Making Eye Contact

Making Eye Contact

The other day Piper and I were out to celebrate her birthday. On her actual birthday she got to hang out at Knuckleheads and listen to Aaron Lee Tasjan and Bonnie Whitmore play an amazing set,

chill with her newly "adopted" godmother Sarah and family, grab an inappropriate shirt, 

and be gifted a CD from the lovely Bonnie. This was a pretty solid night for sure and she really didn't expect anything else, but I figured we could go out for a day of bonding that weekend as that seemed to be the thing to do.

We had begun the drive home after lunch and such and were passing over the Broadway Bridge when we hit a stop light. Right beside our car was a homeless man...young, maybe 20-25 with a sign that read "cold and hungry". I didn't have any cash on me but piper had already (unprompted) started digging into her wallet and came up with 5 ones. I told her I would pay her back when we got home. As I handed him the cash and he said "thanks" we made direct eye contact and he half smiled and nodded. The light turned green and he stood back up and waved to us both again looking me right in the eye.

I got kind of teary and started clearing my throat and Piper asked me what was wrong. It took me a while to get my emotions under control enough to talk but I finally said..."thanks Piper....that was a good thing".

Then I kind of got long winded, though to her credit she didn't interrupt me a single time... and I will paraphrase here but this is what I said to her...

"Every man and woman on the side of the road holding a sign came into this world just like you and I...no more or less important...just human. Maybe when they were born they were wanted and maybe they weren't but they came just the same. 
There is a really high chance that that young man just aged out of foster care and had no where to go. 
There is a high chance that that young man lost his job and fell down on his luck and has no home. 
There is a high chance that that young man is a vet and served our country and no longer has benefits or job placement or the support he needs to merge back into American society. There is a high chance that that young man has a mental disability, that he wandered away from those who love him or never had anyone to help him. 
There is a high chance that that young man had an addiction to something that took his life away from but left him living. 
There is a high chance that that young man has a family and he is doing the best he can.
There is a high chance that that young man was a kid just like her but ran away from home because he was neglected or abused....We don't know his story.

This is what I do know about him. He is human. He gets hungry. He gets cold. He gets lonely. And on Sunday afternoon, all by himself he was holding a sign because he needed help. 

He is just like us.

Eye contact shows him we know it. Eye contact shows him that we treat him with dignity, that our connection is intentional and real.  Eye contact makes us both human. 
We can't help everyone. But we can can always help someone and we can always, always look them in the eye.

She then said " Some people say he is just going to buy beer or drugs, but I don't think he will"....

I was actually caught off guard by this and didn't really have an answer then I said, "do you care or do you just hope that a few bucks will grant him some relief?"

And Piper, nodded, kind of crying but trying to pretend she wasn't said, "I just hope it helps a little."
I learned a lot about what a cool kid I had in that few minutes. I was reminded acutely about the true disparity that exists...hidden from my day to day life. 
Reminded about how sheltered I had become again. Then in true suburban kid form asked " Are we still running by Target?"
This was funny to me because at the end of the day it  showed me that I have it really good...that I have a pretty special kid...and that's ok. It's ok to be in a good place.

Peace

That Being Said

So yeah, it's a new year. I am no different than most when I say I too have grand ideas to better myself, my life, and my surroundings. I also want to look 10 years younger, eat all the peanut butter I want without gaining weight, and have our soon to be released debut album get written up in Pitchfork (I would take shitty or positive reviews as I am not picky). All of those are probably not in my stars but I do think this will be the year I clean up my act.

Now before I get called out for being a hypocrite and all and people start coming out of the woodwork yelling back at me my favorite saying "no one likes a quitter, Tammy"....let me just say I am not going all straight edge or whatever.... I won't suck the joy out of your party (anymore than I already do), and I will still most likely insist that my neighbors are wrong and I can play music as loud as I want when ever I want...(just not past midnight as that is the rule here)....but man, I am tired. Literally...and in every sense of the word. Mind, heart, body....all those guys. And I think I finally realize I have done it to myself.

