My 2nd Cooking Class at Central Market: 50’s Themed Night
October 24, 2007
My first cooking class was an extravagant 5 course Thai meal. This time, I decided to create 50’s fare…so I arrived in black pumps, my hair flipped out just so, full make-up (including a nice brown eyeliner!) and a perky cotton lace dress, complete with sash tied into a bubbly bow on front. I wore my grandmother Martha’s apron, and brought the stand alone white iron recipe holder (it folds out into an angel!)
Chef Paul was also dressed for the 50’s themed night…in red high top sneakers, hair slicked back, white beefy-tee with cigs rolled into the sleeve, and cuffed blue jeans. Ok, I don’t know what the deal was, but he and I were the ONLY ones dressed for the evening, and I felt like Mrs. Cleaver. He was looking very American Graffiti. I felt like his mother!!!
From my splendid, mesmerizing menu, we created many happy meals, music and memories. And I promise…everyone who experienced the evening will remember us for our quality, service AND value! As my Uncle Nookie used to say, “You are but a stranger here once!” He would say that at family reunions. And, dagnabit, I plan on carrying out his promise at every tradition I create at Central Market and beyond!
Remember, if my homecooking pleases you, tell others! If not, please tell me!
Here’s what was created with love and served with utter joy from this evening’s event:
Chicken Tetrazini (my mom’s recipe!)
The Business Men’s Special (hunk of beef, 1/2 cup of beer, slices of American cheese, onion and tomato soup…all baked together in a lovely avocado colored casserole dish!)
Brunswick Stew (a hearty, rib sticking meal that you can prepare in under a day….The result is bound to please the family after a long day of Christmas shopping! This stew includes two squirrels (we used chicken), onion, ham, tomatoes, lima beans, 1 small red pepper pod, corn, Irish potatoes, salt and pepper…mmm!)
Fyldt Hvidkal (Stuffed Cabbage)….You literally slice the top off of a cabbage and insert the following ingredients (bread crumbs, ground round steak, eggs, ground pork, milk, onion, flour, salt and pepper), then tie the top back on with string, simmer in a small amount of water for two hours, and place on a platter. Cut like a pie or into triangular pieces and serve. I served it with raspberry Kool-aid on ice with a splash of vodka! You can also create a nice tomato based sauce for an extra tang. My mom used to do that.
Ozark Pudding (you know my family is from the Ozarks, don’t you? Now you do!) This is such a yummy dessert. In includes peeled apples, brown sugar and turns into a lovely souffle, which we served with Cool Whip while the pudding was still warm. MMMMmmmmm.
Forgotten Cookies…what? Huh? Hey! Where are those cookies we made! These are cookies you have to leave in the oven overnight WITHOUT peeking (makes them fall.) Oh, man. You MUST come to my next cooking class. You sit and eat while I show you how to make the food you are eating, and you leave with my handmade/handdrawn recipe books…all part of the service, my friends.
Oh, yea…I sing as the courses are being served. Hence the name CM gave for the evening: Music on the Menu. Cool, huh?
I’d like to thank Paul, Phil, Robyn, Steve, Mark, Phyllis, Kelly, Meredith, Linda for all their love and support in making this class possible. I know I am forgetting some of the volunteers names, and I apologize for that because you are ALL so awesome, working hard in the kitchen behind me to prepare food for FORTY people while I yap on up front, stirring and creating frothy concoctions, yammering on like I’ve been a chef all my life while YOU…yes, you, you awesome volunteers…are sweating it out in the overheated kitchen, and yet, somehow laughing and staying calm and getting everything to flow like a feng shue river. Bless you all. I love you. If I wasn’t already married, I’d marry the entire kitchen staff and we’d just eat Forgotten Cookies together under the oak trees and sing to one another on our ukeleles.
Until then….Bon apetit!
posted by Sara Hickman at 09:55 pm
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My Friend, Cat!
for my family and me! Thank you, Cat, for all you do to help us in so many ways!
posted by Sara Hickman at 08:32 pm
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A holy man was having a conversation…
The Lord led the holy man to two doors. He opened one of the doors and the holy man looked in.
In the middle of the room was a large round table. In the middle of the table was a large pot of stew, which smelled delicious and made the holy man’s mouth water.
The people sitting around the table were thin and sickly. They appeared to be famished. They were holding spoons with very long handles that were strapped to their arms and each found it possible to reach into the pot of stew and take a spoonful. But because the handle was longer than their arms, they could not get the spoons back into their mouths.
The holy man shuddered at the sight of their misery and suffering.
The Lord said, “You have seen Hell.”
They went to the next room and opened the door. It was exactly the same as the first one. There was the large round table with the large pot of stew which made the holy man’s mouth water. The people were equipped with the same long-handled spoons, but here the people were well nourished and plump, laughing and talking.
The holy man said, “I don’t understand.”
It is simple,” said the Lord. “It requires but one skill. You see they have learned to feed each other, while the greedy think only of themselves.”
posted by Sara Hickman at 08:25 pm
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Beard Needs our Help!!!!
