Prayer Blogs and Racist Dogs

     We meet weekly, sometimes biweekly to pray. The three of us neighbors petition for wisdom for our disorderly national leaders, for peace in our country’s social unrest, for godly spouses for our grown children, and that one child in particular would lose weight before it was too late. We also pray that our adult offspring would take themselves to church. 

     Bonnie, the one who hosts us in her cozy, inviting study where her greatest-generation father used to live, had opened her home to a family of 5 and a dog—a miniature Snauser dog. Although they took the opposite side of the house, it was so quiet you could hardly tell they were there. Apparently, the noisy ones, the parents, were out. An untidy mound of shoes in the entryway was the only evidence that a teenage girl, two middle school boys and their parents lived with Bonnie.

“Yeah,” Bonnie grimaced, “We’ll have to include that pile of shoes when we go over house rules.” “Maybe a nice basket under your entry table would make an attractive solution,” I suggested.

     All three of us have long-term house guests, not just Bonnie.  Marie and I host Chinese high school students—two each—who present their own unique set of domestic challenges. Spending far too much time socializing and complaining about our Chinese students’ strange habits and outrageous spending, we finally got to our prayer requests. Marie’s son in D.C. wants to quit his job at Fair Trade America. Despite the job’s positive social contribution and attractive compensation, millennial son says it’s not fulfilling. He would rather make less money doing something about which he’s passionate.

 “That’s commendable. Now’s the time to have the luxury of changing jobs and making less before he has a family,” I comment.

     And then there’s her other son who works for Olin Musk. His problem is he just needs to get to church, and they both need to find a wife, Marie says. I jot down the requests in my beige moleskin.

     Mid conversation, Bonnie’s younger house guests, Tim and Ted emerge—one wrapped in a Christmas blanket—from their side of the house with their dog at the end of a leash. Marie exclaims, “Oh you have a dog just like mine, a miniature Snauser. Can I see him?” With one brother restraining the grey scruffy dog in the entryway, the other stammers, “Oh, well…he is kind of old and blind…and he’s racist, so I don’t think we should bring him any closer.” They turn and take the dog out to do his business.

“Did you hear what I just heard,” the three of us ask each other? “Did he say, ‘racist dog?’”

“I’m so sorry,” cringed a mortified Bonnie to Marie. “I apologize for my guest’s bad behavior and will talk to the boys.”

“It’s OK,” said Marie. I was not sure if she was offended—as she should've been—by the archaic and childish remark. “Kids don’t know what they’re saying half the time.”

“But really! Racist dog. I’ve never heard anything like that in my life,” I interjected.

“I’m so sorry, Marie.” Bonnie again winced.

The boys came back and the first thing out of their mouth was and apology. Their consciences must have gotten the best of them, thank God, as they realized their rude blunder.

They started for their rooms and I pressed in, “How can a dog be racist, really?” 

“Well, he once attacked some black boys, so we didn’t want him to do the same to you.”  The older brother explained.

“Well,” attempting to reason with the middle schoolers, “Obviously, the  dog doesn’t understand bigotry based on color of skin. Nor does it grasp our country’s terrible history with African Americans. So, don’t say the dog is racist. Poor pup most likely was scared of the boys for some other reason. Racist Dog!!”

We prayed and went home. I tell my husband the dog story and he guesses that the parents must've put the idea into the kids' head. I suggest it was the cultural hot topic and swirling buzz words from news or their peers.

Three weeks pass before our schedules allow another prayer meeting. Bonnie's son is losing weight and eating healthily. Marie's son is more settled in his cushy job. The situation with my kids has improved greatly also. We share more requests, read a Psalm and before we pray Bonnie says,

"By the way, the guest dog died last Sunday. Marie is crushed. Bonnie and I not so much.  The mom put him down due to the dog's ailments from old age and the kids stayed home on President's Day to recover emotionally."

It was hard for us not to think that the racist dog got what was coming to him. But of course, we were joking. He was just old and absolutely never racist.

The Mona Lisa Tribe

A native of Deland, Florida, Tabitha Meeks organized her first quartet in elementary school and has been getting girls together to sing ever since.  In high school, she briefly started an all-female group. More recently, with the help of some smooth singing friends, she formed “The Mona Lisa Tribe.”

