FOX news
January 26, 2005
So, next week we will get to see Lily sing "Look at Me" on TV.
That Lily. I can't wait for you to see her. She is just a doll. Inside and out. And so PRAGMATIC and THOUGHTFUL!!!
I love her. I just love her so much! And iolana. Gosh! I should never complain about ANYTHING ever ever again because they are the most delightful people you could ever want to know, and I get to LIVE WITH THEM FULL TIME!!!
Also, those pictures that Gene posted of Johnny with my record cover had me in tears. He really captured the sweetness of Johnny.
Thank you, Gene.
posted by Sara Hickman at 02:47 pm
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The Days of Johnny
If the evening news was on, it meant the tv was about to be turned off and dinner would be on the table any minute.
It meant we had a special break in our day to huddle together, all the classes of my elementary school, and watch a man walk on the moon. In hushed silence, holding our breath, my entire community felt the enormity of the event.
We were one planet with one common awe.
On Friday nights, it meant the family sat together on the sofa and watched Bob Newhart, Mary Tyler Moore and, our favorite, the Carol Burnet Show.
Saturday mornings, my sister and I would eat Lucky Charms and watch Super Heroes save the world, or laugh hysterically over Road Runner's antics. We would travel through the human body with miniature scientists or close our eyes when we heard the Sleezstacks coming through a cave. Sunday nights was the Wonderful World of Disney, again, as a family, watching together.
But, in essence, tv was mystical. It was turned on and off with authority (my parents.) It was not an invader that took over our home and sullied our dinner time or told us what to think (although it has always told us what to buy!)
And, before the choice of a million channels and all the noise, there was the King. There was Johnny Carson bringing late night to life.
If, by chance, our parents let us stay up to watch Johnny, it was a complete thrill because it meant we got to be a part of our parent's world. It meant we were big people, too...And, if we made it through the monologue (it always sounded confusing as children..."why was that funny, mom?") then we got to see Johnny with exotic animals or see him dress up in outrageous costumes. He, like the man on the moon, brought us together...as families, as communities.
Being able to be on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson was nothing short of an honor. Singing to an audience I could barely see, let alone understand, was astounding. But getting to sit on the sofa with the man next to me was a miracle. Here was someone who met, what seemed like, all the most influential people of the world.
My grandparents, the musicians in my family, always amazed me. My grandma, sitting at her Steinway, and my grandfather, bopping along on his saxophone, encouraged me to make music. Sitting next to my grandma on her piano bench was exciting because I, again, got to be in a grownup world, keeping up with their effortless flow of everchanging jazz chords. As I look back now, they must have had great love in their hearts, knowing that I couldn't really play along at their pace on my guitar, but that I so wanted to be like them.
So, getting to go on Johnny was more than "me." It was about my family, my legacy. I knew it made my grandparents proud that what they had started I got to complete on their behalf.
At the end of the first show, as the credits were rolling, I felt an incredible urge to give Johnny a gift. I felt like the little drummer boy..."What do I have to give that is fit for a king?"....and the only thing I could think of was my watch. I undid the band and handed it to Johnny. I think he was stunned, of course!, but he graciously accepted it as I hugged him like a little kid with a new puppy. The joy I felt was intense!
I want to say thank you to Johnny again... Bless you for all the joy you brought to millions and millions of people. There will never be another person who changed the face and future of television like you. And thank you for helping this little girl's dream become a woman's reality...Bless you on your new journey...
Love,
Sara
posted by Sara Hickman at 10:04 am
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Lightbulb House
January 14, 2005
My new assistant, Jenny, is doing a fine job figuring out how things work. She is mellow and smart and she drank three cups of coffee today! She likes to collect handbags. She is a dancer. She reminds me of Audrey Hepburn meets
Martha Graham.
Well, I decided, after fourteen years, to place all of my awards on on the book shelf across from my desk. They were in serious need of dusting, I tell you what. So, there they are. It's cool! I never had a trophy case growing up; I never had any trophies! Whenever I won things as a child, they gave me cash or a paper certificate. Funny, I just whined about the Grammy disappointment, and looking at these awards today I realized they almost all had to do with my community involvement, and I found myself smiling, remembering WHY I won the award...the place and time and spirit of working to make this world a better place. It reminded me that, again, the purpose is important, not the award or the adulation.
Thanks to everyone who helped me find April! We caught up and I even talked to her mother, in person, and that was rewarding! What a neat family they are. Thank you, again, April, for all you give and do.
AND! For those of you who receive my newsletter, remember how I mentioned David, the president of Daisy Sour Cream? I asked if y'all would be willing to send a THANK YOU for allowing me to sing on the Daisy Sour Cream ads...
Well, guess what? Yesterday and today I have been writing new concepts for the next Daisy campaign, and on Monday I go in to sing again...So, that cracked me up that I thought, "Let's thank David!" out of the blue, and then the next thing you know, the phone rings. I love how life never ceases to amaze me!
I made homemade chicken tetrazinni today for the first time. Wow. That was cool! I loved sauteeing the mushrooms and scallions with butter...mmm...the house smells so good right now.
We had a helium tank this week from a shindig we threw for iolana's class, and so we have had balloons floating around the house all week. When they start to sink, we just get the tank down and make some more! I love it!
