For this and my next two diary entries, in three one-paragraph installments, I will share the most unusual tale I know of how, as a child, I began to pursue music, or rather of how it began to pursue me. But please feel free to skip over this part (in red) down to the black lettering for my regular blog.

Part One (of three):  When I was eight years old I became a secret musician. It was secret simply because I was a very shy kid. At that time, when kids roamed free in the neighborhoods of America, I took a few dollars I had managed to save from helping to deliver newspapers and walked to our corner music shop. There I bought a Hohner Marine Band Harmonica!!!  I did not know that there are not any harmonicas in the actual Marine Band. It came with a pamphlet full of songs showing the note names for the numbered holes printed on the harmonica through which to blow. They were all classic American folk songs I knew, like Go Tell Aunt Rhody, The Yellow Rose of Texas, Shenandoah, and She’ll Be Comin’ Around the Mountain. I practiced secretly in my room and learned to play them well, even using the individual holes for clear single tones. I finally played one of these songs for my mom, and she listened and said something like, “Great, now go outdoors and play ball,” and never mentioned or asked me about the harmonica again. Kids were not the center of attention in those days. Oh well. I kept playing it secretly in my room. Beyond that experience, I was lucky enough to sing the alto part with adequate anonymity in our large boys choir at parochial school, for the daily school Mass. I did not yet read music, so I learned to sing my part by rote. But I think it shows I must have had enough of an ear to sing in tune. To be continued in part two next time.

On to the regular news. On Memorial Day, we were fortunate enough to be invited over to the home of friends Jeff and Barb, who specialize in Cajun cooking and are working on a Cajun cookbook. Funny that I recently went twice to New Orleans (see last entry) and got to enjoy that cuisine there, and now I got to enjoy a great encore of it back in Nashville. They made a fabulous “seafood boil,” pictured here, with shrimp, blue crab, stone crab, mussels, crawfish, Andouille sausage, milder Cajun sausage, smoked turkey necks (for flavor), corn, and little potatoes. (There are also some lemon rinds in the photo, and there were Cajun spices in the water.) Each person had a little bowl of melted better for dipping – delicious! For appetizers, there was a huge muffaletta sandwich cut into small portions, and plump fried oysters, and for dessert Cajun cake and rum cake. What a feast.

In music news, some may recall that my piece called The Sea Knows was based on a short poem I had written, with that same title. I just learned that this poem was discovered in the album’s liner notes and will be reprinted in the forward to a new edition of Hilaire Belloc’s classic 1925 book, “The Cruise of the Nona,” whose story takes place at sea. And there begins and ends my career as a published poet! You just never can imagine what can happen when you mess around where you shouldn’t (in my case, with poetry).  It’s not so great as poetry, maybe, but it does convey what I wanted to express in the music:

At ocean’s edge,/ Watching, silently expecting/ Something./ Losing myself in it,/ It becomes clear./ The sea is watching me./ It knows deep things about me,/ Things no one could guess,/ Not even I.

I have previously mentioned that my ballet project is on hold now, while they try to find the right choreographer. So, I’m getting antsy to compose more but cannot do so yet on that project. I believe it was composer Arnold Schoenberg who said, “A composer is not someone who is able to compose. A composer is someone who must compose.” That’s me. Crystal, always the one with brilliant suggestions, said “Why don’t you just go ahead and begin your next symphony while you are waiting for the green light to write the rest of the ballet?” Duh! There was the answer to all my nervous-not-getting-to compose tensions. So, I’m going to dive right into the deep end of the pool and begin composing a big new Symphony No. 3. Then I can simply set it aside and go back to the ballet when they are ready for me to.

Since last time, we have planted more flowers and herbs, including sunflowers and zinnias. Our lilies and several other flowers are now blooming. I have several green tomatoes getting near harvest size and one is starting to ripen to red on the vine, can’t wait. The fresh chives are wonderful to snip onto eggs in the morning. I’ve had to mow and trim a lot in this weather, which is the kind of exercise I actually enjoy. And Crystal is finally out of school and has been doing lots of weeding, which she actually enjoys, as well as her more creative planting of new flowers. Other than composing, I think spending a sunny day in the garden (whether gardening or reading a book on my chaise lounge) is wonderful and brings me so much therapeutic rest. If you have any patch of dirt or even pots on your balcony, I recommend it.  

Speaking of iced tea (Wait, is it called “ice tea” or “iced tea”? I don’t know), we have a ton of mint growing around the house. Here (top left) is a photo of some of our mint growing next to a patch of lamb’s ear that Crystal planted a couple of years ago. Top right you see a quart of boiling hot water with six tea bags steeping, a big bunch of mint muddled into it, with six tablespoons of Stevia (enough to knock off the bitter edge without being very sweet). And below (left), the finished pitcher of my refreshing tea. To finish the montage, I took a photo of some of the pretty wild primroses growing in abundance by our front door. What a beautiful time of year.