martha and al
he once painted kennedy on the beach in africa during his stint in the marines
(he was the only artist in the troops and the president was visiting)
he introduced me to herb alpert and the tijuana brass
he cried one time when he heard me singing "mr. bojangles"
the best time was driving across texas and up into arkansas together, just the two of us
to visit family in rogers, arkansas
he burned popcorn, once, when i was a kid and my mom was out of town! our whole
house smelled bad for an entire day
he had a quadruple by-pass the day i was recording "oh, daddy"
he went to scotland
he went to italy
he loved cigars
he has taught at the U of H since 1969
he cut the wierd fish off my line in padre island when i caught a
long slinky silver eel with gianormous eyes
that's all i can think of right now
posted by Sara Hickman at 05:02 pm
comments (2) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
Bluebirds and Blueprints
"Snickerdoodles and thumbprints, Batman! The Joker's
played his card one
too many times!"
I coulda written for that show, I swear!
Driving round in circles...
Gorgeous Austin spring!
Ring-a-ling-a-ding-dong!
Spring's song, coo-coo-ca-choo!
Martha, my patient van, toodling
Noodling
Oodling along
as I
wonder, "Where the heck IS this place?
Will I find this awesome space...?
Oh, dear...Oh, my! I left my cell phone!..."
Giant yellow dumptruck
Blocks street's view
Bam! Bam! Bam! It is NOISY!
From behind that, coming, running,
holding but not strumming:
guitar in hand!
A young man! A Boysy!
Jumpin' joysey!
I see him and I know:
He's for ME!
I pull the van over, right there,
middle of the street, and
hop out, running towards
guitar boy
And it's HIM!
Ha ha ha! How did he know
To look for this lost soul
JUST AT THAT MOMENT?
Jason Molin.
Brother of the muse! He is
Amusing light dancing/la la la-ing underneath the bridge
As we write cumbias about bananas
And I find a dinosaur tooth
in the creek!
Slick and wet, pop it in my pocket
A rock...it's in my pocket!
A little feat!
Grafitti, vine snakes, mud daubers' tubes,
Cool clay attached just above my head
Intwined with spider webs
And morning's breeze.
All the news, the juice, the
Creative use of words/rhythm/yes!
a dog named Townes,
a palette to lay his caricature painted head
on the top!
LOOK OUT FOR THE POISON IVY!
(I had no idea, really, what it looked like
But you showed me...now I know
Spunky red amidst the three tonged leaves...)
...homemade chocolate chip cookies...
warm on the plate!...
By the woman, your wife, carrying your child--
She can speak fluid Spanish
She can speak French!---
I hug her!
I smile.
I am very happy in this provencial robin's egg
Blue cacoon of a tall ceilinged nest!
A studio!
Paintings galore!
I'm in an expansive roar
To sing and sing and sing some more!
Bluebirds and blueprints
First stint at newsprint
Trumpet vines
Unwinding
Day is nearly done
I come home
To find my father
Has fallen ill
And this circle is
Not broken.
posted by Sara Hickman at 12:55 pm
comments (0) | e-mail this entry | permalink | digg it | discuss this entry at Start The Dialogue
sarahickman.com | Bio | Music | Shows | Press | Store | Community | Zooks
Copyright © 1993-2009 Sara Hickman/Sleeveless, LLC | 678444
Whether you've learned about Sara Hickman through her music, her family, her causes, or her films, you know that her originality, creativity, and enthusiasm bring a fresh meaning to the well-worn phrase "living life to the fullest."
What makes Sara tick? What has she been up to since she first hit the ground running (well, at least crawling in the early years)?
Read a complete bio at sarahickman.com.
AAIM envisions a respectful, caring and inclusive community where people of diverse cultures and religions are actively involved in enhancing the quality of life in the Austin area.
Listen to AAIM's PSA
Visit AAIM's website
Visit Start the Dialogue
Click here to preview!
Click here to Order!
Press Coverage
KUT's Austin Music Minute
Jupiter Index interview
Motherlode Reviews
Sara heads the Austin Chronicle Fortunate 500 Music List once again!
Here's the 2006 list.
Listen and vote for Sara on the American Idol Underground, featuring on-demand streams of popular artists like Sara!
Check out this cool map showing where Sara fans are across the nation -- and add yourself to the map!
Motherlode
Click here to preview!
Click here to order!
Faithful Heart
Click here to preview!
Click here to order!
Big Kid
Click here to preview!
Click here to order!
Featuring "Look At Me" as heard on American Idol!
I Am Going On A Journey: the DVD
Click here to preview!
Click here to order!