Helium tanks are instant colorful floaty fun!
Ok, the kids and I are off to Chuck E. Cheese...gotta go!
posted by Sara Hickman at 03:33 pm
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Love
January 07, 2005
posted by Sara Hickman at 04:47 pm
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April Milek
January 05, 2005
The reason I am looking for April is that I think she must be the link to American Idol. And let me tell you why.
April is one of the original Necessary Angels. She was there when I floundered and wasn't sure what to do, and she sent her support, emotionally, spiritually and financially, way back in 1994. Then, over the years, she kept hooking me up with all sorts of super projects...it's how my music ended up on a lot of compilation cds (like the Martha Stewart children's compilation, for example.) She was working at Rhino and putting together projects and was always kind to throw my name in the hat.
Well, first of all, I wish I had known she had lost her job. I don't know what I would have done...but I would have done SOMETHING!!!
And, second, I believe she deserves a big thank you for all her love and support, and so I was calling to tell her so.
But now I can't find her.
So, April, if you are reading this blog, please email or call me. I would like to send you something because I really appreciate everything you've done.
posted by Sara Hickman at 03:09 pm
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American Idol 1/25!!!
January 04, 2005
Speaking of singing, tonight my mom and Jim ...
(...my step-father, but I hate that term; really, he's my second father. Hey! that's what I'll start introducing him as! Good Lord. Took me thirty years to figure that out in three seconds....)
...my mom and Jim and Lance and I were hanging out around the piano singing four parts to "Silent Night" as Lance was cleaning up the kitchen counters, putting things away from dinner. Lily was accompanying us on iolana's drum kit. iolana was dancing slow circles with her six inch soft,
gray
stuffed
shark
with felt white teeth, six jagged little triangles on top...none on the bottom...
she got her "sharkie" when we went to new orleans this summer...
it was the kind of family moment i love. a memory moment.
earlier, my mom and lily were sitting at the piano, singing "how much is that doggy in the window?" and then i was polka-ing with jim to "the beer barrell polka". we were terrible, but sure was fun and silly!
tonight i emailed my friend, gretchen phillips (genius) with her shock of great, gray hair (speaking of gray) and told her we need to write a song called TWO TODAYS because at exactly midnight, isn't there a nano-second where there are really two days happening at once...one day ending, the other beginning...
heck! i'll just get a start and make up some lyrics RIGHT NOW before i go to bed. maybe it will exhaust me!
TWO TODAYS
one day ending
one day beginning
spinning, always shining
hopping...skipping...
left to right
day to night
two wrongs can sometimes make everything
seem alright
yesterday
still today
tomorrow never really comes
wrestle
with the demons
squeeze the sugar from the lemons
too much still to be undone
i'm tripping
i'm falling
i hear your voice
you're calling:
a whisper in my ear
i'm laughing
i'm sleeping
i hear your heartbeat
keeping
turning
these
two days into one
no one
knows for certain
what's behind the curtain
of their dreams
we question
we ponder
we yodel and we wonder
is life everything it seems?
you're thinking
you're driving
i've warned you:
you should never think and drive
still you mix it up inside
letting your spirit run and hide
but look, now, we've arrived
you're tripping
you're falling
you hear my voice
i'm calling:
a whisper in your ear
you're laughing
you're sleeping
you hear my heartbeat keeping
turning two days into one
posted by Sara Hickman at 10:22 pm
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Finishing Before I Forget
December 29, 2004
Who should I see this morning but Anastasia? She is in the same outfit as yesterday, but ready to sing sing sing.
Every song I sing, she sings an octave higher. It is as if one of the chipmunks is doing a duet with Karen Carpenter, my voice sounds so ridiculously low...
I meet Phillis. Phillis joins us...and she is a marvel! Not only does she have incredibly smooth, chocolate milk skin, but her smile is wide and beaming. We immediately hit it off..and she sings like Mavis Staple! Soon, we are formulating grooves behind Miss Anastasia, laughing and percolating rythyms beyond compare! "I'll take you there!" sings Anastasia, and Phillis and I burst into, "You'll take us where!?" and turn the phrase into a "wherawherawhera" a la Aretha...Mind you, I'm trying to play my guitar while dancing and singing and laughing. It's a blast! A fellow walks up and tells Anastasia to sing in her real voice..."You're too high!" he protests. She claps her hands (out of time, but joyfully) and totally ignores him. She prances around on her heels without a topple in sight.
I notice a man over in a corner, alone. He is wearing heavy sunglasses. After awhile, I reallize he is watching me. He removes his glasses and I see a giant shiner on his right eye. A scratch along his cheek. But as my group wraps up a song, we are swept over to another part of the room, a part of a moving mass of people, so we sing in another area of
the open forum for awhile.
Margaret is there, too, the young girl from yesterday. She runs up and gives me a super hug. I hug her back, careful not to thwack anyone with my guitar. She wants to sing "Joy to the World," just the two of us. She leans over and tells Anastasia, "you can't sing on this with us!" and Anastasia shakes her fake curls and says, "Well! You know how to wreck a Christmas!" and walks off in a huff. Margaret doesn't care a whit. She's excited. We are singing for her boyfriend, she says..."He's just over there...See him? At that table?" I squint...which one, I wonder? But I shake, "Yea, I see him!" I say.
