De Colores

De Colores de colores
se visten los campos en la prima vera

De Colores de colores
son los pajaritos que vienan de affuera

De Colores de colores
de colores es el arco iris que vemos lucir

Y por eso los grandes amores
de muchos colores me gustan a mi

Y por eso los grandes amore
de muchos colores me gustan a mi

Open Letter to U.S. Senator Cory Gardner and U.S. Representative Scott Tipton

Dear Messrs. Gardner and Tipton,

You must be feeling a bit uncomfortable now. I looked it up on the ‘net. The NRA donated $5,950 and $18,950, respectively, in recent donations to your campaigns. That’s chump change, as we know. The real heavy lifting is what the NRA spends in your races. According the N.Y. Times they dropped $3,879,264 (2010) and $104,023 (2006) in your respective behalf. Even if the numbers are half right, that must be a heavy chain to wear. And the NRA knows how to yank hard.

But this March for Our Lives thing… In 30 days, Parkland students raised $3,478,377 in a GoFundMe campaign.

And did you watch Emma González? She fired off a speech like a beat poem, then stared down hundreds of thousands of people — in silence — for 4 minutes. This takes “Still She Persisted” to a whole new level. You could hear her tense breathing. I couldn’t see her hands, but I bet they balled into fists. She’s eighteen. She may very well outlive the NRA. You need to watch her speech, but it will make you… uncomfortable.

Consider that and, according to polling, the majority of Americans want stricter gun laws. That includes me, your humble constituent. Really, it’s time for you to do something that could drop your NRA-PVF rating down to a B-. And if the NRA drops their support for you, this might be your last term. But you represent your constituents, not the NRA.

At least you’ll have satisfaction of your pensions, federally support health care benefits, and knowing that you did something to protect student lives.

Sincerely, Frank Martin

Eulogy for Carolyn Gayer Martin

October 19, 2917 – August 30, 2017

I can tell you I took my mother for granted. That was easy for a boy to do you. She was always there, doing all the mom things… driving us to school or practice, feeding us countless meals or snacks, sweet cereals or, sometimes, her thin pancakes. At the mountain cabin she would prepare us hobo dinners: foil pouches with a hamburger patty and vegetables and the potatoes she pre-cooked, topped off with a big dollop of ketchup. We cooked them on the coals of the fire and tore the steaming packages open. I loved those. She knew that.

Looking back, I don’t have big stories about Mom, though I think the big story is a love story of a beautiful young woman from east Texas attending the Baylor University School of Music and a tall, handsome young man, then on the GI bill, back from the war in the pacific. I suspect they were told to wait for marriage until they had graduated. They didn’t wait. That marriage lasted 70 years. That love story still continues.

I mostly have little stories, like how Mom and Marlee Sharp would dig up plants to transplant in our yards, plants that may have been previously owned by municipalities or state of Colorado. From our cabin and back roads we brought home aspens and kinnikinnick and pussy willows.

I remember most years Mom had me spread the manure on the lawn — which seems like such a crazy idea at the time.

I remember dislocating my hip at football practice. Many times we told the story how Daryl Laye, my PE teacher, road with me in the back of the station wagon to the hospital. But it was Mom that drove and took me to all the doctor appointments. So easy for a boy to take her for granted. Always there. And Dad, too.

I remember arguing with Mom one night. She came in the room and turned the sound off the TV. But while arguing, we became distracted by some crazy tv show with crazy cut-out figures and scenes… Monty Python’s Flying Circus. We took a break and turned up the sound. I don’t think we resumed arguing.

Mom would to invite me to hear the symphony. “You can always come to dress rehearsals”, she’d say.  When I was senior in high school, I finally did. I was impressed — The soloist could really shred that violin. It was Pinchas Zukerman. I started paying more attention. Years later, I joined Mom and Dad in the Aspen Music Festival tent. As we listen to a composition of Aaron Copland’s, I could sense Mom and I were enthralled at the same passage. We came to it from different angles, but we both loved it. We shared that love of music and of performing.

Little stories. Like so many nights finding Mom up, reading scripture, praying for us, praying for the spouses we’d yet to meet. A story about Thanksgiving at the cabin in Green Mountain Falls, when, sometime after I’d cleaned up the kitchen, I heard an admonishing voice, “Who threw away the turkey with all this meat on it?” Now after Thanksgiving, late at night, you’ll find me pulling the turkey carcass from the big, simmering pot and picking every last bit off the bones.

And all these stories are not just about Mom. They are also about me. I know now, this is how I was raised to be her son. Gently, over time and taking her for granted, though not now.

Last week a friend gave me a poem and painting. She composed the poem after I told her  about Mom and her stories and my stories. This is the poem:

Mom, you’ve gone away.
My river into the world.

