Boys & Girls Club, Copperas Cove
September 25, 2004

posted by Sara Hickman at 10:32 am
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Ok, Funny Story
September 22, 2004

I was at my mailbox, checking through the mail, when I spied a letter written in pencil, addressed to me. I slipped my finger under the back flap and gently unfolded the contents.

The letter was odd from the get go. Written on the backside of a piece of notebook paper, the writer informed me that they had four of my college paintings and if I was interested in getting them back, I needed to write them at the following address before a certain date as a move was in progress and they needed to know what to do with the paintings. The name attached didn’t sound familiar at all, and I wondered how they had come into contact with my paintings? The end noted I had four or five days from the time of the receipt of letter to correspond…

Well, I was excited. I hadn’t seen the paintings in 20 some odd years. Some of them are the ones posted on my website…

At the time I thought it was strange how they didn’t have a phone number, but I wrote back, right away.

Within a week, I received a certified envelope (again, in pencil!) that I had to sign for…inside, another mysterious letter. This time I was informed if I wanted to see the paintings, I needed to send $4500. The letter writer had decided that since they had stored the paintings for all those years, they were going to charge me a certain amount per month per painting and it totalled the $4500.

I couldn’t believe it! I must have stood there in the post office, re-reading and re-reading the letter. I took it home to show Lance, and we both got a good laugh out of it. I have the letter somewhere in my file of bizarre letters.

And, no, I didn’t buy the paintings back. I didn’t even respond to such blackmail. I would suppose the paintings are in a dumpster by now.

There you have it.

posted by Sara Hickman at 08:06 am
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November 12
September 16, 2004

I’m performing two shows on November 12 with Strings Attached. The second show will be broadcast live on KGSR…I’m hoping y’all will come out and cheer us on as I don’t do many “big” shows in Austin…and I want KGSR to be as excited as we are…they have played “There Is No Name For Love” from FAITHFUL HEART and they played “Woman Waiting to Happen” from SPIRITUAL APPLIANCES…I think if they could see that there is a group of support for my music, it would help tremendously in future air play…Then I wouldn’t have to answer the question, “Why don’t they play your music on the radio very often?”

PLUS: Nothing better than having a big audience full of love and good joo-joo to perform to!!!

Lastly, I am thinking of hiring a video crew to tape the shows so I can create a video…What do you all think of that? Any feedback?

posted by Sara Hickman at 08:58 am
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Bless this Whole World
September 11, 2004

Bless this Whole World. Today and everyday. Right now. Make each of us shine and help us to enjoy the fact that we are ALIVE and we can bring peace and comfort and happiness to one another.

Bless this Whole World. No matter the color of skin or the nation we live in.
Remind us of our purpose and give us food and water to nourish our bodies.
Help us to learn how to farm and teach and grow as individuals so we can extend our talents into our communities.

Bless this Whole World. Where this is war, let there be peace. Where there is anger, let there be forgiveness. Where there is suffering, let there be
a hand to hold and bring comfort.

posted by Sara Hickman at 09:00 am
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Hello, Mr. Kerry? A poem

(Dial tone…sounds of buttons being pressed…ringing…ringing…ringing..)

Hello, Mr. Kerry?
Are you listening?
Cuz we hope you hear us,
somehow
Mr. Kerry…
Are you listening
More than ever
We need you right now…

Cuz the world is a mess
And I must confess
There is hopelessness…

Hello…Mr. Kerry?
Are you out there?
Now’s your chance to
Make up your mind
Take the bull by the horns
Walk up to that plate
Be sure of yourself
And you’ll find…

That the world needs someone
As sure as they come
To lead…what a chance in a million

Mr. Kerry…if you’re listening
Listen to this voice
And give us a choice
To believe in

The right is all wrong
And what’s left isn’t strong enough
But I must have hope
You’ll go on
And stop wasting the time
You’ve been given

Oh, Mr. Kerry
What are you doing?
Stop chewing on the past
And make a point that will last
We just want to enjoy the lives
That we’re living

The list is so long…
So very, very long…but simply put:
We all want peace…

and we want justice
We want the truth from leaders
We want to feel safe…
We want clean air…
We want integrity…and we want liberty
Not just at home…
But abroad
Please…
Work with other nations
And police stations
And tax proportionally
And don’t forget…. better education
And we need to understand
That we are part of a planet
Not the owners…
So if you really speak French
Do it now
Speak it out loud
In front of a crowd
Just dive on in
There is no sin
To be who you are
To be a star
You have to shine
In your own way
Or else you play
As very strange
And self-absorbed
And a little scared

So, just let go! What have you got to lose?
Just choose
To be yourself
You…who…can…do…it…now…or never…
It won’t be long before millions
Pull a lever
Change your fate
Before it’s too late
Just be JOHN
And bring it on!

