Thursday, May 21, 2015
My David Letterman story: Scholarships for 'C' College students
I guess it's share a David Letterman story day. Here's mine. It was 1983. Maybe '84. I was working at the Baton Rouge Morning Advocate as a typist and newsroom aide and had begun doing some writing for the newspaper. I had also started taking classes at LSU. The editors told me I had to take some news writing classes because the Publisher said so. So I did. I was reading the info board in the journalism department and there was a notice about scholarships. Peaked my interest. Particuarly since I was paying my own full-time tuition. It was a scholarship from David Letterman, offering journalism students with a C average a full ride. Said not to bother if you had anything above. I couldn't apply, but learned a helluva a lot about David Letterman that day. Laughed my ass off.
Friday, June 20, 2014
Downtown After 5 in Asheville exists because of a humble farmer who shared his stories
June 20, 2014 - Annual honoring of the unknown farmer responsible for Downtown After 5 series
Asheville's Downtown After 5 concert series has grown extremely popular and is celebrating its 26th year this summer. Ask someone how it all got started and you'll probably get some answer about how much time and sweat a certain few volunteers put into making it happen. And that's true. And I'm thankful for their hard work to helping it grow. But, if you ask how it all began, you get a blank stare. Newcomers to Asheville - and some not so new residents - possess not a clue about its humble beginnings.
It was the summer of 1987 and we had a booth set up for Bele Chere on Lexington Avenue. (Bele Chere - now defunct - was Asheville's huge summer party that pretty much closed all of the downtown streets.) We were giving away balloons, hoping to attract customers to our booth so we could promote Asheville's first arts and news independent publication, our new baby and business. It was called Out 'n About. We had only been publishing for 3 months, beginning in April 1987. Bele Chere hadn't been taking place that long and still had a homey feel. No rules and regulations about how booths had to look. You paid your fee; you got your space. We set up a very home-spun wooden stand that would not have won any best decorated awards, and commenced to doing our thing.
An older gentleman wearing overalls and a baseball cap, sweat pouring down his neck, approached us with a small cardboard table and a box. He asked if we minded if he sat in the shade of our booth, set his table up, put out voter registration cards and try and get people signed up to vote. Sure. Why not? He was doing a great thing. We were shocked when he told us how many people had turned him away. We were the last booth he was going to ask before heading on back to the house.
Maybe they were afraid of how he looked. His overalls were a bit dirty, his face aged with lines earned from years of working mountain fields, growing and harvesting tobacco. He had a long, scraggly beard, his white mustache stained from his enjoying his own hand-rolled, homegrown tobacco. And he did have a bit of an odor about him. But, hey, it was July. We were all sweating and not smelling our Sunday best. He was just the kind of character we liked. We knew he'd have some good stories to share.
And, share he did. He talked about Friday nights down at the end of the street where we sat. There's a big parking lot there (where Downtown After 5 now takes place) and it once was home to the Lexington Avenue Farmers Market. According to our new friend, people would come from all over the mountains to buy and sell their goods. But, mostly, they were there for the fun that started happening about the time the sun went down. Goods sold, bellies full, it was time for a pickin', a dancin' and a visitin'. Folks would stay until the wee hours of the morning, say their good-byes and see you next week.
What a wonderful picture he created for me. Community farmers, musicians and just the average people coming together to celebrate their culture and simply enjoy one another's company. So after Bele Chere was over, I wrote a column describing what I had learned that weekend. I talked about how Bele Chere was great, but the City could only put on an event that closed so many downtown streets once a year. But why not shut down one area each Friday and bring back some of the life and community my farmer friend had described? Downtown Asheville was definitely not the hustle and bustle it is today and any event to get people downtown seemed like a grand idea to me. It would need to be on a different street each week, so as to let people know that there were more businesses open than they perhaps realized.
The Downtown Commission had just formed that year and the new leader called and said, "loved your column, now put your actions with your words and let's get something going next year. How about calling it Downtown After 5? Hopefully, we'll get some workers to stay and some others to come down and join in on the fun. I'll worry about the money, the rules and regulations and beer permits. I need you and Alphie to book the local bands and publicize the event as much as you can." So we spent that year readying for the next summer, never doubting for a moment it wouldn't happen. We didn't have all that much money allotted for paying the musicians. It was all a labor of love and a vision of what could come to be.
And, happen it did. Not too many people came out that first year, but we were pleased anyone attended at all. I think we capped out that summer at maybe around 200 people. The first concerts happened in places like on top of the Wall St.or Rankin Ave. parking deck. There was one in an enclosed private parking area over on Broadway which fit about 50 cars at the most. And there was one in front of the downtown library that almost didn't happen. The rain poured. People ran for cover under awnings. And just when it looked like we'd have to call it off, the skies cleared and the party started right back up.
We were able to do one every Friday during the summer months and I do miss the intimate locations of those first events. Our hands on involvement from that first year changed to simply promoting the event and helping make it as popular as possible. A group of very dedicated volunteers came on board and the event finally changed to once a month because it was growing, and the logistics for once a week were just too much.
So, we have what we have today. Downtown After 5 attracts thousands of people. There are two bands at each event, one lesser known local band and a better known band, sometimes local. Not always. It's serendipity that it takes place at the old Lexington Avenue Farmer's Market location. My farmer friend would be happy. Every one that I go to, I make a secret toast to him and thank him for sharing his story. Because without that story and his dedication to getting people to vote, Downtown After 5 would not be what it is today.
