Feel no pressure!

Salinas Business Kudos

Michael's Taqueria in Old Town is excellent. The shrimp tacos are the best. And the hole in the wall atmosphere is muy bueno. Why do so many restaurants light up the inside of their dining rooms like the floodlights on an earthquake evacuation? Nothing kills my appetite quicker than feeling like a spotlight is showing up every zit and dribble on my face. 


And good job to Home Depot tonight. Stopped by there tonight to drop off some info for the window dept. and even though the person was out on dinner break a couple other employees stepped out of their comfort zone from other departments to help me and the hubby. Esta Bien!

Sunset Center

Played pipes at Sunset Center in Carmel for the annual authors soiree...when I heard it was for 90 minutes I almost did not do it as I feel so out of shape. But I somehow pulled it off and it felt good...whew!

Next up is the poodle parade in Carmel this weekend. Yes, I will be the pied piper of poodles. Stay tuned.

Otus and Beaudreaux, two of the pack

The Best Audience

It had been awhile since I had solo piped. I took a couple months off to rest and recuperate and figure out what to do now that I no longer have anyone to play with. With the local band being kaput I was filled with misgivings. Should I keep playing? Learn another instrument? Retire and enjoy the freedom of not having to practice everyday? Above all the loneliness of not having others to play with gnawed at my insides. Solitude and music were two things I did not want to mix. Music should be shared to be enjoyed. 

But then last night changed that. I had been hired to perform at a family reunion at Asilomar so I started practicing again to get in shape. I would sooner quit than be a hack and not care (and play poorly). 

I stood kilted up alone on the boardwalk on the dunes at the appointed place at 6 pm as directed by the map and instructions I had received the week before via snail mail. It was foggy and a little windy and cool but warm enough to go without my green tweed  jacket. In the distance were the surfers catching the few last waves of this gray day. I silently hoped I was standing by the correct bench that was in the instructions. What the hell, my paying audience will find me if I am in the wrong spot. The wail of the pipes is a hard to ignore beacon. I could always move if someone came frantically running over signaling that I was at the wrong bench.

I kicked in my pipes and played a tune to get the feel of my instrument, then some taorluaths and crunluaths to warm up my fingers which had started to get cold from the dusky ocean breeze. I resisted the desire to play a lament in answer to the dismal fog and went into a couple 2/4's instead. I had been specifically asked by the gent that hired me to keep it light, no Amazing Grace or bombastic dirges. This was a happy family reunion, not a wake. As an Episcopalian officiant he had heard enough Amazing Graces in his line of work and I appreciated his honesty and humour in his request.

After about 5 minutes of playing a man with a small child sitting on his shoulders  came onto the boardwalk from the direction of Asilomar grounds. Not sure if this was my target audience that I had been hired to play for I kept playing. Sure enough a group of about 15 people suddenly appeared en masse on the walkway and were obviously the intended clan, heading my way. I backed up so that they could sit on the benches, trying not to lose my place in the tune as I did so. As they gathered around a cloud of fine spirits wafted my way -both of alcohol and general bonhomie. As I played I glanced at their faces seeing enthusiasm and smiles. When I had stopped, my exceedingly kind patron stood and introduced me to all, receiving a warm welcome and a request for a few more tunes before I led them back up the way to their cabins and then onto their dinners as pre-planned. I complied hoping my lips would not betray my lack of recent playing. Even if I play every day for an hour at home, I always feel guilty that it is not enough. But it all held together and I was fortunate that the audience member closest to me was clapping in time to the music. He was spot on in his efforts and I felt the connection as my foot tapped out the same rhythm as his hands. Having an audience join in is a profound union much like a comedian getting a laugh. And better yet this man was actually clapping on the beat in a good consistent pace, as my bass drummer. Sign this guy up! I looked out to the ocean focusing on the fingering of my chanter trying like hell not to get distracted as some of the audience walked out onto the sand and  took photos. I am glad they take photos but it took years of solo competitions (at least for me) not to let people or anything else distract me and make me lose my place when I perform. 

As we headed back I readied myself for the piping and  marching uphill to the cabins. I silently thanked the stars that it was not as long a distance as I initially feared. I requested someone to walk in the front with me so I would know where to go and three or four little girls skipped ahead of me as we all headed off the dune and up to the cabin. 

When we got there I stepped aside at the base of the stairs to let them all pass. When I stopped playing my audience was now above me on the balcony of their rooms and on the steps in front of me. My gentleman sponsor sheepishly approached me explaining that he had locked his key in his room and they were waiting for security to open it. Perhaps I would like to keep playing? I looked at the faces and could not resist the smiles and good humour that I saw around me. After another tune I asked where the kids had disappeared to, would they be interested to try the pipes? 

This was met with great enthusiasm by the adults and the kids dutifully rounded up. As they were getting ready one of the audience members handed my a plastic tumbler of the finest whisky that was incredibly smooth. I have tried to enjoy the taste of scotch many times in the past feeling it my duty as a female piper to hang in there with the big boys and pound it like a man but could never get past the burning nasty taste. But this was different. I wish I knew what kind it was because it was wonderful. Maybe the setting under the coastal cypress trees and warm affection of the people in front of me had something to do with it. 

Three or four kids gamely came up and tried with varying degrees of success to blow up the pipes. I have never been good with kids being the youngest in our family and childless to boot, but a different person takes over my body and I find myself trying hard to make it a good experience for the young person now in front of me. To make bagpipes touchable and less foreign and impossible. Bagpipes are much simpler and much more complicated than other instruments. Simpler because they have just nine notes and one scale, just blow it and it makes noise. Nothing mysterious about that. When the kids try it and find out themselves that they can make a sound I get a thrill more than when I  play a tune. Breaking down the barrier of the unknown (and loud) is something I hope these kids can take with them. My admiration for those willing to get in there and try is boundless. And these kids were very good natured and gracious. Much laughter went around as the dares were called out to the kids to give it a try. 

The dinner gong sounded from the cafeteria ending the assemblage. The piper was paid with a very generous gratuity added. I walked back to my car savoring the rest of the whisky left in my glass with a big smile on my face. I think I will stick with this piping thing.

Cheers, 

N