Cary Cooper

SEVENTH GRADE

2007-11-10T10:16:00.000-08:00

So I'm teaching at this really awesome songwriting retreat in Michigan called Lamb's Retreat. The deal here is that everyone gets an individualized song assignment. Here is mine:

You are in middle school. The school you attend teaches abstinence. It is their policy. Your favorite teacher is the science teacher. She is reported for describing methods of contraception to some curious students who only asked about the subject because of television commercials they'd seen. One girl asked about the pill and another girl asked about condoms. The teacher knew she wasn't supposed to talk about these subjects but she did anyway. Someone reported her and she was fired. When you go home from school on the day you find out that your favorite teacher was fired, your mom notices that you've been crying. She ask what's the matter and you can't tell her. She keeps asking but you can't speak and you can't make up another reason for your tears. You're not sure what's happening but you are afraid that if you get your mom talking about sex something bad might happen to her.

Can I just say, HOLY CRAP!

After a night of self torture and agony, this is what I came up with...

Seventh Grade

If i went back to seventh grade
before all my mistakes were made
to soccer games and innocence
and jimmy carter was the president
dingo boots and wolfman jack
bonne bell and gunne sax
and love notes that i never sent
to my track coach cause running was romantic

if i went back to jr high
before my secrets made me cry
to happy days, laverne & shirley
when all the boys were way too squirrely
and the book i found up on mama's shelf
upside down so i stole it for myself and read it
locked behind the bathroom door
everything i ever wanted to know about sex and more

if i went back i wouldn't be so afraid
to ask my mom about mistakes she made
hungry for her history
when she was just a girl like me
i'd ask her did she go too far
in the backseat of her boyfriends's car
i'd ask her did she ache for love
inside disguises she wasn't proud of
i'd ask her did she take the blame
i'd ask her did she feel the shame
i'd ask her did she learn to stand
outside the shadow of a man
i'd ask her things i hope to say
before my daughters walk away
before my prayers have all been prayed
before they hit the halls of seventh grade

Loretta Lynn, My Lion Friend

2007-10-26T17:31:00.000-07:00

I've always wanted to have my own animal identity. You know, claim an animal for my very own that somehow defines me . I remember doing the eneagram test once. Found out I was 4 (for any of you out there that know anything about the eneagram). I also found out that my LIGHT animal was a stallion, and that my SHADOW animal was a basset hound. Well I grew up deathly afraid of horses. We had them when I was a child. I was not one of those free souls who could jomp on bare back, grab the horses mane and just ride like the wind into the credits of a movie's end. That was my sister. I was more in the camp where if possible, I would have looked like the goalie for a hockey team with more protective gear than a horseriding situation called for. So claiming a stallion as MY animal. The one that represents me in my highest brightest moments seemed either completely ironic or just a cruel joke. (And I totally got the basset hound thing,: slow lazy, big whiney sound…)
So continued on my search for MY animal.

I also remember being in therapy in a difficult period of my life and the therapist asked me if I had to describe myself as an animal what would I be. I was ashamed to admit at the time that the animal that I most related to was a wounded deer. I remember the words flying out of my mouth before I had the chance to stop them. Saying I felt like a frightened wounded deer left by the side of the road to be eaten by other animals. Now if that doesn't say something about where I've come from…A sober reminder to me of what it feels like to be powerless.

This past year has been a journey of sorts for me. I mean a deeper journey than the one I began 7 years ago when I claimed my identity as a songwriter. This year was the first year of marriage for Tom and me. It was also the first year in our history together when we weren't on the road EVERY weekend. I took the opportunity to work on myself a little. I made some new friends, I lost weight, I worked on relearning the guitar and I spent a lot of time writing. I started feeling really clear about what I want, where I'm heading and how I'm getting there. Confident and clear. A great feeling compared to the deer on the side of the road waiting to be eaten alive.

One of my dearest new friends, Mary Moss started calling me her lioness. I think it started because of how my hair reacts to humidity. I wear my hair straight at the expense of major straightening effort, which works pretty well in Dallas, not so well in more humid environments where five minutes after the whole 20 minute straightening process it's a big wavy frizzy mess, so much so that if I let my hair dry by itself, and walk into a room after it'd dried, Tom does one of those knee jerk reaction double takes along with a "woa" like he doesn't even recognize me as the same person he just crawled out of bed with. Anyway, Mary Moss started calling me "lioness" because of my hair. But through a series of summer emails, three way emails between me, Mary Moss and Melanie Hersch (my other champion friend), where we solved every problem known to man, Lioness evolved to a deeper meaning. That I'm bold, fiercely loyal, and unafraid. Not really how I see myself, but does anyone see themselves the way that others see them? I doubt it. The old cowardly lion in the Wizard of Oz definitely didn't see himself that way, and definitly didn't live in his power all the time, but when push came to shove, he was a stand up guy...I must have more in common with him than i think, because my first tattoo is the Chinese symbol for courage. Branded on my right bicep as a constant reminder to me. You can be courageous. You ARE courageous!

The last two weeks have been very trying ones for me personally. Filled with lots of reasons for me to look within, explore deep levels of personal pain. But also filled with many opportunities to rise above my wounded self to a higher place of understanding and growth. Necessary growth. During this time, I went back to my summer behavior and started up the three way emails again. No better way to get through pain than to laugh your way through it with loving supportive friends. And my nickname kept appearing in the emails.

Then the other day, I had the experience of recording one of my all-time favorite Joni Mitchell songs, River. It's a song about pain and longing and regret. Seemed appropriate timing wise to record it while I was in the middle of my own dark place. And with Tom engineering, I tried hard to tap into my own feelings so that they came through in the singing of the song. Tom thinks it's the best vocal I've done. It was definitely heart felt. And without reservation (which I should say is definitely a new thing for me when it comes to singing). Coming into the this whole performing life rather late, I find myself feeling rather timid about my voice, most days. Knowing I'm never going to have the kind of soulful voice Ruthie Foster has or my friend Michelle Dalziel (who sings more like a black gospel singing girl than most black girls I know…and she ain't black), I kind of used my timidity about my voice to keep me in a box vocally using it as an excuse not to stretch. But as I was singing River, I tapped into a place of power. Not a Ruthie Foster kind of power, but Cary Cooper power. A place of strength and conviction. And I realized that I want to sing like that all the time. So on my birthday, I wrote on my myspace "status" that I was roaring like the freakin lion I was becoming. And before I realized it, I had claimed my animal. I was a lion. The lioness. And it feels right.

My daughters were really excited to go shopping for my birthday with Tom. They're finally getting old enough to approach shopping from the perspective of buying something mom might like rather than things they like and just happen to give to mom. I've gotten lots of stuffed animals in the past, just to explain a little further. But this year, they really put a lot of thought into it. Caroline got me a pair of reading glasses for my old failing eyes, she also bought me an angel to remind me of a fun night we had dancing in the kitchen together to Annie Lennox' "precious little angel" song. She also got me a vanilla candle, cause well, you know I'm a freak for vanilla. Hannah bought me a a pen to write with that says mom all over it. No.1 mom. Mother, mommy etc. And a really cute necklace and pair of earrings. (All courtesy of the Dollar Tree – where nothing costs over a dollar. A singer-songwriting family shopping paradise). But the biggie, my non-dollar tree present was kind of a compromise. In style, more like presents of past year, something the girls would like. but actually more of a bridge into their world. I got a WEBKINZ!! Now if you don't have kids you probably don't even know what the hell I'm talking about. But take it from me , it's all the rage. Kind of like a stuffed animal myspace for kids. Picture stuffed animals, like beanie babies with secret codes that you put into the computer and then you name your animal and you take care of them online, you befriend other animals online, you play with other animals online, you shop for your animal, you play games to win more money to shop with. And both my kids are totally obsessed. If you want to be a hit at a kids birthday party one of these days, show up with a webkinz, you'll have new best friends disguised as 8 & 9 year olds coming outta the woodworks!

