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and then what? [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

after my album as sure as the sun was released, the song slow dance was promoted to adult contemporary radio. listeners seemed to really like the song and it did fairly well on radio – eventually charting at #13 on the secondary market. i traveled to a lot of cities to be featured on radio shows – it was the early 2000s – and radio was still where it was at.

a very big radio personality in new york city – the program director of a big fm station there – invited me to dinner after our meeting. i met him – carrying the backpack full of music and clothes i needed for those recording/radio days in the city.

the bistro was veritas and it was way above my pay scale. the wine list was 3000 selections long – a full binder of choices with a wine cellar that had about 75,000 bottles of wine. it had earned a michelin star and three stars from the ny times. it was late 2002 and i sat down at what-i-remember-as a stainless steel bar, out of my league.

that evening the chef had a special offering – french truffles, just flown in – and my host – who was apparently a regular – ordered for both of us. i had never had a meal with courses that had their own wine offering before; it is not likely i will have such a lavish meal again. when the bill came – and its total announced itself off the check – i couldn’t help but think how many hungry people that amount of money might have fed right in that very city.

but the truth of it was that this was the core of things, how things worked, how things work.

and though i believe that people nationwide did indeed like my song, the inordinately steep price tag of radio promotion – for which i – as the owner of my recording label – was paying – was merely machination for the game. and my charting song was choreographed by a group of men who enjoyed eating at michelin star restaurants – on their radio tabs – around the country.

now, this enlightenment didn’t come to me sitting on that barstool that evening, having careful conversation and eating divine foods, sipping wine. that was all part of the design – to create a tapestry of reality around me – and every independent artist – so that we might continue to over-invest further and further into a system that was, at best, rigged and not real.

it seems more than ironic to me that the place of this learning – in retrospect – was at an establishment called veritas. veritas – the latin word for truth or reality, representing honesty, moral integrity and the alignment of one’s actions and words with facts or core values.

the restaurant was – in and of itself – lovely, though i stand firm on my thoughts about how better to use that kind of money.

but that word – veritas – has been coming up for me a lot lately, sort of stuck in my head, like gestures of songs get stuck on repeat, time and again.

as i look around – in the challenges we have faced and face – it would seem imperative that truth should be the basis upon which decisions are made, that truth and integrity should actually dictate actions and words, that facts should matter, should set the stage for accountability.

it would seem that all manipulation of the facts, warping of narrative, revising of the truth – to escape culpability – should fail in the end. ahh…perhaps we must be patient.

i sat on the barstool at that high-brow bistro – trusting a process that was not to be trusted, wined and dined, my very cautiously spent independently-owned-label’s marketing and promoting budget exploited by a system. i was one of the little people, taken advantage of.

and just as we look around in our current country and its circumstances, just as i – or you – deal with other personal matters of trauma – we can see the grooming systems – the skewed-to-one-side systems – out there – not to be trusted.

all too often, these words speak the truth: it happened. it was wrong. it matters.

and then what?

from my place off the barstool i’d add this: vincit omnia veritas – truth conquers all things.

*****

SLOW DANCE © 2002 kerri sherwood

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a good takeover. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

sweet potato black bean chili was on the menu, so we went to the hanging basket in the stairwell to get a couple sweet potatoes.

lo and behold, one of our sweet potatoes had sweet pink tendrils growing, growing. we giggled as we recalled last year’s pink-tendril-adorned sweet potatoes and how we planted them in big planters and they took over the world.

because the world could use a good takeover, we decided to plant our little catalyst and watch goodness grow and spread and blanket every single everything.

it didn’t take but a few short days and, already, this sweet sweet has leaves.

i have to say – it gives me hope.

nature – despite all the contrarians out there who don’t care about it – will prevail. and deep down – underneath all the evil intent and the scripted corruption and the yuck that is distressing those of us with moral centers – there will be goodness.

the sweet potato will vine. the tomatoes will ripen. the trees will turn in autumn. the hummingbirds will migrate. stars will explode with light and galaxy dust will scatter. there will be symphonies of sound in the woods and by the shore. love and compassion, empathy and altruism will roll in on the tide.

we need to believe. we need to stand steady.

the sun will rise.

our sweet potato told us.

