reverse threading

the path back is the path forward

Tag Archives: yamaha recording and performing artist


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ferny. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

it looked sickly hanging in the garden section of the home improvement store. there it was – all dry and twisted – a boston fern with no one to love it.

our sweet potato vine had given it up on the old vintage ladder that leans against the house on the deck. it was not handling life well there. we moved it to the top of barney and it came back to life, its lime green trailing around barney’s keyboard, its heart leaves offering company to all the birds and squirrels that frequent the top of barney’s upright-piano-ness.

we were sort of looking for something else for the ladder, though it was not with fervor – it’s only an old ladder on a deck leaning against the house – it is not necessarily a priority as summer wanes.

the sickly fern was in and amongst lots of other sickly ferns. this one, however, made it into our hands. “‘it’s $7.50,” i complained, “that’s a lot for a fern that looks like it’s not going to make it.” plus it felt like so many plants there needed people to care for them. i felt a little overwrought looking at all the dried-up herbs and annuals, perennials outgrowing their pots, the potted canna lilies and small ornamental trees fallen, laying on the concrete.

we pondered it – like we do most purchases – and decided to adopt the fern, bring it home, nurture it and hope for the best.

when we checked out, it rang up at $3.75 – half-price – making it a bit more palatable.

we placed it carefully in the backseat of big red and told it we were bringing it to a new home. we told it we would take care of it and not to worry – the first item of business was to get it some fresh water and sprinkle its crunchy-dry fronds.

it doesn’t really take much to take care of a fern. “ferny” as we dubbed it (because we are clever like that) perked up as soon as it started drinking in much-needed water.

devising a way to hang it from the ladder (three old shower curtain hooks did the trick!) we placed it in its new home. it immediately looked proud and we decided that next year we would go straight to the ferns for the ladder-on-the-deck.

now, as summer continues to wane, we are watching our tomatoes and mint start to lose their exuberance. the jalapeños are still trying to make new little baby peppers and the chives are pretty much going strong. our licorice plants all seem happy and so do the vines growing from the actual sweet potatoes we planted in dirt. but the other flowers are showing signs of fall coming, the ornamental grass plumes are changing color, the day lily flower shoots have browned and are ready for pulling. we are gearing up to enter a new season.

i wonder how ferny will do as time goes on – and september becomes october. i wonder if it will survive moving indoors as we are not necessarily intuitive green-thumbers.

no matter what, we will do the best we can. and if calling it by name (along with all the other named plants in our home) and cheering it on – best-guessing its care with the help of our horticultural friend google – will keep it nurtured and thriving, then we have set our course.

i am convinced of the direct relation between nurturing and flourishing. and that – nurturing – we can do.

*****

NURTURE ME © 1995 kerri sherwood

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keep it straight. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

when i was sixteen and seventeen and eighteen i spent a lot of time hanging out with crunch. he and i worked together at the dive center and were close pals. his fiancée lived a bit of a distance away so she left me to “keep an eye on him”. crunch didn’t need any eye kept on him – he was a straight-up good person. nevertheless, he became a part of the family and we had grand adventures together, most of them out on the water somewhere.

in the way that people stay with you through the decades of your life, there are certain things – expressions – behaviors – you take from them. there are several i cannot even begin to describe that i learned from crunch. one, though, came from spending a lot of time with him and our constant companions: our cameras.

because of crunch i am obsessive-compulsive about my horizon line. i can hear him in my head – keep your horizon straight, straight, straight. it has haunted me for the last almost fifty years. that’s a long time to hear someone in your head. but it never fails – every single time i take a photograph – whether it’s on water or high in the mountains, canyonlands or a wildflower meadow adjacent to a hiking trail – i can hear crunch’s voice: keep it straight.

there are worse things. things that have stood the test of time that i hear other people saying, things that are deflating or hurtful. so keep-the-horizon-straight is harmless and, actually, good advice…even over and over and over.

we are fortunate to be able to walk along lake michigan any time of day or night. a few steps and we are on the path that takes us past the rocky shoreline to the beach and the marina. every day we try to walk at least a 3.5 mile loop – and every day one of us comments about how lucky we are.

i have only been out on lake michigan’s waters once. on a sailboat a long time ago. i don’t remember much about it – it was an extraordinarily busy time of life and i think my sail got lost in the shuffle of other memories to remember. i’m fairly certain it was lovely – to set sail and be adrift in this lake-that-looks-like-an-ocean, this lake with so many personalities and moods, this big lake whose very energy we can feel at our house.

i always thought i would grow up to live on the shores of long island sound…somewhere along the rocky cliffs that fall to the beach, sunrises and sunsets over the horizon of water a part of my every day.

it didn’t turn out that way. i left long island prematurely, fleeing trauma and fear.

in recent days i have been back there – restoring my relationship with what was my beloved home, the water that grounded me for all those earlier years.

i still don’t think i will end up living on the shores of long island sound now. but here i am, mere steps away from a beautiful great lake – with access to it for day’s beginning or day’s end.

and as i stand on the rocks alongside the water’s edge, the sailboat – adrift – is lit by the west-sinking sun. i snap photos of it as it glows and i hear crunch – ever-present – “keep the horizon straight!”

*****

ADRIFT © 1996 kerri sherwood

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long island sound circa 1977

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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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facts and fire. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

i read these words recently:

“facts are stubborn things.” *

no matter what someone wants you to believe about something, facts will stand the test of time, they will rise to the surface like a bobber on a lake, floating in incandescent shine into the air, ready for discovery. facts will – and should – lead the way, speaking loudly, burning down all the detriment of machinated false narrative, twisted stories that serve no purpose to truth.

facts. the intense combust of silence.

facts. silence. fire.

i have chosen facts.

i have chosen fire.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

66 and 19 (mixed media)

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*heather delaney reese wrote these words in a recent post, but they are also attributed to president john adams in the history of this country.


