Standing on solid ground at Marstal, Denmark was a welcome after the exciting winds and waves that brought us there.
Entering the Seafaring Museum in Marstal, Denmark
We toured a seafaring museum which contained much more than we had time to view.
One room was full of ships in a bottle. I wondered aloud whether the sailors had trouble consuming sufficient amounts of rum to keep the makers supplied with enough empty bottles:
Model of a Dutch flat-bottomed sailing ship“Do you see what I see?”
After the previous exciting day of seafaring, we made languorous progress under mild winds to the tiny island of Avernakø, about 31km/19 miles northwest of Marstal. Having no harbor with space big enough for our schooner, the captain dropped anchor offshore.
Piloting a Zodiac, the captain ferried a portion of us passengers to shore, where we walked past sleepy farms, grazing cattle, and beautiful rolling hills of yellow rapeseed used to make canola cooking oil and biodiesel.
The rocky beach of AvernakøPassing fields of rapeseed with Robert and SebastianAbel Tasman moored offshore from Avernakø, Denmark
After returning to ship, we all got dressed up for the “Captain’s Dinner.” Frank and I agreed before the trip to bring our shiny purple jackets — the same ones we had worn 38 years to a Sadie Hawkins dance. These jackets came from a dance band my father led back in the 50s and 60s.
Day 7: Becalmed Again
On this day we expected mild winds again but hoped to make a longer trip to Sonderborg. In the morning the wind was indeed light, barely enough to nudge us forward at a mere 0.6 knots.
People took the opportunity to jump into the frigid waters – briefly – and some took advantage of the stand-up paddle board. They could not convince me to get in the water. Several of these Germans regularly go swimming first thing every morning and are used to cold water. Watching their faces grow red and how quickly they exited the water assured me there was no way I was going in without a neoprene suit.
Klara takes the plunge in the frigid Baltic
I decided instead to climb the first mast. This time, I sat on the crossbeam for a long time, taking in the sights, as well as shooting a bunch of true bird’s-eye-view photos.
View from atop the foremast
We spied porpoises in the distance. They were too distant and too fast to catch in photos, but we enjoyed watching them through a pair of binoculars we passed around.
The German word for porpoise is Schweinswale, literally “pig whale,” which seems rather unkind to these sleek and intelligent creatures. On the other hand, pigs are very intelligent creatures too, so who am I to judge?
The expected afternoon wind never came, so we powered up the diesel engine and motored for a couple of hours into Sønderborg, completing a distance of 38km/23 miles.
Frank had invited me to prepare a talk about my experience studying in East Germany. Since rain and storms were expected in the evening, he thought few people would want to disembark and this would be a good evening for my lecture.
I had written out my talk using excerpts from my East German Blog, and then run it through deepl.com, an excellent online translation tool (I never use Google Translate anymore). I knew I’d make too many little mistakes (noun gender, verb declensions, adjective endings, etc.) and didn’t want those errors to distract from the body of my presentation.
I was excited to give my talk but didn’t know what the reaction would be. Would they be polite and listen to me, but bored by my reading aloud instead of speaking freely using only notes? Would a lot of my info be old news to many? I wasn’t sure.
I connected my laptop to a big-screen TV in the mess hall to show pictures.
I gave my introduction: how would a dumb American find himself studying in East Germany, and shared seven stories from my blog. I had to concentrate hard to read my German text carefully and sound out some of the tongue-tangling long nouns, so I couldn’t make as much eye contact as I prefer. But when I did, it appeared the audience was rapt, fascinated, and really engaged. They laughed at my self-effacing jokes about stumbling through cultural misunderstandings and language challenges.
When I was done, I received a rousing applause. Frank asked each person to tell the rest if they’d visited East Germany and for how long. Most had only spent days, a weekend, or a week either visiting relatives or sightseeing. Three of our 17 had lived in East Germany. I asked them if they had any corrections or comments on what I had shared. They had a few. Mostly they thought I had been too kind and looked on some of my experiences with rose-colored glasses.
After the talk, I was humbled by how many people came up to compliment me on the presentation. They said they had no idea about most of the stuff I talked about and were filled with wonder at my experience. There was a poignancy and irony that some American kid had seen and experienced more of the former East Germany than they had. I knew more about the experience of their brethren and sistren living next door from my one semester. They also complimented me on how easy my presentation was to follow, the humor, and just how enthralled they had been. That, I didn’t expect.