Anyway, they had this great idea that I should have my own webkinz so that when I'm gone on trips, we can "play" with each other and leave messages for each other (they have their own email accounts, but they never check them because they can't stop playing on webkinz long enough for that). So, they bought me a lion. And I named her Loretta Lynn. Because she found her voice and learned to roar long before me.

Ahhh, life is good in my den tonight.

MY TAKE ON "THE L WORD"

2007-10-10T11:28:00.000-07:00

Not THAT L word...The four letter one. LOVE.
It never fails.
Seems like every time Tom and I do a show together, we get at least one person, or a couple that comes up to us and tells us how much we've inspired them to change their lives. And as nice as that can be, it always leaves me with the feeling that there's MORE to tell them. And i end up feeling a twisted sense of responsibility about it. Because inspiration can take different forms. These are the two most common forms it seems to take at our shows:
1. "Our relationship was hanging on the brink of doom and you've inspired us to give it another shot and really work at it this time." I like this one a lot.
2. "You've inspired me to follow my heart and my dreams so I'm leaving my marriage of 20 something years and moving to a cabin in the woods to become a (fill in the blank with your wildest dream)." This one scares me more than a little.

I don't know about you. But that's some pressure folks. I don't like feeling like I'm leading folks astray...or presenting an unrealistic image to the world. So here's what I'd say to those folks at the CD table at a show if I had the time.

LOVE IS FUCKING HARD WORK. Doesn't matter who you love. Or how great they are at loving. LOVE IS FUCKING HARD. PERIOD. Love is also a verb. Not a noun.

I've been in good relationships. I've been in horrible relationships. They all have moments that are wonderful. They also all have moments that completely suck. I don't know why that is so hard for people to believe. Well, yes i do. We are fed from the minute we're born images of what love is supposed to look like. We see it on TV. In movies. It's supposed to be beautiful and sexy and fun all the time and easy easy easy. And we can all read the minds of our partners and never have to ask the hard questions or talk about the hard things. And if we get too close to having to do anything negative, we just look for someone else beautiful, sexy, fun and easy to start over with.

The fact is folks, THAT doesn't exist. At least not in my neighborhood.

Here's what i believe.
We're all wounded. Most of the wounds we deal with (or run from) every day are wounds we suffered in childhood. Either at the hands of loving (but imperfect) parents or caregivers, or our other earliest relationships. And the people we're drawn to, or attracted to, in some very primitive and unconscious ways remind us of these wounds. So we seek out these people in an unconscious attempt to work out our histories. To heal the wounds of the past.

Trouble is, we don't go in realizing this. We THINK we're attracted to other things: The way someone looks, the way they make us laugh, the way they challenge our intellect, or how "low maintenance" they appear. The things we all THINK we want (and DO want). But under all that, is a whole different set of criteria. The ones we don't even realize we're looking for until the shit starts hitting the fan.

Maybe I'm not making sense. Let me take Tom for example. I love my husband. I'm deeply attracted to him. To the way he looks. To the way he thinks. To the way he writes. To the way he sings. The way he makes me laugh. To the way he makes me feel.

But part of the way he makes me feel reminds me on the most basic level of wounds I experienced as a child. And part of my wounds have to do with emotional abandonment. When I was hurting or feeling scared or insecure, someone important that i counted on to be there found a way to not be available. And i experience that with Tom. Just as I can feed his feelings of inadequacy. His childhood wounds.

And when we're not living consciously, we forget this, and get tangled in the most unreasonable arguments and resentments.

Thank god for therapists. And for Harville Hendricks I highly recommend anyone in a relationship running out to buy a copy of "Getting the Love You Want". A book that explains all this in a much more coherent way than I am right now.

Back to what I would tell people at shows.

If you're looking at my life and thinking that what i have is easy and requires no work and isn't full of hard and heartbreaking times, you're dead wrong. I did follow a dream. And for me, it meant leaving a marriage. (Because you can't work on a marriage if you're the only one willing to work. And that's the boat I was in. And had been in for a long time.) And my dream of making music led me to another dream. A relationship with someone else who was willing to do the work.

I'd never had that before. I'd always been in relationships with people who were only willing to go so far or do so much work, but when it really got down to the hard stuff (which it ALWAYS does), they checked out.

And THAT'S what I most appreciate about Tom. He works at it. Just as hard as me. And that's what we have going for us that allows us to get up and sing songs about love and look each other in the eye and mean it at a gig where two hours before the gig we might have had the hugest fight. Because we both know that even though from the outside, it might look easier to go somewhere else, ultimately, it never is. The path with ANYONE, ultimately leads back to the same unhealed wounds.

So to the inspired folks that are making the brave choice to work on it, I say, "I commend you brave souls for doing the work that most people aren't willing to do". And to the folks who are leaving it all to follow a dream, i would say, "Is there anything that you're running from? Is your partner willing to work with you? Are you sure you don't need to stick around and see what needs fixing here first? If you haven't done that, the same pain, the same work is bound to show up when there's someone new in your life."

Okay, so this wasn't supposed to be a downer. Just realistic. And hopefully, hopeful. Because the thing about having a partner that is actually willing to hunker down and stick around and do the work, is that you actually have a chance to heal. HEAL! Really heal. A safe place to work out your deepest wounds. A soft place to fall. That's what I think love is.

So there.

An Angel Named Mary Gauthier

2007-09-06T21:21:00.001-07:00

I think I came out of the womb a perfectionist. It's true. I could blame my mom and dad and the way they raised me (and don't think for a second that I haven't spent many a year and money for therapy doing just that) but at some point, you have to accept responsibility for the things you refuse to change. A different spin on the serenity prayer.

My day of reckoning for my perfectionistic self was in August. As many of you know that keep up with my blog, I made the ambitious/insane/courageous decision to enter the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival Songwriter's Showcase competition. The ambitious/insane/courageous part is because it's a solo contest and I'm not what you would presently call a solo player. But I have the desire to be. And my thinking was simple, if you enter, you'll practice. It will be motivating. And it was. Until I found out that I was selected to compete. Then it was petrifying. Immobilizing, even. But I kept practicing, what else could I do? All the while, the monkey on my back got bigger, uglier and scarier with each chord.

It got so bad on several occasions that I totally melted down in front of Tom, and he had to coax me back into the land of healthy thinking. Easier said than done, I'm afraid.

Anyway, fast forward to the week of the contest. I was attending song school at Rocky Mountain – a fabulous school – I highly recommend it to all songwriters, regardless of your level of experience. It's a great hang, an incredibly creative environment, a place where magic happens. And here I was in the middle of this spectacular place just freaking the fuck out. I'd have one good day (translated: maybe I can pull this off) and then a meltdown day (translated: there's no way in hell you're going to pull this off – you should go home NOW!) and everything in between. Total roller coaster crazy. And not the state I like to live in.

One day somewhere in between sane and crazy, I had a conversation by the river with my friend, kate graves. She was so sweet to listen to my rantings and share a few of hers before telling me in no uncertain terms could I let song school end without attending Mary Gauthier's class. She wouldn't give me much in terms of detail except to say that it was going to be exactly what I needed.

Fast forward to the last day of song school. The day before the last day had been a huge meltdown day and I'd managed to let it slip by without taking any classes at all. (But i did manage to weasel a therapy session out of a naked stranger in the shower...AND i wrote a song, so all was not lost...**) So I decided on Thursday, the last day, I'd have to go to Mary Gauthier's class just to see what all the fuss was about. Plus, my horoscope said I could expect 3 miracles that week, and I was waiting for them.

I have no history with Mary Gauthier. I'd never met her until song school. A couple of days before taking her class, I did go up to her and say that I thought she was one of the coolest looking people I'd ever seen. It's her really short hair, her funky clothes and the rose colored glasses that were forever covering her eyes. So I sat down in the class with several of my friends, some new (Ben, Sam, Mercedes and Cheryl), some old (john and viv, tim and kathrin) and some fellow competitors (also friends) in the contest (sarah and amy).