Learn more about Downtown After 5 here: http://www.ashevilledowntown.org/
Asheville's Downtown After 5 concert series has grown extremely popular and is celebrating its 26th year this summer. Ask someone how it all got started and you'll probably get some answer about how much time and sweat a certain few volunteers put into making it happen. And that's true. And I'm thankful for their hard work to helping it grow. But, if you ask how it all began, you get a blank stare. Newcomers to Asheville - and some not so new residents - possess not a clue about its humble beginnings.
It was the summer of 1987 and we had a booth set up for Bele Chere on Lexington Avenue. (Bele Chere - now defunct - was Asheville's huge summer party that pretty much closed all of the downtown streets.) We were giving away balloons, hoping to attract customers to our booth so we could promote Asheville's first arts and news independent publication, our new baby and business. It was called Out 'n About. We had only been publishing for 3 months, beginning in April 1987. Bele Chere hadn't been taking place that long and still had a homey feel. No rules and regulations about how booths had to look. You paid your fee; you got your space. We set up a very home-spun wooden stand that would not have won any best decorated awards, and commenced to doing our thing.
An older gentleman wearing overalls and a baseball cap, sweat pouring down his neck, approached us with a small cardboard table and a box. He asked if we minded if he sat in the shade of our booth, set his table up, put out voter registration cards and try and get people signed up to vote. Sure. Why not? He was doing a great thing. We were shocked when he told us how many people had turned him away. We were the last booth he was going to ask before heading on back to the house.
Maybe they were afraid of how he looked. His overalls were a bit dirty, his face aged with lines earned from years of working mountain fields, growing and harvesting tobacco. He had a long, scraggly beard, his white mustache stained from his enjoying his own hand-rolled, homegrown tobacco. And he did have a bit of an odor about him. But, hey, it was July. We were all sweating and not smelling our Sunday best. He was just the kind of character we liked. We knew he'd have some good stories to share.
And, share he did. He talked about Friday nights down at the end of the street where we sat. There's a big parking lot there (where Downtown After 5 now takes place) and it once was home to the Lexington Avenue Farmers Market. According to our new friend, people would come from all over the mountains to buy and sell their goods. But, mostly, they were there for the fun that started happening about the time the sun went down. Goods sold, bellies full, it was time for a pickin', a dancin' and a visitin'. Folks would stay until the wee hours of the morning, say their good-byes and see you next week.
What a wonderful picture he created for me. Community farmers, musicians and just the average people coming together to celebrate their culture and simply enjoy one another's company. So after Bele Chere was over, I wrote a column describing what I had learned that weekend. I talked about how Bele Chere was great, but the City could only put on an event that closed so many downtown streets once a year. But why not shut down one area each Friday and bring back some of the life and community my farmer friend had described? Downtown Asheville was definitely not the hustle and bustle it is today and any event to get people downtown seemed like a grand idea to me. It would need to be on a different street each week, so as to let people know that there were more businesses open than they perhaps realized.
The Downtown Commission had just formed that year and the new leader called and said, "loved your column, now put your actions with your words and let's get something going next year. How about calling it Downtown After 5? Hopefully, we'll get some workers to stay and some others to come down and join in on the fun. I'll worry about the money, the rules and regulations and beer permits. I need you and Alphie to book the local bands and publicize the event as much as you can." So we spent that year readying for the next summer, never doubting for a moment it wouldn't happen. We didn't have all that much money allotted for paying the musicians. It was all a labor of love and a vision of what could come to be.
And, happen it did. Not too many people came out that first year, but we were pleased anyone attended at all. I think we capped out that summer at maybe around 200 people. The first concerts happened in places like on top of the Wall St.or Rankin Ave. parking deck. There was one in an enclosed private parking area over on Broadway which fit about 50 cars at the most. And there was one in front of the downtown library that almost didn't happen. The rain poured. People ran for cover under awnings. And just when it looked like we'd have to call it off, the skies cleared and the party started right back up.
We were able to do one every Friday during the summer months and I do miss the intimate locations of those first events. Our hands on involvement from that first year changed to simply promoting the event and helping make it as popular as possible. A group of very dedicated volunteers came on board and the event finally changed to once a month because it was growing, and the logistics for once a week were just too much.
So, we have what we have today. Downtown After 5 attracts thousands of people. There are two bands at each event, one lesser known local band and a better known band, sometimes local. Not always. It's serendipity that it takes place at the old Lexington Avenue Farmer's Market location. My farmer friend would be happy. Every one that I go to, I make a secret toast to him and thank him for sharing his story. Because without that story and his dedication to getting people to vote, Downtown After 5 would not be what it is today.
Learn more about Downtown After 5 here: http://www.ashevilledowntown.org/
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Happy 19th Birthday, Zach!
Dear Zach - For once, I am at a loss of words. My beautiful, funny, little boy has grown up so fast. And into such a handsome, still funny, incredible man. And person. My eyes are tearing up as I write this. I am just so darn proud of you. And soon, you’ll be going off on your own. Making your own way, just as you always have done. And, as you have always done, follow your heart. It’s a good one. I can’t wait to see what else Zachary John Dowd Hyorth is going to give this world. You rock, my son! I love you with all my heart and the world 100 times over. Mom
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
I charge us each with being aware. It is our duty.