We sing the song twice through. The second time the karaoke people have arrived and bump into Margaret, shoving her slightly off balance. She is frantic and angry. "HEY!" she hollers. "Oh, NEVERMIND! It's RUINED! Allll ruined NOW!" and stomps away to my, "Margaret, wait...hey, Margaret!" But she is off and swallowed up by a line of people consuming cookies and waiting to go upstairs for thermal underwear.
I take the moment to head back over to the man with the black eye. Yes, he is still there. I shyly walk around a corner and approach him from the side. I find the end of a desk, prop my guitar on my knee, and lean in to sing a quiet rendition of "Chestnuts Roasting on an open fire...." His face breaks into a grin. We are smiling, silently at one another...
I see his body relax.
"Thank you," he whispers to me as I sing.
"HEY! I need to talk to you!" says a booming voice. I turn at the interruption, and shake my head slightly, "no...not now" I am saying and I return to singing....
When I finish, we hug. The man and I, strangers on a sunny, cold afternoon. Knowing we will never meet again, and letting the moment linger.
I turn to a row of seats, to this new man who is waiting to talk to me.
And here is my story:
The man begins to ramble, quickly. I stop him to ask his name. His name is Jerry, he says. He must apologize to me, twice now, he says. Slow down, I say. What are you needing to apologize to ME for, I say...
He says, "Well, I came to apologize to you about one thing and now I need to apologize to you for interrupting your song..."
"Oh, no!" I say..."No need...but I did need to finish the song, you understand..."
"Oh, yea...Yea, of course! I'm just sorry I didn't shut up!" he says.
"Well, that is kind of you, but no worries..." I take his hand. He seems nervous.
He begins to tell me how he has been looking for me for two years. He had met me at another event on behalf of the homeless, and he and I had spoken, and I had promised to put him on my guest list for a show at La Zona Rosa.
"Oh! Oh, dear!" I say, a grimace on my face. "And...Did I forget to put you on the list?"
"No, no! Nothing like that...You kept your promise. You put me on the list. But I was mad. I was mad out of my skull.
I had been drinking and I knew if I walked across town to see your show, I would lose my place to sleep that night...
but I had promised YOU I would come to your show...So, I did it. I walked to your show, but when I got inside, well..."
And here he sort of fumbles. I squeeze his hand.
"Well..." he continues..."I was so drunk and mad I took it out on you and said some things at you on stage that weren't very nice..."
I can't recall any hecklers or mean folks at my show from that night, and I tell him so.
"Oh, no...I was horrible..." he looks embarrassed.
I reassure him. I tell him it is all ok and obviously it didn't bother me at all...I ask him where he slept that night?
"In a stairwell..." he replies.
I feel horrible. I tell him how sorry I am that he slept out in the cold just to come see me sing! I am so honored, I say.
I stumble, too. What should I say? I feel for him.
He goes on to say that that is why he wanted to apologize because he was so sick with what he had done that night that he was sick for one whole week after that. Literally, physically, ill.
I tell him to let go of any thing he is holding on to because he has been so kind to find me and tell me his story.
And it makes me wish I could apologize as sweetly as he has to those I have hurt. The courage.
posted by Sara Hickman at 06:11 pm
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My Christmas Message
December 27, 2004
Until Friday and Saturday. Yes, this was Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Yes, our spirits were merry and light...even with cedar fever in the air...!....but we bundled up in the chilly morning air, my family and me, as we headed down to the Homeless Brunch at First United Methodist Church, directly across from the capitol of downtown Austin, and spent Christmas Eve morning serving nearly 400 of Austin's homeless.
For two and half hours we sang Christmas songs, poured coffee, offered to bring more egg cassarole, and generally performed seva (the act of giving) to fulfill the needs of many. Lily passed out gloves and hats, and even, shyly, sang upon the microphone. Soon, a gaggle of girls were upon the makeshift stage, of all ages, singing their hearts out,
some dressed as reindeer, some dressed as elves, some wearing bright green tee shirts that read "Feed My People."
I found myself, once again, with tears on my cheeks, in awe of the sweetness children bring. Kathleen, one of our ministers, was thoughtfully pounding away at the piano, reminding me of my grandmother and her long fingers, elegantly stepping through the keys, bringing life and magic that a piano can bring to any party. Kathleen has kinky, gray hair and sparkling bluish-grayish eyes. You can NOT feel unhappy or dis-ease when you are in the presence of Kathleen. She has the spirit of love all about her.
We met many new friends...Margaret, who must be no older than 19, with fallen dirty blonde curls and glasses, enthusiastically asking if she can play "Ode to Joy" on the piano. And then getting so nervous when it was her turn that she forgot how to play it except in single notes. Anastasia, in his/her silver pumps with
rasta wig and elegant red and black boustier, bustling around, keeping things lively. The man in the yellow vest parka, who came up and asked me to stop crying because it made him sad. The tall, happy man who asked if I was a pastor's wife, and when I asked what that meant to him, he replied, "You know...full of elegance and lovingness." I immediately wanted to be a pastor's wife, so Lance will now be attending seminary!