I had no idea what to expect. And a lot of the class itself is still a blur of emotion for me. But somewhere in the first couple of sentences out of Mary's mouth, there were tears already rolling down my face, and i knew my miracles had arrived. And may I say for the record, I'm not a crier. ** Not a public one, anyway. That's something I definitely got from my folks. The only proper time to cry is in the movie theater. But I was crying in the class. Mary started by saying that we are vessels for the creator. We don't write the songs, God does. When we get out of the way. She also went on to say that it doesn't matter what we look like, how good we sing or play the guitar, if we have connected to the heart of God, we have a message that someone needs to hear. And if we focus on that, we're doing what we're called to do. That hit something so deep inside me.

For weeks Tom had been telling me, you're making this contest all about the guitar, it's not a guitar competition, it's a songwriting competition. And he was right. I WAS making it all about the guitar. When I would practice, all I could think about was every mistake I made. When I played my songs for other people, all I could think about was, "shit I missed that chord, and now they're thinking about what a crappy guitar player I am". There was nothing joyful in it, nothing meaningful. It was all about me and how bad I sucked at the guitar.

And Mary Gauthier reminded me that I'm not that important. It's NOT all about me. But if I make it all about me, I lose the joy and I lose the meaning of why I do what I do. It was lightening strike worthy. I was struck. And thanks be to God, I really was changed. Who can account for when we get what we get?? Who can account for how much self inflicted agony must be present before we're able to hear the message we need to hear the most? I have no idea…I'm just glad that I was ready that day. And that Mary was the bearer of the message – my incredible gift of freedom, my miracle.

She told me that I wasn't there to win a contest, or even play the guitar. I was there to sing the song that for whatever reason was chosen and needed to be heard by someone that was in the audience. She also told me a prayer to recite before I took the stage. I may be getting this all wrong, but I believe it was found in the pocket of the chaplain for the new york city fire department - the first known/named casualty in 9-11. The prayer goes something like this:

Take me where you want me to go
Introduce me to who you want me to meet
Tell me what you want me to say
And help me get out of your way

Well, I prayed it. I prayed it more than once in the course of the next 24 hours. I prayed it right before I went on stage for the contest. I had a whole little speech prepared to introduce my first song, but I prayed the prayer right before, and I found myself on the stage saying something completely unplanned. But evidently, it was what I was supposed to say.

By the way, not only was I NOT nervous, I was actually joyful. I didn't actually care about winning, I didn't actually care about messing up (I did have a couple of baubles during my first song – but the world didn't end, I was no less loved by my friends and no less supported by the audience – in fact, I was probably supported more because of it).
Tom said it's the strongest he's ever heard me sing or perform.

I guess in a perfect fairly tale, I'd end this blog by saying "and the best part is that I WON"!! But this is the real world, and frankly, I prefer it. Where life is hard but the lessons oh so sweet when we really learn them. And Mary Gauthier was the first one who hugged me backstage after I didn't win and reminded me that I did what I was supposed to do, and who knows who needed to hear it. Since then I've learned of several people who DID need to hear it. Also people who needed to see someone like ME onstage. Someone willing to take a risk. To make themselves vulnerable. To risk failing. To hear the call and to follow it, no matter what.

I'm so glad I did.

So now I have a new tattoo on my foot. To remind me of this important lesson. It's not about me. It's about heart. God's heart, my heart, the hearts of those that need to hear…
Need to hear it in the way that only I can tell it. Only I can sing it. Only I can play it.

Thank God for Mary Gauthier. Thank God for her hard lessons and her willingness to be used. Thank God for Kate Graves urging me to go. Thank God I listened.

I got my tattoo at Resurrection Tattoo on South Lamar in Austin Texas. It felt like the appropriate place. I have been resurrected, thanks to an angel named Mary.

(BTW, my husband has his own incredible story to tell that started at Rocky Mountain as well. Be sure to read about it in his blog)

**(Don't tell cheryl branz that – she might not believe you…the day before the class, my major meltdown day, I ran into Cheryl early in the morning in the shower. For some reason we got to talking and I found myself naked in the shower spilling my guts to a total stranger- an incredibly sweet stranger who I've learned since then has a beautiful voice and very clever songs and many words of kind wisdom for a naked woman freaking out in the shower)

REALITY CHECK

2007-08-02T12:06:00.001-07:00

So, I'm back home in Texas. Been practicing my entries for the Folks Fest contest quite a bit over the last couple of weeks. Was practicing this morning to an attentive 7 year old audience of one. When I finished my two songs, I said, "So Hannah, how did that sound? Cause mommy is really nervous about playing the guitar." She said, "Mom you shouldn't worry about playing the guitar. You should just worry about the important things in life."
I was thinking to myself, "Wow, she's right. What a brilliant kid. I'm so lucky, blah blah blah", when she interrupted me with, "You know, like FEEDING YOUR CHILDREN!"

Life at home. Mmmmmmmm, good.

If you believe in peanut butter, clap your hands

2007-07-13T22:50:00.001-07:00

I'm a big believer in setting goals and making commitments and then watching and waiting expectantly for doors to open. Sometimes it's small doors. Sometimes it's big doors. But the point I think, is making a plan, then watching and waiting with anticipation of good things.
I've spent a lot of time on our website talking about how that happened for me with music and songwriting in general (see my bio page), but now I have something new to add to this incredible journey.

When I first got into music, I picked up a guitar and taught myself a few simple chords. Easy enough. A little harder for me to figure out how to play them in a way that made songs sound good. Add to that the fact that I'm a recovering perfectionist, and NOTHING I did was EVER going to sound good enough to me. But I kept plodding along. Playing my little songs. Pitifully. But I was trying.

Then I met Tom. Tom Prasada-Rao. Guitar God. My first "big-name" encourager turn CD producer turn friend turn best friend turn boyfriend turn musical partner turn husband. When Tom and I formed a musical partnership, I had a lot of catching up to do. I was green. I was as green as the Jolly Green Giant. As Kermit the Frog. I had never performed on the level that he was at, and I was thrown into an arena not quite sure if I belonged there. Knowing there were a whole bunch of skeptical folks that definitely didn't think I belonged there. So I made a decision to focus on the three things I knew I had a little bit of control over, singing, songwriting and stage presence. My voice is my voice. Not the best, not the prettiest, not the strongest, but I could deal with how it sounded and could claim it and own it. My songwriting seemed to be improving at a pretty quick pace, and I'd always felt pretty comfortable on stage. So in order to perform with Tom, I kind of felt like I'd be doing his career and mine/ours a favor if at that point I didn't suck. And the best way I knew not to suck was to NOT play guitar. Besides, he sounds like an entire band all by himself, and didn't really need me.

Plus it was an "easy out" of not having to face some of my biggest and oldest fears. Let me backtrack a little. I played piano as a kid. I played by ear. I took lessons to learn to read music and learn theory, and I hated it. And hated to practice. I mean, if I heard a song a couple of times, I could figure out how to play it and from that point on, I'd ignore the music and just play. My piano teacher would pull her hair out with me. Didn't matter. It wasn't fun and I wasn't motivated. But I was asked to play two songs at the Girl Scout banquet when I was in fifth grade. And I avoided practicing. And I avoided practicing. Then a couple of days before the banquet, I pulled a "cramming" practice and barely learned the songs. The banquet came and I sucked. Played more wrong notes than right. And I remember wanting to crawl in a hole. I had never sucked in public before. And it scarred my little life - for life. I remember the first few gigs I played, when I actually did play guitar. In my head, I was that Girl Scout screwing up on the piano, waiting for disaster. Waiting for the earth to open and swallow me up. Personal demons. These are mine.

So, fast-forward to the present. I've had 5 years of getting my act together on stage. Figuring out how to work a crowd. Learning how to craft my schtick. And I think that what I do, I do pretty well. But I've also known in the back of my head, that in a lot of people's minds, I will only be taken seriously as a player in the music world when I'm actually a PLAYER. And for the past year or so, it's been gnawing at me that I needed to pick up the guitar again and give it another shot.