*****

THAT MORNING SOMEDAY ©️ 1996 kerri sherwood

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the view. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

and in lessons that remind us:

our out-of-town guest had never been here before. not to our state, not to our town, not to the shores of lake michigan, not to our home.

staying at the local hotel right on the harbor channel, she sent photographs right after arriving, stunned by how beautiful it was. she repeatedly expressed this – along the lakefront, on the channel, by the rocks, in the gardens, in our neighborhood, in our old house, on our patio.

through her eyes we saw Home.

this week i passed through my 37th anniversary of living in our old house. more than half my entire life, it’s longer than i’ve lived anywhere else.

sometimes – no matter where you live – you stop seeing it…really seeing it.

and you get caught up in every everything else.

and you miss the sweet creak of the floors, the breeze off the lake, summer sunlight streaming in all the windows, the fresh basil in ball jars in the kitchen, the dogga-holes in the backyard, the giant pots filled with flowers in the parks, people out sidewalk-walking together, the birds lined up for grape jelly, sunset’s eastern sky over the water, the sound of children giggling in the surf at the beach or an amplified live band drifting over from by the harbor.

it might benefit each of us – even for just a few minutes – to just follow the advice of this chalk artist:

“sit down and enjoy the view.”

*****

THE WAY HOME ©️1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

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freshstart. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

they will come back to grind out the stump. the crew said it will likely be a few weeks before the grinders get around to it, but eventually they’ll come and remove the last vestiges of our sturdy old tree.

after that we can get on a list for a new tree, the cost partially underwritten by the city. there’s a list of tree varieties one might choose from, depending upon availability. we’ve printed the current list and have begun studying trees – like one studies refrigerators or washers and dryers when you need one – immersing in photographs and information and reviews.

when we are officially on the list we will request our tree; we are actually hoping – with all the space out front – we might be able to purchase two. we’ll see. and then, maybe in the fall (or next year?) it (or they) will be planted in our parkway and we will start a new relationship with our tree or trees. it will signal a new time, a new era. and, in the way that these things go, it will also mark time. a new tree for both of us in this time of daisy-pathing.

there is something about a fresh start, something inviting, even compelling. a chance to write new narrative, from a different starting gate.

i can feel it – that fresh start – peeking out from around the corner. it has showered me from time to time with its freeing grace. and when it does, it is euphoric, a buzz of sorts – intoxicating like dopamine. releasing all harm that has been tightly held – stored – a toxic i did not choose but which has stayed with me through all the silent times.

and i hope – against hope – that soon i will also be a new tree. soon, there will be a sapling i can nurture. soon, there will be new growth, new branches and leaves. soon, all manner of the old pain-inducing stump inside will be gone.

and our new maple – or honeylocust – or ginkgo – and i will freshstart together.

*****

HOLDING ON, LETTING GO ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

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socked-in. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

after the fourth was over, i watched a video of the fireworks display in glenview, illinois – just down the road a-piece. by the time darkness had fallen, glenview was socked-in by fog. it looked like hundreds, if not thousands, of people had gathered, on chairs and blankets, ready for the show.

this is much like our town – our fireworks displays are held on the lakefront, over the water. there are crowds of people, gathered on bag chairs and blankets and beach towels. for the size of our city, the display – sponsored by the local grocery store – is actually amazing. though we haven’t attended the last two years, i know that it is well-done, well-timed, well-managed and safer than those people who are setting off ridiculously large fireworks – overkill, really – in backyards with houses all around.

glenview was ready for theirs on the fourth. and, as the instagram video started, there was nothing to see. until suddenly, the foggy sky lit up in waves of orange and green and then red and then pink – much like heat lightning or aurora borealis. people began to laugh and ask where the fireworks were. the fog had taken its toll on the actual display and wasn’t letting go. had it lifted during the program of pyrotechnics, i’m sure it would have revealed beautiful sparkling sparks, clear trajectories of color, a stunning show. it appears it never lifted.

it seems that the fireworks in the nation’s capitol had a, well, similar problem. in a predictable effort to havethemostfireworksever, it appears that whatever company administered the fireworks very, very late on the fourth did not write a thoughtful show, did not reasonably time them, did not take into account rests inbetween the notes. instead, the longer the display went on – a display that was only designed to be thebiggestandthebest – the more smoke filled the air until the fireworks were no longer visible but for the smoke that had overtaken them. a fog of smoke caused by a fog of arrogant pretentiousness or poor planning or ignorant superiority or just plain incompetence. it’s not a surprise.

fog is one thing, but lacking capacity to properly time a fireworks display is completely another thing. wasteful. it should be embarrassing.

in a perfect parallel of themes, i wonder when the contrived-fog that has distorted the actual capacity to think for those cheering on this current administration might lift. when those who are sycophants, those complicit, those perhaps just-too-stupid-to-care might start to see things clearly. i wonder – if they ever do see things clearly – when they might actually do something about it…push back, speak up, put down the bigotry that blinds them.

