Three years ago, while undergoing treatment for breast cancer, I began this site as a way to keep sane. My life felt like it was spinning out of control and my career going down in flames. I sought refuge in writing and photography. These creative outlets saved my life, and that’s not hyperbole. During the year that followed I dealt with a number of family crises that ultimately resulted in my becoming primary care taker for my elderly mother. We moved her from Denver to Portland, and until the pandemic started, she lived in assisted living.
The year she moved here, 2018, coincided with a Christmas gift from my husband, ken (he spells it with a lowercase “k”)–a Big Muddy mandolin, something I had wanted for a long time. I hadn’t played a stringed instrument since the age of 13 when I gave up playing the cello. I wanted a mandolin because it was small and highly portable, great for taking with me on business trips, and because it was melodic. Little did I know how this gift would change my life forever. Armed with an ability to read music and a rudimentary knowledge of music theory, I began a new musical journey and obsession.
I started taking lessons with Tim Connell, an accomplished musician and mandolinist known best for playing Brazilian Choro. At my first lesson, he recommended that I attend Saturday jam classes at Taborgrass, because ultimately one must play music with others. Although I had always enjoyed American folk and alternative country music, I had never given bluegrass music much thought. My first time playing with others was terrifying. I could barely play three chords, and they weren’t the right ones. Other players were incredibly welcoming, and I sooned forged lasting friendships, and an appreciation for bluegrass that I didn’t have before.
Hello, 2020. The year began normally. Taborgrass was meeting as usual. I had weekly jams with my friends, and then the COVID-19 writing appeared on the wall; everything was shutting down, and shutting in. We decided to move my mother home lest she die of loneliness in the retirement community that had closed down to outside visitors. We imagined things would be better in a couple of months. Well, you know how that story has unfolded.
Around the time of the shutdown, I wrote my first song called “Heaven Can Wait.” I haven’t properly recorded it yet, but one of these days will get around to it. Â I took a couple of online songwriting classes, one through Artichoke Music, and the other through Berklee College of Music. During the pandemic I have spent my time playing music with friends, mostly online, and writing songs. For my birthday this year, ken bought me a good microphone, and a pre-amp, which upped my ability to record my songs decently. Thank you, ken, for enabling my obsession, and for providing endless support in every other way.
I have shared my music with close friends and family members, all who have been gracious listeners, and now I am feeling brave enough to share my songs with a wider audience. I am not a virtuoso singer, and at best am an intermediate mandolin player. I see myself as a songwriter first. Â I will post my songs on SoundCloud, but you will find links on my site, and I will also provide back-stories and lyrics for songs in separate posts.
As Matt Meighan encouraged us to say in his class at Artichoke, I hope you will like it.
Check out my tunes:
