Sally and Elsie, A Mother Daughter Adventure

A crisply uniformed driver named Dewitt knocked on the front door of the house my mother may never see again, with his shiny Lincoln Town Car waiting for us in the driveway. There was confusion at the house, and some disagreements going on in my sister's family, in very fast french I did not understand. Elsie was asking constant questions about where we were going, did I pack her curlers, "where's Ernie?" "where's my key?" etc. Then it was as if someone pushed the "pause" button on the angry French verbiage, and we all exchanged hugs. Elsie and I stretched our legs in the back and took a big sigh as the vehicle smoothly backed away. We got a final view of the house as Stephanie, Baudouin and Sophie waved furiously, us waving back with our arms stretched outside the powered tinted windows. We turned the corner and that was it. Phew! All was packed. Mom had her purse. She had her key. I assured her she had her bag with her curlers in it. I had her medications! Dewitt saw the nasty bangs on my right shin which were dripping blood, and offered me a first aid kit. He also had ice. I told him about me sleeping next to my mother for the past two nights in the very spot where my father had slept. While packing her things that morning, I got three severe bangs from the bed frame on that side.

Dewitt was fascinated about my fathers Military Honors ceremony at Arlington Cemetery, and knew the proceedings well: the flag draped casket pulled by horses, the best military band in the nation, the 21-gun salute, the folding of the flag and handing it to my mother with a salute. I then told him that we had priceless family history going back many generations in those four heavy suitcases back there. He shook his head and went, "Mmm, mmm! You gotta hang onto that!"

We all chatted as scenery smoothly whizzed by. Taking expressways, there was no traffic. Dewitt turned his head back at us and asked what airline we were flying. I didn't even know! Well, all I had to do was look in my IPhone at the email Frank sent me. All was arranged. "Delta," I responded. We must have been getting pretty close to National Airport now. I remembered that Randy had handed me Moms lifetime Delta Crown Club life membership card, and we would be early enough to munch on free food and sip wine in their special lounge. A classy finale to an honorable, elegant and distinguished trip!

Opening my wallet to check on our IDs, I noticed Elsie's drivers license was not in it's usual spot. I carried all her important stuff. My drivers license was there, where was Moms? I didn't want to think about the consequences of not having official photo identification; we were flying out of the highest security airport in the nation! I checked all my wallet compartments. At least I had Moms crown club card. Then I checked all through my purse. Nothing. I took a deep breath. Elsie asked, "Did you loose something?" I checked her purse, rummaging through the wadded Kleenex, and pulled out her wallet. Two dollars and an expired credit card with her name on it. No drivers license!

My breathing became faster and my hands were shaking. I called Frank, who was in Indiana. He said he would go right away and check to see if he somehow had it. Maybe he could take a picture of it and send it to me. Dewitt could feel the anxiety filling the interior of his beautiful Town Car, and suggested that we pull over and pop the trunk to see what was in there.

The phone rang. It was Frank. He had searched everything and found nothing. A large lump was forming in my throat and my voice started shaking. Dewitt pulled over and stopped. Reminding me of the generations of our family history in the trunk, he thought there might be something we could use, maybe even an old birth certificate. I got out of the car and hung up the phone. Leaning into the trunk, I unzipped the first heavy bag. There were frames with old photos, large envelopes containing stacks of papers, a 120-year old wedding dress, old medical instruments, and a stack of newspaper clippings of my mother from 1942. She was in the finals for Miss Maryland, and there was her picture with her name below it! The Washington Star, Sunday edition. There was also her baby book, with a doctors report. Not much, but at least something! Wow! It cost only $27.00 for my grandmother to give birth to my Mom, including a five-night hospital stay!

OK, Sally, focus. With the crispy, fragile papers in hand, we all slid back into the car and made our way to Delta departures. I was either picturing me and Mom living at National Airport for a few days, or, God forbid, having to go back to that house indefinitely, or taking the train to Portland. My head was spinning as Dewitt suggested that I go give it a try, and he would circle around. We left all the baggage in his trunk as we walked in. I was holding Elsie's hand as we scurried through the quickly revolving doors. We found the check-in line.

With each step closer, my face grew redder. Elsie was smiling because she was going on a trip!