I mean, I never really completely put it away. I still played at home a little. I played when I wrote my songs, I just never played at shows. And the time has been coming. I remember having a conversation a year or so ago with Jonathan Byrd telling him of my desire and my fear about playing guitar, and he told me that if I just picked it up for 15 minutes a day, I'd be amazed at how far I'd come in a short time (not that Tom hadn't been telling me that for years, but sometimes it takes someone not so close to you to say something in way that actually allows you to hear it, you know?) So I thought about that for six months. Rather, (or at least I tell myself) I meditated on it for six months. Then at Christmas time this year, I actually picked up the guitar with the commitment to learn it. To become friends with it. To quit taking it so seriously. To quit being afraid of it. To quit being afraid of fucking up. And I've been practicing. Some days for an hour or so, some days for 15 minutes. Some days not at all. But MOST days, I practice. And it's paying off. I can feel it. I can play bar chords!! Never used to be able to do that. I'm realizing that I'm a lot more comfortable figuring out arrangements for my songs. Lots of things are all of a sudden becoming easier.

Another commitment I made was to enter a couple of contests that I'd never entered before. I won the Kerrville New Folk competition several years ago. And it was great. BUT Tom played guitar for me. And believe me, I heard the mumblings late at night around campfires about that. About how I shouldn't have won. And about how it only really counted if I'd played for myself. Now I don't really buy into that. I'm proud of my songs, and I'm proud of my ability to connect with an audience when I present them. And there was nothing in the rules that said you couldn't have someone else playing for you. But I do know that a lot of other people DO buy into that. I was also a Falcon Ridge emerging artist but Tom played for me there too. And at the Mountain Stage Newsong Contest. But I'd never entered Telluride* or the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival contests. Because you had to play guitar for yourself. So this year, I made the commitment to enter. And to be ready in case I was chosen.

And again, I really think there's something to the whole power of intentions thing. I've seen it happen in my life too many times. Name your desires. Claim them. And then wait for good things to happen.

This summer, Tom and I are teaching at Young Writers Workshop at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville. It's a program for high school students where kids come from all over the world to learn about different genres of writing: Fiction, poetry, creative non-fiction, playwriting, and songwriting. Tom's been the songwriting teacher there for the past eight years. This is our first year to officially share the teaching position. Last night there was a teacher's reading and all the teachers get up in front of the students, 150 or so total kids, and read a piece of their work. Tom and I get to put on a little mini concert of about 6 or 7 songs. I made a commitment to myself earlier this week to play a new song I'd written since arriving at Young Writers for the students. Believe me, I'd rather play for a huge audience of adults than for teenagers. There's something about that age group that makes me soooooooooo nervous. I think it has to do with the fact that I really want them to think I'm cool and I know I'm so NOT cool. But anyway, I committed. And I played my song!! And I lived!! And they LIKED it. They didn't care that I wasn't Tom Prasada-Rao or that I can't play like him (I'm the only one that puts that kind of pressure on me). They liked me, they actually liked me – unfortunately I'm so Sally Fields.

I'm writing this on a plane from Pittsburg to Denver. We started in D.C. today on our way to the Winter Park Folk Festival where we're playing tomorrow. We found out at National in D.C. that our flight to Pittsburg was overbooked and that we might not make the flight. We had to stand around for a long time waiting to see if folks were going to give up seats in order for us to have seats. I decided to get online to pass the time. I saw an email in my inbox. It was from the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival. It said, Congratulations! You've been selected as one of ten finalists for our song competition.

I believe. I believe. I believe.

Tom on the other hand, isn't buying my spiritual mumbo jumbo. He says, "You don't think it has anything to do with the fact that you wrote some good songs?" Well, I mean I hope it has a little to do with that. But I truly believe that it wouldn't have happened until I really made the commitment to put myself out there.

Now I have one month and four days to PRACTICE!! And practice. And practice. And practice. And practice some more.

Soooooooo…my friends, I'm asking for your help. I'm asking you to put some good thoughts out there for me. I'm asking you to send me some good vibes and help me begin to visualize myself not as that humiliated Girl Scout, but as someone who walks out on the stage with confidence, with guitar in hand. Knowing that I belong there. Knowing that I can do it. Knowing that practice pays off. Not afraid of failing, and excited about doing the best job I can. Will you help me??

Colorado here I come!!

Here's one of my all time favorite quotes. Thanks for reading.

Until one is committed there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.

Whatever you can do,
or dream you can, begin it.
Boldness has genius,
power and magic in it.

Goethe

* I was selected as an honorable mention for the Telluride Contest earlier this summer as well.

The Best Brother in the World

2007-03-20T20:57:00.001-07:00

I know you may think YOU have the best brother, but I'd put mine up against anyone's. Last week, my wonderful, and usually not so clumsy husband, accidentally dropped my laptop. He felt horrible. I was pretty devastated. My laptop is probably the most important "tool" I own. It's how I do all our biz. It's how I write my songs. It's where I store all my important information. And none of it was backed up. NONE of it.

We went to the Apple Store to see what the dudes at the Genius Bar could do for me. Nothing. They told me there was no hope for my laptop without an eight hundred dollar charge that wouldn't save any of my documents. They also told me to call a data recovery company and hope for the best after plopping down two thousand dollars and no guarantees. Further depression. Somewhere in the middle of all this, I called my mom like a kid with a skinned knee. I needed a kiss and a bandaid. Sometime after this, she filled my brother in my trauma.

When I arrived home, a brief but huge miracle happened. My laptop booted up just long enough for me to organize all my documents and songs and photos and drag them onto an external hard drive. It felt like watching Robert DeNiro in "Awakenings". As soon as we'd dragged it over, the computer died once and for all.

Still not knowing how or when I'd replace my laptop, I was counting my blessings that at least I didn't lose all my stuff.

Then my brother called. My sweet, unassuming, hard working brother. He asked me about my laptop woes and then asked what it was going to cost me to replace it. When I told him, he said to keep my eye on the mailbox because there was a check on the way. He said he couldn't have his favorite songwriter not able to keep track of her songs.

I can't have my favorite brother not know what he means to me. And I want to tell everyone.

Midnight Musings Of An Insomniac

2006-11-14T03:19:00.000-08:00

Between the snoring of my husband and the 3 a.m. philosophical questions of a 6 year old, I'm having a hard time sleeping tonight.

Just returned this afternoon from a long weekend of gigs in Nebraska and Kansas. Had lots of fun, met lots of new interesting people, but I was homesick the whole time for my girls. Usually, I'm pretty good at compartmentalizing my life...when I'm on the road, I'm on the road, when I'm home, I'm home. But this trip, my heart was home the whole time.

My ex is getting married. I'm actually really happy for him. I genuinely like his fiancee and love how sweet she is with the girls. They're moving into a HUGE new house and are busy buying furniture. This afternoon they took both girls furniture shopping for their new bedrooms. Caroline came back all excited by her new bunkbeds, desk and dresser. I had a moment of panic. Wondering how much all these "things" are going to mean to my kids, especially since I can't afford to get them for them. How much are they going value material wealth versus the kind of rich life I feel like Tom and I are exposing them to? My girls are so lucky. They get to meet the most interesting, spiritual, loving people in our world, and I'm so grateful for the opportunity to share an alternative life with them.

Maybe between their dad and me, they'll end up with a balanced view of the world. That is definitely my prayer for them.

My prayer for me at the moment is to get back to sleep. Where'd I put those earplugs??

Trouble with a capital H

2006-11-03T12:05:00.000-08:00

My youngest daughter, Hannah is six years old. She's in kindergarten, has no front teeth at the moment, and is equal parts bellylaugh and heartache, causing me, her mom, equal parts worry and unbounding joy.

This summer, she became a songwriter. I mean it. For real. She came to me in the kitchen one day holding her childsize guitar (which up to this point has mainly served as an object to trip over or sit on) telling me that she wanted to learn to play. That day. Right that second. So I sat her down and told her I'd teach her a chord. I taught her an E minor. An easy two finger chord. I left her in the living room to master it and ten minutes later she hollered at me and said she'd written a song. And she had. Well a verse anyway. A rhyming four line verse with a catchy melody.

