The Scarlet H: And Why I am Proud to Wear It

I am going to try my best not to turn this note into a rant. However, I have been very good at expressing my feelings and opinions in socially acceptable manners as of late, so I think I may be allowed to take a brief break in this case. Since I have graduated more than a year ago and still this situation is arising, I feel I have well earned my right to respond.

Also, I am afraid that if this situation is happening to me it may be happening to others as well, and I wish to set their minds at rest from niggling doubts about their self-worth.

It has come to my attention of late that I have been branded with a Scarlet Letter. People will ask me what I am doing with my life as of late and I will answer that I am a freelance musician and writer. While this does raise some eyebrows (there also seems to be an annoying association of the term “freelance” with “unemployed,” particularly if you are a young freelancer) it is the second question they inevitably ask that I want to address.

"And you’re still living at home?” People, adults in particular, but also some peers, will ask this is a variety of ways. Some will mutter it under their breaths, avoiding my eyes as if to spare me shame. Others will ask it quite accusatorially with something close to a glare, as if wishing me to fall on my knees and beg repentance instead of answering “yes” so brazenly.

Initially, I started to wonder if I should not, perhaps, feel some of this embarrassment that people expected I should naturally feel. If so many people thought it of me, perhaps I was a lazy, timid, graduate unwilling to grow up and unable to support myself in the real world. It felt the moment someone realized I “still lived at home” I was branded with a great glowing “H” that announced to the world I was a loser.

The first hint I got that someone’s thinking was flawed in this situation (and it wasn’t mine) was when I realized I am not a loser. Actually, none of us are losers. God doesn’t create losers. And, as a rule, we should not treat other people like losers.

But I digress.

Then I discovered the second great secret that society is trying to hide from us: There is nothing wrong with living at home!

“No!” You gasp, “In truth?”

Using my situation as the example, let me just debunk a few of the myths that surround living at home after college. I warn you, some of these myths will sound quite ludicrous, yet, once one is conditioned and beaten down to believe them they seem to become much more probable.

Myth #1: The wearer of the Scarlet H wouldn’t be able to support herself.

Rebuttal: First of all, I do support myself. Who pays my credit card bill? Me. Who pays for my car and health insurance? Me. Who even occasionally buys groceries? Me. Furthermore, if I don’t have money for something I would like to have, I don’t buy it until I can afford it. The definition of support is “bear all or part of the weight of; hold up” and I think I have proved by the above that I “support” myself.

The second insinuation of this myth is that the wearer of the “H” stays at home because she wouldn’t be able to find a job. Currently I do not work at a business. I do, however, own one. When I wish to work at a 9-5 job, I have no doubt that I will get one. I have worked been employed before, have great references and a decent resume. Right now I am not interested in being that tied down, and have a burning desire to be a writer and a musician. I don’t want to suppress my dreams and rush into a job I don’t want and then twenty years later be thrown into a insane midlife crisis in which I dye my hair purple and join a motorcycle clan.

I may try one or both of these pursuits in the future, but it will not be related to feeling repressed.

Myth #2: The wearer of the Scarlet H is lazy.

Rebuttal: Typically, I am up early every morning (including weekends, which I also work) and am writing, practicing music, performing music, and marketing my music. Even when I’m not “working” I am involved in worthwhile pursuits, such as visiting friends, watching interesting and strange films, reading, and drinking eight glasses of water a day. You might also find me doing laundry, making dinner, or making a run to the library with my siblings. Living at home after college does not mean you are still considered child, in many ways, more is expected of you.

Myth #3: The wearer of the Scarlet H is afraid of independence and living on her own.

Rebuttal:The truth is, for a while I was afraid, but it wasn’t of independence. For a while I was afraid of people thinking badly of me for living at home. If I was to move out of my house now just because I am not living in what society considers an “independent” manner, when my business is based in Central PA, my band is made up of my siblings, and, frankly, I have an awesome family and love spending time with them, that would be the route of the coward.

I have no doubt that I would be able to survive ”on my own” somewhere. Besides living in Oxford and Steubenville “on my own” I have won the game “Oregon Trail” possibly three hundred times as a carpenter and have got my entire family to Oregon in “fair” health, which is no easy task.

People younger than me have been surviving “on their own”. Think of Brian in Hatchet. Think of the kid in “Home Alone.”

People older than me have lived at home. I am thinking of a certain carpenter from Galilee who didn’t start his public ministry till 33…

In conclusion, if you are living at home and like living at home (or even if it is simply where you feel like you have to be at for the time being) wear your Scarlet H with pride.