Goodnight my friends. My prayers this eve show my distress and sadness over so much harsh disagreement between us all. Because I know each one of you love deeply and passionately. My hope lies that each of us realize we have been chosen to shape the new scary world. Or else we would we not be thrown together - back together in many cases. That responsibility means we are to discuss, poke fun at, even disagree, with much, very much respect. I charge us each with being aware. Love to all... #shutdown
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Asheville City Proclamation honoring AHS Cougar Band to be presented at community send-off fundraiser & concert Sat, Jan. 12
This story starts with my son, Zach. He is a junior at Asheville High and a proud Cougar Varsity football player. In August, at the first home football game, we heard this pre-game announcement:
“Folks, you are now watching the Asheville High Cougar Pride Band … participants in the 2013 Presidential Inauguration.” We found out later that the AHS Band would not only be the group representing Asheville; they were going to represent all of North Carolina. They are the only band and color guard from North Carolina who made the cut, who got the invitation.
Back then, when we were still sweating through the last heat of summer, the words didn’t hit home. And then they did. No matter who won the 2012 Presidential election, one thing was for sure … the Asheville High Band would be in Washington, DC in January 2013 for the parade, the galas, everything
The football season went on; the band was always there. Playing the Cougar fight song, win or lose. Football season ended; the election came; and went. Band members and their parents quietly organized fundraisers.
But by mid-December they were still short $10,000. Unfortunately, not all band parents could contribute enough money and they had run out of planned fundraisers. Band Director Will Talley, with all of his band directing and musical talents, was not sure how to get the word out, nor did he have the time. But he was sure of one thing, “I want no band student from Asheville High left behind.”
Jump to Tuesday, January 8, 2013. Following an extensive social media campaign Talley reported, “I’m very, very happy to say we have reached our original lower goal of $85,000 with the help of the social media campaign and community donations that came through on our website via Pay Pal. No student who wants to go will be left behind.”
The last minute flurry of tweets and retweets raised a total of $10,000 in one month. “So, we’ve upped our goal to $90,000 to make sure all costs are truly covered,” Talley said.
You still have time to help with the AHS Band 2013 Inauguration Trip Support Campaign by taking part in one of these events:
1) AHS Band's Pre-Inaugural Concert and Silent Auction is this Saturday, Jan. 12 at AHS Auditorium on McDowell St. The Silent Auction begins at 1 p.m. and the Concert begins at 3 pm. (http://www.ashevillehighbands.com/silent-auction.html to see a list of items to be auctioned off.) Suggested donation: $10 at the door. This is a community sendoff! Be among the first to hear the Band's Parade and Festival Concert music. Asheville City Councilman Gordon Smith will present a City Proclamation honoring AHS band, recognizing our Asheville teenagers.
2) “10% Benefit at Nona Mia" today Thursday, Jan. 10 from 4-6pm. Dine in or order out. Nona Mia will write AHS Band Association a check for 10% of all food & drinks sold tonight during these after-school hours. Nona Mia is located at 1050 Haywood Road in West Asheville.
3) “20% Benefit at Mela" the popular Indian restaurant in downtown Asheville on Sunday, Jan. 13. Eat lunch or dinner at Mela the day after the Pre-Inaugural Band Concert and Silent Auction, and Mela will write the AHS Band Association a check for 20% of all food and drinks sold that day. Mela is located at 70 N. Lexington Avenue.
3) “20% Benefit at Mela" the popular Indian restaurant in downtown Asheville on Sunday, Jan. 13. Eat lunch or dinner at Mela the day after the Pre-Inaugural Band Concert and Silent Auction, and Mela will write the AHS Band Association a check for 20% of all food and drinks sold that day. Mela is located at 70 N. Lexington Avenue.
4) Donations are gratefully accepted on the AHS Band's webpage. Just go to <ashevillehighbands.com> and click on the donation button.
*shameless plug: I am a local writer, networker and special events coordinator/fundraiser and downtown Asheville pioneer. (That' means I owned a business in downtown Asheville and promoted the area early on when most people thought I was crazy for doing so. Glad to have proved them wrong.) I'm also really proud of Zach for pushing me to step forward to aid the AHS Band. I am very honored to have been one of many who were able to help them raise $10,000 in one month and nudge City officials to give them the Proclamation. Our teenagers deserve this recognition, and so much more. But that's a tale for another time. Please contact me at outaboutwnc@gmail.com if I can be of any assistance to you with your social media/public relations, special event or fundraising campaign
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
What are you doing to save the earth?
Good question.
Photo originally posted on Global Exchange facebook page
Photo originally posted on Global Exchange facebook page
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Just another Saturday night in Asheville
Awesome Saturday night. Drove through Lake Julian to see Holiday lights with Alphie, Zach and his girlfriend, singing Christmas Carols to which we didn't know all of the words. Lots of humming. And giggling. Dinner afterwards, down south. Been a while since I've been out that way, so it was a welcome change.
Then met a friend to sing some karaoke in downtown Asheville. She, of course, sounded better than I, but we didn't care. End of the night, 300 lb bouncer carrying some 120 lb dude over his shoulder. The girl working the door went and got his?? car, bouncer threw him in back seat. Window down, the poor fool's foot
Then met a friend to sing some karaoke in downtown Asheville. She, of course, sounded better than I, but we didn't care. End of the night, 300 lb bouncer carrying some 120 lb dude over his shoulder. The girl working the door went and got his?? car, bouncer threw him in back seat. Window down, the poor fool's foot
hanging out the window. I have a feeling girl working door drove his car from the club's parking lot to somewhere around the corner, shoved his foot inside the window, locked the door, threw his keys inside and left him there for the night. Ewwww, I bet that car didn't smell too good this morning. Just another Saturday night in Asheville.