I think a couple years back I had gotten pretty secure in who I was as a person, what I represented, maybe what I stood for. I am not really a fighter but I think I have some fight in me and even was delusional enough to believe I had enough conviction to be my true self. Now I don't even know what that means. I was maybe a bit judgmental for all the wrong reasons and not scrupulous enough in my own stance to really be very reliable in my personal convictions.

Ok that was wordy as fuck but what I am trying to say is maybe it is time I actually became truly accountable for my speech, my thoughts, and my actions. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I have been throwing my middle finger up at the man for years...Truth is, I AM the MAN. I married an engineer for pete's sake...I live in the burbs. I drive an SUV. I use night creme!!!!!! That doesn't mean I can't be authentic, it means that by fighting this lifestyle I haven't actually been authentic. Do I have to give up cussing...probably not, but then again I shouldn't get blitzed at a post funeral meal and drop the F-bomb on unsuspecting long distance family members.... no I wasn't being mean or hateful...just a jackass.

And maybe 

isn't always the best action.....
What I am saying is that maybe now is just the time I have been waiting my whole life for. ...
Maybe I am finally ready to really look at who I am and what I can do....and do it. So yes this is a completely pointless post but as I am starting to tackle this blog again, thought i would give it a new beginning!
So again...welcome back and please join me while I am Anchored in Roam.

chin up

http://youtu.be/R3kPH2MJzlg

It is only a season

Moonlighting

For the 10th or so time last week I was asked while waiting tables what my real job was....hum.

I was also asked if I was single by this same table because they have a friend who is in marketing and just loves gals who moonlight as waitresses. Seriously.

Well I must confess, having a 6 top of twenty something professionals assume I am young enough to be hanging with their hip single marketing friend was flattering...they even said he was a bit older...you know, like 28, but he was still cool...

ugh.

I handled it well I think. I said I was married and then to drive the point home I mentioned all the kids and then that one of them was a senior.

cue all the "oh my gawds" and youth flattery....then the question came. Well what do you really do?

I wanted to say "nothing, my life is meaningless" and then walk away.

But because this IS my job and I would like a nice tip I respond with "I stay home. I married an engineer. I raise kids. I thought I was going to be a musician." 

As a running joke in our house we often say restaurants are where musicians go to die. Seriously, we cook, wash dishes, work the fry, or wait the tables...but we all actually still think we can make it.
In the end, however, the restaurant is our job. We work hard and do it well. We do it hungover and never call in. We are polite to you and all your kids...and your parents (and their dietary restrictions). We do it for 2 bucks an hour plus whatever you deem to tip our services (that we share with our bussers, bar tenders etc). 
My point here is that most everyone I work with is a restaurant employee. It is our only job. We pay our bills with it.  

And strangely enough, most of us love it. Sure we all hate to fill your fucking diet soda 15 times in a half hour, and sometimes your need of "special" treatment is exhausting (no the bread is not gluten free)...and we all know you want a free dessert when you mention it's so-and-so's birthday. In the end, there are lots of jobs out there that need done, but it takes a special kind of person to drop what they are doing and listen to your story about your mom, actually mean it when we say "Happy Anniversary", and tell you jokes when we can tell you have had a bad day all while delivering pounds of homemade pasta. 
Servers are just that. They serve, and I would like to think that most of us do it graciously. 
No, I am not moonlighting as a server. That's okay with me. I think I am good at it. I am proud that I can contribute to our family income. I think I look pretty good in a bow tie. 

And until the money rolls in with the music (hehehehehe) I can keep this gig up with a smile on.

love, actually

As a parent I have had the not so unique experience of watching my 11 year old daughter fall for a boy for the first time. I say not so unique only because each and every parent will go through a first crush with  their child. For me strangely, it brought back a season of my own childhood that I had long since tucked into the heart on my sleeve. My first sincere feelings for another human other than my family...love, actually. 

