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

Day Six: March 3rd, 2010: Travel day to Coffeyville, Kansa

Day Six: March 3rd, 2010: Travel day to Coffeyville, Kansas

Oh, the fields of Kansas! They’re kind of a golden brown this time of the year, all the way to the horizon. Traveling east, the sun is in our eyes, but, hey, there’s sun! Looking around at the vast sky we see flocks of migrating birds flying north. Yes, spring is smiling at us. No tornados, either, so far. The temperatures today are expected to approach 60.

I forgot to tell you about the wolf we saw yesterday! We made eye contact, as this big furry thing was wandering not more than 20 feet from the interstate on the other side of a wire fence. Wow! It was beautiful! It also looked well fed. I wonder what it had for dinner last night: Leg of Lamb or Shoulder of Beef.

We also saw about six wild turkeys! They were crossing the road. We have no idea why. No kidding. We were on an off ramp when these beautiful enormous birds with bright red necks and black and white flecked bodies gave us a look, like, “Don’t try anything.” Frank was already fantasizing about the joys of the smoker vs. the grill.

The sun is now beating down on the sleeves of my black sweater, as this laptop is kind of warm, too. Good thing I have my apron on. Maybe I should just take the sweater off, just leaving this kicky blue apron for Frank to feast his eyes on! Maybe I’ll wait a bit and just change into my running clothes instead. Four hours into this eight-hour drive we hope to run another 5K somewhere. Do people run in Kansas? Maybe they run from the police. We just passed some poor soul who got pulled over for speeding. Frank just asked me to call the headquarters for highway patrol to ask how much we can go over 70mph before getting a ticket. Oh, boy! Did I get that billboard right? “Gas, Food, Lodging, Adult Superstore, Jesus is Real.” All in one rest stop! Actually, Frank just corrected me. They were two billboards back-to-back. The yellow brick road has something for everyone, I guess.

Tonight we are staying with some very dear friends who moved to Pittsburg, Kansas after knowing us in Venice Beach, Ca. for many years. I wrote about them in the tour blog two years ago, but now there’s more story to tell: Suzy and Frank Butorac have been a childless couple who lovingly took care of everyone else’s children for years, being Godparents to many, including our daughter, Allie. They are in their early 60’s and very young for their age. Since we saw them last, they’ve adopted a son! Dillon, who is now 12, lost his father to cancer when he was about seven. Then, tragically, he lost his mother at age ten. He had an older brother and two elderly grandparents at the time who were not well. Suzy and Frank were good friends of the parents and also Dillon’s Godparents. Without missing a beat, they were both in Los Angeles to the funeral and to be there for Dillon. Adoptive feelings were mutual on both sides, and the boy was now to start his new life on acres of land, at their loving home over the rainbow. His older brother Travis, in his early twenties, was so happy for him he was almost envious. Two years ago I described their wonderful homestead, just the two of them. Now they’re a family, doing school, church, sports teams, and homework with their now 12-year-old. It’s been a bit of an emotional roller coaster, as one can imagine, but reports are that his grades are up as well as successful adjustments all around. In just a few hours, we get to meet the new son of our friends of 25 years. Actually, Dillon and Frank are “batchin’ it” this week because Suzy is in Seattle with her mother who is very ill. The two Franks have been talking about popping open bags of potato chips and eating dinner over the sink. Looks like I’m outnumbered here!

We just ate lunch at “Jim’s Chicken” in Salina. I confess that with fried chicken, it’s all about the greasy, crispy salty skin for me. Who needs the boring the white meat? I often give it to others in exchange for their skin. In my health-conscious family, I usually make out pretty well. This place had the good stuff. We left the eighties-style décor and the heavy-set women in blue uniforms and white, sensible shoes to nest back into our seats for the next four hours. But wait, I needed to put my blue apron back on! Frank smirked and called me a “Car Frau!” Maybe I should really go with this look and put my hair in pink curlers, and smother my face in Oil of Olay.

We had a sudden change of plans. Dillon came home from school early with a fever of 100 and was vomiting. Not a good time to be houseguests. We were all disappointed, but we do plane to pass through Pittsburg to see them as we go north to Minnesota after our concert Friday morning. We have a box of extra CDs we had shipped there to pick up. Well, that’s life.

We decided to go straight to Coffeyville and go ahead and get a hotel for two nights. We could settle in for tomorrow’s concert, at their middle school auditorium. Tonight’s bed is a King. Ahhhh. The room is elegant and the property, The Sleep Inn, is new. Our first impulse was to collapse on the luxurious bed, but there was still sunshine out there! So, we took a run through town until sunset. What a way to see a place! What a way for the residents to see us! We were oddballs, for sure. Even a police car drove by a few times, starring at us. We didn’t care. It felt so good to get the old blood moving again. To top it off, we dove in the hotel pool and soaked in the hot tub.