Finally it was my turn. I shuffled up to the counter, still holding Elsie's hand, and a nice Indonesian man greeted us. I almost collapsed. Tears were streaming down now, as I choked out, "I can't find my mothers drivers license!" I also mouthed silently, "She has Alzheimer's!" the man said, "calm down, now what do you have that you can show me about your Mom?"

I placed the tattered press clipping and the 87 year-old baby book on the counter, along with her crown club card and expired credit card, feeling hopeless. He gently picked them up, examined them and looked kindly into my Moms face. She returned one of her signature warm smiles. He responded, " yes, that's the same woman, and the same wonderful smile!" he then called for his supervisor, while reassuring me that we had a good chance. The man checking in next to me turned and said he was a cardiologist and was ready to assist me if needed.

The supervisor was a tall, dark skinned woman, her black, shiny hair pulled back tightly into a bun, who seemed both firm and flexible. She nodded to me in an exaggerated way, "Your mother is on a return flight to Portland?" I nodded back, my chin going way up and down.
"Alright, then. You should be fine." The kind Indonesian asked for bags to check. Elsie and I had to go back out there and find the driver!

Dewitt pulled up seconds later and pulled four heavy bags out of the trunk. Porters were ready and waiting, but hey, the suitcases all rolled! Both of us hard-wired to be thrifty, we managed to get them all through those swiftly revolving doors by ourselves. Dewitt waved and smiled, happy it all was working out, and thankful for his much deserved generous tip.

Elsie and I maneuvered back to the Delta counter like two clumsy mules. The cardiologist was still there, and helped us check the luggage, along with our Indonesian friend.

Time was ticking by, and we had more than the maximum carry- on allowed. The next hurdle was getting through security. Would those uniformed government employees be as nice? Let's see, we needed boarding passes and ID. All the people ahead of us in line had drivers licenses or passports, and the officials were examining them carefully with flashlights.

Deep breath, Sally! A woman in her thirties with a flawless dark complexion wearing the official navy blue uniform examined my drivers license and boarding pass. My hand shook as I handed her Elsie's expired plastic cards, her baby book, the press clippings,with her picture and name on it. "A finalist for 'Miss Maryland!" she exclaimed. I shot back nervously, "Yes, isn't she beautiful?"

We were waved through and then escorted aside. "We need to do body scans on both of you," said a uniformed man. Elsie stood first in the enclosed glass tube, and was waved on, separate from me now. I yelled, "please stay with her!" I then had the same scan, watching my Mom the whole time. We then both had the complete wand search. As our shoes, jackets and scarves emerged on the conveyor belt, everything stopped.

"Are you Sally Harmon?" asked a stern inspector. "Yes," I calmly nodded. "Is this your purse?" "Yes." "We need to take everything out," they demanded. I relaxed on one of two chairs they gave Elsie and me. "At least we get to relax, Mom," I joked. There was nothing of interest in there. Seconds later, they held up a rifle shell and asked, "What's this?"

I told them of the ceremony at Arlington Cemetery and how I got this as a memento from the 21-gun salute. I apologized that I had forgotten to check it! They called another supervisor. He looked at the shell and looked at us. He called his supervisor. An older man of small stature arrived after a few tense moments. He examined the bullet.
"This is a special shell that is only used by the Air Force in Military Honors ceremonies. My condolences to you, Ma'am for your loss." He saluted my Mom.

We finally headed for the gate, giddy and dizzy by now. We stopped and bought snacks for the plane. With too much carry on and a warm bag of goodies plus drinks, they scanned our boarding passes. They tried again. And again. "We need to pull you aside," she said. We were three feet from the boarding ramp! Now what? Another supervisor had to do another search on us because we were tagged as "random security check." That last wave through onto the plane made me feel like a baby surviving the final push of childbirth!

Finally nestled in our seats on the plane, we celebrated with our splurge purchase. Foot-long pretzel dogs and strawberry lemonade! Elsie said it was the best food she had ever had.