Just like me, Piper fell for a boy who likes basketball, is quiet and kind, polite...and her friend first and foremost. He introduced her to hip hop and motor cross, the NBA and the awkward feeling every kid has when their crush knocks on their door for the first time. It is both sweet and terrifying.

Though I was only a seventh grader, the type of love I felt was more along the lines of curiosity and comfort in the acceptance and mutual interests of a certain boy. I would never have spoken to him (out of shyness and for the very fact that we may have never met) if not for the outcome of my parent's divorce when I was dislocated from our family home and relocated to a completely different neighborhood. I was isolated and alone and ... well, lonely. It is strange really after over twenty years I can recall each and every particle of the foison of emotions that I felt through this time. Some burn bright and still flare when I think on them, some drift in a fog, a distant coating of the background, a type of impressionist painting. 

I was used to a neighborhood teaming with tweeners. With the constant doorbell rings and pebbles thrown at windows to invite me to early or late pick-up ball games. Over nights, swimming pools, canoe rides in the local lake. It was a child paradise. And it was all behind me. As were my friends. It was weird,  I was now a sort of pariah...the lone wolf of divorced parents. It felt like in my upper class suburb, my old friends and their parents treated me as if it was contagious, as if I was contagious...Fuck, maybe I was. First the invites and phone calls stopped...Then the it was as if I never existed at all. I would like to say that once we all ended up in the same high school things got better....but really I just couldn't compete. Figuratively and literally. My mom was working class now, not some posh stay-at-home with an allowance. Sport were expensive, lessons were expensive...everything was expensive and I felt both the burden and the pressure of it all. And then we had to move.

It started like any other first meeting between kids in a relatively uncomfortable situation. My mother's side of the family was helping my mom and I, and the tag along siblings, unload the moving van. Full of her half of all the shit my parents had accumulated over the 15+ years of marriage, we were all long into the day and sinking further and further into the solemness of our task. Reality had sunk in and I watched as my mom slipped between bouts of uncontrollable crying short bursts of anger and sudden fatigue, then back again. I was exhausted and pissed off and all I wanted to do was shoot hoops with my friends...who now lived far away in the land of My Life is Still Normal while I was brooding in Fuckitall Town. I didn't even have a basketball goal anymore as it had the luxury of staying firmly embedded in concrete at our old family home. Lucky fucking me. (yeah, I know I was feeling sorry for myself, but I was 13)

So anyhow, there I was, sort of half-ass moving things from the truck to the garage when I heard the familiar thumping I so loved. The rhythmic hollow pound of a basketball hitting asphalt...and it was coming closer. I peered out from behind the moving truck as not to be caught by whomever it was, and I watched as a boy about my age dribbled the ball up the street and past my house to come to a stop in front of the last driveway on the block (conveniently located next door to my new house)...where nestled in the ground was an old worn out goal and a torn net. It was like a lifeline. 

We made eye contact in that strange way humans do that can only be described and as immediate acceptance. As an adult this is often referred to as chemistry or even love at first sight. For kids this is a mutual understanding and need. Maybe for friendship, maybe for someone to confide in...maybe out of shared loneliness. For the two of us it was a little of all these things....and the catalyst was the game of basketball. I looked around and realized everyone else was inside lifting or unpacking so I walked over and stood to the left of him and waited my turn. We fell into a pattern immediately just shooting and dribbling, sometimes working in some defense and blocking but really all we were doing was feeling each other out. After a while I noticed movement on my drive and saw that they were back at it so I walked home to continue my part. I realized two things. We hadn't said a single word and I didn't know his name.

The next day I was in my room in the basement when again I heard someone dribbling a basketball. I unlatched my basement window and slipped though the opening sticking my head up and out of the window well. There he was again. I threw on my shoes and headed out the garage door. Once again we fell into a pattern of basketball play but this time we spoke. All he said was "my name is Jason". All I said was "my name is Tammy". It was enough and we played until it started to become dark. 