Tomorrow is concert #3. It’s all going so fast. Love is in the air. I can feel it. I can’t wait. More tomorrow. My eyes are heavy. There’s no place like Kansas There’s no place like Kansas. There’s n o pl ac e li k e zzzzzzzzz

Day Five: Travel Day March 2nd, 2010

Day Five: Travel Day March 2nd, 2010

We’re at the beautiful Days Inn in Goodland, Kansas on our journey to Coffeeville KS, 725 miles from Canyon City CO. Our room has two full-size beds with 70’s style bedspreads. All our stuff is dumped on one of them, and we’re jockeying for space on the other. How did our parents and grandparents ever get by?

Today we were giddy soaking up the Colorado sun in temperatures of more than 60 degrees. It also didn’t hurt that our show last night went so well. We savored every moment. There are many ways to measure success with these things: Attendance, the quality of the piano, the venue, the audience’s response, lack of screw-ups, a good sound and lighting team to work with, CD sales, and being invited back. We had all that last night, including the most important thing of all to me: new ideas. Because many people in the audience had heard us two years ago, we rehearsed all afternoon and changed up our show. Also we were given an article from their regional newspaper, which headlined: “Sally Harmon, Pianist, brings Energy and Comedic Flair to Canyon City.” Well, all I had to do was walk on stage and people were ready to laugh. Yikes! I didn’t even have much of anything funny planned until the second half! So, I winged it, improvised a lot, and they ate it up. I like to teach my students about performing, and how a good show involves a love triangle between the musicians, their instruments, and the audience. When everybody feels included, that’s when the magic starts.

We ended up goofing off most of today instead of making much headway in our long journey. First we took a long walk along the path by the Arkansas River near our hotel, and then we ended up stopping in Colorado Springs on our drive east and buying some new running gear. We took a 5K run in Monument Park by the same river in the beautiful sunshine.

Oh, and I made one more purchase today: an apron. My job in the car this trip is to peel oranges, pour coffee, put peanut butter and jelly or cheese on crackers, as well as navigate and answer both of our phones. By the end of a long drive, my lap would look like the ruins of a birthday party for a dozen five-year-olds! Not everything brushes off. So, I bought an apron for the car! The lower pockets catch crumbs; hold sunglasses, cell phones and more. I think it’s a great idea, but Frank looks at me like I might as well be wearing a Moo Moo or something. God forbid! Maybe if my apron looked a little sexier, say, like a French Maid’s outfit…hmmm…

I’m still jockeying for space here. Frank just rolled over in this “full-sized” bed and my laptop almost took a tumble. I guess it’s time to end today’s reporting in, and roll over to defend my territory. If you were to know what it’s like right now, you would need all five senses. I’ll leave you with that.
Sweet dreams.

Day Four: March 1st, 2010 Canyon City, CO

Day Four: March 1st, 2010 Canyon City, Colorado

We’re here! In a few hours, we’ll be playing the second concert of our tour. The good people of Canyon City have seen us before. The venue is bigger this time. There was an article in their paper about us, including a nice picture. That means we need to get over to the hall and practice! This is one of those times when being tired is not an option. Nevertheless, we’re flopping down on the pillow-top mattress here at The Quality Inn. Zzzz NO SALLY!

Yesterday’s concert went really well! I never know what people are expecting when they come to one of our shows: A concert pianist playing Beethoven? A female Victor Borges or Liberace? And what’s an electric bass doing up there? Were husbands dragged by their wives to see this, making them miss the game? I usually feel like they’re accepting what they’re seeing about fifteen minutes into the show. Mildly embarrassing chuckles in the first half turn into belly laughs the second, and they’re standing and clapping at the end. Any whisper of “Encore” and I’m right back on the piano bench. We greet everyone in the lobby afterwards as people line up for me to sign their CD purchases. There are always comments about my shoes. This tour the first half I wear gold sequin high-heeled pumps, and later, black open-back heels with rhinestones around the toes. Many of the women in the audience end up just looking at my feet even if they don’t understand the music. Standing for a long time signing CDs is the hardest part, but I smile as if I’m comfortable in these things! I explain that it’s easy for me on stage, because I’m mostly sitting down on the job.