October 18, 2007
John “Beard” Brewer, ruler of the Dada doorway
Tue Oct 16, 2007 at 10:24:57 AM
Mark Graham
Amanda Newman, new co-owner of Club Dada, sends word this morning that iconic Dada doorman John “Beard” Brewer has been at Parkland Memorial Hospital since Friday night. Brewer suffered what friends are referring to as a seizure. Doctors had expected to remove a breathing tube last night, but did not: Reports a friend of Beard’s, who paid him a visit last night, doctors are “still checking for fluid in his lungs.”
Writes Newman this morning: “Beard does not have insurance, and we are trying to quickly put together a benefit to help defray the costs of his medical care.” Folks who’d like to pitch in can reach Newman via her e-mail address :
“I’ve known Beard since I was 16 years old and trying to sneak into Dada,” Newman says. “When Dada came into new ownership, we got Beard back at the door, and it made Dada feel like home again. Beard is Dada in a lot of ways. He’s the gruff guy who sits outside with his arms crossed and always has a funny insult for somebody. But he’ll bend over backwards for anyone, and it’s our turn to bend over backwards for him.” —Robert Wilonsky
HEY EVERYBODY
I love Beard. He was always incredibly good to me. He took me out to eat with his daughter, Stanzi, and always made sure I felt safe at shows. He introduced me to other
awesome people, and was like a very protective big brother.
I’d like to do a benefit concert at Club Dada, and I’m hoping Brave Combo will come out and we can do one together, like the old days when I wore a white leather
cowgirl dress and boots (what?!…yes, I did.)
If you don’t know Beard, let me say he is all things good and gruff, topped with cinnamon sugar and a heart bigger than Texas. But he can also pummel anyone that
would be intent on hurting anyone else, altho he has a great way of using his gruff to get things to come to a stop before he’d ever resort to actual, physical ka-pow.
If you do know Beard, you are already planning ways to get fund together to help him.
Beard, you’ll never read this, but I am putting it out in the universe and up to God that I love you (both already knew that) and I’ll do my damndest to help you out.
Keep up the good fight and heal!
Sara
posted by Sara Hickman at 04:38 am
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MacHenry’s Closing
regulars who knew each others’ names, who shouted out
yours the minute you walked in the door, who made sure
you had something refreshing to drink and caught you
up on what was going on in the world of music.
I am very much going to miss this place that offered
me the freedom to be me, to sing my songs, to talk as
long as I wanted from the stage.
A home away from home.
Deanna, you did a great job booking and I love your
spirit, your voice (can you sing!) and your enthusiasm
for making MacHenry’s flow. And John, thanks for
making a club that was about the music and the
friendships.
America….don’ t forget your pubs and smaller, family
owned businesses. They are what made this nation who
it is. Places to work and share one’s talents during
the day, and a place to relax at night. Hand in hand,
are we losing the simple basics that feed humanity’s
soul and give people hope? Will everything continue to
grow into Wal-Mart, Starbucks (coffee AND music) and
Home Depots? How can people know who they are and grow
as compex, satisfied individuals who, truly, care
about themselves, their families and their communities
if there is only one collective borg?….
posted by Sara Hickman at 04:30 am
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My Friend Doug Bryan Releases His First Solo CD!
October 16, 2007
has his first solo CD release party this Fri. Oct. 19th in Dallas, Tx! And he is GOOD! Please support a fellow musician
on his path, if you can make it out to the gig (or buy his cd!) Thank you!
Love,
Sara
Here’s the word from Doug:
Hope you can join me and my band The Mad Lovers at Club Dada in Deep Ellum for my CD release party Fri. Oct. 19th. We’ll go
on after the Beatles cover band Hard Night’s Day finish their weekly happy hour set sometime after 9.
My record “Mad Love” is available for purchase in Dallas at Good Records, CD World, and CD Source. You can also
order the CD at http://www.moontownproductions.com. OR… you can download it at ITunes or at
http://www.myspace.com/dougbryanmusic
Please feel free to forward this e-mail and spread the word.
Cheers,
Doug
posted by Sara Hickman at 09:43 am
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My Song on American Idol Chart
Listeners on American Idol Underground have rated your song among the top 50 tracks in the Folk genre during the previous week. You are at #33.
See your place on the charts by clicking here:
http://www.idolunderground.com/Pages/Charts/ChartDetail.aspx?GenreID=6
(You are on the fourth page.)
See you on the site,
The American Idol Underground Team
Get Your Music Heard!
http://www.idolunderground.com
posted by Sara Hickman at 09:04 am
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October 16…Travels, Thoughts, and a Test of Wonder
Drove to Big D for my Poor David’s gigs. Wore my Carmen Miranda overalls that Linda Holt made for me…I love to swirl the bottoms of the oversized mulit-colored tiered pantslegs.
Walking into Poor David’s, a man with a cane (later I discovered his name was also David and it was his birthday) yelled from the parking lot, “HEY,” as he pointed his cane at my overalls. “What are THOSE!?” he finished.