Day 12: March 9, 2010 Flight back to Portland, Oregon

Day 12: March 9, 2010 Flight back to Portland, Oregon

We’re at the gate. A bunch of women about my age (I know because someone just opened a birthday card) just filled the seats around us. Girl’s morning out? Or is it an extension of last night? I should ask them if they were the ones in the next hotel room in Ogallala. They’re a happy five some. I do miss all my women friends. There’s a different energy; a different kind of humor, with subject matter completely different than I share with Frank. He has his guy times, too, especially the musicians he jams with once a week. It’s fun being the “little woman” around them. When we get back, as early as tomorrow, we’ll be back to our normal lives, both socially and work-wise. We’ll be in the same house, but going in different directions. We’ll be happy to see Allie (she may even have skipped class today to pick us up at the airport) and our two pooches, and all the flowers on the porches. Tomorrow will be a wonderful reunion with my students. Tonight, even, we’ll have our weekly Tuesday night Ping Pong in our garage. That’s been going on for over fifteen years! Being the only female, it sure isn’t like “bunko” or “book club.” I get to duke it out and dance around to oldies Rock’n Roll, snort, groan, shout, and belly laugh. It’s great to have guy friends, too.

We’re laughing about how whenever we’re in a hurry with all our stuff, we have to be careful when not to say we’re musicians on tour. This morning we had lots of heavy bags for the Shuttle Bus driver to unload. I apologized and mentioned to him why, along with a tip, as Frank scrambled to get a cart so we could check in on time. He starts in with,
“Do you know (so and so)? And (so and so?) He used to be on the Laurence Welk Show” etc. “Where’d you guys play? What kind of stuff do you do? Any Merle Haggard?” and “I remember when…” Well. If I had his job and had to shuttle people at 4:00 in the morning, I’d try to eke something exciting about it, too.

Also, people are eager to tell me about their daughters, sons, granddaughters, nieces, etc. who are taking piano lessons. Sometimes adults lament that they have stopped, and tell me stories about some nun who used to rap their knuckles with a stick if they made a mistake. They were terrified! I tell them to start back up again along side their kids, as long as their present teacher speaks softly and DOSEN’T carry a stick! I have several parent/child combinations, and it works well. We work hard. My motto: “It’s FUN to work hard!”

The sun is rising on a pink blanket of clouds below us. Just under those white, fluffy things, we were driving, performing, laughing, schlepping, snoring, running, (for fun), pigging out, and rolling into a lot of new towns. We have been asked by Allied Concert Services if we’re interested in doing it again in 2012. The answer is: Yes, please! We also have some other irons in the fire for different tours, and if they come about, there will be more blogs, for sure. I’m even working on a book currently. Hopefully between our website, emails, Face book, Twitter and God knows what else, we’ll keep you posted, for sure.


As Dr, Seuss put it:
“Instead of being sad that it’s over, be happy that it happened.”

We just dined at a five-star restaurant of life. Thanks for joining us!


Sallyeharmon@yahoo.com

Day 11: March 8, 2010 Back to Omaha, Nebraska

Day 11: March 8, 2010 Back to Omaha, Nebraska

Sorry, I’m a little behind on my blogging here. I owe you some yarn on the last two concerts. Right now we’re once again driving in thick fog on the 35 through Iowa. This is the road that I still have nightmares about from two years ago. At least this time it’s only fog we’re dealing with, instead of snow, wind and ice. There are no abandoned cars, or overturned trucks or emergency vehicles like the last time.

Last night’s concert was probably our best. That didn’t mean that we could just relax and let it “roll.” All it takes to mess up is two seconds of mind wandering. It took discipline not to think about: “I hear a few coughs. I need to play better so they won’t.” or, “How in the world are we going to pack all this stuff up and get it on the plane?” or, “Did we forget to eat dinner?” or, “I hope we both remember the changes we did to the show.” It doesn’t matter how well one knows the material; there’s something about being up on stage that can play tricks on you. Also, people don’t realize that even if one whispers from the back row the performers can hear every word. One time I heard, “Wow! Would you look at those shoes! How does she do it?” We had a full house of enthusiastic listeners. There were also some families in the mix, which I especially like. The piano was an older 7-foot Yamaha, which was in great condition. It had ivory keys, which I love! I compare them to a mink coat; PC or not, they feel fabulous.

