It gave me Goosebumps!

We arrived at the venue with plenty of time to spare. It was a nice little cafe in the lobby of a beautiful, up-scale hotel  downtown. The number of people fluctuated throughout the night as many came to eat, visit and then retire back up to their rooms or back outside to head home. Some enjoyed the music so much they stayed the entire night and wanted to talk to Eric afterwards. 

I was settled in at a table upfront with a view of the stage and the wide sweeping stairs nearby that led inside the lobby. Two sets of double doors, made of glass, separated our area from the hotel checkin area. These doors and the hustle and bustle on the other side was a constant distraction, yet at times it served as additional entertainment.

There was a point in the evening when Eric was playing an upbeat, bouncy song from his newest CD. The song is called “Why”. As the song began, a large man stepped into view on the other side of those glass doors. He began half strutting and half dancing as he inched himself in our direction to the beat of the music. Meanwhile he balanced  a large tray of food on the fingertips of his right hand. On his face was a huge smile as he put on quite a show for us. Eric turned to see what we were watching and he motioned the guy to come on in…He immediately came through those doors and down those steps; stopping on each step to shake his bootie. He ended right at the front of the stage. Every move he made was perfect with the beat of the music. We hated to hear the song come to an end. It is so uplifting to see someone as refreshing and happy as this man.

The people at this show were all new faces; except for two friends who came for only a few minutes. These friends were at the Listening Room across the street and they slipped over to our show during the break. It is rare to be in a room full of strangers at Eric's shows, but this is after all a hotel and their guests are the primary audience.

There was a guy who sat alone with his laptop and continually typed at a fast pace. He had a lot to say because his fingers were jumping the entire time Eric played. He would halt his work to applaud after each song. At one point he asked if he could get a business card. In all I gave out at least a dozen business cards that night.

One couple sat close to the stage and they interacted with Eric all night. He was from Greenville, South Carolina and she from somewhere in Mississippi. As the night progressed the volume of her voice continually got higher and by 9 o’clock she was screaming every word like the captain on a cheerleading squad. At one point during the show Eric pointed me out and said “that’s my mother”. After that she would come over and hug me often.  They were great folks. They bought one each of all 3 of Eric’s CDs and two shirts. Both assured us they are fans for life and they plan to bring him to Greenville for a show or two.

This enthusiastic couple listened to every word of every song and it turns out her name is Amy. She was thrilled to see that Eric has a song about a girl named Amy. It is called “Amy it Ain’t”. When she requested it, Eric explained that it is not romantic or even sweet. He further explained; it is about a girl not listening when he told her he could not get into a serious relationship. Now Amy (in the song) seems to blame him for the relationship not progressing and feels that he led her on. The guy from Greenville said, “Sing it man, Sing it!” Eric sang this song and that fellow from South Carolina loved it. He even declared it to be perfect and said he is going to make it his ringtone. Amy seemed excited about that. It made me think perhaps she did not listen to the message of the song as closely as her boyfriend.

Then I looked up to see a woman walk in the door and take a seat. Seeing her was the most  exciting part of my evening. I had goosebumps immediately. I turned away and then looked back again to make sure. This woman looked right at me and it took my breath as she looked exactly like my dear grandmother (Irene White) at least when I was a child. When grandma was in her fifties she was attractive, with long salt & pepper hair and a beautiful smile. This woman’s mannerisms were identical, her face was identical, her size, and the way she styled her hair. It was eerie and sweet at the same time. Moments later she stepped over to me and my heart was beating out of my chest as she approached. Turns out she just wanted to get directions to the restroom. I stuttered as I told her. Even that voice sounded like grandma’s sweet voice.  I never told her why I stared or why I was so nervous and unable to speak clearly. What would she think if a person as old as I am, said, “You look just like my grandmother!” It would certainly not seem like a compliment. 

She had arrived at 9:00 pm and Eric's show would end at 9:30pm, so I only had 30 minutes to  stare at her. Even as I type these words the hair is standing up on my arms and my neck and goosebumps abound. I felt strangely happy as it seemed I was seeing my grandmother alive, young and vibrant again. My grandmother had a happy attitude, she lived her life joyfully, even in times of great hardship and pain. Oh how I still miss her.