The kids show was an utter delight, mostly children between 2-8, my favorite ages to perform for because they still have their wonder, they still believe in the magic of a song, a story and a smile. Kari Hirst and her husband, Eric, drove down with their sweet Elaine, who is two and has very straight, swingy hair! and I was thrilled to see them all. Also,
Amiti’s sister, Lana, came with her little baby boy and Diana, their mom. Wow! Always surprises me who shows up for the kids’ shows…Chris Conti brought snacks (cookies and juice boxes) for all the kids. Thank you, Chris! Then Kari and I caught up about our mutual forays into the world of creating children’s television….then Chris and I went across the street for dinner at Amuse 5 STARS REALLY AWESOME CHECK IT OUT!! and by then Kristin and Chip had arrived, so we had a nice chat/good eats with them.
Soundcheck: Chip and I ran through some songs after we stopped in at Bill’s Records next door to PD’s and heard a nice country western dude and his honey singing original tunes
(“….I don’t care if I don’t make money, as long as they comp my beer!”) and while Chip and I were getting set up, in walked Bill! I had never met him, which is odd since I lived in Dallas all those years years ago, but I was happy to finally meet another legend…as we were chatting, Bill told me he had lived with his mother all her life, until she had passed away 11 years ago, so I asked Chip and Kristin to help me give a private concert of “My Mama’s Hands” and it was hard not to cry as I sang looking in Bill’s eyes….Definately one of the moments where I am grateful to be a musician…
ADULT SHOW: Two whoops and a holler, if we didn’t have a blast. Cynthia and Kurt and Mike McGee and I’m not gonna remember everyone please forgive me but a great crowd and Carlos ran great sound and I even had a little Goldschlager towards the end (tastes like Christmas! with flecks of gold…) and asked the Ackermans up to sing on “Later Than You Think” and their own song, “Little Bird of Anger”….Then had EVERYONE in the audience come up on stage and we sang “Angels” to the twenty or so still seated. Nice to have a full stage of singing people! I looooooooooooove it!
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 14
Played at Raven’s 5th birthday party in Frisco, Tx….Wowie Zowie! There was a red carpet lining the sidewalk, balloons with “HB RAVEN!” and black stars decorated with each child’s name on the sidewalk leading up to the red carpet….Inside, inflatable electric guitars and plastic microphones, a sno-cone machine, a popcorn machine, and out back a full stage with a covering, PA system and a 6 foot in diameter double lit circle that blinked on and off with HAPPY BIRTHDAY in the middle….tiny little tables and chairs of black and purple, set up in rows about five deep, three across, and a Moonwalk with lots of jumpin’ goin’ on!
I sang/told stories for an hour. Had Raven’s dad, Michael, up to dance, but he got cold feet, so his brother, Robert, came up, and so did little Raven in a shimmery, gold lame top!, and THEY danced and we all laughed and screamed with joy. What a fun, fun party!
SUNDAY NIGHT
Went out with Cyndy, Sara, and two of their friends to Alo, a delicious Tapas and Peruvian restaurant over off of Central and Knox/Henderson. I highly recommend it. I had a Fuzzy Navel to celebrate Cyndy’s birthday, and a taste of the homemade banana ice cream. MMM! Feng shue interior of browns and spring green…very calming and delicious.
Came back to the very generous hotel room I had been given….a suite on the 8th floor of the Valley View Doubletree off 635….had to use my hotel key to get the elevator to even take me to the 8th floor! Whoo!….and my “room” was actually two bedrooms, a living area, a dining area, a kitchen, three bathrooms….a plate of chocolate covered strawberries and a bottle of wine, compliments of the hotel manager….I called down to make sure they had me in the right room, I couldn’t believe it! They assured me I was in the right room (ok, the note from the manager next to the strawberries had confirmed it, but you know, there is the “Sara Hickman” who was on Barney and another S.H. who writes English instruction manuals…could have been for them!) I was SO wishing I had my family here to enjoy this with me. I felt very blessed and decided to just enjoy the sanctuary and quiet time of all……….this……………….space! Thank you to Chris for making this happen, and to Greg, the hotel manager, for making me feel very welcomed and loved.
MONDAY MORNING, OCT 15
Another Chris and her associate, Donna, picked me up and took me over to create a radio spot at KLITE/KVIL headquarters for the November 17th Dallas Help the Homeless Walkathon. I had a hilarious time in the recording studio with ANOTHER Chris and nailed the spot first take. I suggested we do two more, just in case….man, radio is a blast!
I started making goofy faces through the glass window at a DJ across the hall, live on the air, and he started goofing back, and when we were finished in our little studio, went over and realized it was Terry King, who I’ve known from Elektra days, and we hugged and kissed and then I was whirled away to lunch at Chuy’s (hooray! Austin in Dallas!) and
had superb conversations with Chris (her husband helps with a day worker’s program) and Donna (her husband, I later found out, works in video production…!) and then off we went to the United Way where I filmed a commercial….I’ll see if I can’t get some of the outtakes for you. We were cracking ourselves up, I tell you what.
After that, came back to the hotel, got caught up on emails (almost…if you haven’t heard from me, yet, hang in there! I’m almost to you!) Went downstairs to the gift shoppe to buy some thank you notes, and on the way up, discovered there is a secret NINTH FLOOR where my magical key would take me for hors-deurves and beverages…so, up I went and lo and behold! Stuffed, breaded mushrooms with a dill sauce and wine and beer and cheese and crackers and fresh veggies and….I sat and watched the news and relaxed and thought, “Is this how it is for wealthy travelers all the time? Secret rooms and tasty snacks that they rest of us never see….?”