About six stayed after, and a spirited discussion about East vs. West Germany ensued. My brain was tired from the exertion, so I wasn’t able to follow it quite so closely. One thing I found interesting was the fact they find current German politics continue to follow former east-west lines, 34 years after the fall of the Berlin Wall.
Day 5: A New Speed Record En Route to Marstal
The weather forecast again threatened rain on this day, but it also promised strong and favorable winds.
The captain let me take the wheel for the first couple of hours, and we hit 9.5 knots, a full knot faster than our previous top speed.
The wind grew stronger, and the captain took the helm while I joined others in pulling lines to adjust the sails. The deck was rolling and sometimes you lost your footing while trying to pull on the taut ropes.
With adjusted sails, stronger winds, and the captain at the helm, we achieved 10.4 knots, which would be our top speed for the whole trip.
The ship listed far to the side, and waves sometimes splashed over the lower deck. A container ship going in the opposite direction gave us some pretty exciting wakes and splashes. The great ship pitched and rolled over the waves. A few people susceptible to seasickness didn’t enjoy this day the way I did.
During this leg it became clear why the portholes were fixed shut. The rushing and roiling water made each porthole look like the window of a front-loading washing machine.
Although it remained mostly sunny all day, it was definitely colder than the previous day. Many people stayed inside the galley for long stretches. It was funny to see people walking tilted to one side. I suggested all the women should be renamed either Eileen, or Patsy InKline.
After a long day of high, favorable winds, we set a distance record to reach Marstal, Denmark, a trip of 101km/62 miles, nearly twice the previous day.
The weak, unfavorable winds of the prior day meant that to circumnavigate Fyn we’d have to motor 40 miles north. And even then, we’d be dependent upon favorable winds for our return. We decided to scrap that plan and on the third day chose to sail due east to Svendborg, Denmark, a trip of just 30km/18 miles.
During our gentle sail, I took a nice nap in the bowsprit netting.
This relaxing stretch also gave my German friends time to teach me “Doppelkopf” (“double head”) which is a very complex, very German card game:
Weird collection of cards: 10 through Ace, twice
Different card order, point-wise: A = 11 points, 10 = 10, K = 4, Q/D = 3, J/B = 2
Different order of card strength (in descending order): 10 of hearts, Q/D (clubs, spades, hearts, diamonds, respectively), J/B (clubs, spades, hearts, diamonds, respectively), A, 10, K of diamonds
Everything listed above is trump
Everything else (A, 10, K except the above) is not trump
You play with a partner, but in each hand you don’t know who your partner is. Whichever two people hold a Queen of Clubs become partners — and of course if you have both Queens of Clubs, there’s a whole different rule ….
Anyway, I had learned and really enjoyed Skat 34 years ago when I studied in Germany. Doppelkopf is more complex, but fortunately some of the rules from Skat helped me learn this crazy game. I grew to love it and played it many times during the rest of the trip.
As we approached Svendborg, we had to pass under a bridge. Although our captain assured us there was plenty of clearance above our masts, it sure looked like we would hit the span.
Approaching the bridge before SvendborgPassing under the bridge
After docking in Svendborg, we enjoyed some Danish ice cream, then walked around the city to take in the sights.
Abel Tasman docked in Svendborg, DenmarkStreets of SvendborgBob mans the grill
Day 4: Flying to Nyborg, Denmark
I think it worked out great that our first few days were mild and calm as we got used to the lines, sails, and routines. On this day we had strong, favorable winds and set a new distance record.
Raising the sails departing Svendborg
Sailing out of Svendborg, we had to sail through several S-turns between red and green buoys. I let the captain know I wanted to steer and was surprised when he put me on the tiller immediately. Not only did I have to steer the ship through the turns, but there was also a current that caused the ship to slide to the side. Winds were weak and intermittent at this point as tall trees on nearby tiny islands blocked nice, consistent winds, and I struggled as the ship would swing left and right with the changing winds and currents.