And the next time someone asks me “And you’re still living at home?” I have half a mind to respond, “Of course. Isn’t that what you call where you live as well?”

Reflections on Recording

So, this is the awesome control room and the first thing you see when you walk into John's studio. Each time I see it I am still struck with how cool it is and how awesome it is to be recording here. This is where John Lauvasser well, "controls" everything and where Peter copilots.

The last chord of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" melts into silence.
I sit absolutely still, trying to to breathe or make any noise that would ruin the take.
Doubts run through my head in the ensuing silence. I had thought the performance had gone well, it had felt good, but now that I was finished, who knew...
I wait nervously for what the Peter and John LeVausser in the control room have to say.
"That was great!" I hear John exclaim through my headphones, "Very musical."
I open the glass door and hurry through the narrow hallway to join them to listen to the take. Peter is sitting in one of the black computer chairs, and only has one word for me.
"Wow."
We listen back to the take in silence.
"So," I say finally, feeling my face flush, "I guess that one's good to go."
John grins at me. "What's up next?"

Here's "Tracking Room One" where I've done all of my recording so far.

I'd like to say this has been the experience of recording this entire album, that, yes, it is an album of fifteen, flawless first takes. However, for every excellent take there are tons of instances such as:

John: Whenever you're ready.
Me: Okay (pause, start playing) Can I start again?
John: Sure
Me (start playing again): Oh, dang it, can I start again? Ahhh....

It is a long road to record a CD, and things always take longer than you expect. Getting to record a CD is awesome, but is it also, as Uncle Ben might say "a great responsibility." Performing a song live is one thing. Playing a song that is going to stick around for always and ever (well, at least for a couple years) is a very sobering challenge to face.

There are moments of pure, undistilled bliss that come from a great take, from your fellow musicians giving you great performances, and from listening back to a recently recorded song and realizing, "Wow, that sounds great!"

These moments are all the sweeter because they are surrounded by times when instruments refuse to stay in tune, when my fingers mess up measures that I have played hundreds of times at home, and when the combinatation of stress and nerves feel akin to being a hundred feet under the ocean.

There are times when I sit at the harp in the studio and can only wonder at how incredibly blessed I am to have this chance to make a solo album, and then there are other times when I wonder why in the world I have thrown myself yet again into this musical black hole from which I might never return.

In the end, though, it is the moments when things are on the verge of falling apart that are the most important. It is in those moments that I've learned to take a deep breath, say a quick prayer, and forge onward, despite my misgivings or doubts. It is during these times that it is most important (and difficult) to recall that brief and fleeting vision one had of the glorious end project, and remember, "Yes, this is worth taking my time on to get right. This is worth sticking it out for."

And, if you are lucky like me, you have a younger brother who will sit in the control room for your every song and will tell you "Come on, you can play better than that. Play it again. "

This is the "Rythmn Room" and both Mary-Teresa and Joanna have used this room for recording and there is even a glass window in between the rooms so we can see each other as we play. Yep, this is the real deal.

Catching Up

I realized today, with a bit of a shock, that I haven't written a new note in nearly a month. Even worse, the last note I wrote was the rather dismal one about my harp smashing into a billion pieces.

By a billion I mean like two.

Anyway, what has been going on in the past month?

In the past month, I decided to record a "solo album" (with several special guests) and now am in the throes of pre-recording madness. We found a new recording studio in Lancaster which is run by John LaVausser, who has excellent equipment, good advice, and most importantly, makes a great cup of coffee. I am set to record the bulk of the album in the next few weeks, so please keep the project in your prayers. Hopefully it will be out this August! The songs range from classics such as "Amazing Grace" and "Over the Rainbow" to "Karjalan" an obscure Finnish song about primevel forests and bear-wrestling, so hopefully there will be something for everyone.

Seasons also added some new gigs, such as Artsfest, Concerts on the Corner, and also possibly a concert at Italian Lake (if the funding goes through) some new songs, new instruments, and new members. Mary-Clare has been playing with us more and more, and also is cladestinely working on Galway Piper in order to play it faster than either me or Peter.
Seasons is also going to be working on a new CD this summer, which will probably have alot of our original material, such as River Song, Sailor's Lullaby, Angelo, and who knows what else.

