Out On the Weekend

As everyone on the planet I am sure knows, it snowed in New York City this weekend. I am sure people in the midwest are rolling their eyes at our "sky is falling!" shrieks. We just got two feet, people and oh! How exciting! I am one of those people who LOVES the snow, at least for the first few months. When I was living in Vermont and it was april and a blizzard was pounding us, I wasn't so thrilled. Yesterday, I was absolutely thrilled. I think snow is just what New York needs to be humbled, and make the hardest citizen slow down and take in the wonder. Graham and I did the smartest/dumbest thing yesterday, by going to Central Park, when the blizzard was still going. We wanted to be a part of it all--see the wonder that is snow in a big city and the park in all its majesty. It was a smart thing to do, because it was indeed an awe-inspiring sight to see the whole city shut down. Park Avenue was dead and the people who crossed the street in the distance looked like dulled shadows. The dumb part was that we were totally unprepared for the unbelievable gusts of winds and the relentless snow in our eyes. I had lost my last hat and my gloves and Graham had lost his hat. We put on our sweatshirt hoods and scarves and then laughed at ourselves as we stood against a crashing gust of wind. That doesn't even cover the footwear we adorned--Graham was in sneakers! I took what pictures I could, but it was wet and freezing and my hands were about to fall off.

In other news on the weekend, we went and saw the Neil Young film, Heart of Gold, which was moving and very emotional for me. When I listen to Neil Young, I see the tapestry of my childhood. The lonely boys out on the weekend, Neil sings about, are my father and my step father and all my uncles. He lives in a redwooded community in California, where I spent many childhood evenings and weekends. A lot of the old hippie friends moved there. I went to school with a girl who babysat for Neil's kids. He's been my greatest musical inspiration as of late. When I watched him, I could see how old he had become, and how he carried his music with him through the years. It was beautiful and moving to hear the sweetness and passion in songs that are older than me.

All this was with me last night, when I went to play at Pianos. People actually came--you blessed souls! I brought my infamous Ja-Ja cookies--a richer chocolate chip cookie, with orange zest (very rock n' roll)--and people ate them up. Every show I do, I seem to touch at least one person. I used to not take that in, and feel if I did, it was stupid or dumb or even conceited to appreciate it. Now, I am uplifted by it. It's a miracle to create anything in this world. It's a privelage to be able to share it and it's a gift if someone holds it in their heart. I hold THAT gift in my heart.

I didn't get home until 2:00am. When I was on the subway home, among the late night crowds, I saw a handful of other musicians on their way home from gigs. It really tickled me. We all sat, slouched in our seats, with our guitars, basses, horns leaning against our knees. I really felt a part of something.