When we neared the final, sharp turn to the north up the big channel between the big island of Fyn and the long skinny island of Langeland, the winds and shifting currents were insufficient for us to complete a clockwise 270-degree turn. The captain fired up the diesel engines. He let me steer the big rotation of the ship, and then we caught the wind.
So strong was the wind that we didn’t even raise our main sail, and the secondary sail was hoisted only to about 85%. Our three foresails were opened, and man did we cook! Previous days we achieved maybe 5 knots at best. Today we hit 8.5, and it felt like we were flying.
Other sailboats were out, and one was trailing us. To my surprise it could not overtake us. She simply followed diagonally behind us. She had both her sails aloft, although, like us, her main sail wasn’t fully hoisted. Probably the winds would have been too strong for her to attempt to apply full power. We powered forward, enjoying the speed and relatively smooth and minor rocking and rolling. The winds eased us down to about 6-7 knots, and then the sailboat was able to overtake our lumbering mass.
We arrived in Nyborg ahead of schedule around 3pm having traveled a record 51km/32 miles. Although the forecast threatened rain between 2-4pm, we only got a couple drops.
In Nyborg, I saw a self-service kayak rental. In a grocery store, I also spied Aviation Gin, produced in my home city of Portland, Oregon. It was selling for 299 Danish Kroner, which is about US$42. I also saw a special discount alcohol display selling Bombay Sapphire Gin for half that price.
Each day after breakfast, the captain would gather us and show us where we were, and what the forecast was — specifically, the wind strength and direction. He would then tell us which destinations he thought were reachable and offer his recommendation. He loves sailing the Baltic Sea and is familiar with many of the ports, so we always accepted his recommendation.
Captain Fabian presents his recommendations for the day
Originally, we had hoped to circumnavigate the Danish island of Fyn, which is right in the middle of Denmark. But that trip would require favorable winds, and we were to learn that the winds don’t always heed the forecast.
All the ports we visited during this voyage
Instead, we sailed around the southern side of Fyn, visiting several quaint small ports and islands in the area. Heading into port, we’d lower and secure sails, and the captain fired up the 318hp diesel motor to bring us into dock. The following morning we’d motor out of port before hoisting sails and catching the wind.
The first two days were lovely and sunny, with mild winds. Our big ship cruised smoothly along at about 4-8 knots.
Day 1: Sailing to Maasholm
Our first day we headed north, sailing about 5 hours and 38km/23 miles to the German port of Maasholm. So small was the port that three tall ships had to tie up side by side like a whale sandwich.
Our ship sandwiched between two others in Maasholm, Germany
The captain pointed out some Dutch flat-bottomed sailing ships. They are easily recognized by the large leeboards, or pivoting keels. Like a centerboard, the keel can be hiked up in shallow waters. Raised, it looks a wing affixed to the side of the hull.
Dutch flat-bottomed sailing ship with its distinctive leeboard
Walking around the historic fishing town, I admired the lovely, thatched roofs and found a cute little bakery. Despite the excellent breakfast I knew was waiting for me on board, I couldn’t resist buying a couple of sweet baked goods.
Thatched roofs in Maasholm, Germany
Day 2 we continued northward. I asked to take the wheel, and the captain immediately turned it over to me.
My first of many times at the wheel
Steering a 132-foot-long, 21-foot-wide sailing ship takes quite some getting used to. Imagine steering a semi-truck with at least two trailers. Every time you turn the wheel even slightly, it takes about 30 seconds before the truck starts to turn. By then, you are already turning the wheel back, anticipating an overcorrection.
So you turn left, and 30 seconds later the ship starts turning, and you are already turning the wheel right to prevent the ship from turning too far to the left. Then repeat on the opposite side. It is like steering a whale along a never-ending slow-motion serpentine course.
We made decent progress most of the morning, but the wind was weak and not in a favorable direction. Finally, the wind died down. I then decided to ask for something else I really wanted to do: to climb the mast.
Beginning my ascent
Again, the captain readily agreed, and within minutes I was in a full harness, clipped in, and scaling the rope ladder up the main mast, which is about 29 meters/95 feet tall.
The rope ladder consisted of two taut steel cables with rope rungs strung between them. The higher I climbed, the narrower the two cables became, to the point that the rope rungs were maybe 5 inches wide.
