My “Thank You!” to Leigh and the Jurick Family!

Anyone who is familiar with our blogs knows that this has been a powerful experience, full of emotion and connections with the past. Like a tree, there is at least as much under the soil as above.

I know that it has been a difficult experience for some of Rosie’s family and I want to take this time to thank them all, but especially to Rosie’s mother, Leigh. I want her to know how grateful I am to have Rosie in my life. I know that the situation was difficult and that there has been much pain, as well as other emotions. I want to thank you for providing her with a stable home and helping her to be the wonderful person she is now. . . and for her very existence!

My gratitude to Neil, the father who raised her, was stated in Rosie’s blog, but again, I am thankful that he gave her what he had to give and treated her as his own. If his children should ever be in need of someone to talk to in a fatherly way, I hope I can repay my debt to him with my ears and advice.

I want to thank her sisters, Monica and Lilly, for being true sisters to her. Her love for both of you is clear and strong. I hope we all can celebrate the healing and love that is now happening in our lives.

Jonathan came along later, Rosie was almost a teenager when he was born. I know that he and Rosie still have some exploring to do about their relationship. I am grateful that he and his girlfriend, Liz, came to Trabuco Canyon to meet me and hope that we can spend more time getting to know one another as adults.

From Camp

I am sitting in a grove of redwoods at a camp near the coast in northern Sonoma county. Not so near the coast that I have ever seen it. I think it is another half hour drive to the ocean. In my three years teaching at this camp I have yet to venture out that way. The camp is set in a narrow redwood canyon that the road to the coast runs through, at least this part of the road. Part of the camp is uphill of the road an part of it runs down to the stream at the bottom of the canyon.

I attended this camp when I was 12 years old as a YMCA camper. Another of the instructors, and the friend who was responsible for my being hired to teach was also here that same year. We both had memorable and un-fond memories of our time here. Our experiences during our time at music camp have erased those memories, except as humorous stories.

Last night, I performed in the instructor’s concert. This camp collects musicians from all over the country and offers them as instructors to those who are interested in improving their musical skills. It is acoustic music. The range of music is varied: bluegrass, old-timey, Brazilian, swing, jazz, folk, rock, country, blues, cajun . . . I have been impressed by the quality of the teachers here. The hiring committee does a great job of identifying musicians who are good at making strong relationships with their students. I have been honored to have been included.

The concert on Tuesday night is an opportunity for teachers to show what they do and who they are. They are all amazing musicians and some of the nicest people you would want to meet. I always feel a bit out of place in this setting of talented folks, wondering what I will do in my spot to show that I belong here. I think that my job is to be myself. To show people how intimate music can be. To share myself through music to let them see and feel what it can do.

I have found that, when possible, I am best when I sing about what I am feeling. In deciding what to sing for the concert, there was not much question that my songs that have to do with Rosie would be a focus, but I was not sure whether that would work. It was really all that came through when I started searching my mind for what I was going to sing.

Last year, I had lost my voice and chose to perform songs that I could do without having to do much “singing”. It went well and I was pleased with my ability to deliver the song despite my diminished capacity. I am sure people who hadn’ heard me thought that wasmy voice. This year, I was happy to be able to show people that I actually could sing, though I think that the power of the material probably out-shown my voice. As it should.

I introduced the song with a very brief story of Rosie’s finding me. I told them about her sending me the poem and my sending it back to her and how she had said the words before I could find them. I sang “The Empty Room” and made it through without breaking down crying. I couldn’t see much of the audience in the darkness, mostly just outlines past the first several rows but a few people I could see well and I could tell they were with me. It was a powerful moment.

When I finished the song, I could tell that there were many people who had gotten to their feet to applaud. It was almost too much, but I still had another song to do so I pushed through that moment. It was so precious that I wish I had lingered there longer. Then I sang “When the Morning Is Born From the Night” with the new verse to Rosie. That went well, I got through the words, though I stumbled a little on the chords because I was doing it in the key that Rosie likes to hear me sing it in (She calls it my “Daddy Voice”). For the first time, people began singing along and I felt the song come alive. I realized what a powerful song it was, as I heard the voices pick it up and give it back to me. I felt so much love in the room. It was clear that this was an intimate moment among intimate moments.

I received much congratulations both on my performance and on my relationship with my daughter. It touched people in a sweet way. I felt much more connected to camp and felt my roots go deeper into this community in which I felt so much more connected. I miss Rosie and wish very much that she could have shared it with me, but I did my best to not to stare.