This became our daily ritual. I would wait to hear him and then I would head out. After a while I started to wait in the driveway and even in the neighbor's driveway under the net. We started to become familiar with each other's habits and started talking a bit every now and again. But never a lot. We shared water out of those giant plastic blue cups everyone had back then and sometimes we even shared a snack cake or the occasional soda. Mainly we came together for the companionship. A partnership really. It was much different then the herd of kids I was used to playing basketball with in my old neighborhood. It was better. It was real friendship.

Then we really started to talk. We talked about music. We talked about public school...which I knew nothing about. We talked about my parent's divorce. We talked Led Zeppelin and punk rock. About soccer ...which I also knew nothing about, and David Copperfield. We talked about constellations and favorite cereal, the trains in Parkville and staying home while both your parents worked. And sometimes when we had nothing to say, we didn't need to talk at all again. This was one those friendships that people write novels about and make into a TV series....We had our own soundtrack and all the innocence adolescences affords. This was the very boy that snuck the Schnapps out of his parent's liquor cabinet and pulled up a lawn chair with me while we talked about the stars existence one fall night. We were in our Golden Years. Or Golden Year (ish) to be exact...We made it until summer. We made it to the point where we entered each others houses, dined at each others tables and talked to each others parents. We made it to the point where we held hands and sat too close to each other when no one was around. 

It was summer and all the parents worked. The whole neighborhood was unsupervised. This was my first summer there and it was completely different than I was used to. There were no stay-at-home moms bringing us donuts and Gatorade after swim practice. There was no one to check in with during the day unless you called their work. We all had unlimited freedom and limitless time. It was a recipe for disaster. My Grandma Aggie was at our house to take care of my younger siblings during the day but I could do basically what ever I wanted.

And it turns out there were kids in this neighborhood after all. I just didn't really fit in too well. I was naive and gullible and hadn't really tested any boundaries before. I was a bit uncomfortable for a while but found my groove, got on the swim team (which competed and always lost miserably to the powerhouse team of my old neighborhood) and started to socialize. 
There were kids from my private school that lived in the other side of the neighborhood and I started to hang out with them every now and again, though they were already pretty tight and I was new to the circle.....And then there was Travis....

Travis. What can I even say about him. He went to my school and I had known him for years. In sixth grade I thought he was cute. He was and still is quite a handsome guy. He was a trickster, a jokester really. He had no off button and pushed every envelope thrown at him. He only colored outside the lines. He was a typical 13 year old boy in the sense that he was rude, gross, and completely insensitive to human feelings. He lacked empathy and never ever got caught. 
He was also the most fun, the most daring, and lived only a couple blocks away.
Miracle of Miracles that somehow Jason and Travis didn't know each other yet.

Then I made a huge mistake. Cue screeching halt to partnership....You know what they say about a third wheel? Well it was me that became that third wheel. The odd man out...actually odd girl out, but whatever. It all started innocently enough.

I had bumped into Travis at the neighborhood pool and thought,"hey, Jason usually keeps to himself, but he may like Travis and since we only live a couple of blocks away....."
I don't know, it seemed like a good idea so I invited him over to our street and they had an instant liking to each other. They both played soccer, they both played soccer on Nintendo, they both like the same music....they were both boys. Suddenly I was the one with less common interests. No more basketball chats...they wanted to ride bikes to Parkville to pay for lunch at the diner in pennies (why?), play soccer, shoot off fireworks, jump fences and break shit. They skateboarded...better and faster than I did even though I had been skating since 5th grade. They liked Dr. Dre...and knew all the words. 

I didn't....
at all.
I grew less cool with each passing moment. They snuck out at night to do....well nothing really but they did it. When I tried, I got caught. Then there was a whole group of boys...doing boy things...having boy hangouts...living in the glory of their testosterone laden youth.

Suddenly I was sort of in the way. Not really sort of actually, I was in the way...of Travis. And the best way to get me out of the picture was to have Jason dump me. 

