Willie Nelson: It’s a Long Story, by Willie Nelson and David Ritz

Willie Nelson: It’s a Long Story, by Willie Nelson and David Ritz

Who doesn’t know or hasn’t heard of Willie Nelson?  Just another guitar strumming, twangy-voiced country singer, right?  I shared you skepticism.  Never would have thought to pick up the book except that a close friend, who is known for his excellent taste in literature and country music, told me, “Ya gotta read this book!”  He followed up with, “I wish it had been longer and he would have shared even more stories.”

Started out as a courtesy read.  Then I couldn’t put it down. Found myself falling asleep at night with the book propped on my chest.

Yeah, but Willie Nelson?  You bet. The man has lived several lifetimes, been in and out of debt, is married to his fourth wife, with a whole string of children following in his footsteps, and who went from ‘can’t get a job’ to being an American institution.

We often think of performers simply waltzing into the spotlight of TV or suddenly and without warning strumming a few songs on the radio.  Overnight sensations.  With Willie Nelson, that’s not how the story goes.

He comes from a traditional or semi-traditional Texas childhood in the no-where town of Abbott, raised by his grandparents and taught to praise the Lord.  And how he got where he is today is a jagged, broken-glass trail of being true to himself and never giving up.

What does never giving up mean to you?  Retaking a driver’s test?  Maybe going out for the team again after being cut last year?  Willie puts a whole new spotlight on the phrase ‘don’t ever give up.’ For decades he struggled.  Often his wife and kids were a meal away from starvation, while he tried to sell his musical talents in honky-tonk bars and strip clubs across Texas and around the country.  Sometimes, when hope was but a fading memory, he found a pal who could hook him up as a disk jockey, or find him work doing odd jobs, or selling this and that door-to-door.  His then wife worked hard as a waitress while raising two kids nearly by herself. But, Willie’s music always stuck with him.  He wrote, he sang, he never gave up, even when the doors kept being slammed in his face, or smashing his foot.

He connected with people and as he did, he became enamored of different types of music, many of which he would go on to sing with such giants as Frank Sinatra and Ray Charles.  Country. Jazz. Blues. Pop.  The notes resounded within him.  Music was his Polaris and is to this day.

But, fame and success comes at a heavy price, so heavy that most of us are not willing to pay it.  Not willing to move around the country looking for work, or going through four marriages or becoming successful only to be hammered by the IRS.

Willie Nelson’s autobiography is a straight-forward adventure in living life your way, without compromise or loss of direction or spirit. Every page is a lesson in living, in sticking to your guns in true Texas style, and keeping hope and good humor alive in the midst of triumph and tragedy. The lessons are simple, but true.

Be confident, but not arrogant.

Appreciate those around you.

Take success and failure with the same gentle attitude.

Love your family.

Love your friends.

And most of all, be true to yourself.

A good book?  Hell, no, it’s far better than that. It’s a lesson in being strong and resilient, loving, kind, and faithful to what means the most to you.  I promise you, if you pick this book up, you won’t want to put it down.

Art, Pottery, Festivals, and Connections

  

I go to ceramic festivals for the art.  Last weekend, in a nearby German city, the fest of clay rambled through block after city block of bowls, cups, and other kiln fired implements. At least a hundred booths cluttered the streets, most of them manned by the artists themselves.  I love pottery and last Saturday I strolled in a paradise of design and ingenuity. Stroll with me for a few moments...

Ok, so maybe sloshing down some wine and biting into an aromatic bratwurst hot off the grill clouded the purity of my intentions just a tiny bit.  What the hell, ya gotta loosen up and free your mind.

By the second glass of wine, I start to get philosophical, so bear with me as I spew a mélange of random ideas.  Art connects us through a spider web of tiny threads that attach us to the reality of our existence.  Maybe I need to explain.

 Let’s start with painting.  Bursts of color across a canvas bring us a panorama of possibilities in other forms of art.  There are colors and designs for ceramics, soaring notes of classical music, sparky, yet mellow riffs of jazz, swirls of dancers, and the flowing prose of literature.  It’s all connected.  To paraphrase that noble writer, Ernest Hemingway, When I run out of inspiration, I go look at a few canvases.  You know Hemingway?  Larger than life and his cup of indulgences was as deep as a bucket.  He should have been a wee bit more forthcoming.  Before you write, first you have a couple of belts of Cuban rum, do a little fishing in the gulf, take in a few bullfights, and THEN go look at a few canvases.

Musical notes?

 Now let's look at music.  Much has been made of the connections between mathematics and music.  Ponder the question of why some music is more popular than others.  Could be explained by the artistic patterns of notes, as well as rhythms?  Are there mathematical equations that suggest why some music is popular and other music not so much?  Professor Jason Brown of Dalhousie University (Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada) thinks so.  He’s a Beatles fan, as well as a mathematician and using math, he’s written a ‘new’ Beatles song with the numerical patterns found in original Beatles tunes.  As he says, math is essentially the search for patterns and, he continues, there are mathematical reasons that Beatles’ melodies and guitar chord sequences continue to resonance to the modern crowd over forty years after the group quit recording. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j28Lj5t_7Xo

Which leads to a bigger question:  Is pole dancing art?  I’m going to pass on that, Bob and move on to dutiful husband category for a thousand.