So, this morning, I returned to the Harry Potter Ninth Floor of Yummies and had BREAKFAST, too….at least until I was reprimanded, politely mind you, for not having any shoes upon my feet. I was also wearing my pajamas and the cushy hotel robe. I figured they’d mistake me for some sleepy-eyed Greek heiress, but I guess having bare feet is tacky and heathenistic. Oops. I took my food down to the room and sat in one of the 80 zillion chairs under one of the 1300 lamps and enjoyed my peace and my paper.
I’d like to thank William Silver for calling me last night at 10:30 to share the method of EFT with me (Emotional Freedom Technique). It is a tapping and release method where one works through whatever is holding one back, in essence. We were concentrating on my insomnia, thoughts/concerns over my sister, thoughts on aspects of Super Pal Universe and thoughts on the a word I have carried all my life: “ugly”. I felt very good after our phone session, and was sleepy, and went to sleep. Woke up in spurts, but overall, it seemed like a
a worthy endeavor and I am glad to have experienced it with a teacher of the method! Thank you, William, for taking time out of your day and being a NECESSARY ANGEL!!!!!
Again!
Well, my family is driving up from Austin so we can all go see the exhibit by Ron Mueck, incredible testimony to the tug of art’s spell that creating something in a realistic way can bring thousands of people to see what they look at every day: each other. I am excited about today, just being with family and doing something around art. When I was a little girl, I used to love to go to the museums with my mom and dad…they knew so much about art, and hearing them talk about it, or helping me read about an artist in the bio on the wall, was really fun for me. And it has stuck with me all the years…art has blessed and enriched my life tremedously, so I am happy to share this tradition with my girls.
Back to Austin late tonight. Here’s the test you will love taking…Thank you to the Dalai Lama for all his inspiration and giddiness!
http://memoriter.net/flash/test.html
Ciao!
posted by Sara Hickman at 07:19 am
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Feedback from A Listener About “The One”
October 15, 2007
I hadn’t seen your show before, but had heard good stuff. i’ll be looking for you at your next mucky duck apprearance.
also, i wanted to add…the song about cho (virginia tech)…your intro/explanation was disarming and helpful (to people like me -
i have no sympathy for those who kill). bad stuff happens in this world, and people should suffer consequences. AND we should
all have a dialogue about what those consequences should be. your approach to the subject matter is really wonderful, and
something i didn’t expect. and the important point is…someone who already has a point of view, gave an ear, and listened.
KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK!
HOPE TO SEE YOU SOON!
take care!
ciao!
J.B.
posted by Sara Hickman at 03:04 pm
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UPDATE FROM LITTLE OL’ ME
October 11, 2007
texamericana puts the music of the people into the
hands of the people while supporting radio for the
people…all to say, the circle cannot be broken when we all work together
to keep real music on the air by keeping radio real
ON THE MUSIC FOR LIFE TOUR, WEDNESDAY, OCT. 3, 2007
Last Wednesday, we started the dialogue on the death penalty here in Austin, Texas with #1 in a 12 month series of concerts around the state.
There were a variety of folks who showed up, and thanks to the UT Daily Texan and News 8 for coming out to cover the event.
(But where were KVUE, KXAN, The Chronicle and The Austin American Statesman….?????)
I sang songs of sorrow, songs of hope, songs from a prison inmate’s point of view, a song I wrote from the point of view of Cho’s mother, the young
man who murdered the Virginia Tech students and teachers…
Barbara K sang “my name is truth and you can’t kill me…”
Linda White spoke about her daughter being murdered by two 15 year old boys, how they tricked her into driving towards
a wooded area where they then proceeded to sexually assault and shoot her four times in the head.
And how there is never any closure when your child is murdered. She spoke about how the death penalty does not bring closure: that is a myth.
She said she never once thought of having those boys put to death. She moved everyone in attendance with her thoughts and memories about who her
daughter was…
About what she thinks of the death penalty and how it can not solve anything.
Rev. Bobbi Kaye Jones talked of losing her nephew to heroin, her ex-husband to a drunk driver. She talked about the circle of violence.
She talked about forgiveness.
Rev. John McMullen, of First United Methodist Church (my church), spoke of how our hearts have grown hard. Where is this all leading,
having these hardened hearts? I don’t think I have ever seen him so close to tears, so close to his heart exploding with sadness.
We filmed people in the “Dialogue Nook” talking about what the death penalty meant to them.
We filmed the entire event.
I don’t think I have ever spilled so many tears at an event, on the stage, and off.
I can only hope that criss-crossing this enormous state, and trying to get people to talk about the death penalty, will open up change.
Change in our hearts, our thinking, our ability to look for alternative methods to punishment (life in prison, for one.)