I asked her if I could video her singing it so she wouldn't forget the words. Normally, I'd get a resounding "NO!" to such a request. But this time she said, "Sure. But I have some things I need to say about it before I sing it." Her intro went something like this: "I wrote this song when I was learning how to play the guitar... (five minutes ago) when... I didn't really know how...and I really wanted to know how...and that's why I wrote it!" I asked her what chord she learned and she said, "E Minus". Close enough. And then she belted out this little four line song. Three times. With alternating melody lines and a very dramatic retard at the end.

Here are the four lines:

Up and down the ladder
It always gets away-hey-hey
Up and down the ladder
Seems like you want to see me today

It rhymes. It has pop sensibilities (you'd have to hear the away-hey-hey). It repeats the first and third line. The kid has promise!

After I praised her for her efforts she asked, "Do you think it's a good song, mom?" "I think it's a great song", I said. Then she asked, "Well what do you think it means?". She'll figure it out. I have no doubt.

Over the past couple of weeks, Tom and I have been working on recording two Christmas songs for a compilation album our friend Erik Balkey is producing for a group of artists he does radio promo for. Tom was in the living room working on the guitar part for his song, when I noticed Hannah singing a melody to the part. It wasn't THE melody, it was HER melody - a melody she created that went perfectly with the part Tom was playing. I asked Tom to come listen to her and when he heard her part, he asked her to write some words to go with it. So about five minutes later, she had another four line song. Tom then recorded her singing it and it's now a descant at the end of his song. I wish I had a video of her recording her part. She was completely in her element with the headphones and the microphone, just singing out loud, unashamed or afraid. Made me wanna cry my heart felt so full watching her.

Last week, I had lunch with her on Tuesday at her school. As I stood outside her classroom door waiting for her class to leave for lunch, I studied the bulletin board in the hall that was up for Red Ribbon Week - a drug awareness program...The bulletin board had individual pictures of all the children in Hannah's class with "thinking expressions" on their faces. The caption at the top read, Because I'm drug free, I can be anything I want to be. Beside each child's photograph were the words, "I want to be a _________ when I grow up". Most of the girls wanted to be moms and teachers. One little girl wanted to be a cheerleader. Hannah wants to be a songwriter and a guitar player. I'll pray for her future (while secretly busting at the seams with pride).

On Friday, she and Caroline were getting ready to go to their dad's house for the weekend. Hannah asked if she could take her guitar with her. I tried hard to dissuade her from taking it, knowing that it might be weeks before it would make its way back to our house...She'd ask, I'd give her the reasons for my NO, then she'd ask again. And I'd say NO again. Then she said, "But mom, what if I get a big gig while I'm at Dad's house???" "Well, then call me and I'll bring you the guitar", I said trying hard not to laugh out loud.

Trouble. You mark my words. :-D

P.S. You can hear Tom's song, Angel Wings, with Hannah's part at Tom's myspace site.

Infatuation

2006-07-07T03:24:00.000-07:00

So I got married.
And shortly thereafter, I fell in love.
With someone else.
A couple actually.
Don't worry.
My huzband is in on the deal.
He fell too.
It's a new experience for both of us.

The couple in question?
Jonathan Byrd and Mary Moss.

I'd try to say more, but Jonathan says it all better than i ever could...

copy this link into your browser: http://jonathanbyrd.com

click on updates and read his past few blog entries...

wish i could write like that!

Pride and Joy

2006-02-21T21:55:00.000-08:00

Back in the days before I was a songwriter, I was a stay at home mom, and before that, I was a school teacher. I taught first and second grade to ESL students. Which basically means I taught first and second grade and had a few students in my class that didn't speak english. Which basically means I was trained to teach with a lot of songs, pictures and charades.

I loved teaching. But I realized recently what I loved the most about it (besides the fact that I loved the kids) was that it was an outlet for my creativity - which at that point in my life - had no other outlet. I was famous for making up songs for my students to learn their lessons by. It's amazing how much more kids retain when you put something to music...

Well one of the students in my class was an adorable little boy with Cuban origins named Pedro. To the best of my recollections, he lived with his grandmother (along with a slew of cousins) because his mom couldn't take care of him on her own, and his dad was in jail in Miami. But to know Pedro, was to know light and sunshine and happiness. He was always smiling, always positive, always ready to learn and to make us all laugh.

The one and only time I ever saw him sad was the first year I was his teacher (I moved up with his class from first to second grade) at spring break. At the end of the day, all the kids were lined up at the door to leave and Pedro lurked behind at the end of the line with his head down. I was hugging all the kids as they left wishing them a good spring break. When Pedro was the only kid left, I noticed that he wasn't his usual happy self. When I asked him what was wrong, he burst into tears and said, "I don't want to go on spring break. I don't want to miss you for a whole week." So I made up some kind of silly game and told him to look at his watch every day at 3:00 and to know that I'd be doing the same, and at 3:00 everyday, we'd both look up at the sky and yell at the top of our lungs, "I MISS YOU BUT I'LL SEE YOU SOON". We practiced a few times in the classroom until teachers were sticking their heads out of their doors to see what the commotion was, and until Pedro was smiling again.

I found out I was pregnant with Caroline the summer before I moved up with his class to second grade. I knew that when she was born in February, I wouldn't be coming back. So I spent a good portion of the year preparing all the kids for the fact that I'd be leaving before the end of the year. We did all kinds of things in preparation of me having Caroline. They loved to feel my belly hoping to feel her move or kick. Every week we'd get out the tape measure to see how much my belly had grown. We made a paper chain counting the number of days till my due date and every day kids would take turns being the one that got to cut off the chain marking one less day till the big event. And no one was more enthusiastic about all these things than Pedro.

When I had Caroline in February, I returned to the school a few weeks later, new baby in tow, to show her off to my little orphaned class. Even though I had done a good job of preparing them for my departure, we were all a little melancholy that our time together was done.

I'd hear from a few of my students occasionally...but for the most part, I was fully immersed in the business of being a mom. On the day of Caroline's first birthday, a year after I left teaching, I received a call from my old school saying I needed to come pick something up. They wouldn't tell me what it was, just that it was important, and I needed to come that day if possible. So I went. When I got there, they brought Pedro into the office. In his hands was a huge big store bought birthday cake that said, Happy 1st Birthday Caroline.

I started to cry. The most remarkable thing about this, was that this little 3rd grade boy had been saving his own money for months and months, counting down the days until the exact day of my baby's birthday. He WALKED to the grocery store by himself to get the cake before school and showed up at school with it.

He was that kind of kid.

He still is.

Yesterday was my daughter's 10th birthday. Last night before bed, my phone rang. It was Pedro, who is now in High School. He was making his annual phone call on Caroline's birthday. Not one year has gone by when he hasn't remembered. He usually calls me every Mother's Day too. I found out this year that he no longer lives with his grandmother in East Dallas. He's been adopted by a family and lives pretty close to Caroline's school. He's being homeschooled by his new family and is a Senior. He's also taking college courses at the local community college. He's hoping to be a Speech Pathologist.

I wish I could take some credit for Pedro and how he turned out. But I know better. I'm glad that Pedro loved me, but Pedro didn't need me. The light I saw in him was there the first day he entered my classroom. I just got to enjoy it for a while.
I feel so blessed that he continues to share his life with me. I can't wait to see all the great things he's going to do.

Just When You Think...

2005-10-10T03:24:00.001-07:00

Just when you think you're spinning your wheels, musically speaking, something like this lovely email comes along!

Subj: CARY - Got the CD at WVUD and it is BODACIOUS!!