Friday, November 23, 2012
Go out and share some thankful
The turkey did me in. So for the full effect, pretend today is Thanksgiving. It should be every day, anyway. Thank you very much.
On this day we stop and think of what we are thankful for. Most all of us say we are thankful for our friends, family if we've got them, extended family, and usually realize we have way more than many. This warmth needs to stay with us each and every day. We should spread this love around the world, in continued hopes of finally achieving the peace we so deserve and were meant to have when our Maker blessed us with this beautiful garden called Earth. To my friends near, far and in my home, you have a special place in my heart. Love to all. Now go out and share some thankful.
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| Rosebud Photos |
Friday, November 16, 2012
Faith of love, understanding, and compromise ... let's get past the divisions
*note* I first posted this on facebook a few days ago, and I've gotten some very interesting comments, so I decided to post it in a bigger arena and see what transpires. Enjoy. Or maybe not. All commentary welcome.
Somehow many seem to have forgotten the one only commandment we were given, in any and all religions: Love. And one my father, Rev. John Dowd (who was a heck of a lot lot smarter than most people I have ever met, and very happy and blessed he raised me, rather than the blood who did not want me), ... Grace. Simple stuff really. And if you don't get it, that's your problem. I am tired of the divisional
As a side, I am sooooo reminded how lucky I was to have a father and a man like John Dowd teach me what it was all about. To not ignore those did not understand, but to know it is my charge to try and help them. But if they could not grasp the simple faith of love, understanding, and compromise, ..... well, then just leave them be. That is their problem.
Somehow many seem to have forgotten the one only commandment we were given, in any and all religions: Love. And one my father, Rev. John Dowd (who was a heck of a lot lot smarter than most people I have ever met, and very happy and blessed he raised me, rather than the blood who did not want me), ... Grace. Simple stuff really. And if you don't get it, that's your problem. I am tired of the divisional
bullshit. Either choose to work together and bring our country together. Or get out of the way, so that those who do care can make it happen. Catch my drift? I surely pray you do.
As a side, I am sooooo reminded how lucky I was to have a father and a man like John Dowd teach me what it was all about. To not ignore those did not understand, but to know it is my charge to try and help them. But if they could not grasp the simple faith of love, understanding, and compromise, ..... well, then just leave them be. That is their problem.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
A great big THANK YOU to Veterans of all ages who served/serve our beloved United States of America... Thank you for putting your life on the line to make sure ours are safe. And for reminding us all that in this Country, no man or woman is of any lesser value than another. To the Veterans no longer with us, you are loved and missed, but never forgotten; you paved the way. To those who serve now, we thank, honor and will support you when needed. To those who are looking forward to the day when you can serve, thank you for keeping the hope and the belief in the equality of each of us alive. To all, I salute you.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Adoptee birthdays. Always best if celebrated day before, or day after.
Thanks to everyone who wished me a Happy Birthday today or this weekend, or whenever. It really means a lot. It's not always easy for us adoptees on our actual birthday. Sometimes it's best to celebrate before (as I did this weekend) or after (as I may do next weekend also, hey I am a Scorpio, we do like to drag out the party, you know). Because the 'day of' can sometimes be rather tough - unless you're in your '20s and just want to cut loose. Why? Because there are no 'this is what happened on your birthday' stories. We might get 'when we brought you home' tales, but it's not the same. No matter how well meant. It's one of those things, where the cliche 'you have to be one to know one' totally fits. It's one reason I'm so happy that my son popped out looking like me. My first blood. And thankful to all my friends who cared to take a moment for me today. Being human isn't always easy. Thanks for being there. Please let me know when/if you need me there for you. xoxoxo. Tracy
Friday, September 21, 2012
Help Asheville High Cougar Band rep us proudly at the 2013 Presidential Inauguration Festivities
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
West Nile Virus and a Judaism prayer? Works for me.
Well, seems like I've been quite the slacker in posting on here lately. Busy summer. Yep, that's it. A busy summer. Not that other times aren't just as busy, but yes, it's a good excuse.
So, a post of some sort seems obvious and I'll try to keep it short because I do believe I've got a 'touch' of the West Nile Virus that found its way into Buncombe County. And those damned skeeters do love me. I say it's because I'm so white and they'd have to be wearing blinders not to see and smell my shiny white self. Even with overloads of bug spray, they find me. And whatever I'm feeling, it's been a definite 'flu-like' affect. Fevers, chills, horrible headaches, and achy muscles. But no upset stomach or hacking, cough and spitting up the nastiest of stuff deep down from my lungs. So I don't see any sense in going to a doctor who is going to gladly take my hard earned money to tell me what I already know: Rest, drink plenty of fluids and I'll be just fine in a few days.
Besides, I'm not delusional, at least not any more than ususal, and I'm told I'm not contagious if I do have the West Nile. Just cantankerous and over being down for so long.
But I did find comfort in a devotional I came across today that I'd like to share with everyone. Hope it brings you come comfort and a moment to stop and think about the words. Hope it gets my butt back up and out into the world ... Peace!
'May we appreciate our family and friends and remember those who are alone. May we appreciate our health & remember those who are sick. May we appreciate the freedoms we have and remember those who suffer from injustice and tyranny. Peach on earth.' ~ Judaism prayer.