i wonder if it will be too late. so much will have been wasted. so much will have lifted into thin air – behind the fog of this unconscionably destructive administration, gone, decimated, replaced – our democracy in tatters.

there were many comments on the glenview fireworks post. some people complained that they shouldn’t have gone. some people found humor in the natural circumstance of weather wreaking havoc on their fun. some people expressed they didn’t know what they were missing for they hadn’t been to the fireworks display before. it was all perfectly innocent. no one purposely interfered with their fireworks or destroyed their event.

what will socked-in people say when they come out of the fog of complicity and cultish-reverence and realize what is gone in this country isn’t natural, isn’t funny and, for sure, isn’t innocent? will they realize how a very purposeful intention set about to destroy their nation?

and the sailboat – in a bit of misty lake fog – sails on. and we sit in a country wasting away. it’s embarrassing.

*****

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paper plate holiday. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

there are paper plates hanging on trees just off the sidewalk all over our ‘hood. they announce that there will be a fourth of july parade early on the 4th.

for all the years i have lived here – longer than i’ve lived anywhere – there has been a childrens’ bike and stroller parade on independence day here in allendale. we used to have jack andrea at the front of the parade, beating a snare drum – with everyone, all decked out in red, white and blue with decorated bikes and strollers and wagons, following along. a joyous time followed by ice cream on author florence parry heide’s front lawn (now, for years, moved to a different front lawn).

at some point our children became too grown-up to participate in this parade and it was handed down to the younger children in the neighborhood.

for years now, we haven’t participated in it, but it still holds an old-timey sense of charm for me and i still can feel the anticipatory glee of little children who get to be in a parade.

only this time – as the parade makes its way around the blocks – i worry about what is to come for those very little children. this time – though we are celebrating our democracy – i wonder how long it will hold. this time – though a 250th celebration should be a big deal – i have to sit it out – the glee, the charm, the excitement. this time i have deep concern about where it is this country is heading.

dogga is more and more bothered by the fireworks, so we will not be leaving him as they proliferate throughout the lakefront. as our boundary-less neighbors set off giant fireworks directly behind our house, we will try to shield dogga from the noise and flashing lights, from the fire in the trees and the sky.

i worry about the opossums, the raccoon babies and the birds and squirrels in the trees adjacent to those pyrotechnics and crackers that rock the house. i worry about the fallout of bits of firework that we find in our yard and on our patio, our deck, inevitably our roof, the next morning. i worry about the lack of regard to safety and – as it approaches the wee hours of the night – i wonder about the lack of respect for others.

what is it they are celebrating? i wonder. what is it we-the-people are passing on to our children, our childrens’ children?

what about our country – in these moments – in the throes of unprecedented corruption – is there to celebrate?

the purple allium is in the garden over behind the art center on the lake.

as much as i have enjoyed a good fireworks display – and even a hand-held sparkler from time to time – this time – this year – in this country’s current circumstances – on this paper plate holiday – i will just glance over at the striking allium – exploding in all its purple glory – and call it a day.

*****

FIGURE IT OUT ©️ 2010 kerri sherwood

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convergence. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

i could get lost in just gazing at this spot where greens converge. i find myself breathing deeply, taking it in, appreciating how utterly extraordinary the nuance, how textural, how life-affirming.

it has been a week. with multi-layered challenges, personal and nationwide.

in the middle of the week, neck spasms – which i had in february for the first time in my life – and which sent me to the emergency room – returned with a vengeance. to say that i was laying awake all night, fearful of the way these manifested in my shoulders, my jaw, my chest, my neck, would be an understatement. it was downright scary. and so painful – even for someone with a relatively high pain threshold.

when it finally slightly eased up for a bit in the morning – after a long, sleepless night – i was exhausted and overcome with how it must be for people who are in chronic pain. the chronic pain of disease, of life-altering treatment plans, of hunger and thirst and of not-enough, of homelessness, of psychological and emotional scars, of addiction, of deep, all-consuming worry. thinking of others always puts one’s own pain in perspective.

for a bit of time – the bit when the spasms did not refer to all these other parts of my upper body – i could breathe more deeply. and so i went outside to our deck and little potting stand – to look at new growth, to soak in the colors green.

in wednesday’s news there was much headlining about a quiet interview that the speaker of the house had on a tiny radio station in his home state. and, in that interview, he revealed the intention of this administration – to fix (read: gut) medicaid, medicare and social security in an effort to free up money so that this government might be able to make a dent in the country’s trillions of dollars of debt which is – clearly – attributed to mountains of tax cuts for the ultra-wealthy.