I have been reading about Elizabeth Fry, and how she went into women’s prisons in England in the early 1800’s, and believed that kindness
could change lives. She came from a wealthy family, and put aside all her worldly possessions to go into the prisons, dressed in plain clothes
(so as not to stand out), and she brought dignity, compassion, clothing, bedding, food and education to women who had previously only known
despair, poverty, crime, prostition. There were as many as four hundred women living in a prison with no light, no heat or air, no toilets, and their children
were being born into these sordid living conditions.
Mrs. Fry believed that kindness could bring people out of darkness and into harmony. She was right. Her ideas started an entire movement across Europe, not only
for women, but men’s prisons, as well.
Have we not learned that we need to get to the root of the problems before they command the soil?
IRVING ARTS CENTER, THURSDAY NIGHT, OCT 4
The next day, Thursday, I flew to Dallas to perform at the Irving Arts Center for Gary Goldberg’s photo exhibit of Texas Singer-Songwriters (yes, I am
honored to be included in it!)
Had a delicious lunch with Jennifer, who picked me up at the airport, and then performed in the main gallery while people mingled, listened and checked
out the photos…Joe Ely, Ruthie Foster, James McMurtry, Willie Nelson, Terri Hendrix, Lloyd Maines, Pat Green, Miss Lavelle White, etc…there I was, on a stage, singing in the midst
of so many greats!
Saw Craig Taylor from Killbilly (punk hillbilly). He looked so respectable in a gray suit and tie, with his lovely wife and adorable child in tow! I hadn’t seen him since…gosh…back
in the Deep Ellum hey-days…I thanked him for all the journeys I’ve had in the music world because he really helped me get started…my first midwest tour (my first tour
at all!) was with Killbilly in 1988.
Back at the hotel, I watched “North Country” with Charlize Theron and Sissy Spacek and Woody Harrelson. Wow. What a compelling film. Glad I finally got to witness it.
Frances McDormand makes me want to become an actress every time I see her. She is excellent.
FRIDAY, BACK TO AUSTIN, OCT. 5
Hopped off the plane, grabbed my guitar and bag, and whizzed over to Tequila Mockingbird to sing on a commercial.
Then made it to The Summit, where I sang for about two hours for the elderly. Oh, I could just hug and kiss everyone over and over,
the stories they have to tell, the smiles on their wrinkled faces. That is going to be me some day. I hope a girl comes with her
guitar and sings to me, kisses me, looks me in the eyes when I am speaking to her. I hope that girl will stroke my back
and bring me cool water to drink, too. Or just sit and hold my hand as we watch people wander down the hall.
Go visit a nursing home today!
posted by Sara Hickman at 07:34 am
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30 Seconds…And Worth Every Second
October 07, 2007
posted by Sara Hickman at 08:13 pm
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My Dead Body is worth $5175
October 06, 2007
posted by Sara Hickman at 09:34 am
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Look! An Ad for the Long Center, Austin, TX
October 03, 2007
posted by Sara Hickman at 09:17 am
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My Mom Remembers…
Things and places are never as we remember them, especially after many years
of being away. Oddly, our house hasn’t changed much, except it’s lighter
and brighter and has different furniture, except for the dining room.
By the way, your softball team was called The Sweat Hogs — named after
a popular TV show at the time. It was a good team, we came in 2nd and
some male coach really took me to task about that, saying women
shouldn’t be out there coaching etc. etc. He, of course, had come in
third, as I remember.
You were a great pitcher. Your glove was larger than your head, so when you
got ready to pitch I couldn’t see your face, but I knew it was filled with determination.
And your sliding. You took out a lot of knees in your jeans! But you always made it to the
base, probably because you intimidated the players on the other team.
I love you.
Mom
posted by Sara Hickman at 06:13 am
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Drop a Grudge in Honor of the Amish Girls
October 02, 2007
Second Annual International Drop a Grudge Day
Today is the very sad first anniversary of the Nickel Mines shooting when a distraught and disturbed man went into an Amish schoolhouse in Pennsylvania and shot ten little girls. I remember thinking, almost immediately upon hearing the news, that the Amish families would, without hesitation, forgive the killer, who also killed himself. And they did and they also reached out and embraced his wife and children, attending his funeral and sharing with them money from the fund set up in honor of the girls.
I sent out a letter shortly after that day to a couple hundred friends about dropping a grudge. That said, on this, the Second Annual International Drop a Grudge Day, I ask you to please take a moment to remember those little girls and their killer. And also, please consider dropping a grudge. I¹ve got four in mind…not sure if I can pull off dropping that many but I’m going to try.
Spike Gillespie
posted by Sara Hickman at 06:59 am
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SPU at ACL
October 01, 2007
woo-hoo!
posted by Sara Hickman at 04:33 pm
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Bruce’s Loft House Concert, Houston, TX
you know when you are at the bottom of a well, you can only look up and think, “someday, i’ll be sitting up in the clouds!”
well, that is what happened at the bruce’s loft concert because:
1) the guest room has a bed that is SOFT as clouds, and boy oh boy, i could have slept in that bed for WEEKS!
2) bruce’s home feels very scandish. is that right? i mean, “scandanavian”…open rooms with white walls and hardwood floors.
3) the cat likes to sing along on the sad songs….i am the BARRY MANILOW OF CATS!!!