It was strenuous, and I was huffing and puffing by the time I reached the steel crossbeam, upon which I sat for a moment, taking in the beautiful panorama before coming down.
POV video of my climb to the top (7:40 long)
Once I was down, several of my companions decided to follow in my vertical footsteps, taking advantage of the calm waters, blue skies, and beautiful views.
The captain also decided this would be a good time to do a man-overboard drill, which turned out to be a good exercise because everything went wrong. A floating ring was thrown overboard, a warning bell sounded, and all the passengers assembled. I was assigned to keep an eye on the ring (the “man overboard”) while the captain, a couple passengers, and a crew were supposed to rescue the ring.
Lowering the dinghy — just before the spill
First, as the inflatable dinghy was lowered with one of the crew in it, the small boat suddenly dropped one side, spilling the gas canister overboard and nearly sending the crew member swimming. The boat was lowered onto the water and righted itself, but the gas can promptly disappeared under the boat, and although our forward movement was slow, the crew couldn’t pull it back out. After several machinations, the gas can was finally dislodged by pushing an oar under the dinghy. By this time, the captain was certain that the gas was fouled with water, so the dinghy couldn’t be motored to rescue the ring that was slowly shrinking in the distance.
That meant we’d have to steer the whole 132-foot ship close to the ring and let the crew in the dinghy use a long gaff to get it. Even on smooth water with almost no wind, motoring a 132-foot ship close enough to a floating ring is like trying to park an elephant between motorcycles, and it took a couple circles to finally complete the task.
Klara and Sebastian finally complete the rescue mission
After a close inspection, it was determined that the initial spill of the dinghy was caused by one small bolt that completely broke and dumped one side of the boat.
The winds never came back, so we opted to motor over to the small Danish island of Lyø, completing a trip of about 55km/34 miles.
Thatched roofs on Lyø, Denmark
Walking the island we admired many more old buildings with thatched roofs, farms and fields, and an ancient windmill with no sails. We saw large jackrabbits chasing each other, domesticated ducks, and raptors patrolling the skies.
We encountered the neolithic Klokkenstenen (“Bell Stone”), dating back to the 4th millennium BC. These boulders were stacked in such a way that striking the Bell Stone with a hand-held stone sounds remarkably like a tolling bell.
Last May I took part in a wonderful sailing voyage on the Abel Tasman, a twin masted schooner.
The Abel Tasman
My friend of 38 years, Frank, invited me to join 16 of his closest friends. He had been a guest on the same tall ship the previous year and decided for his birthday he wanted to invite his friends to sail.
It had been decades since I’d gone sailing. In high school, I sailed a Pelican sailboat in front of my home frequently. I can’t remember sailing since.
The small sailboat I sailed in high school
I’ve often imagined how fun it would be to go on a multi-day sailing cruise, perhaps up the Oregon and Washington coast to the Queen Charlotte Islands in British Columbia. But I have neither the skills, crew, nor craft to do it. So, when Frank invited me, I leapt at the opportunity!
Our Ship
Abel Tasman, Dutch seafarer and explorer
The Abel Tasman is named after the 17th century Dutch seafarer and explorer who reached Tasmania and New Zealand. It is from him the name Tasmania originates. The ship is 110 years old and 40.5 meters/132 feet long. It can sleep up to 30 passengers, although we were just 17.
The ship was run by only a captain and two young women as crew. We provided the muscle to raise and lower sails, prepare and serve meals, and clean. We were welcome to take the wheel, which I did many times.
We met the ship in Eckernförde, Germany, about 30 miles from the border of Denmark.
Our cabins were small as expected. Each had a sink, but to my surprise, also a small private shower stall.
My cabin
The galley (kitchen) was well appointed, at least to my eyes.
Up a tight spiral staircase was the mess. This was where we ate our meals, relaxed indoors, played cards, and socialized.
Here is a video walk-through of the ship:
We had developed a meal plan in the preceding months, and at the dock we loaded crates of fresh produce, dry goods, and everything we planned to cook and eat. There was a large refrigerator, freezer, and pantry below deck, and on deck were several large storage containers for all the food.
Loading flats of food and provisions
The Passengers
I was the only American in the group. The majority were German, of course, friends from throughout Frank’s life going back to childhood. Many were from Berlin and Hamburg. One family was from Bavaria, and one individual was Swiss.