To see the amount of people, pouring in to our church, needing so much, is a very humbling thing. For a country that has so much...it is a puzzle to me how invisible the homeless are in our society, and yet, they are a growing community within our midst. I scratch my head every day...what can I do? What can I do....Do you see a pattern here? "What can I do" has been my mantra ever since I was a candy striper at 14...that was when I delivered flowers and urine samples and realized, "This is not enough. What can I do?"
Well, to continue on...Friday afternoon, we played around with the girls, and around 4 went over to Aunt Cindy's with gifts, homemade sweet potatoes (you have just GOT to try my homemade sweet potatoes some day...I have a secret ingredient which makes them extra super universally yummy!!!) Hey! That gives me an idea....maybe someday I'll make a dinner and serve it up and people could donate money to the dinner party and that money could go towards a shelter/educational/rehabilatative service(s) for the homeless...Hmm! I'll have to ponder on that!
Being at Aunt Cindy's is always a treat because she really gets into dressing the tree. This year her theme was blue...so blue lights, blue sparkling feathers placed just so among the branches, and silver balls made of tiny little bound twigs...And her house smells good, like Christmas should....nutmeg, vanilla and cinnamon, with a hint of peppermint...all good...except...except she has a little brown dog that is like a quick brown fox and it jump jump jumps and does that rear end shaky thing...and, being a dog, it lunges on you immediately as you enter the house, where you can't go backwards because people are piling in behind you, and you can't go forward for fearing of crushing the dog or falling on the newly decorated tree...and it always proves to me I'm such a cat person...yesh! give me a lap of five, furry, purring cats, but a jumpy, licky dog...UGH! well, I just have to focus on a glass of ice water or where to put the packages or immediately think about the fact that Bush is still president...anything to not think about the dog...
Mind you, I love dogs, really, especially big, gentle dogs that lay around and sleep all day...but little jumpy dogs...they always want to smell your crotch, so I have to let go, say, "Ok, here you go, go on! Get to know me!" and thrust my lower body into the air and then drink from the glass of said water I mentioned last paragraph...and hum or check my nails as they take their time, violating me with their wet, black nose.. finding out more about me than I'll ever know. Then, as if they've all attended the same dog school, they ALWAYS do that little sneeze/sniff, shake their heads violently back and forth, up and down: as if to add a finishing touch, as if to say, "Yep. You pass inspection. Come on in! And I know you had brocolli yesterday."
Enough foolishness!
The big news is that Lance's father walked on his prosthetic yesterday for the first time, including walking up stairs into Cindy's home. The last four years have been a giant strain on our wee family, with medical plagues descending upon Lance's father one after another. Just when there would seem to be an answer to a problem, three more would spring up out of no where. I will not relay all the minute details, but suffice it to say that this man has endured more than any person I have ever known, and I have known many who have suffered. For him to walk those forty feet and up the stairs was a tremedous hurdle, as my girls and I were cheering him on ("Go, Grandpa! You can do it! Come on! Hooray!") as Lance, Lance's mother, and Aunt Cindy all supported him on this new journey to regained freedom.
Again, we were all choked up with pride, relief, gratitude and, may I say, wonder at how strange life can be.
But, I have strayed from my original intent. The story I wish to share is one of many, I am discovering!
I think the particular story I have in mind will have to wait until tomorrow, though, because I must return to bed and try to sleep a few hours before the sun peeks in and shakes me with her gentle glow.
posted by Sara Hickman at 01:58 am
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This Quiet House
December 23, 2004
I walk through the house, black as a cave, and I hear the sounds of sleep filled breathing. I feel like a ghost. A ghost in pink pajamas with cartoon dogs chasing cartoon cats. I wander the halls and find myself wondering, "What do I do now? Where shall I sit? What is on my mind?" And the dark is so deep. It is like swimming in black air.
I find a chair. Sometimes I get cozy on the sofa and fall back asleep. Mostly, I do nothing.
I just wander until I am ready to return back to bed, and pray for sleep, and listen to my husband's gentle snore.
Occassionally, I lay my hand on the small of my husband's warm back, or rest my hand in his, if it is exposed and near by. Just the touch of his skin on my skin brings me great comfort. I don't feel as if I am floating. The human connection anchors me beyond belief. He never wakes, he just keeps on sleeping, and that is so good. I don't like waking others.
Tonight, I sang in chapel. I sang "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" and "Noel". I have a head cold, so I sounded rather stuffy. But I wanted to sing. I wanted to be there. I had to use a microphone as I had no oomph in my projection.
The high notes on "Noel" are so satisfying...it feels like a spiritual liquid gold is pouring from my body. I cannot describe the pure joy of singing any other way. It is astounding to be a vessel for sound and to deliver that sound from the depths of your being and out into the world.
Afterwards, we shared wassail and sugared cranberries, like the colonists. Gathered around the table, perhaps 18 of us...I thought, "This is such a good community." I really did. I kept hugging everyone, and thinking how fortunate I am to know so many kind souls. I was literally jumping with joy, doing little steps, smiling with glee. Then I was introduced to a woman whom I did not know, nor had I ever seen before, and we started talking and then I just held her for the longest time. She was so very blue. I held her and held her until she stopped holding on to the societal committment of that 20 second hug. My arms around her shoulders, her head on mine, we just stood there in the party, embracing, holding onto one another. Tears were streaming down her face and all I could think to say was, "I know, I know..." in the softest whisper. I know her sadness.