4) this picture was taken by greg (i hope i am getting that right because all of a sudden i can’t remember, but his wife’s name is kim and they
are incredibly cool people that I LOVE!!!! and i will be singing at their house concert, too! whoopee! hooray for goodness!
5) the potluck dinner was FANTASTIC! thanks to amanda for the blackberry jello shots! and to david for the spicey chicken
6) great conversation after the show
7) two standing ovations…ok, now i’m really floating among the stars!
thank you, bruce, and everyone that came out to make my saturday night so tremendously fun and love-filled!
posted by Sara Hickman at 12:21 pm
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A Return After A 20 Year Absence From My Childhood Stomping Grounds
I grew up in a moss green house with a smooth concrete porch, my father’s handmade, oversized wooden mailbox affixed to the brick outside the matching clay orange front door.My parents worked hard to make the lawn and backyard look well-cared for, as did all the neighbors up and down the street.
I walked to school, about 10 blocks away, to Ed White Elementary, named after the astronaut who had died when his mission exploded at take-off. Mr. White never got to see space, so he never got to see the school named for him. Each morning, a snapping American flag greeted me as I crossed through the tended entrance of rectangular bushes and laughing children.
There was a park with swings and monkey bars, where I once fell, cracking my head open.
Once a year we had carnival booths on the teacher’s parking lot…the “fishing booth”of live goldfish in clear, plastic bags we could win, bingo games and fresh slices of cake, or or homemade cookies… sweets to tempt any child to love a place of learning. It was a time when we felt safe, although we had no idea, back then, that there was anything else…
I ran free of parents, mingling with the other children, sharing secrets and giggles with the other girls over boys.
Back then, Houston seemed ok. It was the city we lived in, but we were in a two story house that felt like country, and there was still farmland right down the road, south down Bellaire.
The gas station at the corner of Gessner (and Bellaire) was owned and operated by a man who loved cars, who loved to come out and check your oil, chat with you about the times, happy to spend time pumping your car, cleaning your windshield. He took pride in his service, and I distinctly remember my mother saying how she really appreciated having such a nice man she could trust at the gas station. In my distant memories, I see a friendly, sun wrinkled face winking at me in a hot back seat as my mom pulled away, back towards home.
That gas station was the first place I used to get gas, too, when I started driving.
I sat in the long lines the summer President Jimmy Carter seemed to make a mistake trying to rescue hostages, and we were punished in return with high gas prices. Or maybe we were just starting to run out of oil. I can’t remember the reason, I just remember getting out of my cherry tomato colored Carmen Ghia (1963) and laying on the hood, gathering some rays, as I waited the hour and 27 minutes to fill up.
Our suburb was called Sharpstown. I had my first jobs at the Sharpstown Mall, I went to Sharpstown Junior High.
I sang “Walk this Way” with Charlotte and Pam on the way to school, crossing the ditch when we were in 7th grade….Kim Miller, Greg Warren, Mike Schulz, Scott Szabo and many others lived on the “other” side of Gessner, by the junior high. It seemed like another world entirely. Even the trees seemed different on the other side of those days.
Today, after I would guess 20 some odd years, I decided to take the time and drive out to my stomping grounds. I was driving back into Houston after the Galveston gig (see last entry), and I couldn’t believe, first of all, the intensely insane amount of traffic on 59 heading towards Victoria from downtown! (For God’s sake, it was Saturday! What are people doing sitting in traffic on the WEEKEND?)
I sat behind lines of cars, listening to one of the two stations in Houston worth listening to: KPFT. I called in to ask Susan and Larry if they wouldn’t mind plugging my house concert. Susan said, “Hey, great show at ACL Fest!” I was happy to know she’d caught it. I heard some Neil Young and the Hudsons as I found an exit and zipped up Bellaire, back towards my long ago home, back towards my memories.
Before I knew it, I was passing Gethsemene Methodist Church, where we went briefly when we first moved to Texas from Illinois. The church has weathered well, but seems much tinier than I remember. I came up to 59, passed under, struggling to “see” where my life had been…there was Sharpstown Mall, now called Sharpstown Center, with the original bank drive-thru on the right; many happy deposits were made in my early years going into that bank (Sharpstown Bank…?) I can feel the smile in my heart of walking in, holding my parents’ hands and opening a savings account at around age 6; the feel of the dark blue deposit book in my hand, the lady behind the counter counting my coins.
The bank seemed cold and enormous and serious. This is where money was saved for future plans. …
I drove past the mall, and noticed the missing Kettle where I worked in the summers while my friends were out swimming and on vacations. It’s gone, now. Just a used car lot. As I kept driving, I noticed where the Sharpstown Country Club used to be…a large mound of green grass, perhaps something behind it, but the only “natural” looking, block long greenery anywhere in that vicinity. I noticed a Malaysian restaurant on a lot and , next to it, someone had about 14 cars parked in the yard, shoe polish on all the windshields announcing, FOR SALE and a price for each. The intersection of Bellaire/Gessner, where the gas station used to be, now had a Blockbuster video, and I noticed the street signs were in Korean. I turned before I would have driven by Curtis Tanner’s house (I once made him a beautiful poster of colored pencil fish that took me hours and hours to draw—-he did turn out to become a marine biologist…), and started feeling excited that I had made it this far. I was surprised at how many memories were starting to flood back…
Jill Ennis…what became of her? Laurie Overton? They lived on the street behind me, and as I turned, one block down from my home, I saw the house where the Damrels had lived. I had just passed Pam’s house, where someone (John) had put the severed deer head on Pam’s fence late one night and scared the bee-jesus out of her as she walked home from my house…there was the little white cottage where the older, widowed woman lived. She drove her lawn mower in a hat with netting, white gloves and chalky sunscreen slathered all over her ghostly face…not once did I ever talk to that elderly person, at least I don’t remember.