Frank (far left), and friends from the UK, Germany, and Switzerland
The captain was a 29-year-old Swiss man. He’d been sailing professionally for a decade, and the two women crew were German.
Captain Fabian and his crew: Feline and Klara
Everyone spoke German and English, although I endeavored to speak only German during the trip. I pride myself on my accent, but I have forgotten so many words and my grammar has gotten really rusty in the decades since I studied in Germany.
Summary: After a decade of silence, the flute makes a sonorous return into my life
When I was young, I took private music lessons on violin, piano, and flute. My father and I played dinner music in a restaurant in my hometown every Friday night when I was in high school. I’d play violin and flute and he’d play piano and accordion.
Performing dinner music with my father in the early 80s
Violin emerged as my primary instrument, until I picked up the viola in my late 20s and was forever hooked. I’ve performed with the Newport Symphony for over 18 years (click here to see my next performances), and I enjoy playing string quartets and quintets with many of my very talented friends.
I do pull out my violin on occasion, and although it seems so small (I jokingly call it my “larval viola”), I do enjoy being reminded of its sound and agility.
But what about the flute?
It’s been over a decade since I played my flute. In fact, I sold my flute to a neighbor who really wanted to play it. I wasn’t using it, so why not?
Then I heard an alto flute.
It was about a decade ago when I was performing in a pit orchestra for a production of Stephen Sondheim’s “Company.” The opening strains of the moving, heartbreaking song, “Sorry Grateful” feature the mournful, mellow sounds of the alto flute.
I was captivated. To me, it sounded like a viola-flute.
So, what is an alto flute?
An alto flute is longer, bigger, and lower than a standard concert or C flute. A C flute is about 3/4″ (1.9cm) in diameter, whereas an alto flute is 1″ (2.54cm) in diameter. Also, a C flute is 26.5″ (67.3cm) long, and an alto flute is 34″ (86.3cm).
An alto flute doesn’t project as much sound as a C flute. They are rarely ever seen or heard in orchestras or bands. You might get to see one in jazz music.
Anyway, my friend Mitch, who owns a multitude of instruments was moving overseas and had to find homes for his musical menagerie. He had an alto flute and agreed to trade it to me in exchange for some computer work.
That was just a couple weeks ago (I also got a theremin from him, an amazing and unusual instrument I will likely write about soon).
Trying out my new alto flute with Mitch Iimori on ukulele
Before he left, Mitch and I got together to play for fun.
Less than a week later, I attended an outdoor performance of the Tualatin Valley Community Band. I wanted to see and support a coworker who plays in the group.
The Tualatin Valley Community Band performing at Cook Park
Looking over the program, I saw a name I recognized from my distant past. It was my flute teacher — from over 40 years ago!
Of course, I went up and introduced myself. We were so delighted to reconnect!
Reuniting with my flute teacher of over 40 years ago!
During my most recent online karaoke party, I decided to give performing on the alto flute for others a try.
Performing Rêverie by Debussy on alto flute
When out of practice, playing a C flute for the first time can leave one lightheaded and dizzy. The alto flute requires even more air, and the piece I chose to play was a transcription I wrote of Debussy’s “Rêverie.”
The long, sustained notes stretched my lung capacity to the limit. I was left gasping with a light headache and dizziness for at least 15 minutes after I was done. But it was worth it.
I’m smitten. Whereas as the viola has lured me away from the violin, the low, velvety tones of the alto flute have brought me back to the cousin of a long-neglected wind instrument.
In Biden v. Nebraska, the Missouri Higher Education Loan Authority (MOHELA) was the key plaintiff. The claim was that the Biden administration’s plan to forgive student debt would harm MOHELA. The state of Missouri claimed that MOHELA would lose revenue and be therefore unable to repay money into a Missouri state fund for in-state schools.
However, MOHELA did not file, was not party to the suit, and did not support the case. MOHELA only found out about the lawsuit on the day it was filed back in September, 2022.
As for the state fund MOHELA allegedly would be unable to contribute to — MOHELA hasn’t contributed to that fund in 15 years.