I wish I could set up a little chair on the street with a sign that says, "Free hugs." Maybe I will. Maybe I will just hop downtown on the Dillo bus (it's free, you know...little buses that look like cable cars)...with a folding chair and a piece of cardboard. And just share hugs with strangers on the street.
Yes, I know. You're thinking, perhaps, that this sounds nutty. Why is it nutty? Why is it nutty to love the world so much?
This pain I feel for all the pain I see...my god, it hurts to see all the lonliness on this planet.
My brain just will not stop.
It is Christmas, and since my last entry, I have cleaned, moved three sofas...given our table to a family from war torn Liberia that has been given a chance here in America...dear friend Michael came over with his truck and we loaded up a door and some window glass for Habitat, as well...and while Lance was at work, the girls, our dear friend, Kevin, and I all decorated the tree and it is... stunning! A living tree in the new addition, complete with lights, treasured decorations and tinsel...ah, how it lights up the night! And our fireplace! For two days we have had WOOD in the fireplace, crackling and popping and delivering the warmth of holiday cheer.
Our home smells smoky good...as if we are those colonists of long ago, settled into our cabin, awaiting the arrival of
rare spices so that our wassail can be complete...mmm...cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves....what can send the mind racing back to days of childhood faster than these tantalizing spices?
Ok, I'm just wandering mentally, now. I can feel my eyes finally getting lulled back into a place of sleepiness. Funny, I've been to three sleep specialists over the last ten years, and they all three had different comments on how to sleep better. The latest one said the WORST thing to do was to get on the computer.
I'll end on a high note: Yesterday, Lily, io, Kevin and I went down to the Greenbelt and hiked down to a giant rock where we enjoyed a picnic lunch. Nestled blocks from our house, we are suddenly in the heart of the Colorado Rockies...I swear, it feels like that! A churning, bustling white water rapid runs through this ancient rock, and all around us, canyon walls with turkey buzzards swooping up overhead. People with their dogs and the occassional kayaker pass by. The sun was hot. The air was crisp, but not too cool. We had cherries on the stem, lemonade, sandwiches, popcorn and
homemade Christmas cookies. Our friend, Marty, phoned down and walked down the gorgeous wooded path to join us, as well. iolana found a large stick and set to pretending she was a sherpa. Lily was imploring Aunt Kevina (Kevin's official family name) not to leave. Her lip was very protruding. She was sad. I was sad! I did not want the day to end, either. A picnic in the middle of the day with family and friends and the sky so happy.
I raise a toast to the joy of being under the same sky! Merry Christmas!
posted by Sara Hickman at 01:08 am
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Almost Christmas
December 17, 2004
Christmas is almost here. Our house is a disaster, but that's ok. We have been in "new addition" mode for the last six months...we tore off our old screened in porch (which had a GIANORMOUS colony of carpenter ants! shudder!) and have been in the process of adding a family room. With a FIREPLACE! Now Santa can enter our home properly!
The tree isn't up. There is dust everywhere. But we are together, and we are a family of love. That makes the
season beautiful!
I'm apologizing for not getting to my blog lately...I'm behind in a million ways. The holidays bring added opportunity for me/us to extend love in a myriad of ways, so I have to put things like online journals aside for a bit.
More soon, I promise. But, if for some reason I can't return soon...let me say "Merry Christmas" to you. May your season be warm and bright and may strangers greet you with true courtesy and affection. May the entire world be showered with peace.
From the girl and her guitar
posted by Sara Hickman at 01:03 pm
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Grammy / David Letterman
December 07, 2004
Today is the day we find out about BIG KID and if it is in the TOP FIVE FINALISTS for the Grammy nominations.
Today is the day I will stay calm and pray and hope that all these years of hard work will be celebrated in a new way.
Today I am thinking about David Letterman. There is a very nice human being who is telling me he can get me on Letterman. I do not know if you all know this but I love David Letterman. I have loved him for a very, very long time. All the way back to when he had his own daytime talk show.
I have always dreamed of going on David's show. What song would I sing? Who would go with me? What would I wear? What would I say when David comes up after the musician sings and he whispers in your ear.
Oh, I am going to faint.
It is all too much. Will this dream become a reality? Will it...?
posted by Sara Hickman at 07:04 am
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Letter to Children Going through Divorce: Or Adults Who Still Wonder
October 29, 2004
I've intentionally left his name off the letter for privacy reasons. With that said, I will just write "Adam". And make sure and put YOUR name in the letter...goes without saying, but you never know!
Dear Adam,
Hi. My name is Sara. I'm a 41 year old woman and my parents were divorced when I was 12. That is one of the reasons I am writing to you today. I'm writing to say that the pain of a family break-up never truly disappears BUT don't think I'm telling you that to discourage you. I'm telling you this because A) I know you've been going through a hard time and B) something good will come of this sadness you feel. You may not know it or see it RIGHT NOW, but somehow you will use this time of learning, anger, confusion, lonliness, questioning and yearning to lead you into being an amazing person. (I'm sure you are already a
great kid....In fact, I know you are.)