I never saw her drive a car or leave her house. Just ride the lawnmower every blue moon.
Now I was driving by Charlotte and Barb’s house. Right where it had been left…the trees grown to the sky, no longer the saplings of my youth. Right next to Charlotte’s, Cheryl
and Tim’s house (of the song “The Place Where the Garage Used to Stand”)…and bingo…I turned right, and here I was…on Rowan.
8814 Rowan, to my right..my home.
It happens to be for sale. It is still beautiful and well-kept. Now it is painted a creamy-white. Our front yard trees are kissing the sky, too.
I recited the names of all the old neighbors and my childhood friends as I drove down the street, slowly, absorbing it all in…I was also dialing the realtor to ask how much the house is for sale…$159, 172. Much less than what my mom sold it for ($185,000) but more than what my parents had originally paid for it in 1969—-$27,000.
I passed the Wards, the Wommacks, the Sals, and the home where John the deer beheader had lived on the corner, and turned my van left, heading towards my elementary school. I felt like I’d turned onto a Parisian boulevard, the trees so strong and thick and hovering over the street, protective guardians of the present, unaware that I was a neighbor returning.
The school….my first thought was, “I’ll do a fundraiser to get the school repainted and the letters for Ed White replaced…!”
Then I drove around, the entire school encased in fence, some it with curled barb wire along the top. This felt weird. This felt sad to me.
The houses around the school seemed shabbier, trashier, and there were shutters and sheets in windows, broken and torn, taped in places, scrappy cars in driveways, trash sitting wet and forgotten, tucked up against curbs and floating aimlessly down the street. Kids were on the school playground, swinging, and I was reminded of the time I was disgusted with the school P.E. teacher for not letting the girls play ball. We had to play re-lay. He was a fair man, tall and lean and young, maybe early twenties, but serious, and he was the first black man at our school. I was mad at him when I insisted we get to play ball, too (I’d been on a team about two years by then…my mom was the coach of the White Tornadoes…sounds odd that we were called that and I was angry with a man who happened to be black), but it wasn’t anything to do with race: my anger was about GIRLS getting the shaft, that GIRLS should be treated the same as BOYS. (This would have been 1972 or so, mind you! Girls rights and all…) Anyhow, my memory is that I walked over to show my displeasure by kicking a hurdle, not realizing how it was made of a very light plastic, and the dang thing flew about twenty feet in the sky, and that was it! My teacher made me sit out for recess. I stewed, you can be sure. I think he thought I was gutsy, to some degree.
I drove past Jill Schoenbachler’s house, and Steve Klein’s house, and I think I saw the house of Mike Shannon, and his younger brother, Mark. (Mark is the one I wrote the song “Simply” for….) I drove down to Beechnut, where I used to take ballet with Ms. Zelda from Russia, a tall firey red head who I recall being 8000 years ago (ok, 35?) and she made us girls do headstands on the hard, wood floor. That dance studio is long gone….now it is a La Placita.
There was a house with three signs posted on wooden stakes: NO TRESPASS! hand lettered on each one. The place I used to take (and teach) guitar lessons—-H & H Music—-is now a Melrose Shoes. The coffee shop, Jim’s, is a Taqueria El Rincon de Mexico.
Gessner. Roos. Stroud. Sharpview. Fondren. All these street names came flooding in as I wandered towards the junior high, or “the prison”, as my dad mistook it for when we had first moved to town. Funny, the Junior High looked pretty much exactly the same, and I even saw that my mobile unit home room was in the same spot. The forest green doors of the front entrance still feel imposing (especially when locked shut)…
Two changes: the 7-11 is now (I’m not kidding) a STOP –N- GET (!!!!) and one block down, next to the scabby apartments that were always there, the retirement home has become a Buddhist Temple (for retired Buddhists, I guess.) There are two large, 10 foot tall carved stone dogs at the entrance of the golden gates and wooden archway, a fountain reminiscent of a Chinese water tower, and the retirement section, again, had sheets tucked into windows and one “Handicapped Parking” spot behind the fence.
There was Neff Elementary, also, now surrounded in electronic/wired fences, and St. Francis (where someone once stole Jesus’ hand from His statue), was still there.
A new park has been installed…well, new to me…it said it had been created in 1980.
I drove past Kim Miller’s house. Kim is nefarious for these incidents:
She ate all of my sister’s Halloween candy out of the hidden shoebox under my sister’s bed, and she also cut all my hair down to the scalp…I kept nervously asking, “Are you done?” and she kept saying, “Almost….” I had to wear a hankerchief over my head in 8th grade. You know that was bad. Very bad.
