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{{ I am chronicling 48 days of writing before my July 31 travel. If you are chronicling your summer writing/days and would like to share, please link or comment so we can all cheer one another through. Strength to your sword arm!}}
The Year of Exploration is here. On Being a Late Bloomer is here. My speech at Vermont College (moments, memories, meaning) is here. ==================== We don't have a picture of us in the sixties. We met when our mutual friend, Jimmy Murphy, who lived down the street from me and drove me to school in his family's Corvair, asked me one morning at pick-up, "Can we go by and get my friend Jim?" and I said sure.
Turns out, Jimmy and Jim worked together (if you could call it that) at Biff Burger in Charleston, South Carolina. My dad had been transferred to Charleston in 1968. He spent two years mostly flying C-141s into and out of Vietnam while my mother held together a family of three kids and a dog and teenager-hood in the late sixties.
As Jim loped out of his house, trombone case under one arm, spiral notebook spilling papers out of the other, I knew my life was about to change. You can't even define it that way -- it's a feeling you understand only later, looking back. I got out of the passenger seat and crawled into the cramped back seat, not because I was a girl and that's what girls did, but because Jim was 6'6" tall and I knew he wouldn't fit in the back.
I don't know where the trombone went. Maybe there wasn't a trombone.
"Hi," was all I managed. "Hi," he said back. He had gigantic lips (good for kissing, it turned out). He smiled with his whole face, hiding nothing, including how amazing he thought I was, this creature who occupied the front seat of his friend Jimmy's car.
And that was the beginning. Things went very fast. I was a good girl. He was a Billy Graham good boy. But we were very good explorers, and we became inseparable, and such good friends, too. He was a good listener. I was a good talker. For the first time in my life, I had someone to really listen to me, to intently listen, looking me straight in the face, paying attention. It was heady stuff!
The music in his life became the music in mine, as I sat at football games in the bleachers in freezing November, watching the sousaphone player at halftime marching in the St. Andrews High School Marching Band. He loved band, he loved the piano (his strength, still today), and he loved rock and roll.
My dad was transferred to the Philippines in 1970, and through a series of events too long to go into here, Jim and I lost touch for a few decades. When we reunited in our late forties, he still looked at me with that grin and those lips and those eyes so intent on my face, listening. I was so far gone before we even got started again. "I can't believe you never got married," I said, "that you never had kids..."
And do you know what he said? "I waited for you." Well. Here I am, me and my decades of living, my four children all grown now, who have been folded into Jim's heart, too, a heart that has room for anything Debbie loves. It's downright inspiring.
I am pouty, where he lets go. I am critical, where he is understanding. I am self-centered, where he is selfless. I could go on. Perhaps I have him on a pedestal. Perhaps he puts me there, too. Maybe that's as it should be.
We are two artists trying to make our way in a world that is not sympathetic to artistic temperaments and making a living. We manage. We like being together and say that's what counts. We both like simple, silly adventures. He makes me laugh. He likes my faces. He likes my snoring. "I can't sleep until I hear you snore." He will go with me to France one day -- a dream I had even when I knew him in high school.
Is it all good? We both find brown sugar cinnamon frosted Pop Tarts hard to resist. There. Something not so good? Nah. It's all good.
Today is our 8th wedding anniversary. We'll spend it getting ready to leave on our trip that begins in tomorrow's wee hours.
This song was number 50 on the Billboard Top 100 for 1969. I'm listening to a lot of late sixties music in preparation for writing Book 3 of the sixties trilogy. I'm looking for anchor songs for scrapbooks, and for story inspiration. This song reminds me so much of that amazingly innocent and yet powerful Charleston time we had together in 1969. Here's to you, Sweet Jim, to the 14 years we've spent together again. I hope we get 14 more.
(the hair! the suits! the dancing while playing guitar! the lip sync! where are the trumpets? hahahahaha. oh, sixties, you are so weird. thank goodness.)
The Spiral Starecase More Today Than Yesterday
I don't remember what day it was. I didn't notice what time it was. All I know is that I fell in love with you. And if all my dreams come true, I'll be spending time with you!
Every day's a new day in love with you. With each day brings a new way of loving you -- Every time I kiss your lips my mind starts to wander...
I love you more today than yesterday But not as much as tomorrow!
0 Comments on 48 days, day 47: celebration as of 1/1/1900
An afternoon drive out of Atlanta, a patriotic rest stop, a Confederate flag flying over the Columbia, South Carolina Statehouse, an arrival at Mama's house on John's Island.
O Charleston, O Youth, O History of Long Ago. The marsh, the swamp, the salt, the
0 Comments on picture stories as of 9/21/2014 2:08:00 AM
It has become a tradition on this blog: every year a song. This is year five. Five. Such a special age. Our marriage is five years old today. I'm fervently splashing around in 1964 these days, so here is a song Sunny loves. I love it, too. And you, my sweet. Happy Anniversary. Love the dancing that begins at 1:06. Let's do that today, too.