It happened after church one day, when future band member, Caroline Shrope asked Tabitha if she wanted to start a girl-band. Tabitha was all over it, and they invited a third player. Tabitha saw a kind of Mona Lisa look in Caroline, so she dubbed the band “The Mona Lisa Trio;” then changed “Trio” to “Tribe.” Good thing, because they are now a quartet (which includes Sarah Elkins and Erin Cascioli) and sometimes a sextet when they add the drummer and bassist—who happen to be male. They call John McGrath and John Wagner, the boys in the band, the “Man-a-Lisas.” 

MLT’s lush vocals sing a blend of classic and modern folk music. Sarah and Caroline alternate on percussion and mandolin; Erin, the fourth member, adds her velvety cello to the mix. In short, it’s the freshest sound in South Florida—a trendy acoustic combo of folk, pop, and a tinge of bluegrass dressed in Madewell fashion. They do a few covers, like “500 Miles” and “Wildflowers” but offer mostly some very well written originals. Playing since 2017, the band is excited to bring a folk music scene back to West Palm Beach and beyond.

Mona Lisa Tribe is one of those bands that people really can’t stereotype, which is testament to their innovative sound. While the band has a unique Americana vibe full of energizing rhythms, unexpected tempo changes, instrumental solos and clever lyrics, Tabitha cites influences from bands like, “The Staves,” “First Aid Kit,” “Joseph,” and “The Wailin’ Jennys.”  

And the members aren’t your typical hobbyist players. Three out of six of them have music degrees, resulting in tunes that are both musically solid and accessible.  As the primary songwriter, Tabitha says, “We try to take our songwriting seriously, but also make sure it’s fun and feels good.  The combination of trained musicians and non-music graduates makes a good dynamic. I usually bring a song I’ve started and let the team work their magic. We’re having a lot of fun and are becoming each other’s best friends.” There’s nothing like the camaraderie that musicians share. The bond runs deep and the connection long lasting. 

Mona Lisa Tribe has been featured on NPR’s Sunday afternoon “Folk and Acoustic Hour.” I asked Tabitha to explain the experience. “It was a bit nerve-wracking. We went to the NPR Miami offices, met briefly with the host of the show and then set up to play.” Everything was live radio. Yup, a bit unnerving, to say the least in this pre-recorded, edited, vocally enhanced audio age. But of course, they did great and reached a large audience. You can see the entire NPR show at https://youtu.be/fAX2Rzi2hHQ. 

One might wonder if the female band genre inherently holds a feminist agenda. While they don’t fly a girl-power flag from the stage, the band is eager to see more women take the lead in music. Rather than settling as token background singers, Mona Lisa Tribe hopes to encourage other young girls to step up front-and-center, by demonstrating that women can be musical directors, arrangers, lead vocalists and instrumentalists. “It’s important that younger girls see women doing what they love with excellence. I hope we can help break the stereotype that women are second class musicians. I would love to see the music-playing field more equalized—a place where gender is not a consideration—only good artists are.”

When I asked Tabitha what plans are in store for the band, she said they hope to tour in 2019, play major festivals, and maybe head to Nashville for a time. “The band has gone farther and grown faster than anticipated. It really has surpassed our expectations,” she says.

You can hear their original single on ITunes, Google play Music and Spotify, with two new releases on the way, as well as an album. Freshly minted t-shirts are their latest offering and are sold at their concerts. You can hear the band play at “Elizabeth Ave Station,” “Respectables,” “E.R. Bradley’s,” and “Voltaire.” But their favorite venue so far was in Jacksonville at the “Blue Jay Listening Room.” “We all said that show felt like we’d reached another level. The audience was so engaged,” says Tabitha. 

Here’s their schedule of upcoming performances: September 8 - Bumble fest; Sept. 9 - Matthew Brewing Co.; Sept. 19 - Voltaire; and Sept. 29 - Hullabaloo. And in October ;

Oct 5th Subculture Aleeyway, WPB

Oct 10 - Ladies' Night Voltaire - 9-12am

Oct 20 - WPB Green Market  9-1

Oct 20 ER Bradley - 6-9pm

Mona Lisa Tribe is sure to become your favorite Instagram feed. Like them on Facebook.com/monalisatribe and visit their website at monalisatribe.com  for more information.  Enjoy these links to their videos and songs.

 https://open.spotify.com/artist/59c6s4aOPZuzKun2aaAOXC

https://youtu.be/oY8VeB8S8C4

https://youtu.be/OrlAmYtCkYw

https://youtu.be/MX53DsNeesc

https://youtu.be/s2e1BW-okao

Why I Can't Shake the Kate Spade News

I don't know why I'm obsessed--in almost an unhealthy way--about the news of designer Kate Spade's sad and sudden death. I didn't follow her on social media, didn't know her age or family status and I never owned a purse of hers.  Nor do I remember her rise to fashion fame.