How will this time of your life change and affect you? I don't know. I wish I could answer that for you. But I tell you this: hold on to the simple truth that you are already whole and marvelous and NOTHING can change that....except you.
So, stay on a course of determination and believe in yourself, my friend. Something good will come of this.
Love,
Sara
posted by Sara Hickman at 11:20 am
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Grammy Craft Committee
In the Craft committee, we meet every couple of weeks and look through boxes of cds (and the occassional vinyl) sent from headquarters (national office) that have been submitted from qualifying candidates eligible to receive a Grammy for package design. This is a fun group. It's my third time to serve on this branch, and I would do it every year if elected in each time.
Most of the cd entries are typical---face on cover, song content on back with another photo of the musician. The ones that really stand out are the cream that rises to the top, and we can pretty much spot them the minute the entries are all layed out on this giant design table we use for our judging space. It's exciting when we start mulling over the interior of booklets, or find a surprise design element underneath the physical cd itself. Talking with other designers (there are five of us), I enjoy listening to what they would have done to strengthen a recordings overall look.
However, my favorite part of this process is the special packages---boxed sets or limited releases. Although I can't disclose to you who I have voted for this year, I'd like to share that ZZ Top had a very funny element in their design and that the Talking Heads collection was GORGEOUS. Absolutely stellar. Also, I would like to, once again, applaud the entire country of Japan for making the most unbelievable designs and always staying on top of genius.
But do let me describe the ZZ Top set: the box looks like a miniature tin roofed Texas B-B-Q joint. When you open the lid, they have cleverly devised a way that the five cds sit in a stair-step pattern, from low to high, so that you can pluck the cds from their black, faux velvet nestled interior. But when you look towards the top, behind the last cd itself, it looks like a fat booklet, ready to be removed and read. As I pulled it out, it revealed itself to be a two and a half inch length by one inch flip book! Two different flip "stories"---one version is the dudes twirling their guitars, stoic as all get out; you turn the book around, and the other side shows the three bearded gents lined up, so as you flip the pages, they slide their hands from left to right as if to say, "Come on in...check out what's cooking!" Waaaaay hilarious.
posted by Sara Hickman at 06:55 am
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Jon Stewart on Crossfire
October 27, 2004
I wish I had had more choices, more to think and mull over in conjunction with the candidates. I wish there had been thirteen choices. I wish
it had been hard to make a decision on whom to vote for. I wish I had been
inspired and torn because all the candidates were clear, concise, intelligent,
passionate, concerned, informed and driven to take America, and the world, to the next level: a world based on educated reasoning and thought full decision making. A world struggling to come to terms with its differences and unique
abilities; one of conversations and hope, moving towards caring for the peoples of the world, not hell bent on destroying them.
This a.m. I watched an attempt by Jon Stewart to cross the line from comedy to reality on "Crossfire"...here is the link:
http://www.ifilm.com/filmdetail?ifilmid=2652831&htv=12
I say "attempt" because I think he has a very valid point and I am glad he chose to speak out about the media in this country. I'm not sure the way he went about it was understood by the two men who are the hosts of "Crossfire", only because they are so deeply ingrained in the corporate system that I think they could only respond personally and defensively (the guy in the bow tie more so, but he was also getting some low blows from Jon. I'm not defending either man, but I do think it is possible to have debates/conversations without getting into personal attacks. It is exactly what the presidential candidates are doing..and we're all tired of it.)
I don't have cable, so I don't watch Mr. Stewart's show, or "Crossfire", or Bill O'Reilly or any of those folks. I choose to read the paper or, if I watch TV at all, I watch PBS, which I think has the closest thing to covering objective reporting.
I like that Mr. Stewart tried to make a point, I only wish more people were attempting to do the same thing and bring to light the problems and the
hypocrisy of our political system (really, our corporate system.) What if the two hosts on "Crossfire" had responded to Jon by saying, "You know what? You're right. We're puppets making a living, doing what the man upstairs requests of us. Let's change that...right now!" And then they had, magically, had Bush and Kerry appear, and asked them real questions that real people have been asking each other and we got real answers from both B & K. That would have been refreshingly REAL.
I know many people ARE speaking out, and going to the poles, and it gives me hope.
Maybe then we can get back to the comedy. As you know, comedy is based on the truth, and that is what makes us laugh...So, maybe we are just condemned to live in a quagmire so comedians can ease our pain! How ridiculous is that!
posted by Sara Hickman at 10:04 am
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Pervasive PowerCharge Race
October 25, 2004
posted by Sara Hickman at 10:03 pm
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Rosa
October 24, 2004
And so it goes, listening to a young, enthusiastic and raw energy called ROSA while sitting in Houston at my best friend, Julie's, house. Her son, Kirke, plays washtub bass with a trio of friends, and he wanted me to hear some of their music.
Now, people hand me their cds, asking for advice or help on how to make it in this business, at least three to five times a week. I try to give a listen, and I try to give constructive feedback.