(details in the comments)
I know the picture quality is fuzzy, but the sound is what I'm after, and I love looking at the clothes and the hair -- in Sweden in 1964, no less. The music can't be live -- it's an exact copy of the record, and there is no drummer, etc. <br /><br />I've pinned this recording to a Pinterest board of the playlist for book two of the sixties trilogy. You can find it here:<br />http
Anonymous said, on 8/1/2012 6:35:00 PM
Happy Anniversary, you perfect pair! And happy belated birthday, dear Deborah. Thanks for sharing your life and your loves.<br />Your forever fan,<br />Tana (still) in Tucson
It was my luck to have spring and summer babies. If I'd had them in fall and winter, I'd tell you that was my luck, too. It's good luck to have babies, no matter what season, no matter what age. And, this spring, my youngest babe turns 25. Yesterday was her birthday.
So of course we celebrated. Someone wrote her a song... years ago actually, but now it is recorded. And framed.
I wanted to include family who couldn't be with us on this day. If they'd had the chance, or if they were still living, they would have come to our little house to celebrate. Life is so short, isn't it?
So I pulled out the Trabuco Canyon honey I bought when we last visited Zach in California. I took the marmalade jar from its special spot -- it belonged to my mother-in-law for so long, and before that to her mother -- and filled it with confectioner's sugar. I put two sticks of butter into the butter dish that had been my grandmother's -- the real Miss Eula -- and imagined my father, as a boy, helping himself to some hand-churned butter from that dish.
I used the Georges Briard cake pedestal that Hannah and I found at our local antique store. I put a carrot cake on it, and frosted it with cream cheese frosting. My mother always wrote on our childhood birthday cakes, but I opted for big numbers for a big birthday, as I no longer have children at home living out their childhoods.
I did, however, buy butter pecan ice cream, which was my mother's favorite. Hannah had no preferences for this birthday meal or cake, which left me free to remember our collective past in calling up this meal and those who now loved or had loved us. I loved doing this.
You can see a bit of Albert Einstein, a painting by artist and friend Kate Fortin, in the chair behind the cake... not that Albert is a relative, but he's family of choice, I suppose, and certainly Kate is. You also can't see the family photos that grace the bookshelves, but they are there, lending their presence to the preparations.
So I set the table with the china my mother had given me. For flower vases, I used the blue bottles I had scavenged with Jason long ago.
Uncle Edisto's is my favorite line of all from Each Little Bird That Sings, not only because it is so true, but because it is so big-hearted and whole-hearted.
Hey, y'all. Yes, it's true. Jim Pearce on NPR this morning, with Susan Stamberg, discussing his new CD, "I'm in the Twilight of a Mediocre Career." Thanks for all your calls and emails. Remember when we did the cover shoot? Remember when you helped us decide the cover? Remember when we got the mechanicals back, and shared them with you?
How gratifying to be able to share this moment with you.
Amazon has already sold OUT of CDs, so we're sending more, but you can still order from Amazon and have them sent to you very soon. OR... go to CD Baby, where there are still plenty of CDs, or order on iTUnes.
Thanks so much for your support and love and encouragement and all-around solid friendship and fellowship. Thanks so much to the band -- Paul Fallat, Eric South, Herman Burney, Joe Gransden -- and the guest musicians as well, Rafael Perrera, and Ken Gregory.
Lots happening here -- more soon! In the meantime, here's the link to the interview! It's fabulous, eh? We're traveling, we were asleep this morning, , and suddenly both our cell phones started ringing at 6am with congratulations. Cool! Thank you!
2 Comments on Jim this morning on NPR, last added: 8/17/2010
For Jim, on the occasion of our 3rd wedding anniversary, our 9th year in each other's orbit again, and the 40th anniversary of our introduction, in high school, in Charleston, South Carolina, waaaaay back in the sixties.
Here is a song written by John Sebastian, and sung by The Lovin' Spoonful in 1966, on the album "Hums of the Lovin' Spoonful." Other tunes on this album: "Summer in the City," and "Nashville Cats," both songs that could describe this summer in Hotlanta, and Jim's musical genius. There, I've said it. Jim is a musical genius. Good musical news is coming soon, but for today... happy anniversary, darlin' companion. Love, Debbie
Tomorrow I'll tell you where I am with the novel. Yesterday I got away to the North Georgia Mountains, and it was good. A few knick-knacks, some water, some music, an earnest cemetery, peaches and blackberries, but most of all, the funny, comfortable, sweet company of my true love and those soothing, rolling mountains that stand like ancient, silent sentries at the opposite end of the Blue Ridge chain that I left in Maryland six years ago.