I do know, when I entered the mall through Nordstrom and walked passed her tailored handbags with her name all in lower case letters, was that I really wanted one. Coach and MK and Yves St. Laurent were familiar. But, Kate Spade, not so much. Only one person in my circles owned the diminutive bag.

I imagined her a young, chic designer who lived on Madison or Fifth Avenue. Turns out it was Park Avenue. Of course! 

With every mall visit, I'd saunter by the simple bright bags with a longing gaze and the clear realization that, unless I found one on Poshmart or at World Thrift, I could never call the stylish clutch my own. I would leisurely pass with a longing gaze until my neck hurt from looking backwards.  My brother bought one or two for his wife. Lucky sister-in-law, I envied.

What I didn't realize was how much I epitomized this unknown designer as the pinnacle of success. Nor that I'd begun to idolized her. Her business savvy, her dreams fulfilled. Her trio-of-a-family: a self-assured husband-business partner and a daughter with the middle name of Beatrix.

Photo credit: Akira Yamada

To me, Ms. Spade's life was Audrey Hepburn, Jackie Kennedy and Beatrix Potter and Coco Chanel all in one package. Just being married to a man who wore faded jeans with well-made blazers and good shoes would do it for me.

When I heard the news of her suicide, I was dumbfounded; mystified that someone with so much could feel so empty. Yes, there is talk of her depression and mental health issues and marital struggles. But to have arrived, so to speak, at the not-so-old age of 55 and to have strung her self up with a red Hermes scarf surrounded by Andy Warhol art, custom furniture, a breathtaking New York City view, and a world of fashion ventures to pursue, appeared unthinkable. Money would answer most of my problems. My brain sort of short-circuited to see someone dispose of everything I've ever desired.

Then two days later, cuisine and travel icon, Anthony Bourdain does the same. He was my husband's age, birthdays two weeks apart. Admired by many for his wit, earthiness, writing, again, I can't fathom the degree of desperation that made him just stop living. He had "the life," I thought. I mean, really, all that fascinating travel and exotic tasting.

Both celebrities possessed what I dream about while cleaning my toilets, teaching unruly third-graders, and shopping at Costco. What? Their lives didn't bring the 'it' I chase?  'It' will leave my handbag only half-full?

The obvious radiates in blinking neon lights. All those things, fashion, beauty, creative fulfillment, travel, delicious food were meant to be enjoyed, but not worshiped. They are meant to be enjoyed with the Savior by our side. Inside.

Conversations with neighbors reason out. "I think it's the anti-depressants that put people over the edge. They're no good and too easily dispensed," said one friend who has taken them and knows from personal experience.

My husband said this morning as we talked in the kitchen, trying to understand why these two people who had it all, ended it all. "All I know is that in my deepest gut (while he pressed his hand on my stomach), when I am in right relationship with Jesus, I'm satiated.  It's like sunshine on your face and a breeze in your hair. It's like the dancing flowers sunning themselves as they reach upward. That's how we are with Him."

Without Him, all the beauty and pleasure in this world is nothing.  Can I learn this? Could I live this? Or will I keep seeking the same stuff instead of the stuff of his Kingdom? Kindness, gentleness, love, righteousness.  

"Happy are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be filled."

If I'm going to dream or pine or pick an obsession, unhealthy or otherwise, it better be Him, and nothing else.

A Month of Love and Presidents

Poetry is one of the most romantic ways of expressing love, and many other sentiments as well. For being the shortest-month-of the year, February packs a lot into it's 28 days.
And it's all worth celebrating, pondering, and even debating. After all, not all chocolates in the Valentine box are palatable...

I found a wonderful poem by  Countee Cullen in Caroline Kennedy's The Best-Loved Poems of Jaqueline Kennedy-Onassis  that combines brotherly love and Black History.

                                           Tableau

photo credit letterpile.com

Locked arm in arm they cross the way,

    The black boy and the white,

The golden splendor of the day,

    The sable pride of night.