And on that rare occassion, I get treated to something that makes me smile
with the knowledge of "yes". I say "yes" because the songs and the feeling and the experience and the honesty all ring true and there is no question that
"yes" is stamped all over what I've just heard.
So, you could understand why I was a little apprehensive about listening to Kirke's music. I was face to face with a person sharing their art; not jotting off a thoughtful response via snail or email. I was sitting in a room not only with Kirke and his songs, but his mom/my dear friend and two of Kirke's siblings.
Who all knew the words to his songs.
Well, the first song was just so darn peppy and funny and energetic. I was bouncing and wanting to sing along. I was pulled in. The second and third song were that way, too. Echoed in full force by every member of the band, the lead singer was full throttle barking through the stereo speakers, a slight heliumesque quality, a tiny high school pep rally. I could imagine the four of them cracking themselves up between the banjo and the elements of Green Day, the Ramones, Cobras, Sex Pistols and the Judys.
If I had a new lifetime theme song (alongside the extraordinary one on the end of "Two Kinds of Laughter" by Austin Haverty), I would want it to be by ROSA.
(I'll download an example and get it to this site so you can hear it. Not now.
But later. I have to figure out how to do it first!)
While I was in Houston, I performed at Oak Forest Elementary. And I had one of those amazing angel experiences.
At the school, I went into the lunchroom/dance hall to check out the sound situation. Well, there was a vocal mic, which led into hidden mains up in the ceiling, but the sound was practically obliterated by a hissing distortion.
And, no place to add my acoustic guitar (no place to plug into the system).
It was looking fruitless, but I had decided I would just sing sans sound system, when the music teacher arrived and announced she had an amp in her room.
The amp sounded so good compared to the mic, but I couldn't connect the mic into the amp. The show would have to go on!
For the first show, the pre-K through first, I performed, had a great time, and no one seemed to mind the yucky sound scenario. Here is where the angel part comes in. A handsome dad named Augie realized the trouble I was having, left the school, ran to his studio, and brought back an entire P.A., set it up between shows, and voila! Second show (2nd -3rd), I felt like I was in Carnagie Hall.
The sound was that delicious over what I had just experienced. Afterwards, I thanked Augie and gave him some cds and we talked about how he wants to create Christian children's music and I told him to go for it!
After hugging about 8,302 adorable children, Julie and I left school to eat at a place called Kandy's. Unbeknownst to us, Kandy is Augie's mother. So, as we are eating lunch, talking to the fine lady as she brings us our meals, we mention the kindness of a man named Augie and she beams, "That's my son!"
Isn't that amazing!?
What else? We got a surprise animation of "Look At Me" in the mail this week from Mike Cogliandro. Lily was so thrilled to be animated! Not only did Mike capture the sweetness (and the heartache) of the song, but he did this all without uttering a peep, so we had no idea he was making this lovely art.
We watched it over and over...I know this will end up on the DVD I am trying to put together of animated pieces to about 30 of my recorded children's songs...then you'll be able to see it, too! Thank you, Mike! We love it!
I made homemade banana cake last night while talking on the phone to Gene.
He was in Baltimore. He is in lurve. I love when people meet someone they can
get smooshy about. It's so exciting!
I've been performing a lot lately. Today I have an early morning show at Pervasive.
My insomnia has reached a crucial point. I will be returning to a sleep specialist. The fatigue I try to hide everywhere I go is finally eating away at my heart and soul. It is really bringing me down, physically. I guess between the combination of my age and lifestyle, it is just too much to get by on a small amount of sleep anymore.
posted by Sara Hickman at 07:12 am
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Lists…
October 09, 2004
I was thinking about lists. I thought I'd make a list of things that interest me.
Here goes:
Things I'll Definately Do Before I Die
Visit Bali
Meet a President
Learn how to ballroom dance with my husband
Return to Romania to help with the Tanner Romanian Mission
Speak better Spanish
Take another balloon ride with my dear friend, Kong
Make another cd
Hike the 100 mile trek on the trails in Germany
Perform in a play
Write a children's book
Learn how to fly a small plane
Shave my head
Become a vegetarian (again...permanently!)
Become a minister
Visit a silence retreat
Teach at Omega Crossings (Austin)
Get a child psychology degree from UT or St. Edwards
Milk a cow with my kids on an organic farm
Visit Iraq, Palestine, Israel, Greece, Bosnia, Africa with a humanitarian
organization...I would love to be a Peace Corps volunteer after my children leave home
Drive around the U.S. with my family on a long summer vacation
Return to Brian Rumbaugh's summer camp in California, Adventure's Elite
Have a day with my friend, Robert Peters
Help defeat human slavery all over the world
Things I Might Do/I'd Like to Do Before I Die
Run for City Council/Be an ambassador for peace for Austin
Skydive
Have a children's tv show/radio show
Perform with Conspirare
Have Neil Young sing a duet on a cd with me
Write a computer program
Take an algebra class
Learn how to sew
Perform on David Letterman
Have a one woman show at a theatre in the round
Narrate a documentary
Learn to play banjo, violin or piano
Things I Will Definately NOT Do Before I Die
Learn how to scuba
Be in a hot dog eating contest
Waterski
Swim with sharks (cage or no cage)
Get Botox
Run in a 26 mile marathon
Tour with Marilyn Manson or Insane Clown Posse
That's all I can think of for now. I'm sure I'll think of more!
posted by Sara Hickman at 03:20 pm
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Southwest Folk Alliance/Vic and Reba
October 01, 2004
I wish I could have an angel reunion to once again thank all the people who helped bring "Necessary Angels" into the light. I will have to think of a special 10 year anniversary surprise to send out to each one. How would I find them all? Hmm...I have addresses, but they are years old. Maybe I could google each person...I don't know, I'll figure it out.