So, a post of some sort seems obvious and I'll try to keep it short because I do believe I've got a 'touch' of the West Nile Virus that found its way into Buncombe County. And those damned skeeters do love me. I say it's because I'm so white and they'd have to be wearing blinders not to see and smell my shiny white self. Even with overloads of bug spray, they find me. And whatever I'm feeling, it's been a definite 'flu-like' affect. Fevers, chills, horrible headaches, and achy muscles. But no upset stomach or hacking, cough and spitting up the nastiest of stuff deep down from my lungs. So I don't see any sense in going to a doctor who is going to gladly take my hard earned money to tell me what I already know: Rest, drink plenty of fluids and I'll be just fine in a few days.
Besides, I'm not delusional, at least not any more than ususal, and I'm told I'm not contagious if I do have the West Nile. Just cantankerous and over being down for so long.
But I did find comfort in a devotional I came across today that I'd like to share with everyone. Hope it brings you come comfort and a moment to stop and think about the words. Hope it gets my butt back up and out into the world ... Peace!
'May we appreciate our family and friends and remember those who are alone. May we appreciate our health & remember those who are sick. May we appreciate the freedoms we have and remember those who suffer from injustice and tyranny. Peach on earth.' ~ Judaism prayer.
Monday, June 11, 2012
My email to Asheville City Council regarding BID proposal
Dear City Council Members,
As a citizen of Asheville, I am against the Asheville Business Improvement District proposal. Many reasons I have stated publically and do not need to repeat here.
However, I do want to say that as someone who knows about and helped quite a bit with the revitalization of downtown Asheville, in essence the BID proposal is a large Community Watch program. I am in complete agreement with the downtown community if they would like to form such a program. However, I do not believe any taxpayer dollars need to be given to this privately-run group (even if Council decides to select the board and oversee the organization). The City of Asheville already provides adequate services to downtown. In all honesty, I believe the money, if given to BID, will most likely go towards administrative costs and not at all be used for the greater good of downtown.
If you agree to give this group money, then every other community in Asheville has the right to form a similar 'BID' group and come to City Council, expecting a similar percentage of dollars be given to their Community Watch programs. While it would be wonderful to do so for every community, there just isn't enough money to go around, as has recently been pointed out regarding raises of City employees. I do support putting money into other areas of Asheville, such as much needed sidewalks and public transportation, but not into such community watch programs as is BID.
Best regards,
Tracy D. Hyorth
As a citizen of Asheville, I am against the Asheville Business Improvement District proposal. Many reasons I have stated publically and do not need to repeat here.
However, I do want to say that as someone who knows about and helped quite a bit with the revitalization of downtown Asheville, in essence the BID proposal is a large Community Watch program. I am in complete agreement with the downtown community if they would like to form such a program. However, I do not believe any taxpayer dollars need to be given to this privately-run group (even if Council decides to select the board and oversee the organization). The City of Asheville already provides adequate services to downtown. In all honesty, I believe the money, if given to BID, will most likely go towards administrative costs and not at all be used for the greater good of downtown.
If you agree to give this group money, then every other community in Asheville has the right to form a similar 'BID' group and come to City Council, expecting a similar percentage of dollars be given to their Community Watch programs. While it would be wonderful to do so for every community, there just isn't enough money to go around, as has recently been pointed out regarding raises of City employees. I do support putting money into other areas of Asheville, such as much needed sidewalks and public transportation, but not into such community watch programs as is BID.
Best regards,
Tracy D. Hyorth
Monday, February 20, 2012
First contact: Solving my adoption puzzle
This is the very first article I ever had published. It is about my first conversation with my birth mother and a note to my adoptive parents. It took many hours of editing and re-writes to get it ready for print. I was, after all, a very inexperienced writer at the time. Twenty-nine years later, I realize the title should have been something like 'The beginning to solving my adoption puzzle,' because my story continues to unravel today. This was first published in the Baton Rouge Morning Advocate where I worked at a newsroom typist and aide and began my writing career in 1983.
Friday, February 10, 2012
We're not quite flying around in George Jetson type cars ... maybe soon
I am totally all over the place today. Metaphorically that is. About the only thing I'm doing around Asheville is having dropped Zach off at school and going to pick him up soon. Not sure I'll look much different from the hippie attire I was wearing this morning - me wrapped in a purple Indian blanket, wearing my 'life is good' warm jammie pants and a black & white toboggan hat to keep my ears warm and bed-head hidden. (Hey it's Asheville ... I looked not at all out of place for an early morning mom drop-off and besides, it's my day off.)
Nope. Where I've gone today is around the world on my laptop and tablet. Made new friends. Learned what's happening in issues important to me. Just doing some internet cruising. Amazing when you really think about it. Who'd a thunk it? And if you remember when calculators cost over a $100 bucks, then you know exactly what I'm talking about.
Alphie read me a tweet he'd gotten from someone, somewhere, this morning: "Fifty years from now, your kids are not going to want to listen to you talk about twitter."
Yep. That's for sure. Zach could care less now when we tell him we only grew up with maybe - maybe - four TV stations and that's only because we both lived in or near big cities. And he surely isn't interested in hearing about how hard it was to find a good radio station if you happened to be visiting somewhere out in the boondocks of Texas. He sits, nods and smiles. Surrounded by his smart phone, ipod touch, laptop, all while flipping through Pandora radio. He's saving up for some wireless headphones.