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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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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.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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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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read DAVID’s thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

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surviving creepy and invasive. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

the snow on the mountain groundcover creeps under the fence. it tries to take over the ornamental grasses, winds its way around our peonies, fills in spaces we didn’t necessarily need filled in. it’s invasive dressed in pretty. it has even given the wild geranium a run for its money. fortunately, the geranium – particularly under barney – has survived the overbearing groundcover and its sweet pink flowers are getting ready to bloom now.

i saw a post the other day that was a gut-punch. the words on the post read: “it’s illegal to feed wildlife at national parks because they get dependent on handouts and forget how to survive. it kinda sounds familiar, doesn’t it?‘ the photograph with the post was depicting minority moms and children in line with shopping bags and grocery pushcarts.

it literally made me ill. because it was posted by a neighbor with a comment that read, “hmmmm.” just despicable. and downright hard to believe that there are people who really feel that way. haughty. sickening. overbearing. uncaring. bigoted.

creepy and invasive.

that kind of bullshit post enrages me. it’s unconscionable. the hatred is just exhausting. how dare he/they be so righteous, so pompous, so entitled? with clearly no heart at all – no empathy – no love-one-another in their soul, no we-are-our-brother’s/sister’s-keeper. the judgment and demeaning attitude.

i could go on.

but i won’t.

because i am hoping that most of us in this country will be like the intrepid wild geranium. that we will bloom despite the invasive stuff that purports to be pretty.

that we will be able to spread goodness and kindness and compassion.

that we can possibly be the nation we were destined to become in a world that needs the caring interdependence of all people.

that we aren’t dreadful people who believe despicable things and then share those extreme racist views with the world, hoping for “likes”.

snow on the mountain is “incredibly invasive and will spread indefinitely if not restrained.”

*****

sorry about the language. but sometimes it fits. 🤷‍♀️

*****

PULLING WEEDS © 2010 kerri sherwood

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don’t be a dreamdasher. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

a few yesterdays ago we were at the apple store, asking questions, learning, dreaming, stoking up on what new technology is “out there”, what we might eventually need to replace my no-longer-with-us hand-me-down 2008 crashed computer, this 2014 mini ipad, etc etc etc.

in a remarkable three hours or so – that we stood and talked to mike and then nate – we jogged our braincells into grokking new information, new terms, new device potentials and we entertained dancing with visions of artistic sugarplums. it was a joyous time, filled with others teaching us, punctuated by laughter.

toward the end of our visit at the store, a couple – a bit older than us – walked in. both were dressed to the nines (in direct comparison to our ripped jeans, flannel shirts and hiking sandals).

the woman walked over to the table with ipads and pointed to one as an-even-older-than-them-and-us saleswoman looked on. she asked what it was. the evenolder saleswoman – let’s just call her “dreamdasher” – immediately said this while body-guiding her away from the very tablet that was inviting in the customer: “ohhh. that’s verrrrrry expensive. it’s fancy. it’s an ipad proooo. it’s for proFESSionals.”

i was taken aback and stared at them. since we were just across the table from this debacle – about three feet away – i said aloud, “did you just hear that? what on earth was THAT??” our nate – who we have now adopted because he was young, bright, informative, told great stories, was pretty adorable with great hair and tolerated our three hours worth of information-gathering – said, “everyone has their own approach, i guess.”

i continued to rant – about assumptions, about dashing someone’s dreams, about ageism (which was funny because the salesperson was perhaps older than the customer!), about did-i-mention assumptions. who was to say that the customer wasn’t a professional? who was to say that the customer didn’t have goals to be a professional? who was to say that the customer wasn’t buying for someone else? i was flabbergasted that a woman (dreamdasher) would be so rude to a woman (dreamingperson). it is truly amazing that i did not walk over to dreamdasher and quietly ask her where her generosity went, how she could just dis-count dreamingperson’s curiosity and possible purchase, how she could – in the instants since that couple had walked in – put them in the tire-kicker category and body-guide them down the row of ipads to a lower level of tablet.

i went on and on in big red for a while too. it did not sit well with me.

because we were there to dream, to imagine. we did not look the part of people who could slap down some cash and purchase the row freaking row of tablets. we were clearly behind the eight ball on device capability and terminology. and yet nate – and mike – were generous and careful teachers, on point with what we described as possibilities, lifting us – and our visions – up, not trouncing on them.

wow.

still a little miffed, as you can see.

as human beings – particularly in a time when our very country seems to want to drown every floating dream – isn’t it our obligation to lift others up, to not make unfounded and discriminatory assumptions, to be kind? isn’t it our responsibility to feed others’ creativity, to encourage and bolster their life goals as much as we can, to hope for the best for each other? is it not in our nature to wish to elevate other humans, to boost them up, to animate their dreams, to delight in ambitions and initiatives of goodness? to make a difference in the lives of others – no matter their fortune? to say “i believe in you”? to be light in the dark?

dreamdashers be damned.

grateful to the dreamlifters around us.

*****

YOU MAKE A DIFFERENCE © 2003 kerri sherwood

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PS. if you are a “romper room” fan, please sing to the tune of the do-bee song:

“…don’t be a dreamdasher, don’t be a dreamdasher/do be a dreamlifter, do be a dreamlifter…..”