so. their goal? take away from the most vulnerable and the eldest in order to further bankroll the gluttony.

it is hard to wrap your head around this kind of whoring of humanity. the word “disgusted” barely touches it.

again, i say, there is no reverence. they have reverence for nothing.

i wonder what our communities, our states, our nation, our world will look like once they have eliminated all that is good, all that is natural, all that is lawful, all that is compassionate, all that is life-giving or life-affirming. what will be left after the land and the natural resources and the regular folk and the goodness are decimated?

as i stood and looked at our tiny vegetable and herb garden, i was filled by the beauty, wrapped in the essence of green, and a sense of balance was restored in me.

though the spasms started up again, this is not about my neck spasms. when they re-started, i felt slightly more equipped to deal with them, carrying into the pain the knowledge that they would – in time – ease up.

but for some, there is no easing up. there is only long-term pain, without ceasing.

there are people intentionally hunted down for their ethnicity, people intentionally taken off rolls for food assistance, medical assistance, housing assistance. people removed from jobs of science and education and journalism so that the country ceases progressive forward-movement and so that the only narrative going forth is vile, self-serving propaganda. there are people targeted by the brandishing of bigotry. there are people whose chronic pain – no matter what it is – no matter the umbrella under which it falls – seem a nuisance to this administration, an administration without a heart or a conscience or any sense of reverence for anything other than self and money and retribution.

were i to be given a choice – live acknowledging simplicities – like the nuance of green OR live inside the insanity of always-wanting-needing-hoarding of moremoremore – i would go with cherishing the tomato plants and herbs and lavender and licorice plant every time.

i would go with the convergence of green, the convergence of goodness, the convergence of growth, the nuance of breath, the affirmation of life, living and reverence for it all.

*****

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peaceful coexistence. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

we can’t wait for this evening. we will drive the backroads with hundreds of thousands of others in wisconsin – all out on a friday night.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will join with fifty-thousand others in milwaukee attending one of the three days of PRIDEFEST.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will be with the tens of thousands wandering the summerfest grounds for the friday evening shows.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will stand in the dance pavilion – out in front, in the house, or backstage – either place – with over five thousand other people in that same pavilion and gathered all around its edges – and we will watch our son perform.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will have the moment of his first downbeat, the moment he raises his hands in the air, the joy on his face under spotlights and between pyrotechnic fountains of sparkling stars and confetti releases. we will likely be standing and dancing and cheering with a group of his friends, a group of deric’s friends – deric who shares the stage with craig as they perform together as EDM artists DOGGPOUND.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will hug him after his performance, ecstatic with him on this day, on this journey. our own pride will be bursting and he will absolutely know it. just as he has absolutely known – since the very moment he came out – that he is loved and – with-no-exceptions – completely accepted, embraced and supported.

we can’t wait for this evening. we’ll watch him and a large contingency of friends and fans as they all go on their way, celebrating peaceful coexistence at this celebratory festival. we will walk around, buy rainbow trinkets, happily ensconced and feeling a sense of belonging.

we can’t wait for this evening when we drive home on those same backroads and talk about the night. we will be exhausted and exhilarated. we will be thrilled to have spent such amazing time with our son – we will be looking forward to the next.

and then, we can’t wait for chicago’s PRIDEFEST when we’ll take the train down and spend an afternoon and evening in the streets of boystown. we’ll stand with the setting sun on our faces and – again – watch our son perform. there will be many hugs – his friends will surround us and make us feel at home. and at the end of that day, getting back on the train, we will again feel exhausted and exhilarated, both. we will sit back and talk about the day and the people – the people – all of whom are there to just simply honor each other and their very important place in the world – peacefully together.

we can’t wait for a day when all the world is a continual pridefest, when all the world honors each other’s place in the world, when all the world feels that kind of love for one another, when all the world lives in peace.

*****

PEACE © 2004 kerri sherwood

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waiting there. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

it is with great anticipation that i wait for the peonies. it’s a long process, from the ground up. from the tiniest maroon sprouts to buds just waiting to burst furth into the world – it’s glorious and wonder-full, and each year now i am thrilled to see the arc of these beautiful blooms.

my son said something in a social media post the other day that really stopped me. i went back and listened again. and again. he said that music waits for you…it waits for you to “come to it on your timeline”…it waits for you to come back…”it waits to accept you, ready to understand you.” it’s “never gonna go away and it’s always going to be there for you.”

and in those words, he brought tears to my eyes. not only because what he was sharing in that post about himself was vulnerable, not only because part of what he was sharing made me very sad to hear. but because his joy in the journey back to music – his music – was so clearly buoying, so very triumphant, a mighty trajectory of his creating.