We're not quite flying around in George Jetson type cars as I'd hoped we'd be doing by now, but that time may happen in Zach's lifetime. Amazing. Just amazing.
P.S. And just in case you're wondering, I won't be wearing by favorite purple blanket when I go to pick Zach up, but I am going to have that 'boggan cap on. It's cold outside ... ;)
Nope. Where I've gone today is around the world on my laptop and tablet. Made new friends. Learned what's happening in issues important to me. Just doing some internet cruising. Amazing when you really think about it. Who'd a thunk it? And if you remember when calculators cost over a $100 bucks, then you know exactly what I'm talking about.
Alphie read me a tweet he'd gotten from someone, somewhere, this morning: "Fifty years from now, your kids are not going to want to listen to you talk about twitter."
Yep. That's for sure. Zach could care less now when we tell him we only grew up with maybe - maybe - four TV stations and that's only because we both lived in or near big cities. And he surely isn't interested in hearing about how hard it was to find a good radio station if you happened to be visiting somewhere out in the boondocks of Texas. He sits, nods and smiles. Surrounded by his smart phone, ipod touch, laptop, all while flipping through Pandora radio. He's saving up for some wireless headphones.
We're not quite flying around in George Jetson type cars as I'd hoped we'd be doing by now, but that time may happen in Zach's lifetime. Amazing. Just amazing.
P.S. And just in case you're wondering, I won't be wearing by favorite purple blanket when I go to pick Zach up, but I am going to have that 'boggan cap on. It's cold outside ... ;)
Friday, December 2, 2011
‘The Laramie Project’ could be Anywhere, USA, even Asheville, NC ... playing at BeBe Theatre
Heavy hitting. Timely. Controversial. Necessary. Real life. But certainly not depressing.
That’s the attitude of Different Strokes! Performing Arts Collective Managing Artistic Director Shephanie Hickling Beckman and the actors involved who are committed to staging plays with a message.
“Our mission (is) to present theatre that confronts issues of social diversity as reflected in the world around us: a world that isn’t always pretty or on its best behaviour. We do not choose our plays; the seemingly apparent needs of our community tend to choose the plays we produce,” Beckman points out one Saturday afternoon after rehearsal in the Grove Arcade basement. 
Bullying in the schools, in Asheville, and around the country is what prompted Different Strokes! to take on their latest production, ‘The Laramie Project,’ based on a series of interviews with Laramie, Wyoming (population just over 26,000) residents just after the 1998 murder of University of Wyoming student Matthew Shepard who was gay, taken out in the country, beaten and tortured by two local young men and tied to a barbed wire fence. He spent 18 hours strapped to that fence until a local cyclist found Shepard unconscious, and at first thought him to be a scarecrow.
Part of the proceeds of this show will benefit Youth OUTright, a local group that supports and empowers gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and questioning youth to be confident and vital members of the Western North Carolina community, according to Beckman.
“We as a group of artists and people who care about this community, have a responsibility to take on all taboo subjects - lay it all out there on the table, and see how many of the unspoken issues are affecting so many,” says Beckman. It could be Anywhere, USA or it could be Asheville.”
And though The Laramie Project’ has had thousands of performances around the world, Beckman says the show is as relevant today as it was when it premiered in 2000.
“For me this play is no longer about Laramie or a particular victim,” says Beckman “Hate crimes are committed everywhere in every minute of every day. Even here in Asheville, although many times the crimes are described simply as robberies and not told to be the hate crimes that they really are. Until federal hate crime legislation includes sexual orientation as a protected class, this story and those like it cannot be outdated, overstated or overdone.”
But Beckman is not just doing a repeat of what has already been shown. The original script called for 60 characters to be played by 8 actors and in Beckman’s mind seemed like a series of dialogues. Dialogues that didn’t really pull her into the story or make her care very much about the story of Matthew Shepard even though it was an important tale and one she was originally drawn to so she could learn more about Shepard’s plight.
Instead, she decided to turn those dialogues into more of a play, and not just a play about a man who was a victim of gay-bashing. It all turned into something much more passionate. More personal.
“Wake up ya’ll,” Beckman says. “Hate crimes exist not only against Gays, but against Jewish people, Muslims, Blacks, homeless people, women and so many more. It’s about what we as a society allow to happen to people every day. Whether it’s with our fists, or our mouths.”
Her actors too have learned so much more than they realized they would. In having to play different characters, some at odds with themselves and some the total opposite of another character they’re playing, each has had to take hard looks at their own feelings and perhaps judgements they did not realize they were making against other people. Straight men have had to reach down and understand gay men. White men have had to try and understand what it feels to be a Latino. A mother learned to look into the eyes of a “you’re going to hell because you’re gay” preacher and somehow realized she must try and reach that preacher.
In the end, we not only see the slice of the ugliness that happened in Laramie, Wyoming, but we also see the changes human beings goes through once they’ve been so close to the face of the horrific.
As Beckman puts it, “Some of the people in Laramie seem to remain untouched, but others, their lives and attitudes are changed forever. And ultimately, the recognition of all of those attitudes is what we want the audience to see, feel and leave thinking about and perhaps even start their own conversations.”
***
The cast features Mandy Bean, Scott Bean, Jeremy Carter, Kirstin Daniel, Patrick Hackney, Roberto Hess, Rod Leigh, Peter Millis, Jonathan Milner, Carla Pridgen, Hope Spragg and Jim Slautich. Stephanie Hickling Beckman directs and Catilin Lane serves as stage manager.
