I went to my first Pat Metheny concert last night in Harrisburg, PA, and I have to tell you, I’m totally hooked. To be honest, the hook had already been inserted when a good friend introduced his music to me several months ago. I’d started listening to Pat’s unique style of guitar-playing and interpretation of jazz and when the opportunity presented itself to attend one of his concerts, I jumped at the chance.
For those of you who don’t know who Pat Metheny is, a visit to his website is definitely in order. (www.patmetheny.com) Pat’s been around forever, it seems, and his influence on modern jazz has been demonstrated over and over again.
The concert last night was phenomenal. Joining him was bass player and Philadelphia native, Christian McBride and drummer Antonio Sanchez from Mexico City. All three men are gifted musicians in their own right, but together…well, I just have to say it left me speechless and that’s not an easy thing to do.
One of the things that impressed me most about watching Pat play was the way he totally got into the music. From the way he seemed to personally interact with each guitar he played (and there were at least four, including a custom-made Pikasso that combined the sounds of guitar, harp and mandolin) to the expressions on his face, it was a treat to watch him because he is clearly in love with the music.
The thing I love about jazz is that it’s unsettling and comfortable at the same time. It’s sweet and seductive and penetrates your very soul. And it’s, well…sexy!
If you’re new to jazz or Pat Metheny and want some suggestions for exploring this amazing genre of American music, I’d suggest one of his first collections, “Bright Size Life.” You won’t be disappointed.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Friday, October 5, 2007
October 5, 2007 Journal Entry
I just finished listening to the song, “Penny Lover,” by Lionel Ritchie. It’s one of the songs I have recorded in my iTunes library and a favorite. Of course, it has nothing to do with the fact that it has my name in the title. *smile* I can’t help but sigh every time I hear it. It’s the kind of song that I would love someone to sing to me. I would definitely take it personally. Not because it’s the best example of classic music, but I think I like the song because it has a wistful nature to it. He’s thinking to himself and having an imaginary conversation with a girl he has an obvious attraction to. And when he thinks about her, he misses her. I want someone to miss me. There are fewer words sweeter than, “I miss you.” Not “I miss this,” or “I miss that.” but “I miss you.” Those words convey a lot. They say that there’s something worth missing. I guess that’s what everyone wants, really. I would love to come home and be greeted by a warm, “Welcome home, I missed you.” Okay, I know I’m belaboring the point, but it’s how I feel.
Maybe I’ll get a cat.
Maybe I’ll get a cat.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Remembering Our Past
I was looking back at some old photos I had and found these of my grandmother and her sisters. They were sent to me by a distance relative in Canada who saw an inquiry I posted on a genealogy website a couple years ago. I feel very lucky to have them because I never saw them before and I don't know anyone in my immediate family who had these pictures. In fact, I didn't even know my grandmother had sisters!
To the best of my knowledge, these photos were taken in England when each of the girls became engaged. Since they were all taken around 1900, the clothing they wore and the fact that they had photos taken at all says to me that the family had money--at least by the standards of the day.
The first photo is my paternal grandmother, Charlotte Pearson Ashdown. I never knew her because she died before I was born, and my dad didn't talk much about her. I think he had bittersweet memories of her because he loved her a lot and he missed her.
I remember him talking about her fig pudding (an English favorite) and how she used to fix it at Christmas. I remember him saying she had red hair when she was younger, too. I'm surprised no one in my family has red hair, at least no one I knew.
But by far the best story about my grandmother happened when they were preparing to come to America. My grandfather had already come over by ship to find work and a house. He sent for my grandmother and their six children: Silas, Nellie, Frank, Ivy, Florence and Stanley (my dad). They had two little girls who lived with them, too, but since they were only foster-parenting and hadn't legally adopted the girls, they couldn't come with them. I never heard any stories about these girls except that it broke my grandmother's heart to have to leave them behind. After I was in London and visited Kew to research family history, I discovered that my grandparents had two other children, little girls, who died within their first two years of life. I often wondered if that's why my grandmother opened her home to the other little girls, but since there's no one left in my family to talk about it, that will forever be left to conjucture.
Anyway, back to the story about coming to America. My uncle Silas, who was at that time 16 years old, went with my grandmother to purchase the tickets for the trip. When they got to the ticket office, the salesman tried to sell my grandmother tickets on a brand new ship that was setting sail on her maiden voyage. Did I mention that the year was 1912? Can you guess what they name of the ship was? That's right! The Titanic! My grandmother would not hear of it, arguing that the ship was too large and was for rich people, not them. She absolutely would not be talked into buying those tickets, but bought ones for the U.S.S. Philadelphia, which set sail in August of that year. (Good thing Grandmum had that gut feeling about the ship or else I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't be reading this blog!)
I don't know much about my aunts in the next photos, except that they were sisters. The Thwaites settled in Canada and one of their relatives is who sent me the photos. The first photo is Alice Pearson Chappell and the second is Rebekah Kate Pearson Thwaites. I have a story about Rebekah, but I'll save that for another time.
To the best of my knowledge, these photos were taken in England when each of the girls became engaged. Since they were all taken around 1900, the clothing they wore and the fact that they had photos taken at all says to me that the family had money--at least by the standards of the day.
The first photo is my paternal grandmother, Charlotte Pearson Ashdown. I never knew her because she died before I was born, and my dad didn't talk much about her. I think he had bittersweet memories of her because he loved her a lot and he missed her.
I remember him talking about her fig pudding (an English favorite) and how she used to fix it at Christmas. I remember him saying she had red hair when she was younger, too. I'm surprised no one in my family has red hair, at least no one I knew.
But by far the best story about my grandmother happened when they were preparing to come to America. My grandfather had already come over by ship to find work and a house. He sent for my grandmother and their six children: Silas, Nellie, Frank, Ivy, Florence and Stanley (my dad). They had two little girls who lived with them, too, but since they were only foster-parenting and hadn't legally adopted the girls, they couldn't come with them. I never heard any stories about these girls except that it broke my grandmother's heart to have to leave them behind. After I was in London and visited Kew to research family history, I discovered that my grandparents had two other children, little girls, who died within their first two years of life. I often wondered if that's why my grandmother opened her home to the other little girls, but since there's no one left in my family to talk about it, that will forever be left to conjucture.
Anyway, back to the story about coming to America. My uncle Silas, who was at that time 16 years old, went with my grandmother to purchase the tickets for the trip. When they got to the ticket office, the salesman tried to sell my grandmother tickets on a brand new ship that was setting sail on her maiden voyage. Did I mention that the year was 1912? Can you guess what they name of the ship was? That's right! The Titanic! My grandmother would not hear of it, arguing that the ship was too large and was for rich people, not them. She absolutely would not be talked into buying those tickets, but bought ones for the U.S.S. Philadelphia, which set sail in August of that year. (Good thing Grandmum had that gut feeling about the ship or else I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't be reading this blog!)
I don't know much about my aunts in the next photos, except that they were sisters. The Thwaites settled in Canada and one of their relatives is who sent me the photos. The first photo is Alice Pearson Chappell and the second is Rebekah Kate Pearson Thwaites. I have a story about Rebekah, but I'll save that for another time.
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