In 303 Creative LLC v. Elenis, the Supreme Court looked into a case brought by a Colorado web designer opposed to making websites for same-sex marriages. She argued that a Colorado state anti-discrimination statute cannot compel her to create products that include speech with which she disagrees. The web designer claimed she was contacted in 2016 by “Stewart” for design work for his marriage to “Mike.”
Justice Sotomayor stated this case could be “the first time in the Court’s history … [that] a commercial business open to the public, serving the public, that it could refuse to serve a customer based on race, sex, religion, or sexual orientation.”
Turns out, Stewart is married to a woman and never requested design work. When contacted by a reporter to ask about the case, he replied this was “the very first time I’ve heard of it.” His name, contact information, and website info were all correct. Stewart went on:
“If somebody’s pulled my information, as some kind of supporting information or documentation, somebody’s falsified that … I wouldn’t want anybody to … make me a wedding website? I’m married, I have a child—I’m not really sure where that came from? But somebody’s using false information in a Supreme Court filing document … I disagree with this, in the strongest possible terms. I couldn’t disagree with her stance more.”
It didn’t take long for reporters to uncover these two instances of unwitting and unwilling “plaintiffs” in Supreme Court cases.
Regardless of how you feel about the decisions for these two cases, wouldn’t it be reasonable for everyone to agree that cases should only be valid with actual plaintiffs who have filed and are supportive of the cases in which they are named? Furthermore, I would argue any decisions based on cases filed by fake and/or falsified plaintiffs should be vacated.
On a recent trip to Phoenix, AZ, I was introduced to some amazing food — found by my traveling companion, an executive chef and former restaurant co-owner. We ate well!
If you are traveling to Phoenix and want to experience some superlative dining, may I offer these suggestions?
Ask most where you can find the best pizza and you likely would hear Chicago, New York, or Italy. Phoenix would likely never cross your mind, and you’d be forgiven for being skeptical that the best pizza might be found there.
However, James Beard Award-Winning Chef Chris Bianco produces pizza worthy of such praise. He is featured in episode one of the Netflix series, “Chef’s Table: Pizza.”
Be warned, there are no reservations and waits can be up to two hours. However, after putting your name on the waitlist, go next door to the bar and enjoy a cocktail or a cold one indoors or out while you wait.
It.will.be.worth.the.wait.
Handmade mozzarella, local market vegetable, basil with extra virgin olive oil
Handmade mozzarella cheese, impossibly thin, yet crispy and flavorful crust, the salads and pizzas are a feast for the eyes and the stomach.
The same chef who perfected the aforementioned pizza has another restaurant just a mile away. Salads, pastas, meat dishes and more with ingredients sourced from local farmers and ranchers will equally delight the eyes, mouth, and stomach.
Spring pea salad with pea shoots, fennel, crescendo cheese and toasted walnutsForeground: rigatoni with fennel sausage and roasted broccoli, Background: pansotti with greens, homemade ricotta, lemon and fava beans
Every single bite was full of beautiful and complex flavors.
I would rate this meal one of the top 5 restaurant meals I’ve had in my life (so far).
Of course there is no shortage of Mexican restaurants in the greater Phoenix area, and I only tried a couple. But this one really stood out.
Foreground: cucumber mint lemonade, Background: horchata
Beef flautas made with homemade tortillas, “Christmas style” (one with red sauce and one with green)
Foreground: hatch chile rellenos with shrimp, Background: chicken mole negro
Great cocktails, a salsa bar with a dozen salsas and sauces for your chips, and handmade tortillas, accompany dishes with complex and rich flavors, including some of the best mole I’ve tasted. Casa Corazon is worth a visit.
“Cue the Orchestra” (grey goose la poire vodka, monkey 47 gin, john d. taylor falernum, combier liqueur d’abricot, holy grass-infused contratto bitter, marionberry, vanilla, lemon juice, g.h. mumm champagne, rosemary, orange oils)
Just drinks, no food, and reservations are recommended. 3626 E. Indian School Rd., Phoenix, AZ https://centurygrandphx.com/
No doubt natives as well as other visitors to the greater Phoenix area can offer their suggestions for some amazing food and drink. Please comment with yours!
Friday, I saw a brief glimpse of my father when I looked in the mirror.
I’ve never seen my father in my own face — in my uncle and occasionally in one of my brothers, but never in me. I might detect a familiar pose or shape of the mouth in pictures of myself, but never more.