Unfortunately, her last 10 years were dark days as she wandered around. She was lost somewhere deep in her mind when Alzheimer’s grabbed her and stole her from us. I remember wanting her to just say my name one more time or just recognize my face again.

Seeing this woman lifted my spirits and lightened those heavy memories I have of her as she drifted away. She died January 3rd, 1989 (it was on my birthday). I wrote her Eulogy and read it at her funeral service because it was important to me that everyone remember her personality and her vibrant spirit before her days of Alzheimer's.

My time with this woman felt almost like grandma was saying, “Im here Juanita and I am fine!” ...It felt good. 

It had been a night of meeting new people, listening to great music and feeling my sweet grandmother one more time.

This is my happy face!

It was a benefit show in honor of a “regular” patron at a local bar called The Garage. This was the fourth annual Ben Wall Memorial Concert. Each year the funds are earmarked for a worthy cause, this one was no exception. A beloved musician is fighting for his life in a battle against cancer. His name is Ziggy Luis of Zig and the Zigtones and is well known in the Mobile Music scene. The proceeds will go to him as he is no longer able to work and certainly has medical and other expenses. 

Traffic on the street outside The Garage was blocked off by police cars to protect those who walked from the parking area to the venue. Crawfish with corn and potatoes was cooking on the sidewalk. Homemade sugar cookies had been baked, decorated beautifully and packaged two to a pack by a young girl (whose mom organized the event). On one side of each package these words were printed “Feel The Love”. I did feel the love as I enjoyed one of those cookies myself. I sat with her grandmother and learned that this little girl (about 9-10 years old) was an accomplished baker who had her own cupcake business. She brought cupcakes last year to this event and decided on cookies this time, which worked out much better.

Most of these benefits include raffles. Local businesses donate items to be raffled in an effort to help raise more money for the one in need. Also there was a yard sale type event going on outside with items displayed on tables. There was a menagerie of items for sale including some awesome looking coat racks featuring glass handled door knobs from old buildings. There were shirts commemorating this year’s event and the names of all those who volunteered to perform were printed on the back.

I enjoy people watching as much as anyone. I could not help but notice the diversity of people who walked through those doors. There were people from many ethnicities, many levels of social status and sexual identities and even a dog joined the crowd. It warmed my heart to see this many truly different people join together to help their fellow man. 

Today’s news can be frightening and can even make a person doubt the good in people. We do have a bad element in society, I am not blind to that, but I say most people just want to live and be happy. I witnessed that this weekend for sure.

It was demonstrated by the volunteers, the patrons, the paid staff and the local musicians who happily donated their talent. Each musician who volunteered had an allotted time of one to two hours and then would relinquish the stage to the next on the lineup. All were courteous and respectful of the others and even occasionally took the stage and vocally backed up each other.

The dog who joined us was a large white bulldog and for me, he stole the show. He was full of personality and warmth. This dog stayed out of the way yet enjoyed the space he was given to the upmost. He was not intimated by the crowd or the loudness. The music and the occasional roar from the sound system that made me nearly leap from my chair, did not phase him at all.

At times during the show, I found myself staring at that bulldog as he lay there observing all the happenings around him with great amusement. His owner would reach down and rub him or scratch him and he would occasionally lift one paw up to encourage more of that. I have heard a dog who has not been neutered is likely to be aggressive. This dog was absolutely NOT neutered, yet he was peaceful, calm and content. He watched the crowd and I believe he enjoyed people-watching as much as I do.

I always thought bulldogs look so mean and ugly. However, after spending time in this dog’s presence; I realize this is their happy face and I view them totally different now. Likewise as I get older when I am in thought and have that "bulldog" face going on...I hope people will just remember it is my happy face too.

I felt so lucky to have the opportunity to see human nature at its finest that day. People who gathered with good hearts and kind spirits. People who spent their time and their money to help out their fellow man in need. Life is wonderful in my world.

Choose happy...

She wore a beautiful mint green top and white shorts as I watched her step away from her table and up to the bar. Drink in hand she rejoined her friends. It was group of 7 people, laughing, talking and sometimes listening to the music. A couple of hours later, Eric took a break and as I glanced around the deck where we were sitting, this same young lady in green caught my eye. She looked like a different person now. Her whole demeanor had changed; her voice was louder, her face was scrunched up with anger or pain and she had gone from beautiful and smiling to scary and unpleasant. Through the eyes of others at her table, I could see some of them were also surprised by her metamorphosis.