After the show while greeting and signing CDs, a nice older gentleman offered up some comments. He said while he couldn’t quite connect at first to my original pieces because they were not yet familiar to him, he did enjoy my “Blue Mountain,” and asked if I was really picturing those waterfalls, majestic snow-covered peaks, and wildflowers which I had described to the audience. He also really liked the “Phantom of the Opera “ medley, and asked what I was feeling when I played it. I explained that while it’s always good to get one’s fingers on the right notes, piano playing and being a musician in general goes beyond playing one’s instrument: One must be somewhat of an actor. When playing “Blue Mountain,” for example, I was hiking up a beautiful path in my mind, and inviting the audience to join me. With “Phantom,” I was acting out the show. He smiled, and just then, his wife chimed in that he had been a drama teacher for many years. “Stanislavski!” I shouted. There was a wink, a nod, and thumbs up. That’s pretty much what I try to do in a nutshell, and he understood.

There was an artist’s reception at the Mark and Deb’s house, she being their concert association president. That was our “cast party!” A nice man came up to me and remembered seeing me in the late 70’s, playing in The Shoreham Hotel in Washington, D.C. Wow. He said that after seeing me, he caught The Mark Russell Show in their Marquee Lounge. Wow again. As it turns out, back then Frank was playing bass for that show. Frank and I had worked side by side in that town without ever meeting! This man, thirty years later, was our link. I met a Swiss hotel manager at the time, married him, and moved to New York City. Frank went on to Los Angeles. Four years went by, and my Swiss husband got a transfer to West Hollywood. Once again Frank and I were playing in the same hotel, The Bonaventure, in L.A. This time, we met. Twenty-five blissful years have passed, and I still feel a “zing” every time we’re on stage, and I see him playing his bass and smiling at me.

Let’s backtrack to Minnesota. Garrison Keeler was on the radio yesterday as I was about to write about the good people there. As he says: “Where the men are strong, the women good-looking, and the children above average.” He describes them well. I love the way they say their “O’s.” In one day, we went from Kansas through Missouri, then Iowa then to Minnesota. It was amazing how in each state the accents changed. (Actually, it’s probably we that have the accent.) The small towns throughout Minnesota are neat and well kept, with signs of thriving downtowns.

I wished we had had more time in them.

Shane, our sound and lighting technician who was a high school student, explained that some things were “sketchy” in this auditorium, sound-wise. After working for an hour trying this and that, we finally came up with solutions. The lighting, however, was his forte. He had flashing spots, blue, red, and interesting angles from above, behind, and in front. Wanting him to feel good and use his creativity, we left it up to him. While rehearsing, though, Frank and I thought we were in a Disco!

After being announced, we walked out on stage for our first number. I slid onto the piano bench and couldn’t find middle “C!” There were red, blue and black shadows all over the keys. After hitting the wrong first chord, my heart raced. I quickly recovered, and from then on I pretended that I was Ray Charles. “Don’t look down,” I thought. Later we started “Waltz for Allie.” I looked down again. Darn. Another false start! The red and blue was flashing now. I came close to just stopping, and getting up and doing the Watusi! The piano was a Baldwin, and unlike the lively, wild previous one, this had dignity, grace, subtly and it was clean. I had to search for the “tiger” in it, but finally it was there.

We ended up playing a slightly different show each time this tour. The first one in Ogallala, Nebraska needed to be shortened to an hour and a half, the second in Canyon City, Colorado needed to be different, (because we had played there before) and after that, we decided it felt “fresh” and fun to keep changing it up every time. We told different stories, played different pieces and improvised more. We brought our own microphones with on/off switches so as not to drive our sound guys crazy, and Frank had a bigger presence on stage. He talked. He was funny. He rocked! (He also wore the new pair of tight black pants he let me buy for him.) It was genuinely fun up there on stage.

Frank just gave me some statistics:

Miles driven: 2780, through five states

Time spent in the car: 49 hours

Time performing: 9 hours

Time rehearsing/set up: 20 hours (about four hours per show)

Average audience size: 400-600 people

We made it back to Omaha, ate lunch one more time at “The Big Horn Barbeque,” filled the void in our suitcases (from CD sales) with their BBQ sauce, returned our Jeep Cherokee (slightly damaged) and are now lying on still another King size bed at La Quinta Hotel by the airport. We’re on vacation! There is absolutely nothing we have to do until our flight at 6am. Once we get home, as nice as it will be, it will be “back to work” in another sense. Signing off, now...,

Day 10: March 7, 2010 Clear Lake, Iowa

Day 10: March 7, 2010 Clear Lake, Iowa

We are in some serious fog here! It’s been this way for the last 100 miles and isn’t getting any better. Hopefully it will clear up for the remaining 150 miles. The visibility is about 50 feet; that’s about two dotted lines on the highway in front of us. Frank just tuned into “Prairie Home Companion.” We’re right in the heart of it, right here in Minnesota.