Recently, Seasons performed at the WJTL talent contest at the Sertoma Chicken Barbeque. In true Lee fashion, we went to the barbeque and did not buy chicken, because you couldn't buy just light meat, and the only vegetable for a side dish was potato chips. Other talents featured were a four-year-old hula hooper (seriously, this kid was awesome, the way her mom gave her hand signals from the front of the stage made me think of SeaWorld) several jugglers (though unfortunately the one who juggled fire went first, which made the others rather anticlimactic), a breakdancing team, and a couple other musical acts. While we didn't win (the Breakdancers brought their entire church along to vote for them) we had a great time performing and catching up with Lisa Landis from the Kids Cookie Break and other members of the WJTL family. Also, the Martin family showed up, so we dragged all our camping chairs across the park to sit by them and catch up! Honestly, we count a sucessful performance as one where the audience refrains from throwing things at us, so by Seasons standards this was a fantastic show!

On Wednesday Peter and I went to Elysburg to perform at a Carmelite Monastery, but this experience was so awesome that it deserves a note of its own, which will hopefully come along tomorrow!

This weekend Seasons is playing a whopping four gigs, in a variety of places:

Mary-Kate--Canada, playing music for a Medieval play at the University Toronto

Mary-Teresa--playing a wedding and two private parties

Mary-Grace--with Teresa at the parties

Peter--one private party and directing the choir.

After this we all plan to collapse on Sunday night, eat pizza, and hopefully watch Lord of the Rings.

Well, after we all fight over what movie to watch, hopefully I will win and we will watch LOTR.

Harpbroken

Worse things have happened to musicians.

I wasn't on the plane with Buddy Holly, Richie Valens, and J.P. Richardson ("the big bopper") "the day the music died" in 1959 (probably due to the fact that I wasn't yet alive).

I wasn't on the plane with Lynyrd Skynyrd and companions that day in 1977 more music died, or with John Denver the day in 1993 even more music died (note to famous musicians, please do NOT get on planes. Ever. Even your own personal tour jets).

But, nevertheless, having your harp fall over and break is pretty bad.

I was finishing up a day at the Herbfest in York last week, and all had proceeded well and good. I had arrived, unpacked all my gear, and played to a variety of artsy people into gardening, many of whom were dressed kind of like me (and probably resembled exactly what I will look like and how I will be spending my weekends in forty years).

I packed the harp into its case and stood it upright. The wheels were a couple of feet away, so, slightly harried and rushed, I turned my back for an instant to grab them. You know what happens the minute you turn your back on a toddler...BAM!

Immediately I heard this awful echoing crash, and spun around (too late) to see my harp on the concrete floor. I went over (as casually as I could, since there will still people milling about) and gingerly lifted it up, and felt a string through the back of the case, where it definitely should not have been. Yikes.

At this point I didn't even want to open the case to look, as if not looking would magically give my harp a chance to mend itself, so I wheeled it out to the car (this part is a bit hazy to remember) and then slowly unzipped the case and looked inside.

My harp had cracked. Not cracked as in a hairline, or even a split. Cracked as in huge chunk of the neck at the top had broken off (where the levers are) with nearly all the string but ten broken. Yep. Cracked as in totalled.

In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have driven home right after this discovery. My mind was insanely numb, and when I thought about the sad pile of wood and string in my trunk I felt basically nothing, and just gripped the steering wheel tighter with my icy fingers.

I calmly called home to prep my mom (and I had gone so long without having to make the "you better sit down" type announcement to my parents!) and then thankfully had to rush out to another gig, so was still able to postpone leaving a state of shock and returning to reality.

About 9:00pm at night it starting sinking in that my harp of seven years was damaged, perhaps unrepairable. It is in its case right now in the schoolroom as I write this, and it still creeps me out a little (it is kind of feels like writing in a room with a coffin).

Okay, it is an inanimate object. Yes, I do have another harp (thank goodness) and things could be much worse. But this was my first harp, that been my musical companion through high school and college (where I wheeled it countless miles around campus) the harp of Eventide Lullaby, Which Way to Dublin Town, and EWTN. We've been through alot together.

I am not sharing all this because I am asking for a pity-party. I naturally did have a small, rather private one, with only my former piano teacher as a guest, and we lamented the loss together. But then, I sat down at Grace's harp and we played some music together.

Yes, having my harp break was an unexpected and unwanted turn of events. Do I wish I could go back and not turn my back just when the harp fell over? Of course. However, dwelling on that one moment combined with the phrase "I wish," has never, ever, in the history of the world helped anyone get back to the past (you're better off spending your days trying to build a time machine). As Gandelf would say "All we have to decide it what to do with the time that is given us."