I was drawn back to a conversation at my table at that point. My friend Christie began telling me about a memorial service in honor of the mother of our mutual friend. His mother had passed away last year.  It is a Jewish ceremony that takes place in the first year after a person’s death. It took place at her gravesite in Atlanta, Georgia and had just happened the day before. My understanding is that the ceremony includes Rabbis who deliver the prayers and unveil the gravestone. The purpose, I believe is to help in the process of moving on from the loss of someone after a year. The ceremony adds feelings of peace and understanding. It is a way of filling the empty hole in your heart with love and lovely memories of the deceased, thereby officially leaving the grieving behind. It is a nice and moving event for a very close family member. Certainly it is a touching process and deeply emotional.

As we talked, out of the corner of my eye, I saw this lady in the mint green blouse that I had observed earlier. She seemed upset as another lady knelt down near her. Soon, the two of them went to the restroom or went outside; I am not sure where but they left the dining area. 

My Friend Christie was only on her lunch break and had to leave. She is always fun to visit with and I hated she had to go. Just as Christie was leaving, my niece, Nancy and her husband approached my table. I am always lifted up when I see these two. They are people who bring sunshine with them. Not enough is said about how much a room can light up when happy people enter. There is always a bit of gloominess and sometimes anger in a room, so Nancy and Jody are a welcomed breath of fresh air.  

Time had passed and I got up to go to the restroom. As I stood at the sink, washing my hands I glanced up; I saw one of the ladies from the table that included the lady in the mint green. Then out of another stall, she staggered. Her words were garbled and her ability to stand was barely present. She said, “I’m Nadine and I’m drunk …sorta” I nodded and said “Well Hi! I’m Juanita, nice to meet you.” The other lady said, “She is going through a break up.” "Her husband left her because he says she drinks too much!” Nadine raised her head up and said, “I don’t drink too much, just when I am upset!” “Thats normal, right?” The room was filled with silence for a couple of minutes. Then she grabbed my arm and said, “Right?” I said, “Well, drinking too much doesn't really help anything, actually sometimes it makes things worse.” Her friend told me she was taking Nadine home. I was not sure what to do or say, so awkwardly I hugged them both and left the bathroom.

No life is perfect, everyone has their own issues and their “baggage” as it is called. I have had my share of obstacles in life. Death, loss, pain and uncertainty rain down on us all from time to time. It is tough but we are tough, we are resilient and we will survive these things we think we can’t survive. I wish I could have had a real conversation with Nadine, but she was not in the right frame of mind for conversation. I do not know her but I wish her well and I hope she is able to rebuild her life and be happy.

Sometimes a little pity party happens, that is part of life. I say fix the problem if you can, or cut your losses and leave it behind if fixing it is impossible. Life is far too short to waste even a minute being unhappy. Everyone has their own way of seeing things, that is mine.

There is enough anger and sadness, let's choose to be HAPPY!

I am proud to be a BOOKWORM, Life is Wonderful!

As I stood in the bookstore, looking for anything that caught my eye; unexpectedly it was something just outside the windows that grabbed hold of me. It was a couple who must have been swept away in enormous passion. They were locked in a kiss which made them look as though they were melting into each other; two becoming one. Unashamed, I stared full-force right at them. It was as though I was reliving my youth and young love all over again. I was mesmerized with their oblivious, blind love. They leaned against the glass to support themselves; otherwise I think they might have dropped into a heap of love onto the sidewalk.

In retrospect, I see that I should not have gawked at them so shamelessly, yet I feel no shame. In a world that is heavy with an atmosphere of hate, it was quite refreshing. 

As the kiss ended, they continued down the sidewalk, holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes instead of the path in front of them. I wanted to say “Thank You” to them. I had to talk myself out of running outside and catching them to shake their hands, however, I am well aware that would have made me appear psychotic.