Hello…? Hello…Mr. Kerry?

posted by Sara Hickman at 08:54 am
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Sadness
September 09, 2004

How is it that someone can look into the face of a child and create such terror without feeling any sense of moral outrage? How is it that our beautiful world, full of so many wonders and mysteries, has to be dominated by human beings torturing, maiming, raping, despising, bombing, stabbing, ignoring, blaming and
mutilating one another? What kind of energy is released from all of this hatred?
How does it escalate into what happened at the school in Russia?
Or the mass killings in Rwanda? Or the death and destruction of the Twin Towers and the lives within? How is it that Palestinians are being held in concentration camps upon their own land, and yet the world turns a blind eye?
How is it that Ireland has conflict between religious groups that causes nothing but sorrow and deep seeded prejudice? How is it millions of people, every year, are sold into slavery and kept, ” secretly”, out of the public eye…yet these people provide clothing, toys, shoes, appliances, furniture for the entire world?
How can we stand it? How is it that care, compassion and forthright change
is not at the forefront of any sane person’s conversation?

How do I protect my children? How do I know their schools are safe? How do I know my president cares about any of this? How do I know what to do every day? How do we go on?

This is how we go on:

First, we must continue to talk about it. Conversation leads to action. Action leads to change. And change leads to more conversation. It is cyclical, it is necessary, and we must all be a part of leading the way.

When I get up in the morning, first thing I do is walk through my house. I walk through my house and I feel the floor under my feet and I thank God I can walk safely through my house on my own two feet.

I kiss my husband when he gets up. I am grateful I have a man I can count on, who treats me with dignity and respect and care. Who is an excellent father to our children. Who is kind and funny. Who I can talk with and move through this world with, asking questions and holding hands. Someone who delights in the sunrise as much as I do.

I brush my cats. I sit on the back stoop and they line up, tails quivering, happy to have the touch of a happy heart. I talk with my cats, brush their coats shiny,
kiss their noses. It is a small thing, to be connected with animals, but it keeps us humble. It reminds us that all creatures, great and small, belong in this world.

We don’t kill bugs. We release them outside. Spiders, cockroaches, flies.
(Occassionally, and only recently, we bought a fly “swapper”, but we always thank the flies as we put them down. But we always try catch and release first and foremost.)

We thank God. We say prayers at every meal, and whenever we feel like talking with God in between. We talk about God with our children. We ask our children questions and let them tell us what “is”. We explore our world and talk about different people and different countries and different customs and try different words when we raise our glass to toast whatever it is we have chosen to toast.

We spend family time together. We have friends and family over as often as possible. We have an open door. We love our neighbors. We ask how they are doing. They comfort us, as well. We have built a community, a small, symbolic system of what we pray the entire world can also have.

I am thinking of those families in Russia, those families in NY, those families in Oklahoma, those families of Palestinians and Israelis and China and Florida and
Cuba and Africa, and I am sending them love. It sounds so naive, doesn’t it? Sending love. What does that mean? I send them love. It is what I can give.
I give here, and I give when I meet a stranger, and through that giving I hope I reach all around the world through some lasting ripple of love.

Johnny Cash once said the reason he always wore black was because there was always suffering, and he would never stop wearing black as long as there was suffering. I understand what he means, the older I get.

And I am in awe of his message. I am in awe of his love for humanity. I will continue to wear color in my clothing because I recognize the suffering he describes, but I also believe in the hope. I believe in the changes. I believe that we shall overcome.

posted by Sara Hickman at 12:16 pm
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Yellow Day at Big Red Sun
September 05, 2004

posted by Sara Hickman at 04:38 pm
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Big Red Sun
September 04, 2004

Pancakes. Sausage. Bacon. The sun just peeking over the walls onto the flowering plumeria and the metallic stage area.

Kids in yellow. Parents in yellow. Friends. Family. Singing. Dancing. Mac, volunteering to hold the cue cards for “iolana”, blushing when I ask him to dance to make his wife proud. Christi in a yellow skirt. Me in my googly, jesterfied sun-kissed bell-o, jello, yellow jingling hat. Lance in his Charlie Brown yellow shirt, complete with wiggly, jaunty line around his chest.

Big Love to Big Red Sun for the first Saturday Sing-a-long with Sara Pancake Breakfast Big Red Fun! Today’s theme: yellow.

Next week: BLUE! Bring something blue, dress in blue: we will have BLUE BELINSKYs to drink! (Smoothies for those of you not in the know. )

I’ll add a pic from this morning’s lovearama later…

Happy Saturday, world!

posted by Sara Hickman at 02:40 pm
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Writing…The Funny, Unbelievable Story Next Entry
September 02, 2004

I’ve been going over to the Music Lab, renting a small rehearsal space, and attempting to write songs again…I don’t even remember the last time I had a quiet moment to myself to compose. Generally, since the birth of my children, I’ve written in hotel rooms while out on tour. Or late at night…but trying to write quietly, so as not to disturb anyone, can be difficult.