The first half I wore my new dress and took one last deep breath of the afternoon before Frank zipped me up. It is one of those that has no shoulders or sleeves, just two brown ropes holding up the bodice, which holds everything in like a corset, and then gracefully (and mercifully) flares out into a full skirt at the hips. The spotlights were warm, and by the third piece I could feel sweat droplets rolling down my bare arms. I wondered if the audience could see that. Then, it got worse! I was dripping from my elbows! This dress has no way of absorbing anything. Maybe people would think I was like one of those Spanish dancers, who, every time they do a spin, the first row of the audience gets drenched. People wouldn’t expect that from some “Lady piano player” up there. The keys even had droplets on them. I don’t need a page-turner; I need a towel boy! Also my hair was sticking to my mouth because I forgot that lip gloss is deadly to a concert pianist. There are no hands available to solve the problem.

An hour or so before the concert, while bonding with the beautiful black satin finished nine-foot Mason and Hamlin, Frank called out from stage left, “Sally, you’d better come take a look at this!” He had just unzipped the suitcase containing the toy piano. There lay bits and pieces of what has always been my signature little skit for years. What a shambles! Little plastic piano keys were scattered everywhere, the wood had come apart and it seemed hopeless. I told Frank that we could just cut that part of the show, because it was too long for what this venue requested anyway. Then I saw his mechanical mind go into high gear. He had packed a hot glue gun. Slowly he began figuring out how to put the keys back in place, asking my advice on what notes were what. I wasn’t sure!

A miraculous twenty minutes later, Frank presented me with a rebuilt toy piano, only missing four high keys, which were shattered. It was good enough. We quickly did a sound check with it on stage, and Frank seemed to be playing in the wrong key. I thought maybe he was just stressed, and would kick in with the right notes soon enough. Finally he said, “Give me a C.” I did. “NO,” he corrected, “That’s an F.” “Oh No,” we both realized, “the keys went in wrong and transposed the piano!” For all of you out there that don’t have the foggiest what I’m talking about, it would have been a disaster when playing it along side the Mason and Hamlin.

Early birds were now requesting to come in and take their seats. Frank had to scramble to once again rebuild the piano, get his stage clothes on, man the CD table, and discuss last minute cues and tempos with me backstage. Good thing he has taken up running since the last tour!

The concert started promptly at 4:00 and no one was the wiser. Even with all the scrambling, dripping, hair sticking to my lips, etc, we played joyously and the audience was with us. The toy piano worked, too. Jake, the sound and lighting guy did a great job, and even created some special effects during our “Phantom of the Opera” medley.

Some audience members asked us if we could join them for dinner after the show twenty miles down the road in Paxton, Nebraska. This place, called Ole’s Wild Game Restaurant and Lounge, was supposed to be really something special. Well, I was exhausted and had no desire to drive forty miles round-trip at night to get something to eat. We had 325 miles to drive the next day, and then a concert. It had also just started snowing.

So we drove to Paxton and found the place. Frank opened the door for me as I ducked in to get out of the cold, blowing snow. There, our new friends, Herb and Karen, greeted us. The next thing I saw was a giant Polar Bear in a glass case. Herb suggested we take the “scenic route” around the restaurant to our table. There were heads of every kind of animal known to man, stuffed, and starring right at me. Buffalo, deer, elk, cougar, flying stuffed geese, antelope, ram, long horned steer, tiger, and even a fully tusked elephant! This room could compete with The Natural History Museum in Washington, D.C. if it weren’t for cute waitresses and tall beers.

We found our way to a long table of people waiting for us. Frank and I were assigned the middle seats on each side, so we could talk to everybody. Easing into my spot, I saw about twelve human heads surrounded by a hundred animals with big teeth, husks, horns, antlers, and lots of fur. Frank thought he saw the original Mr. Ed!After lively introductions and questions/nice comments about our concert, the man across from me said, “You know, they have rocky mountain oysters here.” I responded, “Are they somewhere up there on the wall?”

Happily, the conversation turned to the professions of the others around the table. The guy sitting next to me along with his two friends were cattle ranchers. Nebraska is about cattle. Not just any cattle, but some of the best in the world. I confessed that I know nothing about that subject at all. They told me about selling bulls for breeding, etc. and about the strict criteria for selling at auction for top dollar. Enjoying my ignorance, I asked, “So, you’re in the stud business, then? Does the bull have to be charming? You know, to woo the cows?” Laughter erupted around the table and throughout the room. I guess I have a lot to learn.

It was a really fun evening and I’m so happy to have stopped my grumbling and went. The people were so fun, smart and interesting. I wish we had more time, because I would take the ranchers up on their offer to meet some of their studs. The restaurant was charming, too, Sports Illustrated is quoted as saying it’s the LEAST politically correct restaurant in the world!

We’re back on the pillow top mattress after finishing concert #2. I’ll give you more on that tomorrow. Now I DO have an option to be tired, but first I have to wake up Frank so he can help me post today’s writing into the blog. Hopefully soon I will learn to do it myself. Oh Fraaank… (sorry)