Hi Cary-
It's like this - I've got a stack of cd's to review for the station and how the hell am I suppose to do that when I can't take your CD out of my Cd player??? It's impossible - you have made it impossible to do my job.
Thank you for Yellow - for the music, the lyrics, the messages beyond the lyrics, what I extrapolate from the songs and the groove.
Please consider doing an interview with me on WVUD sometime - live, telephone, taped in the studio for the show, with Tom, whenever in the next year - I'm in Newark, DE on I-95 - the drug corridor!!
Thank you for making my job a bitch!!
Truly,
Mary Post
WVUD-FM
Perkins Student Center
University of Delaware
Newark, DE 19716

PS I wanted an interview before Yellow - now I really want one.

Made my day!!

Full Circle

2005-09-07T00:41:00.000-07:00

This past Sunday at Kerrville was a special day. Not only was it my first official solo appearance on the festival bill, it was also the five year anniversary of the day that I met Tom Prasada-Rao around a Kerrville campfire.

I shared the Threadgill Stage Sunday afternoon with Southpaw Jones, Jenny Reynolds and Greg Klyma for a very fun in-the-round that went off spectacularly. When it was done, I walked up to the ballad tree (where Tom was hosting) and told the story of the first time I ever sang at the ballad tree to the small circle of people that were there. I sang Flatbed Truck (one of the first songs I ever wrote and THE FIRST song I sang at the ballad tree six years ago) and was asked by my dear friend, Bill Nash, to sing on my favorite song of his, "Gentle Winds". Brought back many sweet memories of my first couple of trips to the festival. Later, down at the main stage, Tom and I were invited on stage by another dear friend, Michael McNevin, to sing on one of his songs, "Mr. Mays", which was great fun.

All day, we had been inviting friends to come down the Camp Nashbill at the end of the night, to help us celebrate the anniversary of our meeting. We went into town earlier in the day and bought five bottles of wine (one for each year) to share with our friends. As the mainstage closed, and people began to wander back down into the campgrounds, we made our way over to Camp Nashbill. Sitting around the circle were, Bill Nash, Scott from Huntsville, Teresa Morris, Me, Tom, Erik Balkey, Michael McNevin, Stephanie Corby, Cheryl Duckett, Azalea Cervantes...we even had a surprise appearance from Dana Cooper, when he stopped by and serenaded us with a beautiful ballad from his latest album. After a while, we left Camp Nashbill, joined by Dalis Allen and Clay, Betty Friedrichsen and John Eddleman and a few others and headed up to Chapel Hill (after a few minutes of crooning "Love Me Tender" to perfect strangers entering the port-a-johns - one of Tom and Mikey's favorite late night activities).

It was dark up on the hill except for all the stars in the sky, and we made our way over to a big circular bench under the giant shade tree where the chimes hang and clink in the breeze. We sang "Here Now" for Rachel Bissex. We might have played a few other songs too, I forget. Then Tom asked Michael McNevin (Mikey) to play the song they wrote together, "Silver Hair". It was a beautiful moment. Quiet. Reverent. Perfect.

Then, when Mikey was done singing, Tom got down on his knees and ASKED ME TO MARRY HIM!!!!!!!
AND I SAID YES!!!!!!

There were cheers around the circle, then there were tears as soon as Erik Balkey started singing the Bob Dylan song, "Make You Feel My Love".

Evidently, this sneaky little band of chapel hill gypsy angels were all in on the surprise. One of these amazing angels gave us the incredible gift of a beautful diamond ring that belonged to her mother that I now have the honor of wearing as my engagement ring. A few other folks that were in on the secret, made their way up to Chapel Hill a little after the proposal where we stayed up all night singing love songs and laughing and doing all the things that make Kerrville such a special place.

I don't remember a night where I've had more fun, felt more love.

I wish everyone a night like this. I wish everyone friends like these. I wish everyone true love.

Silver Hair
(Michael McNevin & Tom Prasada-Rao)

I could have been like Kerouac
Done everything I always thought I'd do
On the road in a beat up Cadillac
A big old bike and a rose tattoo

But I love you more than trouble
I'd quit the road for you
Trade it in on a rocking chair
And my old lover with silver hair

I could have been a gangster too
Been hell on wheels and robbing banks
I could have been notorious
And had my lousy luck to thank

But I love you more than trouble
I'd give it up for you
Trade it in on a rocking chair
And my old lover with silver hair

Don Quixote chased his windmills
And when I chase my own I miss
But I'd fight your dragons
I'd pull your wagons
I'd do it all for this
A hand to hold when I get old
And a forehead I could kiss

Don Quixote chased his windmills
And I may still be chasing mine
But I love you more than trouble
I love you more than trouble
I love you more than trouble
Let me sit by you a while

Make You Feel My Love
(Bob Dylan)

When the rain is blowing in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love

When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one there to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love

I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawling down the avenue
There's nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love

The storms are raging on the rollin' sea
And on the highway of regret
The winds of change are blowing wild and free
You ain't seen nothing like me yet

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the earth for you
To make you feel my love

This Crazy Life

2005-08-17T16:15:00.000-07:00

If I could even begin to describe with some sense of realism what the last couple weeks or even more specifically the last couple of hours have been like, I would. But I don't think this kind of chaos translates well over typing keys.

Let's just leave it at this. We're down to the wire with getting the mixes done on my cd. We are flying out in an hour headed east toward Ottawa. Tom has one mix left to do and was packing the computer equipment at 3:45 as we were flying out the door to drop off the girls with their grandmother at 4:00 before heading to the airport (in our car without air conditioning in 100 degree weather)...flying to the airport just in time to catch our flight only to find out at the gate that the flight is delayed.

So here we are in the TGI Fridays bar with cords from Tom's computer and external hard drive plugged into the ceiling having a glass of wine and mixing "Yellow" with headphones on. Bet that's the first time this has happened in Friday's at DFW.

Viva Insanity!!!

WooHoo for technology!!

Happy crazy everybody.

I need a digital camera!

2005-08-05T06:43:00.000-07:00

Just got home from the Falcon Ridge Folk Festival and 5 days at Nantasket Beach, MA with Tom and the girls, and I realized that I don't have one picture to show for it. Not one that I can easily download here on this site anyway.

And that's a shame. Cause there were beautiful moments to be captured. Like Caroline and Hannah hanging with their new Boston area boy buds at Falcon Ridge, Huxley, Angeus, and Sawyer. And wave jumping and sand castle building and clam shell digging at the beach with Eileen and Felicia and Grant.

Or the girls big recording session for a song on my upcoming cd. One of the sweetest things I've ever witnessed, hearing my babies sing along on the ring around the rosy tag at the end of "the circle"...(Hannah actually sings pocketfull of FOSIES - if you listen close on the cd, you'll hear it). Sweet enough to make Tom wipe away a quick tear or two before he was found out by the girls.

Or by me. On the digital camera I don't have.

Think I'll be doing a little talking to Santa come December...

Shall I Say It Again?

2005-07-14T06:10:00.000-07:00

I LOVE New York City. I'd move here in a heartbeat if all my life circumstances were properly lined up (which they aren't and won't be ANY time in the forseeable future).

I"m typing while laying (or is it lying - I never DID get that in english) in bed in my cozy little hotel on the upper west side where I've actually figured out how to navigate myself around to everywhere I need to go.

I've gotten some kind of goofy thrill out of hailing cabs and saying 117 W. 79th between Columbus and Amsterdam, with a bored expression on my face, as if I've done this every day since I was old enough to hail my own cab.

That's what's so alluring about this city. You can be whomever, whatever you want to be. AND NOBODY CARES! In a good way. (a very good thing, actually, for a girl who has managed to go through life her entire life extremely self conscious assuming that everyone within viewing distance is not only WATCHING every move she makes but also ANALYZING and JUDGING those moves, as if merely moving through life, her life in particualar of course, is an olympic sport worthy of such close attention) Not to say that people don't care...I've met the nicest people in my time here. A cab driver who drove an extra couple of blocks (and turned off the meter) helping me get my bearings straight. An understanding waitress who didn't freak out when I accidentally took the wrong bag with me to the restaurant - the one without my wallet - and waited patiently while I walked the 4 blocks back to my hotel to get it. A woman who sat next to me at the CAROLE KING CONCERT at RADIO CITY MUSIC HALL last night, talking about how we both grew up listening to the Tapestry album and then sang along together (with the rest of the audience) on "it's too late baby" and "i feel the earth move" and "will you still love me tomorrow".