The last two days have been exciting. Sort of like dating. I take all of my supplies…a cd player, a tape recorder, pens and pencils and paper and stacks and stacks of ideas on scraps of paper from my “NEW LYRICS FOLDER”…and lay them all out the minute I arrive. I open my guitar case and immediately unwind the cable, plug the guitar into the P.A. system, arrange the mic stand just so, pull up a chair and plop everything around me on various music stands.
I’m my own little symphony of stuff!

Today I went for a walk with my dear friend, Rory, around Town Lake. We talked and laughed and then I could feel the thrill of knowing I was going to get in my white Windstar van, to drive…to the dark cave of the muse…all by myself!…as we rounded the corner of the path. My heart was just happy silly!

Sitting in those rooms, generally, I”m the only girl in the building, too. All the guys are in their twenties, with nose rings and ear holes and tattoos covering every inch of their exposed flesh. Strange, they all have immensely BLACK HAIR, too. Maybe there is a hair salon in the bowels of the lab…?

So, anyway. Today I worked on a song called EDENTOWN. And I’ve been rehearsing songs for the November 12 show with Strings Attached.
Just playing my guitar, changing tunings, reaquainting myself with my first love.
(Gosh. I wish I still had my very first guitar. If anyone out there knows Grace Das from Houston, TX (1970 era), please ask her if she still has it. I would buy it back in a heartbeat.

I’ve got so many plans cooking! Here are some of the ideas I’m getting
involved in hatching…

A cd for moms

A cd for the dying

Another adult cd…I already know the title and the vibe and I’m collecting songs and I’m already talking with Darin Murphy about helping to create it…so that is feeling groovy!

A cd for in-betweeners…ZINE! The next in the line up of children’s cds. I hired a
girl named Rachel to create the art…she does these cool pen and ink/watercolor drawings.

I’d still like to create a solo cd of just me and my guitar…

Working on creating a DVD of animated shorts to my children’s songs. (“Pillowman” has already been created, and it is way hilarious.)

A bunch of other ideas, but I am in the middle of making homemade bbq ribs so gotta go! (Yesterday I made homemade bread…this morning we had french toast with it and YOW ZOW it was good!)

posted by Sara Hickman at 06:12 pm
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Starting Two Days Ago

Let me start with a fun story:

Yesterday, io and I sat out in miniature red, blue and green plastic chairs (one for her shark and her yellow Neo pet, “Picking Flowers”). We placed the chairs at the end of our drive, waiting for the neighborhood to come alive at 7:30 am.
Lily was hopping around, right, left, right, back pack perched over her shoulders, scanning the streets for friends.

From far away, we saw the Root family. We started to cheer, “Come on! You can do it! Go, Louise! Go, Benjamin!” They were about one inch tall, running from the end of the blacktop, growing in size and we yelled, enthusiastically.
Just then, from around the bend, appeared Clara, her mom and three year old sister. Now the crowd went wild!

Yelling for Clara to join the race, she started to run just as Benjamin became a regular sized boy. The friends whizzed past the chairs, stopping for breath, as
io and I hooted with joy. Lily popped over and they all walked on, as if there had never been a mini-Olympics, the quartet of back packs bobbing to and fro on down the street.

io and I decided to stay on, cheering anyone that came by. so, of course, it seemed everyone in the hood at the same time decided to go for a brisk morning walk! We cheered on Pat and Allen, matching in their blue slacks and white tee shirts, smiles as big as you’re born; and the trio of older women, over on the other side of the street, laughing at our antics…and the lady with the headset and the dog, who never heard us yell out, on the count of three: GOOOOOOOD MORRRRRNING!

oh, it was lovely way to start the day.

and it was continued by our trip in the car, listening to songs…

i have a very odd story to tell that i will tell tomorrow. until then, may your day
be full of hootin’ and hollerin’ and all delivered from your own child sized plastic
primary colored chair.

posted by Sara Hickman at 07:16 am
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The Depth of a Tear
September 01, 2004

This morning, I was driving iolana to pre-school, and I popped in a cd of a song
I wrote for my mom. io sits directly behind me in her car seat, just far enough that I can reach behind and hold her hand.

We reached the school, I turned off the engine, hopped out of the front seat and opened the rear, sliding door. To my shock, there was io, sitting quietly,
silent tears streaming down her cheeks. I unfastened her seatbelt, picked her up in my arms, simultaneously wiping her tears, asking her what was wrong.

“That song is so sad…” she whispered in my ear.

I felt a choke in my throat. The song is about my mother’s hands, and how, now, I can look down and see that I, too, have my mother’s hands…and someday, io and Lily will have my hands, too. It is about your mother always being there for you, and even after she is gone, she lives on in your hands.

“Yes, it is sad, honey..but it is also about love….” I responded, gently.
“Did it make you sad because it talks about dying?”

She nodded her little head.

“It does talk about going away. But it also reminds us that we are a family now, and someday, when we die, we will be together, again, in heaven. I promise…”

I stroked her sweet hair and held her tight and we just stood there in the morning sun, dappled with shade from a tree, and hugged and hugged and hugged.

posted by Sara Hickman at 02:47 pm
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