What was this creature? 

A flicker of lime green lured me to see it. I stared at the insect with its leaf-shaped wings the size of my thumb. The leaf bug as its known also had a patch of brown in between its wings, which made it almost invisible resting among the leafy bushes where I’d spot him or his cousin later.

Whether walking in the woods, down the the path, or strolling in my backyard, I have seen creatures camouflaged and admired their covert living.      

·         Toads imitated the bumpy brown tree bark. Only their eyes gave them away.      

·         Praying mantis perched on top of the canopy of leaves.

·         Hawks hidden in the crook of tree branches.

·         Ouch! The black ant that pinched me while pretending to be a tiny speck of nothing.

·         Slimy slugs poised as sticks.

·       Moths whose molted brown and orange looked like a dead leaves.

·         A weed that impersonated a flower to avoid being yanked out of my garden.

When I smiled at the knee-high weed, I’m signaling not only my disgust but also my wonder at how that wily weed evaded me.

 

A Musical Memoir: Notes on Past Performances  

My music mantra has been: Some of the best concerts in life are free. In memory of Casey Kasem, the legendary music maven who hosted the Top 40 Countdown on the radio.    

My girlfriend Leigh Ann and I whiled away our teenage life listening to Casey Kasem’s weekend countdown program. I lounged on her swishy beanbag chair, and she perched on her canopy bed. We drank Diet Coke and snacked on Chez-its.

Not old enough to attend concerts, my girlfriend and I relied on the radio, records, and Soul Train on Saturday mornings. The coolest laid back Don Cornelis hosted Sooooul Train, which showcased the best artists of soul and funk, the latest dances, and fashion trends.

Back then, the Bee Gees, Elton John, the Eagles, and Donna Summer dominated the charts. These performers had extraordinary showmanship—choreographed dances, harmonized singing and dazzling costumes. Lip synced? I doubted it.

Those old-school songs like “Car Wash” by Rose Royce or “Rich Girl,” by Hall and Oates are made for singing, dancing, lifting you up.

Kasem’s mashup on the Top 40 included funk, soft rock, and country. Oh My! But he played into listeners' hearts when he read letters and played dedicated songs for fans around the world.  

Today, a favorite song might transport me to that crowded club dance floor, the church balcony on Christmas Eve, or a concert under the stars on a warm autumn night. Jazz piano, classical violin, country, and good old rock ‘n roll (and more) have all earned a place of honor on my list.   

My musical medley countdown of free concerts over the years: 

The short list starts with the Chicago Blues Festival held in Grant Park, Chicago. Two friends and I drove from Kansas City to Chicago and stayed at my cousin’s place in Hyde Park. She treated us to Chicago style pizza whose thick, soft crust with sweet red sauce changed our pizza mindset forever.   

My cousin could not attend the festival because she was working. We explored the windy city on our own. Most of our nights were spent outside in the hot summer breeze listening to soulful blues and jazz. For me, Gerry Mulligan, a talented baritone sax player and arranger, was the most memorable act. Mulligan played with many greats, including Dave Brubeck’s band—just not that night, though.

Jazz pianist Dave Brubeck, somewhere in a Kansas City park. I felt like the jazz genie had granted me a remarkable wish as Brubeck played, “Take Five” famous for its unorthodox meter (5/4) time signature.

The crowd went wild after the first three notes of his signature song, then quieted (unlike blues fans) because they wanted to hear the intricate rhythms of their aging idol. Every note was played in a dizzying fashion. Brubeck and his piano silhouetted against the setting sun in what were thought to be his sunset years was etched in my mind. He lived to be 91, and continued to play around the world, even as his health deteriorated.

Garth Brooks at the American Royal in Kansas City, MO. Brooks invited his loyal fans to "Come on down!" to the stage. We scrambled from the stands onto the sawdust arena where bucking broncos and bulls were moments ago. As Brooks played, we sang and swayed. The sweet smell of sawdust and sounds of heart-thumping guitar music made me long to become a real cowgirl. But at least I had my boots. Whenever I hear: “Friends in Low Places,” I am back at the American Royal sitting on the cold metal seats cheering for the rodeo heroes, smelling the spilled beer, and feeling the warm crush by country music fans kicking up the sawdust at his concert. 