I drove by Greg Warren’s house, and I could see the two of us wrestling in the grass next to the driveway, the day his brother came out and captured us for all eternity in a photograph I still have. His step-mother worked for Hallmark; I ended up working, briefly, for her.
I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find his house, and then, magically, I knew with all my heart I was sitting in front of it. 8208 Edgemoor…the number was missing on the curb, but I’d know his house anywhere.
I decided to go to Sharpstown Mall, and that was upsetting. I wasn’t prepared for such a major change.
The Mall itself is now like a Japanese/Mexican market… jewelry (“bling”) for sale in repetitive kiosks up and down the entranceway.
I have never seen so many dog tags, ridiculously large wristwatchs encrusted in fake (and real) diamonds, chains, chains, chains, nose/ear piercings available…. Shoe stores with 4 inch heels in golds and purples, also adorned with more chains and blingy bling, shining, screaming BUY ME.
I felt like the mall was catering to hookers and gangsters; everything was so cheap looking. It made me really, really sad to see the plethora of crap for sale…which isn’t to say it’s any different from the crap for sale at Neiman’s or Target….it’s all just STUFF that people feel they need to BUY to feel BETTER about their human condition.
I saw uptight/sad/angry/disconnected faces; I felt invisible, like a ghost trapped in a haunting.
I thought, “How does all this happen? How do people polarize into groups, and never, truly, interact?” In neighborhoods, in counties, across states and nations…starting here, in this mall. Starting in schools. Starting in homes…
I walked upstairs to where I had worked at a place called COASTAL COOKIES…and, my mouth fell open. Coastal Cookies is still THERE.
I almost started crying with happiness, I was so in disbelief.
I had no idea…I walked up to the counter and told one of the women working there, “I worked here over 30 years ago…” She looked at me like “Uh-huh…” but I could tell she was thinking, “Get some cookies, will ya?” So I got three different samples, and then she sort of softened and asked if I had known a woman named Kathy, but I told her I just remembered working with three or four other teens….I thanked her, and meandered on, munching on the cookies (man, still so good!) and stopping to gently let a woman know her child was screaming because the little girl’s shoes were off her feet; the shoes were being dragged by the strap digging into her little girl ankles. The woman grabbed the little girl and started shoving her shoes back on the child’s feet.
I was thinking love love love send them both love eat another cookie let it go.
Walking past a store on the way out, I had to turn around to make sure I was seeing something right. It was a tee shirt that said “Nude Dancing” with silhouettes of naked women, which was a bit odd, but what had made me turn around was this: a grotesque charicature of a black woman with large lips, long, falling breasts with these oversized neon-pink discs for nipples, wearing white fishnet hose on her legs….with no feet.
Her legs just tapered off into nothing, and she was holding a cigarette in one hand. I couldn’t believe it. I just stood there and stared and stared, thinking maybe someone else would come join me, and they would stare and stare, and eventually, everyone in the mall would come over, maybe even folks from the Buddhist Temple would arrive, and at some point the owner of the store would peek his/her head out and ask, “What are you all staring at?”
and we’d all cry out in unison, “That shirt is wrong. Please stop selling it.” And then he/she’d say, “You know what. You’re right. What are we teaching one another?
What am I saying by selling that destructive attire?” Then, without a second thought, that shirt would be out of the window, along with all the shirts of death and skulls and hatred and blood and violence that just sit there, laughing at all the passerbys, laughing because those negative images are winning and they have altered our lives, they have made people think ugly things and I just stood there.
Alone. No one else seemed to notice anything about the shoes, the shirts, the money being wasted. (Don’t think I didn’t just do this in D.C. when my sister-in-law took us to Neiman’s and I was dumbstruck with the additional ugliness…. Christmas ornaments for hundreds of dollars. Did Christ even carry a wallet? Wouldn’t He rip the shirts out of these temples of dollars???? Wouldn’t He be appalled that people are making and selling crap in His name?)
On the way out the door, I saw an older Korean woman sitting alone on a bench, and she looked as lost as I felt. All the noise, the teenagers covered in tattoos smoking cigarettes, looking like time bombs with these weird, intense looks on their faces…, all the young mothers with amazing peacock colors in their hair and uncomfortable shirts, too much breast, too many jeans falling down… I was looking for eyes where I could find peace. The woman looked at me with fear, and I smiled, softly. She relaxed, she smiled back. The connection of a moment’s grace…two people lost in a sea of the new Gods of ugly desire.
Two people wondering, “How did it come to this?”
I threw up, once, in the parking lot of this mall. In college. I was very sick. I left a mark, long gone, that I will never forget. I felt bad, then, that I was leaving my sick on the ground, but there was no way to do anything about it.
As I walked to my car, all the old gum in the parking lot, spit out and discarded without care, was sticking under my shoes. Desperate little stickies clinging for me to stay.
Most of the gum was silenced; blackened, burnished into the ground. T-Bone Burnett was on the radio as I started up my motor… I drove to find a place to type up these feelings.
posted by Sara Hickman at 07:26 am
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