Garrison Keeler knows all about Minnesota audiences. Right now he’s discussing farting. It sounds as if people are rolling in the aisles! Frank is busting up, too. Guys have free license on that topic.

Who cares about that? We just finished our last concert!!! The best yet. Great piano, responsive crowd, good tech help, A+. We’re about to celebrate with some Heineken in our hotel room. We wish you could join us!

Details tomorrow. We’re not quite done yet…

Cheers!

Day Nine: March 6, 2010 Montevideo, Minnesota

Day Nine: March 6, 2010 Montevideo, Minnesota

We have room to roller skate in our one bedroom suite here at The Crossings Inn and Suites. When we finally pulled in here close to 9:00 last night, the nice girl behind the desk must have taken pity on us. We wearily rolled our stuff down the hallway, swiped the keycard, stumbled in, flicked on the light, and there might as well have been angels singing! It’s an enormous brand new place with separate bedroom, including king-sized bed with a million pillows and a fluffy comforter, a separate living room, kitchen, lounge chairs, you name it. Boy, did we get an upgrade!

This morning another nice girl at the front desk helped me fax some of this blog to my parents, who live elegantly, but more simply. They have no computer, no cell phones, no answering machine, and only have a microwave and fax machine because we gave it to them many years ago. It’s strange; with Allie, I have to keep learning new forms of communication, and with my parents, I have to go back in time and relearn the old. Also, this is not AT&T country. There is no service here. We have to figure out what we did before iPhones. Verizon is everywhere, however, which is what we had on tour the last time. In the throes of winter and on those desolate roads, that could have been a lifesaver.

So far as I see it, we’ve dogged three bullets:

1. The stray wheel rolling at 65 mph, hitting our car during rush hour on the interstate in Nebraska. Someone upstairs was watching out for us.

2. My sore throat didn’t develop into anything. Twice in the past year I’ve been hit with some pretty bad stuff that has kept me down for weeks. I am truly thankful this time.

3. The weather. We’ve had sunny days, some even at 60 degrees and dry road conditions. Today snow is melting and people are at the ice cream parlor. It’s a balmy 36 degrees for Minnesota right now. The girl at the front desk said that the past winter here has been one of the most severe on record. In this southern part of the state, it was -40 degrees, not including the wind chill. The northern part got it worse. Also snow accumulation closed schools and businesses in a part of the country where they almost never do so. That makes our experience here two years ago here seem like a frolic in the Bahamas!

We have our fourth concert in a few hours at Montevideo’s Fine Arts Center. Frank says it’s a beautiful venue, probably built in the thirties. Tomorrow we drive 250 miles to our last destination and concert, Clear Lake, Iowa. That’s two concerts in two days, back-to-back. It’s going fast!

We’re back. There’s plenty to tell about tonight’s show. We’re celebrating here in the room by eating candy from the vending machine. Frank also treated me to my favorite wine at this cool place afterwards. The Chardonnay was so nice and classy. I asked the waitress what it was, and she showed me the screw-top bottle: Gallo. It’s ALL-GOOD!

Stay tuned for tomorrow’s drive to Clear Lake, Iowa when I’ll fill you in on tonight.

Crunch crunch, krinkle, toss,

ZZzzzzzzzzzz

Day Eight: March 5, 2010 Traveling through Kansas, Missouri and Iowa, to Minnesota

Day Eight: March 5, 2010 Traveling through Kansas, Missouri and Iowa, to Minnesota

Frank let me drive this morning! There I was, like a female trucker, and there he was, making Face Book postings in the passenger seat. He pointed out, ”Wow! It’s 55 degrees outside!” I responded, “How do you know that? I don’t see a temperature gage in this car.” Oh, there’s one on the dash,” he said flatly, and there’s also a speedometer there, too. Ha-ha!” (He always laughs with himself.) Buying into it, I asked what the other round dial with numbers was for. He added, “That counts how many times you get pulled over for speeding!”