The concert was free thanks to my job. I worked for a small newspaper as a general reporter (the only reporter). One of the few perks of working for ole Scoop was receiving press passes to the American Royal. A pass gave me access to wander around visiting the prized livestock, watching the barrel racing, and rooting for the mutton bustin’ kids. Every night of the Royal featured one show more exciting than the night before.  

Back to Brooks’ lyrics, “I got friends in low places.” I had well-placed friends, well one friend, whose promotional work for a nightclub earned her a small paycheck and free passes the show she promoted. The club was a dive. It was the type of place you didn’t want the lights on. But the top blues and jazz musicians played there.

3. I was thrilled when I got in the back door to hear one of my favorites, Harry Connick Jr., who danced, sang, and pounded on the piano in his trademark New-Orleans style. I credited his album “Blue Light, Red Light” with helping me during my stint as a freelance writer.

2. Dancing to Ziggy Marley in Central Park, New York. A Zen-like feeling came over me when my future husband and I swayed to the hypnotizing sounds of this reggae band. What a glorious summer day when Marley cast his musical spell on me.

1. Tina Turner The Queen of Rock and roll. I saw her perform  (yes, free) on her Break Every Rule tour at Starlight Theater, in Kansas City, MO in 1987. My research showed that Turner donated 30 percent of her fee to Starlight that year to help this venerable venue.

I had a dangerous job dodging and dealing with knuckleheads, disregarding my parking directions. When every latecomer was parked, at about dusk, my work was done. My reward was hearing the talented Turner belt out every song and see her shimmy and slide across the stage—her long legs leading the way.

Standing in the aisle by the paid ticket holders, I had an ideal view. Plus, I had space to dance to this diva’s show who rocked it well into her 80s. Few fans could sit still for this show, anyway.  Nobody did it better.

Although this musical medley mentioned above spanned the decades, I have found free concerts everywhere  -- city subways to city parks. A singer's solo echoed through the subway tunnel on my way to work. The guitarist who strummed away in the gazebo at far end of the farmer’s market.   

And remember, the birds perform in trees near you in the morning, and the crickets take the stage later.  The best concerts in live are free! 

 

Summer Rites

What makes you feel like it’s summer? Hot, humid days? Watching fireflies show off, blinking in a sexy code to lure a mate, at dusk.  Ice cream is in season with fancy flavors like key lime pie. And juicy deep red delicious beefsteak tomatoes replace their pinkish pale tasteless cousins at the supermarket. 

      For me, it's the Fourth of July along with fireworks and parades that signal summertime. (Musical interlude: Summertime and the living is easy.) 

    Although it’s unfair to generalize all small towns, I can count on any small town across America to showcase its community spirit with a good old-fashioned Independence Day parade.  

    Let me set the scene. Morning clouds part and the sun beats down cutting through the dense air an hour before the parade. Small flags stand at attention along the parade route. Townspeople and out-of-towners alike arrive lugging lawn chairs and stake out a seat on the sidewalk along the parade route. 

Heading the parade is the town’s mayor. This official welcomes with a wave and a smile from a convertible, vintage vehicle, or borrowed car from his friend at the dealership.

·             Shriners spin miniature cars in circles; cars that bang, sputter and spew black smoke. These men, wearing a red fez with the black tassel, imagine they are 10 years old again. 

·             Sirens blare from the firetrucks commanding everyone’s attention. But today, the firefighters slow their roll to show off their shiny red machines. 

·             Floats with children singing, dancing, or crying all at the same time, get cheers from the crowd. Why?  The kids and adults are cheering for candy to land at their feet. In recent times, the candy is safely pressed into hands, rather than thrown from a moving vehicle.

·             All the real estate agents, more than the town’s current population, pop up through the parade. At least they have a snazzy car to admire.

·             A human and their pet (dog or cat) wearing matching Uncle Sam costumes (walk or ride). Yes, it’s true. In fact, I watched a woman teeter on her bike with a basket carrying an embarrassed cat with a goofy hat. (Don't worry, felines always get their revenge!) 

·                My favorite part comes next: A marching band playing a toe-tapping medley of American songs. The musicians play even as sweat streams into their eyes, the heavy uniform feels like armor, and the sheet music blows in the wind, they play on. 

            Automatically, I begin clapping and cheering for this band. I can count on a swell of emotion. A tear trickles from my eye. A large lump sits in my throat. I feel lighter from my daily worries. That's my summer rite of passage when happiness mixes with nostalgia.