Hey! Busy writing here. I'm popping in quickly to let you know that the Countdown playlist giveaway is still running -- you have until July 1 to go HERE and leave a comment so you can be entered for an iMix that will come directly to your iTunes account so you can hear the ENTIRE PLAYLIST -- 46 songs and other spoken word pieces from 1962 -- a fabulous companion to the novel, and a $45 value.
AND.... I've got tickets for my hubby's concert at Callanwolde! If you live in the Hotlanta area and want to come hear great jazz, come to Callanwolde on Friday, June 25 at 7:30. Bring a picnic and chairs or blanket, or join us and bring pot luck on the lawn.
Jim and his entire band -- Jim on piano and vocals and snappy repartee, Eric South on sax, Paul Fallat on drums and L.A. Tuten on bass -- will be under the stars to entertain you, and there will be CDs as well, Tickets are $15 online at Callanwolde before the event, and $20 at the door. Come out an support the arts in Atlanta, and hang with us for an evening of great entertainment.
I've got five tickets to give away on the blog or on facebook, to the first five responders. Let me know you're comin'!
That is all. I feel as if I've just written a commercial. Maybe I have. Love to all. And how are YOU? I want to know.
xoxoxo Debbie
1 Comments on all kinds of giveaways, last added: 6/16/2010
Of COURSE I will be out of town on the 25th - but PLEASE let us know when your hubby is playing out again in Atlanta, would love to come see him sometime!
So I didn't bring the camera with me Saturday before last, when we attended a house party and were mightily entertained by the Hotlanta Dixieland Trio, all friends who have played with Jim. I didn't bring it the next afternoon, when Jim gigged at the first jazz jam in our neighbor's living room. Players were on keyboard, banjo, guitar, upright bass, clarinet, mandolin, balalaika, and the original instrument: voice.
I dearly wished I'd had my camera, so I could share with you that experience. Folk tunes, jazz standards, Russian gypsy songs, Yiddish favorites, ragtime, and Dixieland - I took my knitting but couldn't tear my eyes off the scene in front of me. It was so good to be with friends, surrounded by music. I didn't bring the camera to Panama City, Florida this past Friday, either. Five hundred enthusiastic classroom teachers, grades K through 12, attended the Bay Area Reading Association's annual conference, and I got to open the day with a talk about books and reading, family and community. It was an exhilarating experience to stand in front of such a dedicated, amazing bunch (some called themselves "the amen chorus"!) and share stories.
I got to talk about Countdown, too -- and what a great place to tell all about this story, as in 1962, kids in Florida were ducking and covering under their desks as well. There are many air force bases in Florida, not to mention NASA and Cape Canaveral, and the little detail that the tip of Florida is a mere 90 miles off the coast of Cuba. Boy, did I hear stories, all day long.
The best part of the day was working again with Houghton-Mifflin-Harcourt's Ronda Baggett, and meeting her daughter, Hannah, who was in the middle of reading Each Little Bird That Sings. She stayed with us for half the day, until her father came to get her at lunch.
"Are you ready?" asked her father, with a wide smile. Hannah said no -- she didn't want to go. Her mother said, "But, honey, you're going to see Avatar! Don't you want to see the movie?" Hannah looked at me and shook her head. I hugged her, thanked her, and promised her she would love the movie more than she loves me. haha! But ain't it wonderful? You know you've arrived, when a ten-year-old would rather hang out with you while you sign books, than go to the movies with Dad and see James Cameron's latest blockbuster. Whoo-hoo! What a sweetie. Jim picked me up from the airport on Saturday night, and we spent Sunday in front of the fire. S
2 Comments on on the road again, last added: 2/2/2010
Ha! It's Hannah who is remarkable, don't you think? And she has a remarkable mother as well. Thanks for everything this past weekend -- what fun, and what good work. Hug Hannah for me.
Here it is. Thanks so much for all your opinions. We've got the mechanicals! I'm reproducing them here, but keep in mind that the color is a bit washed out in these photos -- the final product will be deep and rich and layered and... all that jazz. :> When you open the CD package, this will be inside the front cover: This will be opposite it, inside the back cover, and under the cd tray: This is the back cover: And -- ta da!
The front cover:
We loved all your input, and we can't wait to hold the actual CD in our hands. It's the best yet, full of surprises and outstanding jazz compositions played by world-class musicians... we're thrilled to be THIS CLOSE to release!
January. That's when you can get hold of your own copy. Details to come about a CD release party/concert for Jim Pearce's latest masterpiece, coming to a theater near you, especially if you live in Atlanta. Thanks, all, for your enthusiasm and support!
0 Comments on the mechanicals are here as of 1/1/1900
:-)
xoxoxo.