That’s what it’s like in the car around here: silence, then an unexplained explosion of laughter. With my eyes on the road, I glanced over and asked, “What is it this time?” “Oh, just some Face Book postings,” he sniffed. Just a few moments before, I was singing, “Kansas City, Kansas City Here We Come.” Well, we were about to roll through it. He had posted on his wall for all to read: ”I’m goin’ to Kansas City. They’ve got some crazy little women there, but I’ve already GOT me one!” (Again he laughs at his own jokes.) Return comment from his buddy, Corby: “Red haired women; nature’s way of saying, ‘Danger!’”

More silence. BRAHhhhh!!! Frank gets a response to another of his wall postings. It was Allie this time. He had put earlier: “I was just handed the scariest religious pamphlet ever. I’m doomed, but having a blast.” Allie commented on his wall: ”I think your soul patch will probably save you from an eternity in Hell. You haven’t shaved it off, have you?”

OK, now you get the idea about this new-fangled form of communication. Frank puts it: “Idle hands are the devil’s Face Book.” Take the two of us, enclose in a small space for many hours at a stretch, and you see why we just travel as a duo.

Oh, by the way, Frank’s is driving now. You can breathe easy. Just before we switched, I looked at the dashboard and realized there was a gas gage, too! It was below empty, and we had 14 more miles of brown fields to pass before the nearest gas station. Phew! The sun is beating down on us now, as we head northwest on I-29. Missouri has dashes of snow here and there. Wow! A big green sign: Oregon 1 Mile. Maybe they’re will be a spot of green amidst all this sepia tone. The sign was real, the green a mirage. Darn. With this 50-degree weather, I’ll bet green is about to emerge soon.

We stopped this morning at Frank and Suzy’s house to pick up a box of CDs we had shipped there. Dillon was feeling better, and was able to go to school. Frank had to go to work, so we didn’t see anybody. Two ships passing in the night, I guess. When we arrived at the house, there was our box of CDs, and Frank had made us a gourmet breakfast of frittata, fried potatoes, and the works. We felt their presence in some way, just being in their house. We gazed at the pictures on the wall. Dillon is a handsome kid. Frank and Suzy look young, happy, and fulfilled. There were kids sneakers in the laundry room, and kid-friendly fruit juices in the fridge. We tidied up, and left with a warm, loving feeling.

So, last night I promised you some “dirt” on the concert we had just finished. Let me shake out my rag. The venue was in a Middle School auditorium; a classic 1920’s style, with curved balconies and lots and lots of red velvet seats. The piano waiting for me was an old 9-foot Baldwin that longed for affection. My way of “bonding,” (after doing the traditional chromatic scale to see if all the keys work) is to run my miracle cloth across the top, as if giving it a nice loving stroke. It was pretty dusty. Back stages are notorious for that. I pushed up the big, heavy lid to find more dust. Stacy, our wonderful sound and lighting person, turned on the spots. Gasp! We needed to put this thing through a car wash! I couldn’t think about it then. We had microphones and monitors to configure, curtains and lighting to figure out, sound checks, and oh, yes, rehearsal. Playing this Baldwin was like getting on a wild horse. It’s sound was bright and obvious, and there was an energy that had to be tamed. Gretchen, John and Stacy, the nice folks who were in charge of our every need, apologized and said they’re trying to get the money for a new instrument. “No, no!” I said, “This piano has soul!”

The Baldwin looked a bit like it had been in one of those fights out by the flagpole, so I got out my handy dandy thick black marker and went to work. The crew watched me touch up over a hundred spots, plus the bench. They mused that the town might just think they got that new piano after all. My hands filthy and streaked with black, I turned and said, ”This is the glamorous part of being on tour.” We started with sound checks, rehearsing, etc. I thought I was going crazy. Every time we started into a piece, I’d look inside the piano at the strings, glistening in the spotlight, and have to stop, because I saw a patch of dust that I had missed. I told Stacy it was the old Girl Scout Rule: Leave a campsite better than you found it.