From lowered blinds the dark folk stare,

   And here the fair folk talk,

Indignant that these two should dare

   In unison to walk.

Oblivious to look and word

   They pass, and see no wonder

That lightning brilliant as a sword

   Should blaze the path of thunder

And another by Lanston Hughs, born 1902 and a pioneer of Jazz Poetry:

Merry Go-Round

Where is the Jim Crow section

On this merry-go-round, 

Mister, cause I want to ride?

Down South where I come from

White and colored

Can't sit side by side.

Down South on the train

There's a Jim Crow car

On the bus we're put in the back--

But there ain't no back 

To a merry-go-round!

Where's the horse

For a kid that's black?

 Each of these two poets deserve more print the the above. Pick up their books and you'll be enriched.

 Yes, February is the month of love, presidents, and Black history.  May we spend each of the 28 days and beyond, honoring from the heart, all three.

Why These Christmas Songs Are Perfect For Florida

Ever feel a little awkward singing “The Christmas Song” while sitting in 80-degree weather? I know I have—or at least I’ve chuckled a bit when the line, “Jack Frost nipping at your nose,” comes around. It’s more like, “A/C nipping at your nose.”

Turns out, the song is completely appropriate for our toasty climate. Singer and composer, Mel Torme was in California on the hottest day on record in the mid-40s preparing for a songwriting session with lyricist, Robert Wells. Torme noticed a spiral pad of paper containing four hand-written lines: Chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost… Yuletide carols….Folks dressed up like Eskimos.  When Torme asked Wells about the verse, Wells replied that he was just jotting down winter memories of Boston to take his mind off the heat. 

Forty-five minutes later, the songwriting duo finished penning “The Christmas Song,” and it became Nat King Cole’s signature Holiday song and a popular sensation. 

 A-daily-dose-of–art.com

A year later, another composer on the opposite side of the country named Leroy Anderson had a similar experience. Connecticut was undergoing a fierce drought and unseasonal heat wave. While digging for pipes that lead to a spring, Anderson started formulating music with the vision of a 19^th century winter scene in his head. He finished composing “Sleigh Ride” a year and a half later after moving to Brooklyn, New York. It was first performed by the Boston Pops Orchestra in May, 1948. The instrumental piece became a huge holiday hit, enjoyed by folks in any clime. In 1950, Mitchell Parish added lyrics: Just hear those sleigh bells ring-a-ling, ting, ting, ting-a-ling, too…

Photo credit – The Leroy Anderson Foundation

And then there’s the obvious pining-for-snow song, “White Christmas.” Truly, few north-eastern transplants are wishing for the white stuff, due to harrowing memories of shoveling it, scraping it and slipping on it for too many years. They’re most likely ecstatic to be miles away from the slush, and probably moved to the Sunshine State to escape it.  But, hailing from snow-deprived Southern California, and being spared the cold’s down side, I still romanticize the sight of whipped cream scenery, and sing every word of Irving Berlin’s verse. The sun is shining, the grass is green. The orange and palm trees sway. There’s never been such a day in Beverly Hills, LA. But, it’s December the 24^th, and I am longing to be up north. I’m dreaming of a White Christmas…

So, here are a few South Florida events that will help you forget the temperature and find that Holiday frame of mind:  See the Del Rey Tree Lighting or Tchaikovsky’s “Nutcracker Suite Ballet” at the Kravis Center December 1st through the 3rd. Take in “A Christmas Carol” at the Broward Center for the Performing Arts, playing through December 2^nd.  “A Christmas Carol - the Musical” is also offered throughout the month.  And don’t miss the classic, “A Charlie Brown Christmas” at the Kravis Center on December 23^rd.

If those productions don’t get you into the Holiday spirit, try singing this Florida-inspired parody of “The Christmas Song.”

Chuck steaks roasting on an open grill

A/C nipping at your nose

Yule tide carols being sung by the pool

That overflows with dangling toes

Everybody knows a turkey and some mojitos

Help to make the spirits bright

Shiny yachts with their decks all aglow

Will twinkle on Palm Beach tonight

We all know Santa’s on his way

He’s bringing high-powered generators on his sleigh

Every adult and child is going to spy

To see his reindeer touching down at PBI

And so I’m offering this simple phrase

To snowbirds 12 to 92

Although we might sweat, we will celebrate yet

Merry Christmas to you!

 (Lyrics © 2017 A. Shaw)