i’ve been turning on the salt lamp in my studio lately. it’s like i want it to stoke up good energy in there.

standing next to my piano, i held the crystal divinatory pendulum in my hand, thinking about what questions to ask it…understanding that my subconscious would likely dictate what the answers would be. there are times that one is not really sure of one’s own subconscious thoughts or biases, the ability to translate from desire or idea into reality, into do-ing. times when pain pushes aside artistry.

i purchased this pendulum in a cool hippie store in northport, my hometown. on purpose. i thought it was striking – even in its simplicity – but i also wanted to bring home a bit of the internal-intuitive-wisdom and lighthearted belief-in-the-universe i had lost in that place decades ago. in these days of falling back in love with that harbor town, i wanted ways to surround myself with what i remembered about myself from the olden days of being in love with that water, that sand, that place. twelve dollars wasn’t too much.

and so, the other day i took it out of the small suede bag and held it first in my hand, reminding it who i was. and then i held it up and asked it to show me yes – it circled around. i asked it to show me no – it moved in a straight line back and forth.

and in the following minutes i asked it – words to the effect because sharing my exact words is just a bit too much right now – whether i would return to the music that was waiting for me.

it was still and then – i suppose after accessing my heart, the wistful tendrils of hope, the very tentative wisps of maybe-it-can-be-so, it circled wildly.

i thanked it and quietly put it away, not wishing to go any further right then. it was enough. we’ll see. the arc is not closed. the peony is going to bloom.

“music…it’ll be waiting there, ya know,” my wise son said.

*****

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enchanting. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

we’ve gotten a few plants now. a couple sweet potato vines, a couple licorice plants. we also have our basil, chives, parsley, cilantro, jalapeños, cherry tomatoes and lavender. in the last few days we transplanted them into clay pots for our potting stand or their new home on our deck or patio.

our first day at the nursery was completely about reconnaissance. the second – at a different nursery – was to be wowed and make a few purchases…four to be exact. we were directly behind someone who had ridiculously-loaded carts of plants and flowers, along with a ridiculously-loaded price tag. we were just as excited as she was, only our joy was about our four plants, not a multitude. there is a reality to budgeting and we try to plan our purchases wisely, particularly in these times.

our third day out was crowded with people, the nursery was messy and the plants were picked over, but we still managed to find some herbs and tomatoes, lavender, salvia and sweet purple flowers whose name escapes me. our fourth day we filled in the gaps. the nursery had resupplied and we picked up the mint, jalapeños, and little white with purple flowers to contrast with the purples we had already gotten.

d lined up all the pots and planters on the patio and i took out my gloves from the old cabinet we had placed on the deck. and then it started.

from individual elements – these small (though not inexpensive) plastic pots of baby plants – turning into our own backyard sanctuary, filled with potential of beautiful flowers and edible produce. exquisite. each morning we look out the window – in the earliest morning light – to see these new residents of our home. each morning they are enchanting.

one day – over a century ago – all the pieces of barney were put together into an upright piano. where he went from there is unknown, but we found him in the church’s basement boiler room, not exactly a prime location for this musicmaking instrument.

after we managed to have him delivered to our backyard instead of to the junkman, we were thrilled with his presence. his aging might have been preserved by some marine wax, but we chose to go organic with barney. he’s way more of a granola piano than a botox piano.

through the years we have now had him, he has become more and more gorgeous, more and more a part of our backyard, offering shelter to the wee critters, a landing pad for those who fly or scamper. barney’s higher-purpose presence is grounding and part of the peace we feel when we step out our back door.

it’s hard to believe that it is almost june again. already. summer is at the edges.

the last two nights we have had dinner outside on the deck. as the sun just begins to slightly wane – to fall off into acute angles with the horizon – we sit and chat while the garden lights reflect in the pond. we wait for hummingbirds to zoom to our feeder. we watch breck quake in the breeze, marvel at the play of birds and squirrels, adore our dogga laying on the deck in the shade. it is all enchanting.

as the dark begins to settle into the alcoves of our yard – the ferns breathe deeply, the peonies stretch – we yawn and make our way inside. as we settle in under our quilt we talk about our day. we talk about the delights of new plants, marvel at the perennials we are astounded to see again. we are grateful for plastic adirondack chairs, a tiny bistro set, two old gravity chairs and a couple round rugs – the trappings of our deck – a place we truly find enchanting.

as it turns out, we don’t require much to be enchanted.

*****

GRATEFUL © 2004 kerri sherwood

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