Dear Friend, Things Are Changing!
A missive to all the people I love.
It’s been one helluva year. Like so many of you, I have been busting my butt all winter taking classes, learning new platforms, and trying to redefine myself as an Artist and a Creative Instigator. Trying to gain some footing in this new world we find ourselves in has been interesting :)
Music has blessed me since I was 15 years old, connecting me with all kinds of people from all kinds of far-flung places. I’ve been lucky enough to play music with people like David Jacobs-Strain, Paul Benoit, Melissa Mitchell, Robin Child, David Lynn Grimes, Mark Elliott, Lisa Joyce, Maria & Steve Cahill, Myshkin, Mikey Stevens, Frankie Hernandez, Alice DiMicele, and so many others it would take more than a page to list them all. We’ve had a ripping blast, my fellow tune-makers, haven’t we?
A few years ago, I started having trouble with my vocal cords. I went to the voice guru at OHSU in Portland, Oregon, and he told me it was a neurological disorder called Essential Tremor. If any of you remember Kathryn Hepburn and her shaking head, then you get the picture of what a severe case looks like.
The Doc said there is nothing they can do for it and get this… he prescribed wine, weed, and valium. In that order. (Yes, I am going to write a story, and probably a song, about this.) No joke!
“Just take one, or a combination thereof, an hour before you go on stage, and it might relax the nerves enough to get you through a show.” Are you freakin’ kidding me? You all know me. That just isn’t going to fly. You’d find me belly down backstage slobbering on my guitar, out cold. I’m a lightweight. One glass of wine, and I’m toast!
I’m beyond grateful that, so far, I don’t have a severe case of tremors. But I have lost significant control of my vocal cords, to the point where it is difficult, sometimes very challenging, to sing what used to be simple melodies. And, since the only prescription the Doc can give me might send me to rehab someday, I’m choosing a different path.
Don’t worry. I’m not going to break your heart here. I will still sing. Until they plant me underneath the daisies, I will squeak, whine, whistle, whisper, or choke songs out around the campfire until I keel over. But I’m not going to be gigging.
I’m not writing you this letter to bum you out. God knows we’ve had enough of that for a while. I’m writing to tell you how damn excited I am for what is next.
Yes, I’m leaving you with a cliffhanger.
This letter to you is long, so I will dole it out over the next few days, you know… since social media has wrecked our attention span and all. Plus, it’s getting dark, and I need to get the chickens in. The last four nights, a fox cased the chicken yard, and I’m wise to that fool.
Stay-tuned, I’m not going anywhere.
Love you beyond words.
Michelle
May we all keep reinventing ourselves....
Perhaps microdosing? :-) I'm not sure why this came to mind but it did. Which leads me to . . . I won't further convince myself of my fear by going into the details of why I will be macro dosing myself tomorrow. Suffice it to say, I have a fear of the dentist and I've found I can tolerate it if stoned off my ass. It becomes pretty funny pretty fast. The combination of the fear and the stone leads me to blurt out very random shit. What will life serve up next, eh? Love you dearly Michelle and will happily listen to your voice in any way it presents itself.