And, oh, there was Dalis, getting into a golf cart to head down towards the evening's cruise. I hopped on to the cart and we exchanged kisses. I like seeing Dalis because she is the kind of person I would want to get stuck in a storm with---always calm, always the voice of reason. She is smart, and friendly, but not over the top. She would have been a great president of the United States. But, thankfully, she runs the Kerrville Folk Festival. I have to say, for some reason, many years back I thought she had a wooden leg. I'm not sure whose leg it was, but I saw it sitting in the back of another golfcart, on the way to another cruise, and I kept peeking looks at her legs the whole trip, but her legs looked real, not plastic.
Then I started thinking maybe Rod (Kennedy)had a false leg; he, too, had been in that golf cart with Dalis on that particular day. But his legs were healthy and seemingly covered in natural hair, although he was always wearing white knee socks and sneakers, so it was hard to tell for a bit there. Finally, I just came to the conclusion the mysterious leg belonged to the driver of the golf cart. It was a spare in case he lost one at sea , and he had just non-chalantly laid his extra on the back floor of the cart. The more I thought about it, the more I thought, "Well, that's hip. Just leaving your leg out in the open..." Like having a spare guitar.
On the boat, it was exciting to see familiar faces. This is only the second folk alliance I have ever attended (the last one in a snow storm in D.C. back when Democrats ruled). Right off the bat I ran into Robert, who runs the Jefferson Freedom Cafe. He's tall. In fact, every time I see Robert, I think, "That is one tall man." And he's sturdy. He's a good looking, tall and sturdy man who reminds me of Thomas Jefferson. I never met Thomas Jefferson, and maybe my mind is just overly concerned about the up coming election because I seem to be doing a lot of comparisons with oval office personalities on today's blog entry, but he does remind me of someone stately. Maybe he could be on Dalis' cabinet, if she was president. Yes, Robert could be secretary of Peace and Love. Wouldn't that sound much, much better than Secretary of War? Good God, why would anyone want that title? It's just putting bad joo-joo out there.
I'm surprised with Bush in office that the war department hasn't had bumper stickers made that say, "We're the War Department...Bring it on!" I probably shouldn't have just written that. Now they probably will make them. Oh, this country is falling apart. That is why it was nice to be on a boat with a bunch of hippies in tie die and long skirts and mermaid curly-q hair who all smell like
roses and patchouli and still want to give peace a chance. That's all we are saying, you know.
Then, there was Vic and Reba. Gosh, I love them so much. In fact, yesterday was their 48th wedding anniversary. I feel like I have known them since before I was born, and I hardly, really, know them, but wouldn't you know it? We are ALWAYS on cruises together. One time we all sat in a hot tub together on a cruise to Belize. Vic and Reba are the kind of folks from up north that make
me think of seasons. They remind me that there is a natural rythym to the world...the sky will be blue, the leaves will turn orange, brown, yellow...snow will cover the earth, but then spring will arrive and tiny shoots will burst their flowers towards the sun. Vic and Reba have that all natural grace, and you know they have stories out the wazoo to tell when you are standing with them.
So, back to Vic. I was holding his gentle hand, and looking deeply into his eyes,
and I just started telling him, very quietly, what a good, good human being he is and what an honor to know him. How much I loved he and Reba, and that I
truly, truly appreciated all their kindnesses towards me and Lily over the years.
Then I started feeling the tears trickle down my face.
It was one of those "we are connected" moments. The boat was moving, Vic and I were situated on the very top level, seated in white plastic lawn chairs, the sky exploding in a vast array of sunset hues---swirling pinks, purples and husky blues---with someone playing guitar and singing in the background.
The air was just right....caressing everyone, whispering secret nothings...
I love being a human being. I love the spirit of risk and joy and, yes, even sorrow. I love that words can change, uplift, restore a moment, a friendship,
a memory.
I have to go make school lunches. Then we are going in to Lily's school to see Joe McDermott performer...then I have an office meeting with very nice Teresa, whom I hardly ever get to see, and then io and I are driving towards Houston to visit my mom. So, I will try to write up about the performances from last night, too, when I return.
Happy weekend, happy love to you.
posted by Sara Hickman at 07:08 am
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Boys & Girls Club, Copperas Cove
September 25, 2004
posted by Sara Hickman at 09:32 am
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Ok, Funny Story
September 22, 2004
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 07:06 am
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November 12
September 16, 2004
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 07:58 am
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Bless this Whole World
September 11, 2004
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 08:00 am
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Hello, Mr. Kerry? A poem
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 07:54 am
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Sadness
September 09, 2004
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 11:16 am
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