The show runs two weekends only: December 1-10, Thursday, Fridays and Saturdays at 7:30 pm at the BeBe Theatre in downtown Asheville. Tickets for $15 at the door and $12 in advance. Reservations strongly recommended and may be made online at differentstrokesavl.com or by calling (828) 275-2093.
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Be careful where you drive during WNC leaf season.
Ten 18-wheelers just on my little jaunt on Patton Avenue last night because I-240 West was closed. That's just plain stupid. It is SO past time for the I-26 connection to have been built. Asheville has invited the world to our area, but has absolutely no infrastructure. Insane, I say. Insane. Of course by the time city and NC state officials can agree on anything, I'll probably be having to walk to get around anywhere 'cause I'll be too blind to drive. But wait ... we don't have safe sidewalks in most of our neighborhoods either.
Oh well ... get out there and enjoy the beautiful fall day in WNC folks. If you don't live here or are not yet here, you might want to high tail it on here for the very best color. Winds a blowin'. A good deal of leaves could possibly be settling into the mountain soil as soon as next weekend.
Just be careful wherever you drive.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Zachman, #72 on Asheville High JV Cougar Football made this Texas Momma Proud
Been absent from the blogger world for a while, but that happens. So a brief catch-up is necessary. In case you're interested.
I've just had a 2nd corneal transplant and am healing and hopeful this next chance at sight is the blessing I've been waiting for since I was 9-years-old. That's when I got hit with a glow-in-the-dark super ball straight up in my wide open left eye while visiting kin in Texas City, Texas.
And Zach is now a sophomore at Asheville High and has the whole world opening up for him and the opportunity to reach academic and personal achievements I'm not sure that kid ever believed he'd be able to do. But the academics story is for another time.
This tale is about a born and bred Texan momma who gets rather peeved at football games when people don't yell enough at the kids, the coaches and anyone else who might get on your nerves. I got to see my 6'1, 210 teenager start at his first home JV football game.
Zach looked SOOOO awesome on that field last night. He's HUGE!!! He's not a perfect player, but that's what JV is for - get him broken in. Tore my heart apart though when I saw him get upset and fall down on the field, mad at himself and then Coach giving him a going over. I wanted to kick the coach's you know what, but hey, if the man didn't think Zach was worth anything, he wouldn't be giving him a talking to. You're supposed to get on your players. But Coach also told Zach he'd finally got some things right, so he's not on my full kick-ass list just yet. Zach played the entire game on offense except for two plays that he got pulled out of for holding. It happens.
The best part was at the end of the game when he came running up to us on the field with the biggest grin ever and grabbed us, about knockin' me over. Sweat, OMG. but it was wonderful!!! What an incredible momma moment.
You probably know football in Texas IS everything. (Forget that Rick Perry dude.) So I started out yelling and screaming, making my eyeball hurt so bad that Alphie had to go beg someone for some extra strength Excedrin for me. And the field lights ... oh man... I had to put my blind girl sunglasses made to fit over my regular glasses back on. I looked like some dumb white ass Stevie Wonder woman wanna be sitting up in those stands with those things on. But I didn't care; there was no way I was leaving that game!!!
And there was no way I wasn't going to get that slobbery hug.
I've just had a 2nd corneal transplant and am healing and hopeful this next chance at sight is the blessing I've been waiting for since I was 9-years-old. That's when I got hit with a glow-in-the-dark super ball straight up in my wide open left eye while visiting kin in Texas City, Texas.
And Zach is now a sophomore at Asheville High and has the whole world opening up for him and the opportunity to reach academic and personal achievements I'm not sure that kid ever believed he'd be able to do. But the academics story is for another time.
This tale is about a born and bred Texan momma who gets rather peeved at football games when people don't yell enough at the kids, the coaches and anyone else who might get on your nerves. I got to see my 6'1, 210 teenager start at his first home JV football game.
The best part was at the end of the game when he came running up to us on the field with the biggest grin ever and grabbed us, about knockin' me over. Sweat, OMG. but it was wonderful!!! What an incredible momma moment.
You probably know football in Texas IS everything. (Forget that Rick Perry dude.) So I started out yelling and screaming, making my eyeball hurt so bad that Alphie had to go beg someone for some extra strength Excedrin for me. And the field lights ... oh man... I had to put my blind girl sunglasses made to fit over my regular glasses back on. I looked like some dumb white ass Stevie Wonder woman wanna be sitting up in those stands with those things on. But I didn't care; there was no way I was leaving that game!!!
And there was no way I wasn't going to get that slobbery hug.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
A Mother's Day tale not to be shared on Mother's Day
Ok. I can write this down today. My cherished Mother’s Day card from Zach has fallen on the floor, landing amongst the dust bunnies behind the couch. My morning intake of caffeine is now sipped out of the odd-shaped ceramic coffee mug he lovingly made for me in electives class. And, I absolutely love the chamber pot (odd name I know, but it’s not for bathroom usage) he also created with his two ‘tiny always to Mommie’ hands. My eye drops fit perfectly in there upside down, helping me squeeze every $10 squirt out of there that I can. Those buggers are expensive.
I did not participate in the ever so social online posting of a picture of my mother a week and a half ago. I have two mothers. And neither one were ever much of a mom. One birthed me. The other raised me. Ain’t neither one getting elected for Mom of the Year.