The time that is given to me is the time right now. So right now, I am going to call the Marini's to get my harp into the shop to start getting it repaired. Right now, I am going to thank God (as my mom pointed out) that I wasn't in a car accident. Right now I am going to enjoy life, even if my harp is broken.

Temporarily.

I hope.

Close Encounters of the Religious Kind

Stockbridge is one of those small New England towns that makes one sigh and remark “Ah, New England!”

Perhaps this iconic quality explains why Stockbridge was a haunt of Norman Rockwell, author Catharine Maria Sedgwick, and sculptor Daniel Chester French. I am sure that Saint Faustina never had reason to sigh and remark “Ah, New England!” but I am sure she is well pleased with the National Divine Mercy Shrines’ location.

In any case, it was St. Faustina that led Seasons to the National Shrine of Divine Mercy to accompany Jeff Petryk and Mercysong Ministries at the masses over Mercy Sunday weekend, the time of year when the National Shrine of Divine Mercy is inundated with 18,000 pilgrims. Yes, 18,000.

Driving through the town from the Yankee Inn (not to be confused with the Liberty Inn, which was a mental invention on my part) one passes by quiet brick and board houses settled on neat green lawns as properly as a fine lady at a picnic (can you tell how delighted I was?). The whole air of the Stockbridge, from the antique stores to the ice cream parlor, seemed to radiate “well, we’ve done it this way for the past hundred years, why stop now?”

On Mercy Sunday Peter and I had to arrive at the Divine Mercy Shrine at 7:30 am (which meant getting up in Yankee/Liberty Inn at 5:30 am to get ready, pack and drive over) and Peter took his coffee and reflectively sat on one of the still-empty wooden benches, gazing at the mountains that curled around the back of the outdoor shrine like a crown. “Many a poem has been written while staring at the Berkshires,” Mary Flynn remarked in a crusty British accent.

Besides the amazing blessing of getting to experience Mercy Sunday at the National Shrine of Divine Mercy with other Catholics from around the world (and some who had seen us on Life on the Rock) singing “The Helmsman” before mass on Mercy Sunday, randomly running into Emily Davis, AND staying at a hotel where there was an attractive Hispanic man who made incredible omelets (trust me, when a stranger in a strange land like New England, good breakfast is quite a blessing) we also got to spend time with some of the wonderful Flynn family.

The Flynn’s are the multi-talented family behind Mercy Song Ministries. After just meeting them it felt like we had known them for years (though apparently Peter has known Mary Flynn for years since they go to Franciscan University together, and she has even guest stared with Postscript).

Mr. Flynn is the author of “Seven Secrets of the Eucharist,” a brilliant little book that will change the way you go to communion. Erin Flynn’s Album, “Though the Darkness,” has great songs, including an awesome rendition of “Yet I Will Praise.” Brian Flynn has several albums and is a gifted songwriter. We had a chance to accompany the Flynns on some of their songs (Peter got to play keyboard on Brian’s Prolife song and was so pumped!) and sometimes I would be enjoying the lyrics so much it was hard to remember to play!

To read up on the Flynns and their music, you can pay a visit to their website:

http://www.mercysong.com

And also can check out the Flynn’s singing the Divine Mercy Chaplet (in the National Shrine of Divine Mercy):
Part 1:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=__RbWgxA2G0&feature=related
Part 2:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nnE9z7gwows

Finally, to learn more about Mercy Sunday or the Divine Mercy Shrine (since all of this probably sounds like Swedish if you are not Catholic) check out:

http://thedivinemercy.org

Ever wonder what 18,000 people looked like? Well, here you go!

Back to College. Well, Sort of...

Just so you know, this isn't Kutztown, since we didn't take pictures, but a Seasons stock photo used to get your attention. At least I'm being honest...

Being back at college, after graduating, can be an odd experience. After returning to Franciscan University last weekend for Holy Week (and playing at Living Stations) and last night playing an Acoustic Roadshow gig at Kutztown University, I have had quite a lot of this lately.

For me, going to Kutztown University was an odd combination of nostalgia and novelty. There were the college staples that come with the first arrival of gorgeous weather: girls strolling around campus in short floating skirts and colorful tops, guys sitting outside a dorm playing cards, and of course, Frisbees. Lots of Frisbees. Of course, my college experience with Frisbees was getting hit twice in the head with them orientation weekend while I wandering accidentally through cames thinking freshman-type thoughts (anyone who knows me will not be surprised by this) and then trying to stay as far away from them as possible for the remaining three years. But I know that most people enjoy them immensely.