I wade through memories.

What parts of you remain in me?
What parts drift away with you?

Not long ago, Beth remarked on Mom’s great use of color in her quilting and decorating the home. But it was never quite perfect — perhaps intentionally, Beth said. And that bit of imperfection, she went on, seemed to create a more welcoming, inviting space. Mom did make people feel welcome and attended. It was so hard to keep her from working the kitchen or rising to get us another helping. Even within her dementia in memory care, Mom shined her smile for those who served her, and she smiled at the other patients, asking them questions when she could. That was Mom in her core.

I talked with Millie Carter about how tender my time was with Mom’s still warm body at the hospital, but how difficult it was for Dad and I the next day. Millie told me: “She’s not there. That’s not her. She has a new body and a sharp mind.” And we know Mom has a new body in Christ which we can celebrate. And I also know how the Son of Man became flesh, had a mother, wept at the death of his friend. We will grieve and we will rejoice. Mom, you leave a great hole in ourselves…  and precede us in the great hope.

Recording Project

Date: January 8-10

Songs

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Key: E, 6/8

Demo: Blue on Blue on Blue

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[fusion_content_box title=”But Not Mary” icon=”” backgroundcolor=”” iconcolor=”” circlecolor=”” circlebordercolor=”” circlebordercolorsize=”” outercirclebordercolor=”” outercirclebordercolorsize=”” iconrotate=”” iconspin=”no” image=”” image_width=”35″ image_height=”35″ link=”” linktarget=”_self” linktext=”” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”down” animation_speed=”0.1″]

But Not Mary / Em

Demo: But Not Mary

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Key: Bm

Demo: Goodbye Cheyenne

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Key: Bm, 3/4

Demo: Jesus

Chart: Jesus PDF

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Key: G

Demo: Leaving Montana

Chart: Leaving Montana PDF

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Key: C

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Key: Em

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These songs, if we have time, money, energy…

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[fusion_content_box title=”Pick Up Your Feet” icon=”” backgroundcolor=”” iconcolor=”” circlecolor=”” circlebordercolor=”” circlebordercolorsize=”” outercirclebordercolor=”” outercirclebordercolorsize=”” iconrotate=”” iconspin=”no” image=”” image_width=”35″ image_height=”35″ link=”” linktarget=”_self” linktext=”” animation_type=”0″ animation_direction=”down” animation_speed=”0.1″]

Key: E

Demo: Pick Up Your Feet

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Key: D

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Blues Set / Aug 15

Hi all… Here’s a list of songs with links. You should be able to right-click or control-click to download mp3s or PDFs.

Not sure of the final set or how long we have on stage. More will be revealed!

Not in order…

Your Good Thing / D
Your Good Thing chart-REVISED | Lou Rawls – Your Good Thing (Is About To End)
Bonnie Raitt/You Tube
I love the Rawls feel. I charted the Raitt arrangement.

I’d Rather Drink Muddy Water / G / A
No chart yet | Lou Rawls – I’d Rather Drink Muddy Water
I like to start in G and modulate to A

Bird Nest Bound / Bb
Bird Nest Bound Chart | Robben Ford – 02 Birds Nest Bound

Trick Bag / A
Trick Bag Chart | Robben Ford – 08 Trick Bag

Head Shrinkin’ Woman / G
Head_Shrinking_Woman Chart | Howard Berkman – Head Shrinkin’ Woman

Great Rain / Em
Great Rain Chart | John Prine – Youtube

Get Right Church / E
Get Right Church| Heritage Blues Orchestra – 06 Get Right Church
I don’t play it much like this, but love the song.

Southern Casey Jones / C
No chart yet | Chuck Leavell – Southern Casey Jones
KT, you up for this? Tasty drum line.

Who Will Your Next Fool Be / G
Next Fool Chart | Jerry Lee Lewis
We won’t do this exactly like The Killer, but who could?

Congo Square / Am
Congo Square Chart | John Mayall Version

Don’t Ever Let Nobody Drag Your Spirit Down / A
Chart needed? | Heritage Blues Orchestra – Don’t Ever Let Nobody Drag Your Spirit Down
Kinda straight ahead for my tastes, but I love the lyrics

Originals:

New Years Day / A
Demo – New Years Day
New Years Day Chart-REVISED
Acoustic demo — we’ll be electric! Think torch song.

Raining in Memphis / A / Bb
BB King tribute — Rain In Memphis Demo
Raining in Memphis Chart

You Ain’t From Texas / E
You Ain’t From Texas Chart
Original with a Lightning Hopkins feel

Cardboard Blues / D
Demo – Cardboard2

 

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