Now we weren't exactly an item, but we weren't exactly not an item.  
One afternoon I am quietly hanging inside. It was a Thursday, meet day and we weren't supposed to play outside in the heat so we could stay hydrated and swim our best that evening. The doorbell rang and Jason was out front. 
Weird. He knew I had a swim meet and he had been acting stand-offish lately so I had given him space and been feeling sorry for myself (again I was still 13).He asked if I wanted to come over and hang inside his house for a while. 
Also weird, as his mom and dad had made it very clear that no girls were allowed in the house while they were at work. But I am glad to see him and happy to come over if just for a little bit. I missed him and knew Travis was either headed over to his house soon or they would be hanging out later as they were now inseparable....And Travis could go inside the house because he was not a girl....(I was clearly the safer option, but whatever).

Not one to over-think things too much, I put on my imitation Birks and followed him down the street a few houses to his front door. I had a gut feeling that this was a bad idea, but I chalked it up to the guilty conscience I was having for entering his parents home without permission. I headed for the living room but he pulled my arm and said "I need to talk to you and it is private, and Aaron (brother) is in there. We can talk in my room".

Now all my internal bells and alarms were sounding....Jason was acting weird. Really weird, but again, desperate to have him to hang out with again I followed him to his room where he lead me to the foot of his bed and told me to sit down because he had to tell me something.

Then he said the most heard and most heartbreaking phrase every soul has had to listen to at least once in their lifetime.

"I don't want to go out with you any more".

This was all said while I was peering into the knowing gaze of David Copperfield flamboyantly posed on a poster.

"ok....don't cry. Just stand up and escape as fast as you can.
That was what I should have done, but instead....I remained still and FUCKING STARTED CRYING!
Now there was a brief shadow that passed over Jason's face. I knew he felt bad but I think I also knew it was coming. I stood with ZERO dignity and made it out the front door before the waterworks really started. I was almost to my house when I heard a familiar voice yell "Tammy....Tammy why are you crying?"
I turn around to see none other than Travis standing on Jason's porch taunting me.
Taunting me! 
"I hate you" I yelled.
"I hate you and this is all your fault!"
But that little shit, all giggling delivered the worst part of all..."I was in his closet! hahahaha...I heard the whole thing! And I video taped it. I video taped you getting dumped and crying!"

I would like to say that I was able to extract some sort of vengeance upon them both...but Travis ran inside and proceeded to tease me mercilessly from the front window behind locked doors.
I was a mess and false started twice during my butterfly swim that night. 

So now if you are still reading I just want to tell you that coming of age is hard for everyone, and clearly I was no exception. These weren't bad guys, just 13 year old boys. I don't believe for one second either of them thought that this would be one of those memories that sticks with you for a lifetime. What was a big deal to me was just another prank to them. I never found out if they actually recorded the breakup. Travis would make the occasional threat through out the rest of the summer when I saw him, but at the end of the day he just wanted me out of the picture (I really wasn't very much fun back then).

Jason and I didn't speak for almost an entire year. When we did the first thing he said was "I'm sorry". 
That was enough.
He and Travis and a couple other boys started a punk band. Somehow I was involved in the beginning of the project even playing a couple shows with them. Jason and the group rode it out a while without Travis (who had moved to a different band) and even made an album. It came out on tape. They were called 110 Volts. I took their photograph for their album art and still have all the original prints as well as the negatives...somewhere.

this was one of the pics for the album....^^^

During this whole process Jason and I became friends. Actual friends. My mother married a really great guy who had a son my age named Blake (he deserves his own entire chapter) and Jason and Blake became super tight. They went to college together, met a girl....Jason fell for her....and so on and so forth.

About 6 years ago Stephen and I were in Austin on our way to the coast. We met up with Jason for sushi and whiskey....because of coarse that is where he lives now. Long gone was the boy I had known, now replaced by a long haired hippie in a local band, wearing worn out second hand western shirts and a mile wide smile. He was still smart and pleasant and completely engaging in every way. Stephen loved him instantly. We learned about his band and his life...that he was now married to the very girl he met in college with my brother. 