And talk about another surreal kick - having Kenny White (www.kennywhite.net) record some kick ass piano parts to MY version of "i feel the earth move" which is going on my new solo album. Not only did he record on that song, but also on "little girl" and "cinderella" (which was inspired, both rhythmically and stylistically by one of his songs, "in my recurring dream")

So if I ever turn up missing, you'll all know where to hunt me down. But New York IS a big city. With lots of hiding places...she says with a sinister yet wistful (and forgivable) grin.

My biggest lesson by far, is one I learned from Tom's cousin Suji who went to eat with me after a gig on Tuesday. I asked her if she knew of a place with good indian food, and she said "yeah, just a few blocks down, let's walk". 10 miles and 2 big ass blisters later, we arrived.

The lesson - when you come to the city, bring sensible shoes. Or take a cab. I'll hail it for you. I'm good at it.

New York

2005-07-11T15:12:00.000-07:00

I wanna live here.
Enough said.

Hanging with the Peltons

2005-07-07T06:54:00.000-07:00

For the past week, I have been living in Charlottesville, VA in the basement of the Pelton's house. Tom has been living here for the past 3 weeks with 2 1/2 more weeks to go. Every summer for the past 5 summers, this is where Tom has lived when he comes to teach at UVA. Every summer for the past 4 I have come for at a least a week or so. It's funny how well you come to know someone when you live in their house for an extended period. And it's really interesting how quickly you develop your own "family dynamics".

The Pelton's are a great family and I personally am so grateful for their incredible hospitality and for the opportunity to get such an up close and personal look at their lives. Gary and Rebecca (the parents) have 3 kids ranging in age from recent high school graduate to one on the verge of entering high school. Two girls and a boy. Hannah, Emma and Jake. In my family growing up, there were two girls and a boy just like that. Same birth order with me being the oldest. So it's hard for me to not have occasional flashbacks to my own childhood when looking at the Pelton clan.

Tom and I recently decided that we needed to put a rush on getting my new CD out so that we could have it available at the Kerrville Wine and Music Festival where I'm going to play in the round with several other past New Folk finalists. One of the big hold ups in getting it done is that I have no new photos I like with my new short hairdo. Come to find out, Emma Pelton, is a very passionate budding photographer. And budding in NO WAY refers to the quality of her pictures, only to the fact that she hasn't been doing it very long. She went on a trip with her school this past year to Egypt and took some of the most brilliant photographs I've ever seen.

So yesterday, Emma took a shot at shooting her first CD cover. She also just turned 16 and only two days ago got her driver's license. So not only did she take my picture, she drove me around town on her first day to drive with her license. Might I add, that her driving skills are equal to her skills in photography (outside of a few directional mishaps, but I told her I wouldn't talk about that).

We decided to shoot on location at the University of Virginia. Lots of old brick buildings, trees etc...Beautiful scenery. Just the place to camoflauge someone who hates to get their picture taken. Let me just say, that I'm a horrible subject for photos. I mean, I've had some really nice pictures taken of me, but they're usually candid with me caught unawares. If I have to pose, or DO something to have my picture taken, I feel incredibly awkward and self concious...its as if everything I know about moving and smiling and being confident just goes right out the window. Modeling was never in my future.

All that being said, after a few location changes and a few harrowing clothing changes (try getting naked outside on a college campus with your giggling photographer holding up a sarong for you to change behind) Emma came through with some amazing pictures.

Not only was it a good shoot, but I thoroughly enjoyed getting to hang out with Emma. Bright, articulate, funny, passionate...She gives me hope for the next generation. Watch out for Emma Pelton. She's going places!

(Below are a few of the shots we WON'T be using for the CD, but still really great shots...)

guitar by the tree

2005-07-07T06:51:00.000-07:00

guitar by the tree, originally uploaded by cary cooper.

alley wall

2005-07-07T06:50:00.001-07:00

alley wall, originally uploaded by cary cooper.

jacket by the tree

2005-07-07T06:50:00.000-07:00

jacket by the tree, originally uploaded by cary cooper.

Big Apple Here I Come!!

2005-06-27T23:14:00.000-07:00

Okay. I feel kind of like a kid at Christmas. I'm getting ready to go to NYC for a week. A whole week! BY MYSELF!!! I've been there before. Tom and I have been there together a few times, always working, and we've taken the girls once for fun. But I've never been by myself. And it's always been a dream. Ever since I was a little girl obsessed with dancing and acting. Dreaming of the celebrity of Broadway. Of the anonymity of such a big city. Growing up in a small town, anonymity was hard to come by and sometimes desperately desired.
So, after a weekend of gigs in the D.C. area, I'm taking the train up from Virginia and spending 4 nights in a hotel, taking in as many sites as I can including Fiddler on the Roof - my first time to see a play on Broadway (Fiddler was also the first major musical I had a role in as a 13 year old) AND going to Radio City Music Hall to hear Carole King (I grew up on her Tapestry album - the first CD I bought myself when I got my first CD player in the late 80's)!!!

Start spreading the news, I'm leaving today...

So I get corny when I'm excited. Forgive me already.

"THE QUOTE"

2005-06-22T12:56:00.000-07:00

Lots of you have been asking about the Marianne Williamson quote, so I decided to put it up here so that it was easy to find. I saw this quote for the first time when Tom introduced me to his friends Nancy and Fett in Nashville. Nancy had it hanging on her office door with lots of the words and phrases highlighted in different colors. The colors caught my eye and I read the quote, but what it said didn't sink in until much later. After we'd left their house, I emailed Nancy and asked if she could send me a copy, because I couldn't get the words out of my head. When she emailed me back, she said "Funny you should ask for this, because Tom is the one that gave it to me years ago." Small world...

Now if only we could all live by these words...

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light not our darkness, that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?"
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to manifest the glory of God that's within us. It is not in just some of us. It's in everyone. And as we let our light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our fear, our presence automatically liberates others."

- a quote of Marianne Williamson from the book "Illuminata" as quoted by Nelson Mandela in his 1994 inaugural speech.

A Girl's Gotta Do...

2005-06-22T00:47:00.000-07:00

Over 10 years ago, I started training for a marathon. I trained in Dallas with an official training group at the Tom Landry Center. I ran my weekday runs by myself, then did my long saturday runs with a group at White Rock Lake that ran at about my pace. I loved it. It made me feel alive.

I made it all the way to the half marathon in my training. Then I got the flu. And it took me two weeks to recover. By the time I felt like running again, I was too far behind in the training to catch up. Never did run a marathon.

It's always been a dream of mine, and I decided last weekend while we were on the road, that NOW is the time to polish off that dusty dream.

Besides every show we do, I have to listen to Tom sing the line "she wants to run a marathon"...in his song WHAT SHE DOES FOR ME. (song three of the quadrilogy for those of you singing along at home) I'm so sick of hearing that and thinking to myself, "are you EVER going to do it???"

So NOW is the time.

Just so you can keep me honest, I'm going to share with you my plan. Since it's been a full 3 years since I've run a lick, what I'm going to concentrate on this year is just building a base. I'm going to try and run 5-6 days a week at least 20 minutes a day. If I can manage this, then next summer, I'll begin full out training for the New York City Marathon that takes place in November.

So November 2006. I've said it. I'm gonna do it. You can hold me to it!

(what the hell am I thinking?) :-)

Fishes and Wishes

2005-06-22T00:35:00.000-07:00

my big catch, originally uploaded by cary cooper.

Last Monday, we went on a fishing extraganza with Tom's family. Altogether, we were quite a crew. Tom's parents, Tom and Ardys, brother Danny and wife Idella, sister Patty, sister Polly and her two sons, Alex and Zach, and cousin Lorraine. Along with me, Tom, Caroline, Hannah, the captain (whose name I've blocked out for psychological reasons) and the first mate, Jason. Quite an eclectic group to be sure.

