A Note from Michael - Late Fall 2008

Hi Everyone,

Sorry, once again, for the long delay between installments. When I reread the last one, I realized just how fast time really flies.

Here in the mountains it’s already autumn and I just finished planting the bulbs my friend, Maggie Taylor, gave me for my birthday two months ago. We’ve had only a few halfhearted flakes of snow so far, but last week we had what appeared to be a small tornado ... now I understand why someone recently referred to Global Warming as Global Weirding.

In the summer we had a nice visit from my son, Sean, his wife, Siree, and our two granddaughters Samantha and Melia. My favorite image of their stay is paddling the girls around in the canoe. (Flora jumped into the pond and swam after us, forgetting her usual contempt for all things H₂0). I’m guessing that Samantha’s and Melia’s favorite memory of the visit is the blackout we had one night. We lit candles and hurricane lamps. The next evening they asked me if I could make that happen again.

We moved into a new house this past January, not the most ideal month in which to attempt this. It was bittersweet leaving our old 1791 farmhouse, Blue Dragonfly Farm. But it was wonderful enjoying our first Winter with radiant heat. Going around the house barefoot in February is an exotic treat for those who’ve lived in an historic home where right angles are mostly imaginary .

We recently sold our little cottage on Sanibel. Florida has been our Winter escape since 1985. I’ve always been so inspired there on the island, where songs like “Island Life,” “Barefoot on the Beach,” and “Under the Sun” were written. Flora loved our nightly walks along the beach where she would be let off her leash (temporarily) to run along the shoreline. We will miss the friends we made there over the years. The cats will miss the geckos.

This past Spring we decided to increase our little family and adopt another dachshund from Hearts United for Animals. HUA Director, Carol Wheeler, sent us a jpeg of a little pie-bald, recently rescued from a puppy mill in Missouri. This little girl had just given birth to a litter of pups and, because of the appalling conditions in the mill, was quite wary and frightened. But once we saw her promo shot we were hooked.

Our friends the Luptons (who adopted Flora’s mother) were kind enough to drive her here to us in Woodstock. We named her Nellie Carol and, thus, a new thread of the narrative begins ... She loves Flora (Flora tolerates her), loves the cats (Theo and Miles), and loves even the possibility of snacks. Our vet disbelieves her pedigree, suggesting there’s a soupçon of Jack Russell in the mix. In any case, Flora so far has her beat by a mile in the fit-and-trim department, though competitive racing around the furniture to dispute this is not an uncommon event.

I’ve been listening to some wonderful Brasilian music lately: Contrasts, a record by Marcos Valle (excellent); and Teleteco, by Paula Morelenbaum (beautiful). In a recent interview someone asked me which five records I would take with me to a Lost-like desert island. These were my first thoughts: Ahmad Jamal, Live at the Pershing; Dave Brubeck Quartet, Time Out; Weather Report, Heavy Weather; Elis Regina and Antonio Carlos Jobim, Elis e Tom; and Bill Evans, You Must Believe in Spring. Of course, the problem with this little imaginary post-haste departure is that it’s impossible to choose only five. All the equally important unchosen ones begin to haunt you and you eventually decide to forego the desert island altogether, especially if it’s the one on which the hapless characters of Lost reside.

I’m still unpacking things from my studio in the old house (in the old barn, to be exact) and setting things up in the new space. It’s beginning to feel right, with guitars, Roland piano, and my collection of hand percusssion all trying to claim their preferred locations. In one corner I have a desk and on the wall behind me The Oxford English Dictionary, which I love to consult. I have about six songs under construction now, in varying degrees of completion. Most were started in the old studio and transported over here as sketches in Garage Band, but a couple are the first compositions written in the new house, so I’m happy about that.

On the subject of a new record, I think our challenging economic times may move that into the future somewhat. (But I believe things will begin to brighten after January 20th ). All of us can see already what changes and hardships this recession is causing for ourselves and for our fellow citizens. Searching for an upside, all I can come up with is that it’s an opportunity to be generous whenever possible and to expand our basic consideration and concern for each other. (Forgive the eloquent waxing).

Abby, our beautiful Siamese manx, passed away suddenly in May. I found her at the local SPCA fifteen years ago, one day before she was slated to be euthanized (talk about timing). If she were writing this herself, I’m sure she would tell you how she collaborated with me on so many important songs, simply by sitting on the piano or by rubbing her chin against my guitar strings. But her soulful companionship was demonstrated most by her willingness to take a nap with me at any time. Abby slept every night next to Claudia’s head, so we miss her all twenty-four hours of the day.

In December we played some gigs in Indonesia and in February we’re on tour in Japan. Not sure what next year’s schedule is yet, but I’ll keep you posted as dates come in.

Before I forget, I want to thank all of you for the kindness and encouragement you express to me when we get to meet each other sometimes after the concerts. Words can’t really express how much that means to me.

Wishing all of you

Health, Prosperity, Happiness, Peace