As we boldly drove the red fan down a wide sidewalk toward our destination, the South Dining Hall (we’d been assured by a student that sometimes people drove down it) the similarities between my college years and this campus began to end.

Kuztown University has more than one dining hall, a fitness center with more than four treadmills (that everyone fights over), and, live music Thursday nights while students eat or study (courtesy of Acoustic Roadshow).

Upon arriving, Butch Imhoff was waiting for us and presented Grace and I each with a voucher to use at any of the dining hall options (there was an Italian station, sandwich station, coffee station, and a burger/fast food station). Needless to say, this improved our spirits immensely after an hour and a half car trip. We were both suddenly happier then we are at many higher-paying gigs, simply because we were getting free food (potential employers take note: fed musicians=happy musicians).

Once again we joined forces with the Martin Family Band, and took turns playing sets for the variety of senior citizens and college students chilling out in the dining hall. We also had the first ever team up of the Martin Family Band, Seasons, and Butch in a cover of the song, “In Christ Alone.”

One thing that Kutztown U. did NOT have when we showed up in the dining hall was air conditioning. Apparently the college had not been expecting the sudden surge of spring, and their air conditioner was still in hibernation, turning the glass- covered building into a giant terrarium.

To wrap things up, we had a great jam with the Martin family and the two Steves, whom I met back at the January session and happened to be in the audience with their flute and banjo. Grace had never played many of the tunes, so I would be hissing to her, “just play a lot of Ds!” as she tried to look professional and play along with a song she’d never heard at the same time.

So, being back at college, but getting to jam and eat a free dinner instead of studying, is a pretty swell deal, even if it is without air conditioning...

Kutztown, Acoustic Roadshow, and the Most Excellent Martin Family Band

While for most of my Seasons posts, I at least attempt to stay on the subject of Seasons and our comings and going, I am going to digress into one of my most favorite digressing topics: cool bands I like, that we get to hang out with.

For the next few paragraphs I am going to shamelessly plug the Martin family band. For those of you who follow my notes (and as loyal Seasons fans I hope you do, though actually my mom doesn't even follow them) you may remember when I first met the Martin family back at Patsy Fagan's Pub during an Irish session. Since then we have been hoping for a chance to hear them perform live, and just last weekend we got a chance!

Both Seasons and the Martin Family band were slated to provide music at the Kutztown Craft Guild Trade show (or something with those words in some order) thanks to Acoustic Road Show and Butch Imhoff (see note on Acoustic Roadshow...)

Seasons, startlingly, got to Kutztown University on time to hear the Martins play. At first I thought we were just improving our punctuality, until my mom told me that she had misread the time on the calendar and thought we started playing at 12pm instead of 1pm. Oh well, it was a happy thought.

Anyway, the happier thought was that by arriving early we had enough time to tune our eons of strings (though I think only in heaven will our hammered dulcimer ever be perfectly in tune) and watch the Martin's show.

And these guys are AWESOME. Not only do they have five kids who each play multiple instruments and Irish dance (as well as a four-year-old who waited quite patiently under the Martin's table for the show to be over) but the parents play guitar and bass as well. While we do have their CDs, which are great, it is even better to see them live not only because of the dancing but because they have a great energy on stage and it is fun to watch the inter-band connections onstage, which you can't get on a CD. If you do have the chance to see them perform, make sure you get a chance to hear them play "Cathasis" and "Tammlin," and if they don't just give them a rousing encore and shout the song names over and over, because they are not to be missed. Of course, I would hope that you would give them a rousing encore in any case....

After the Martins finished their set, we had a Seasons/Martin family band jam. Our first song we played was "The Butterfly," which our little sister Clare calls "ED the Butterfly" so she can remember the chord names. Clare was tickled to play with a bunch of other fiddle players (and to use one of their cool fiddle mics) and I think she would have defected and joined up with the Martins had I not hastily given her a raise.

We then got to play a rousing rendition of Morrison's Jig followed by The Road to Lisdoonvarna. Sadly, we then ran out of jamming time and Seasons had to play their set, but we are hoping that the Martin family band and Seasons will again join forces to become "Seasons of the Martin Family." Or "The Martin Family Seasons."

Well, maybe by then I'll come up with a cool name....

Stay tuned for more Seasons dates and happenings!

Below I've posted a link to the Martin Family Band Website, and also one of their videos:

http://www.martinfamilyband.net/index.html
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zwmxwk1Rjb0