Now I turned my thoughts to the show that would begin in a few minutes. It was a wonderful event made possible by many people who volunteered and the mastermind who set it all up, Shari Smith. A book would be released. This book, The Cordoba Connection, was written by a prolific author named C. Terry Cline, Jr. and published by River’s Edge Media. It was most unusual for me, as I wanted to meet him but I already knew he passed away three years ago. His final book was finished shortly before he became very ill from a stroke. He clung to life as his wonderful wife Judith Richards (also a fabulous author), took care of him. He slowly slipped away from her, from us and from life itself. A “Master of Suspense”, he was called by those who read his books. In all he wrote ten novels, each riveting, each grabbing your attention, each holding you so tightly, you must remind yourself to inhale.

At this event excerpts from this book, and others he had written, were read and music was played to support his words and thoughts. To be there was quite an honor. It was uplifting, it was chilling, it was comical and it was refreshing to be in the midst of book lovers, in the midst of loving hearts and people of great cheer. When the performance came to an end, no one wanted to leave. Instead most preferred to stay; discuss the show and discuss the book. They wanted to buy this book and others written by Terry. I felt so at home in this crowd.

When this gathering of people thinned out and breakdown of the sound equipment and instruments had been completed, we too found ourselves unable to just go home. It was still early and the publisher decided to treat us to a nice dinner. We ate at Gambino’s Italian Restaurant. It was not just dinner, no way. We talked, some told jokes, some told of experiences in their lives. The stories were ones of shared happy times, of wacky people we meet along the way, of joy and expectations. 

We finally had to call it a night and say our goodbyes in the parking lot nearby. There were hugs all around and well wishes flowed freely; then into our cars we jumped and off we went into the night. Until next time we can relive that show. Until next time we will read the books we bought and reflect on the impact of the words of C. Terry Cline, Jr. 

If you are a reader, you should go to Page & Pallette in Fairhope, Alabama. It is a simple, comfortable, cozy bookstore operated by wonderful people. They have a nice coffee shop and even a bar in the back. So there is something for everyone. Discover Page & Pallette and you will discover a whole new world.

I May Be Crazy

You may be right, I may be crazy! But I must tell you this story anyway! Tonight my son will be playing music at Manci’s Antique Club in Daphne, Alabama. I enjoy going to  Eric’s shows, regardless of where they may be, but when he is scheduled for a show at Manci’s, it is extra special to me.

All of us have our own beliefs about life, death, spirits, ... In my heart I feel my grandmother's guidance and love often. I see my deceased friend at times in the faces and mannerisms of others. I feel I must share this story with you (even though you may decide I am crazy or crazier than you realized).  Here goes.

I feel his spirit when I walk through the doors of Manci’s. It is a warmth, a touching of my heart that is unique to that place. I feel it every time I go and it stays there waiting for my next visit. It will be there tonight and I will acknowledge his presence and enjoy his company while I am there.

My favorite brother-in-law, McDuffy Smith (we called him Mack) spent so much of his time inside these walls when he was in town. He was a merchant marine who never married and had no children, yet he had many friends and they would gather at Manci’s to talk of his latest travels and catch him up on things that happened while he was gone. He loved to drink and spend time with his friends while he was home.

Mack loved us all and he would often bring gifts home to the ladies in the family. I have earrings and a ring he brought from Italy, perfume from France and even a couple of  figurines from Peru that were made by an artist there who is famous for “Grotesque Art”. The reason they called his work grotesque was that he greatly enlarged the hands and feet when he sculpted his characters. From that same trip to Peru and Bolivia, Mack brought their sister Gladys a blanket made from alpaca fur.  It was beautiful! So, Leon whispered “I wish we had gotten the alpaca instead of the ugly people”.  Leon always appreciated Mack’s gifts, he just has a way of saying what he thinks (so did Mack).

Mack was a guy who when he smiled, even his eyes seemed to smile. He was kind and thoughtful, yet he could be rough and gruff at times. I feel those emotions when I am there for hours enjoying a show at Manci’s. I believe his spirit resides there. He loved that place and a part of him remains there.

He has been gone many years now. He passed away on his last trip out before retirement. The ship was docked in Korea and he turned his coworkers down on a trip to town (which they said is very unusual for him). He told them he needed a rest. He passed away in his cabin that night.

McDuffy Smith was the 11^th child in a family of 12 children. He was born in a small house in the woods of Awin, Alabama during the depression years. He grew up to see the world many times over as he traveled and lived on that ship his whole career. He loved Manci’s Antique Club and I think of him anytime I hear the name. I also feel his spirit in there every time I go.