First of all, this is only the second time I've ever been fishing in my life. The first time was also with Tom's family two years ago. That trip, we caught little fish on a little pontoon boat on the Potomac River. This time, we were getting serious. Going after the almighty Rockfish swimming around in the Cheasepeake Bay. We had collectively rented our boat for 8 hours and we were supposed to catch a 27 fish limit of fish that weighed over 28 lbs. Last time, the fish I caught could have lived happily in a large aquarium.

The girls were very excited about the trip. We had been talking it up for weeks and they always love spending time with Tom's parents whom they've named "GrandmaMA and GrandpaPA" (those particular names chosen, I think, because they were the most exotic sounding grandparent names they could come up with for their adopted indian grandparents) I don't really know what the girls were expecting of this excursion, but I'm pretty sure it had nothing to do with the reality that took place.

We boarded our boat at around 2 in the afternoon, met our captain and first mate, and set out toward the extremely rocky waters of the Cheasepeake Bay. The first thing the girls wanted to do was explore the boat. Not being up on boats or boat lingo, I have no idea what kind of boat it was except to say that it had a main level where we did all the fish catching, an upper deck that you had to climb a ladder to access, a small inside cabin with a table, and a lower inside level with small airplane-type bathroom. For throwing up.

As it turns out, the bathroom got a lot of use that day. After touring the boat, Caroline decided that where she really wanted to hang out was downstairs. Unfortunately, it turned out to be very rocky and very HOT downstairs. She christened the bathroom with the first round of throw up. Shortly after Caroline exited the bathroom, Tom's sister-in-law, Idella entered, never to be heard from again. Fish smells and throw up smells...a lovely combination.

Caroline was trying hard to be brave, and trying really hard not to throw up again since the bathroom was now permantently occupied, but her stomach was not cooperating with her plan. Luckily there was a trash can on board and a box of trash bags which became her bathroom for the rest of the trip.

To balance all this, the rest of the crew was having a great time and catching a lot of fish. BIG fish. Tom's dad is the most avid fisherman of the group and he seemed to be pretty happy. As did most of the others.

The captain, while i'm sure he is a really nice man on land, seemed to be hellbent on winning the tough guy at sea award. He seemed to take great pleasure out of yelling things like "We don't have enough people catching fish on this boat! Or, I don't hear anyone telling me how much line they've let out! People people people!!" Between fishing poles flying, caught fish flopping in the poor dead fish bucket, changing out throw up trash bags, getting stung by killer flies, and trying to entertain an utterly bored and too small to fish, Hannah, I couldn't really tell if I was having fun or not. Well actually I could. But it didn't seem polite to say how I really felt.

Caroline and I found a corner near the back of the boat where I sat on an ice cooler and she lay across my lap while I rubbed ice on her forehead and neck. We tried to coax Idella out of the bathroom and out in the fresh air with us (as Caroline seemed to be feeling better out there) but she was past the point of being able or strong enough to move. All the while more fish were being thrown in the flopping bucket. The only thing that seemed to keep Caroline and Hannah entertained and hanging on was making bets about who would catch the next fish and counting down how many fish we had left to catch in the 27 fish quota.

Somewhere around 25 fish, Caroline looked a lot less green and actually started to feel better. Hannah on the other hand, was going down hill. It's a lot to ask of a 5 year old to stand on a boat where everyone is too busy to pay much attention to her, and she's not big enough to fish. My heart was going out to my kids. So I made a determination. *I* was going to catch the last two fish. And we were all going home.

I know what you're thinking. You can't just decide to catch fish and then actually catch fish. But I'm here to tell you, there's MUCH to be said about the power of positive thinking. In fact, on my only other fishing experience, I told Tom as we were driving to the boat, I'm gonna catch some fish today. (Tom had never caught a fish before either). He said, "Yeah yeah". I said, "No, I mean I'm GONNA catch a fish". And sure enough, not only did I catch one, I caught two at once on one line (with two hooks)! And I've got pictures to prove it.

So as I was sitting there with Caroline next to me looking pretty miserable, and Hannah wandering aimlessly looking equally miserable, I determined that I was going to save my children from further misery and catch the damn fish.

So I stood up, grabbed a pole and cast my line out into the water. Less than five minutes later, fish number 26 was tugging on my line. Nothing to it, I was thinking. And my girls were so pleased that Mom was saving the day. Jason the first mate came over to add my fish to the flopping bucket and I set out to catch number 27. I forgot to mention that Tom had caught two fish by this time. And somewhere after catching number 26, he made the mistake of uttering a throw down of sorts. Something along the lines of, "Yeah well, I caught two". That statement didn't get by me or Jason, who was still standing near and whispered to me, "All you got to do to hush him up is to catch this last fish". Which is exactly what I intended to do. All along.

Everytime someone would catch a fish, the first thing the captain would ask was how far out were you? And the fish catcher was supposed to respond with some kind of number. I must have been knee deep in throw up when this little system got started, cause I had no idea what they were talking about. So when I caught number 26, I told him I had no idea what he was talking about, and then Jason, my new buddy, explained it to me. Every time you let out an arms length of line, you counted. And if the fish didn't bite after a couple of minutes, you were supposed to let out or reel in a few more lengths of line.

After catching number 26, things slowed down a lot. No bites. No hope of bites. Minutes dragged by. The nasty killer flies were the only things biting. And the kids were still tired and bored. So I just kept letting out a little more line and a little more line and a little more line. All the while saying to myself, I'm gonna catch this fish.

Someone started up the betting game again and asked the girls who they thought was going to the catch the last fish. Hannah said without hesitation, "My mom is going to catch the last fish. I believe in my mom." And over and over for the next several minutes, she would repeat that and "You can do it mom, I know you're going to catch the fish". And I just kept letting out more and more line.

Then lo and behold, something bit! And I started to reel it in. I reeled and reeled and reeled for what felt like an eternity. I asked Jason how close was I getting, and his response was less than motivating. "Oh my god", he said, "how much line did you let out?" "I have no idea", was my feeble answer. At that point, I felt like I was back in high school running track, and I had just given everything I had to running the 100 yard dash only to have the coach say "But you're signed up to run the MILE". Now I felt like *I* was going to throw up.

I really wanted to reel the thing in by myself, but I'm a girl who is comfortable with my limitations, so I called for backup. "Tom! Come help me catch this fish." At first he said something like, "No baby, you can do it. Catch this thing by yourself". But when he could see how desperately tired I was, he did stand behind me and take over the reeling until HE got too tired to continue. (Now he likes to say he quit on purpose so that I could actually do the final reeling in. Yeah right.) At least it was enough of a break for me to get my second wind. All the while Jason was still commenting on how far out it was and how much line I must have let out. I made another determination to tune out Jason.

When I had reeled in enough line so that the fish was actually getting pretty close to the boat, Jason said, "Holy cow, I think you caught a small child!". I wasn't sure if he was being serious, or just patronizing a middle aged woman. But as he put out the net and pulled up my catch, I knew he was being serious. THIS was a big ass fish! They took it over to the counter to measure it, and it was longer than the yard stick. Turns out, it was 39 inches long!!! The biggest catch of the day.
And Hannah was excited and proud. "I knew my mom was going to catch it. I knew she was!"

There's a lot more I could say on the gory end of things. Like having to stick my hand up under the gills of gigantofish to get my picture taken while gigantofish was still flopping around. And having blood from gigantofish dripping all over my white skirt. (why would I wear a white skirt on a fishing boat?? That, of course, is another entry) But I'd rather end on a positive note. Since this is all about the power of the positive.

Did thinking I could catch the fish really enable me to catch them? Was it luck? Was I born with good fishing karma? Do I really lead a charmed life like my good friend Susie says? I don't know. I only know that I decided to catch them and I DID. And that Hannah believed in me, the power of her mother. I know I won't always be able to deliver in such a visual way on all of her proclamations of faith, but I'm glad that on this day, I could.