The one who birthed me met me in my early 20s. She’s even seen a picture of my teen, her blood grandson, yet she cares not. She once told me, “How do we know whose baby they put my signature with? You’re dead to me. Leave me alone.”
The one who raised me, the one who I called Mother did love me in her own way. I think. I have a favorite picture of her. And it’s a beautiful one. I've always wished I had a picture of myself like that. I want to post it and maybe I will add it as an update. But, right now my computer has just recovered from a hard drive crash and I can’t yet connect to my scanner. And it was time to write this story. (Yes, an excuse, but the truth … love those kind.)
Anyway, Marietta, my adopted mom, was gorgeous. She was a ‘40s knock out. Her black and white portrait hints of a dark-haired Lauren Bacall. She was even a Rosie the Riveter, worked at Bell Helicopter in Fort Worth, Texas during World War II. She was one of the few skinny ones who could fit in those small spaces and for that, she got lots of attention. And dates, I’m sure.
She was a true Bohemian of that era. Wish I knew all of her stories, but she wasn’t that kind of mom. We never really talked much.
Instead, she took to the bottle when she should have been putting her natural artistry into the drawings and paintings she could have produced, or playing the piano or organ with the touch of an angel.
She’d met my Dad while he was still in the military. He was a dashing young Navy cook, wild as they came. They fell in lust, married, and were off to California to live a life of drinks, art, music, smoky nightclubs and who know’s what else. But that didn’t happen.
Instead, one day while Daddy was visiting my mom’s Methodist church with her parents, he up and joined and committed that very day to spending the rest of his life speaking from a pulpit and visiting those in need of the kind of Christian minister that was for real He’d been there, done it all and was truly given the Calling. He didn't judge. He talked of Grace.
Nope. Marietta didn’t like that too much. She tried. For a while, she played the organ like the good little preacher’s wife, tried to keep the smile on at all the churchly functions. But it just wasn’t meant for her. She had the style of Jackie Kennedy and the looks of a movie star, but lived in a glass house under the watchful eyes of many a judgemental sinner.
She tried to share some of her creativity with me. I still sometimes redraw a painting of hers that hung in the living room of whatever parsonage we were in at the time. And she did sit me down at the ripe young age of five and go over and over and over ‘Ke Sera Sera’ with me until I finally got it right so I could star in the Weatherford Kindergarten School Musical Finale. I had a voice, she said, but I’d been hanging around my father too much and I was acting tone deaf just because he was.
And there was the key to our very awkward mother/daugther relationship. She was jealous of me. All because I loved my Daddy. Just the way he was.
Thank God for Zach. Through him, with him, I have learned how to be a good Mom. Happy Belated!
I did not participate in the ever so social online posting of a picture of my mother a week and a half ago. I have two mothers. And neither one were ever much of a mom. One birthed me. The other raised me. Ain’t neither one getting elected for Mom of the Year.
The one who birthed me met me in my early 20s. She’s even seen a picture of my teen, her blood grandson, yet she cares not. She once told me, “How do we know whose baby they put my signature with? You’re dead to me. Leave me alone.”
The one who raised me, the one who I called Mother did love me in her own way. I think. I have a favorite picture of her. And it’s a beautiful one. I've always wished I had a picture of myself like that. I want to post it and maybe I will add it as an update. But, right now my computer has just recovered from a hard drive crash and I can’t yet connect to my scanner. And it was time to write this story. (Yes, an excuse, but the truth … love those kind.)
Anyway, Marietta, my adopted mom, was gorgeous. She was a ‘40s knock out. Her black and white portrait hints of a dark-haired Lauren Bacall. She was even a Rosie the Riveter, worked at Bell Helicopter in Fort Worth, Texas during World War II. She was one of the few skinny ones who could fit in those small spaces and for that, she got lots of attention. And dates, I’m sure.
She was a true Bohemian of that era. Wish I knew all of her stories, but she wasn’t that kind of mom. We never really talked much.
Instead, she took to the bottle when she should have been putting her natural artistry into the drawings and paintings she could have produced, or playing the piano or organ with the touch of an angel.
She’d met my Dad while he was still in the military. He was a dashing young Navy cook, wild as they came. They fell in lust, married, and were off to California to live a life of drinks, art, music, smoky nightclubs and who know’s what else. But that didn’t happen.
Instead, one day while Daddy was visiting my mom’s Methodist church with her parents, he up and joined and committed that very day to spending the rest of his life speaking from a pulpit and visiting those in need of the kind of Christian minister that was for real He’d been there, done it all and was truly given the Calling. He didn't judge. He talked of Grace.
Nope. Marietta didn’t like that too much. She tried. For a while, she played the organ like the good little preacher’s wife, tried to keep the smile on at all the churchly functions. But it just wasn’t meant for her. She had the style of Jackie Kennedy and the looks of a movie star, but lived in a glass house under the watchful eyes of many a judgemental sinner.
She tried to share some of her creativity with me. I still sometimes redraw a painting of hers that hung in the living room of whatever parsonage we were in at the time. And she did sit me down at the ripe young age of five and go over and over and over ‘Ke Sera Sera’ with me until I finally got it right so I could star in the Weatherford Kindergarten School Musical Finale. I had a voice, she said, but I’d been hanging around my father too much and I was acting tone deaf just because he was.
And there was the key to our very awkward mother/daugther relationship. She was jealous of me. All because I loved my Daddy. Just the way he was.
Thank God for Zach. Through him, with him, I have learned how to be a good Mom. Happy Belated!
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