The Tiniest Tramp Stamp

As I reflect on last Friday and the journey it was, many emotions course through me like a runaway train. Eric had a show that was in the middle of the day at a well known location on the beach in Gulf Shores, Alabama. Though it is beautiful there, all I could think of was the heat, possible sunburn, sweat, and hours in the sun. However, I conditioned my mind to accept it was going to be just fine, and it truly was fine.

On the drive over, the skies were beautiful with white, puffy clouds popping out on a deep blue canvas. It looked too perfect to be real. I knew the day ahead would be a hot one, but I felt up to the challenge as I glimpsed at the picturesque view that was my world. 

We were in a structure a lot like a tiki bar yet built a little more sturdy. It contained a bar and seating and a roof to block the direct rays of the sun. Attached to this bar was two large blowers that would emit huge waves of a soapy substance that would cling to everything and as it blew out it would build up to several feet deep in places. The outpour of these soapy bubbles was timed and once an hour you could count on being bombarded with waves of it.

Children and adults absolutely loved this and would come running when they saw the blowers crank up with their bounty of bubbles. They all busied themselves taking pictures; some of their kids, and lots of selfies and videos, as their world was being buried in soap suds.

As time progressed people came and went. They paused to rest from the heat and get a bite to eat and most were grateful for the live music. This venue offered everything a beach goer may want or need for rest, refreshment, comfort and entertainment.

One family that came, consisted of two fathers and four children who ate and enjoyed themselves. I imagined that the moms were at a spa somewhere getting a girls day out while the dads took the children to the beach. In my days of raising my sons, there was no such thing as girls day out or spa treatments, at least not in my world. There were no manicures or pedicures unless we did them ourselves. 

I noticed this group of four children included one little girl who wore a two piece pink swimsuit and matching pink sunglasses. She had curly blonde hair and big brown eyes and loved climbing up and down from her stool as she glanced over at the musician from time to time. In my noticing I saw what looked like a “tramp stamp” tattoo just above her tiny butt. She looked to be 3-4 years old at the most. I looked hard at what seemed to be a real tattoo, but knowing it had to be a fake; maybe a henna or a paint-on thing. At that moment the soapy bubbles event was  beginning again and anyone who didn’t want it on them had to dodge in some way; while others rushed towards it with great excitement. It was at that time the little girl’s father spoke to me and introduced himself. I saw that he had many tattoos. I had to know about his daughter, so I asked about her “fake” tattoo. I said it was cute, but that is not my true feeling at all. He immediately said, “Its not fake, I did it for her last summer.” “She asked for it, so I said yes”, he added. 

“Oh, so you are a tattoo artist?” (such a dumb question, but I am good at those). He replied, “Yes, I have been doing it full-time for 6 years now.”   I smiled and there was an awkward silence as he turned his attention back to the kids and I turned mine to my son who was playing one of my favorite songs.

As I digested the whole thing, my thought was, he tattooed his child when she was 2-3 years old, because she WANTED it!

I have no problem with tattoos. I have seen some absolutely gorgeous tattoos as well as some ugly, poorly done tattoos, but in this case it was not the quality I cared about. I have close friends and family members who have a tattoo or more and to me, that is anyone’s personal choice; just like body piercings, purple hair, etc. I love that the world is so free and accommodating these days about personal choices. When I was growing up, it was rare and it was frowned upon. I believe we have the right to present ourselves in whatever way makes us feel good. 

It really bothered me about that very small child having that tattoo at such an early age and in the location right above her butt. It  draws attention to her bottom just like those sweatpants parents put on their small daughters with words like “Sexy” or “Juicy” across the butt, also bothers me. It is none of my business but I feel it sexualizes a child at such an early age. Life itself can be difficult for a child, so why do something like a tattoo before they are old enough to give real consent. 

My heart is at peace as first of all I know this is something over which I have no control. The two gentlemen that were there with the four children were pleasant, attentive and loving towards their children and that goes a long way towards soothing my ruffled feathers. 

(I sometimes become a mother hen and my feathers get ruffled, I get that from my grandmother).

Just another day on the beach for me….with images I can't get out of my head.