But the heart of this festival was ceramics.  I’ve often wondered about the links from painting to textiles, writing, music and dance.  All of those mediums offer free flowing, twisting hues that flood the mind with new possibilities.  I’m a potter myself and often look to textiles for inspirational texture, and lines of color. I also get ideas from painting, and the soft flow of jazz can get me in the mood to write… and other things.

And of course, sculpture is another art that connects.

 Clay is a malleable substance that lends itself to so many variations.  I find there are as many interpretations as there are ceramicists.  Clay also expresses nuances of customs, cultures, and even civilizations.  Japanese ceramics are distinct from those in Europe and both are vastly different from pots and cups found in Native American art. Even within Europe, it's easy to identify Spanish pottery from Italian, and Italian from German, or French.

 At this pottery fest, no two potters produced the same designs or styles. Just goes to show, once your mind is free to explore possibilities, your limits burst at the seams.  In booth after booth, I marveled at resemblances to swirls of dancers, streaked rainbows, and stark monochromatic designs, reflected in simple blacks and whites you find in photographs.  Black and white photographs inspire simplicity of line and nuances of shadow. 

“All of that on pottery?” you ask.  Definitely.  Few things express drama and mystery better than plain black, white and simple grays.  To take it a step farther, I believe movies lost something in the transition from black and white to Technicolor.

Pottery also connects us to cooking implements and the flower garden.  Just a quick scan of the photos in this blog and you’ll see what I mean.  Again I ask, what exactly is the connection of line and form amid ribbons and pools of color?  I think I know.  Art directly connects to all of nature and nature connects us all.

But, what the hell.  That’s enough thinking.  Need another cup of the grape?  I’m buying.  And the next time you hear about a pottery festival, go.  It’ll free your mind.

Music and Flea Market – Another Sunny Day in Homburg

As sunny day and friendly crowds

Trash and treasures!

 I get frustrated when I hear people complain about nothing to do, right here in Germany, in the living, breathing heart of central Europe.  Right.  After you’ve been to all the weinfests, bierfests, historic cities and towns, sampled the huge varieties of foods, including special seasons for strawberries, asparagus, and pumpkins…  Well, I guess there really is nothing to do.  Wait a sec!  I left out flea markets and music festivals that spring up when the weather turns warm.

Homburg, just up A-6 toward Saarbrücken, has both. Every first Saturday, there’s a huge flea market.  It’s located a few blocks from the old market square. All you have to do is ask and people will point you in the right direction.  Vendors from all over Germany and France, as well as locals, bring their trash and treasures and display them in the open air. Very extensive.  It’ll take you over an hour to wind in and out and around the new Rathaus area.  Of course there is wurst and bier, along with crepes, sweet waffles, and soft ice cream.  It’s a bargain hunter’s paradise. Great selection of middle eastern carpets.

Another thing you don’t have to worry about is a shortage of cash.  In Homburg, from April to late October, there are free rock concerts every Friday night at 1900 and jazz concerts every Saturday, from 1100 to 1430.  What kind of rock and what kind of jazz?  Oh, you beggars are soooooo choosy.  Varies.  The bands change every week and in the case of jazz, it goes from modern to Dixieland to traditional big bands.  These are accomplished musicians.  Seldom do you see sheet music or music stands.

These folks change instruments as easily as you and I change hats!

A plethora of styles mix seamlessly.

Nobody can resist a good book.

Karl Marx and Truman Capote dropped by.

Hemingway was asked what he did for inspiration.  He said he went to the Prado and gazed at a few canvases.  You could say the same for music, or dance, pottery, or goldsmithing.  Art has a direct connect to the soul.

Homburg is a magical place on Saturdays!


Music, as with most art, soothes, relaxes, and takes you to a floating island of sentiment, high above your cares.  Think I’m wrong?  Hear a few bars of rock from your high school days and you sing along.  Can’t help it. As you sing, faces and places float past, a panorama of triumphs and failures, loves and loses.  You gain glimmers of acceptance, thin slices of understanding.  In the same way, jazz washes you in moonlight and the scent of roses.

While you’re making that connection, sit back and order a bier, or a wurst, or a full meal (all at normal prices) and enjoy the show.  Don’t feel like eating or drinking?  Enjoy the music for free, in one of the most quaint old market areas around.  The cobble-stoned market square has a beautiful stone fountain, surrounded by buildings that date back to forever, with their gabled and tiled roofs. Bars, restaurants and shops are all around you, as well as vendors selling fresh produce, cheeses, honey, and sausage.  The old Rathaus (city hall) is also on the square, complete with a crest of arms that indicates this city was once a part of Bavaria.

Nothing to do?  Well, go back to your warm milk and cookies and TV reruns.  Meanwhile, for the rest of us, rich man, poor man, or beggar, there’s a rainbow of activities going on in Homburg every weekend.

"Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life."
--  Berthold Auerbach (German novelist, 1811-1882)