All was well, and it was time to open the doors of the auditorium to the early birds. They are a special flock, liking to extend their evenings enjoyment an extra 45 minutes, in anticipation. That meant it was time for me to exit to the dressing room. Their first impression of the “star attraction” should not be of a woman, in a black sweater with no make up on, doing one last sweep of the rag over the piano.

Once again Frank zipped me into my first gown. I was still breathing. Leisurely applying my stage makeup, he left as I looked around, savoring the classic dressing room mirrors with all the glowing round bulbs surrounding each one. “The Staar!” Ha-ha. I somehow needed to get this black marker off my hands. Hair: Check. Makeup: Check. Shoes: Check. Bracelet: Check. Earrings: Check. It was time. Oops, I saw one last smudge on my baby finger. I quickly scrubbed over the sink and reached for the towel dispenser. HOLY COW! What was going on under my arms?! Thick rolls of black, matted lint from my sweater greeted me like two lost sheep. Baaaah! I picked and rubbed with a paper towel frantically, but this stuff was stubborn, turning my tender skin from black into red. What would the audience have thought, as I innocently reached for the sky? Maybe something like, “Oh, she’s one of those ‘natural type’ women from Oregon, you know.”

The show went off without a hitch, and Stacy was quick on the uptake by adding a red light behind me during a moderately racy story. The audience members were mostly old-timers, but they laughed hard, applauded loudly, stood up at the end and yelled, “Encore!” We worked that in, (we were told most performers don’t get that far with this crowd) and everyone made it home in time for bed. CD sales were brisk and there was lots of talk from the ladies about my shoes and sparkly jewelry. Good thing that I had reached up for that towel, or that wouldn’t have been the only talk!

John, one of the concert association people who greeted us, filled us in on the history of this beautiful theatre. After telling him about similar theatres we enjoyed in Kansas, he said that most of that great architecture was from the prosperous 1920’s. The school itself was built then, and it was a classic. It has also been kept up nicely. Like so many old towns across the USA, Coffeeville has a beautiful old street in its downtown district, but with some empty storefronts. There were a few restaurants and a few businesses, but it was easy to see what a grand place it once was. Frank and I were both impressed with the many beautiful churches of just about every denomination. Coffeyville has a WalMart on one side and is replacing it with a Super WalMart on the other. And that’s the way it is.

It’s 8:00pm now, and we’ve been driving since 8:00 this morning. We have 35 miles to go. It’s very, very dark out here on these lonely two-lane bumpy roads. Our hotel in Montevideo is supposed to be pretty plush. We’ve seen snow on the ground for the last 250 miles as we travel north. It’s 29 degrees and breezy outside now.

The sunset was spectacular across the plains, as the lighting came from behind us to the left, making orange glowing snow with blue jagged shadows. Tree branches lit up the sides of the road as forests faded into a soft, muted purple in the distance. White barns gleamed with stark geometric shapes in this day’s final hours. It’s different up here.

Signing off… Frank needs me to navigate. Thanks for staying with us.

Write to me at: sallyeharmon@yahoo.com

You guys are good company to us!

Day Seven: March 4, 2010 Coffeyville, Kansas

Day Seven: March 4, 2010 Coffeyville, Kansas

It’s 11:29 and we just had a microwavable dinner in the room while watching “America’s Best Dance Show.” Quit a switch from what WE did tonight!

Today I did a whole lot of nothing until it was time to get to the auditorium at 3:30. Loved the indoor pool and hot tub. Warding off the first tiny signs of a sore throat, I sunbathed in the window on a lounge chair and played around with my iphone, getting the hang of Face Book. What a kick! It’s like being at a big party, and exchanges with people are usually brief, like Hors d’Ouevres. There are lots of people at this party, all the time. Some mingle lots, and others just once in a while. Total strangers want to know which Sally Harmon I am. There will be more on all that later.

This afternoon and tonight’s concert was extremely fun. What a place! What cool people to work with! Details on tonight’s concert, including any “dirt” will be written tomorrow during our 600-mile drive to Montevideo, Minnesota. Stay tuned…

Turning in, and sprawling out. We’ve got a King-Sized bed.

The Brain, The Heart, The Courage,

Thanks,

Kansas