Fast forward four years. I was sitting out front of a Caribou Coffee on 64th Street here in KC when I had a strange feeling. I was talking to my mom and was 6 weeks postpartum with Clover who was rocking in her car seat at my feet when suddenly I knew I had just seen Jason. Sure enough, pulling in the drive-thru was the whole beautiful family including a couple boys and a very lovely and pregnant wife....who I hugged.
"I knew it was you! I totally sensed you!" Thank goodness his wife is a hippie as well or that would have sounded super weird. When they left he said "bye mom" to my mom.
Then just 2 month ago Stephen and I were able to hang with Jason and Wife and all the kids at our house for a brunch. It was completely great and I adored her as much as I did him. The kids were awesome and they were both really interesting and dynamic people. I still felt connected to him...and her, and all the offspring. 

As for Travis....he is the craziest, luckiest SOB that ever did live and he is traveling the world, drinking copious amounts of booze, meeting all the beautiful and exotic people and doing it all behind the lens of his camera while under water. We still are in contact from time to time. I think he may be a bit of a Peter Pan though....and why should we all have to grow up anyhow?
  
He is part of this show here.
http://natgeotv.com.au/tv/into-the-drink/episodes.aspx 

https://www.facebook.com/intothedrink
and you can like them on facebook...hahahahahahaha.

As for love?..Actually, that is what is contagious. When you really love someone for all the right reasons...even for a season in life...even as a kid....Well, you somehow fall in love with everything they love. Somehow they are connected to you and you to them. Somehow that love helped form a piece of who you are and how you live. Because at the end of every day that is all that is left and all that ever mattered....love, actually.

Sell Out

Sell Out

So it is no big secret that I have been trying my whole life to make music. Make music and make it in music, though I will say making it has maybe avoided me rather well the last well, the last all the years I have been writing music. Let me just say rejection doesn't sting any less the 110th time as it did the first. Rejection is rejection is rejection.

However, this has not kept me from the constant submissions and playing out, and home recordings and studio time... Etc etc etc....

Now recently I had some feedback that was basically the death warrant for a singer song writer.

You Are NOT marketable.

Well shit.

So here is what I did. I listened to the feedback. 

I followed the rules and the requirements to make a palatable song for the American public.

I took my Texas country style and for one song squashed it like a bug. For one song, I sold out.

I SOLD OUT!!!! Me! And I did it to see if I could write a song that people would want to hear, that a music publisher would want to buy. Just once.

Now this was in no way easy in the sense that writing a song that rhymes and has easy lyrics and verses and catchy chorus.... Not exactly my forte, but all and all I do not hate my finished product. So tonight while munching on beef jerky and Thin Mints and a cheap glass of wine, I wrapped up the song. It is called Falling Up....

Feel free to judge.... But I think it may be a catchy mother (shut yo mouth).

Thanks for listening and as always, thanks for taking the time to read this blog. bTW JP you will be in my next post.

The Heart Song or Dream Catcher Part 2

The Heart Song

Dream Catcher Part 2

It is a fair statement and fact that today I am hungover. In the right way. After a heavy night of celebration and debauchery, first at a dinner thrown by Stephen's parents for his graduation, and then at a follow up at the casa, we are both truly and awesomely not even kind of rockstars. The eldest kids have left the house to go to a movie and Stephen is sleeping off some more of the fun that he had last night. The babies are pounding around the living room with drumsticks and a wagon and I am pretty content.

Today I read the kindest correspondence from a friend that I have ever received and fueled by a renewed since of self worth I begged a favor of my dad to share my music with some people he knows in the industry.

This is a first for me since before today I haven't been ready.

So I am putting my heart and all it's words out there for better or worse. My heart song...so to speak.

I actually have a song called Heart Song.

the heart song

So friends and all other people who read my blog...here is my soundcloud of a small selection of music I have written and recorded including some with the hubs and some he has written as well or is singing for me.

 

I may never hear back but I will keep on keeping on....but the easy way was not how the West was won...

so enjoy.

THE WEST

Here ^^^^ click and give it a listen

And a fun watch and listen down below.

LOVE YOU I DO

As always...thank you for reading and thank you for listening!