Although he’s been gone for 27 years, there’s a good reason he’s constantly been in my mind, especially this last month.
Saturday, April 15, I will be a featured storyteller at the “I Am An American Live” event hosted by The Immigrant Story, a non-profit whose mission is “to document, narrate, and curate stories about immigrants in order to promote empathy and advance an inclusive community.”
With my consultants and fellow storytellers at our last rehearsal
For nearly a half year I have been working with a dedicated team of compassionate, encouraging, and skilled story editors and story tellers to develop my story, which will be about me coming to terms with my mixed-race heritage. Some very personal moments from my relationship with my father feature prominently, and I am pleased to share with the world how he impacted and still influences me today.
Humble musical beginnings at age 4
When I was 4 years old, he launched me on a joyful lifetime musical journey placing a small violin in my hands. He encouraged and supported me as I took private lessons on three instruments, and when I was in junior high and high school, we played live music every week in a local restaurant. That was the period during which we played the most music constantly together.
Playing dinner music when I was a high school senior
One of the sweetest memories, and one I return to several times in my story, is the feeling I felt when we’d be playing, our eyes would meet, and we’d smile:
Performing at my eldest brother’s wedding
It’s bittersweet to realize I am now the age he was when we were playing music together in the restaurant.
He died after having been hit by a drunk driver. Although it’s been nearly 3 decades’ past, it still stings. But out of that tragedy, I found a new musical outlet, one which brings me more musical joy and happiness than ever in my life.
I’m humbled to be included with three other outstanding speakers with gripping and emotional stories of their own. Although I’ve struggled with self-doubt whether I belong, they have been encouraging me and I’m pleased with my story.
Then, a week ago, I got very sick. Sore throat, headaches, loss of appetite, and malaise, I suffered for four days eating and drinking very little and losing an alarming amount of weight. I worried whether I would be safe to tell my story. I tested for COVID and Strep Throat — thankfully both came back negative.
Happily, I’ve begun eating again, my symptoms are lessoning, and my strength and stamina are creeping back. I am confident I will be able to tell my story but will exercise caution so as to minimize possible exposure to others as well as not overtaxing myself.
Maybe the glimpse of my father I saw was due to the severity of weight loss and dehydration from which I’m recovering. Regardless, I feel his kind, silent reassurance and am proud to share some of my personal moments with him with you all.
In most action and disaster movies at some point you will see the main character running, sliding, and jumping to dodge and avoid obstacles and assailants.
Sometimes I feel the same way as I try to avoid the slings and arrows of bad news, anti-social media, and cynical politics and marketing.
I don’t wish to withdraw completely and become ignorant and isolated from what is going on, so how do I strike a healthy balance? Here are two sites that consistently turn my day around:
This website posts positive news stories from around the world, and just glancing at the headlines can redirect your attitude upwards from sadness and despair. Here are a few recent headlines:
Skimming the headlines or reading one or two articles in the morning puts me in a good mood and strengthens my ability to deal with challenges and not be dragged down.
Good News Network also has a mobile app to make it easy to pull up headlines and stories on your smartphone!
Another site I haven’t visited in many months is a Facebook series hosted by Glamour called, You Sang My Song.
Don’t worry. Even if you have sworn off Facebook (as I have attempted) or don’t even have a Facebook account, you can still watch it.
In this series, successful musicians and music groups watch videos of fans playing and singing covers of their songs. The pros give their positive feedback, and then their fans are contacted. We get to see their reactions to the pro’s feedback.
Although there have been no new videos posted in over a year, there are over 40 videos — plenty to visit and revisit again and again.
It’s heartwarming and moving. The professionals are generous with their praise, and watching the fans’ reactions — shock and surprise that their idols are seeing their covers, trepidation as they await the feedback, and effusive gratitude once received — really warms the heart.
Those anxious moments remind me of the powerful scene at the end of Charlie Chaplin’s “City Lights” when his formerly blind beloved realizes who he is, and he nervously awaits her reaction:
Admittedly, many of the artists were unknown to me, but I am nonetheless always buoyed by the music, the initial reactions, and the secondary reactions. I suspect you will too.
If you have sites to recommend, I’d love to hear about them in the comments.
