Tears on my pillow

JONATHAN CHARLES FOX
Posted 11/23/16

So here’s the thing about writing a “personal” column—it’s personal. On one hand, that makes my job easier, since I am recounting my own experience here in the Upper …

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Tears on my pillow

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So here’s the thing about writing a “personal” column—it’s personal. On one hand, that makes my job easier, since I am recounting my own experience here in the Upper Delaware River region and therefore given a lot of leeway by those in charge at The River Reporter. On the other hand, by living my life as a virtual open book, I’m opening myself up in a way that often finds me vulnerable to others offering up their own humble opinions on what I should do, how I should act, or even (heaven forbid!) what I should say. “It’s a two-edged sword,” my mother would say, “and you know what they say about opinions…” she would continue, wagging a finger in my face “…everybody has one.”

I know, I know. My mother comes up a lot, and rightfully so, since she brought me into this world and we were close. “And I can take you right out again!” she would holler, when displeased, so making mom happy became a raison d’etre, if you will, and although she has been gone for a while, her voice still rings in my head. “Gone, but not forgotten,” the poem of unknown origin states: “Although we are apart. Your spirit lives within me, forever in my heart.” Every year, as Thanksgiving approaches, I become a little maudlin, since today marks the sixth anniversary of my mother’s passing and I miss her more and more with each successive year. I like to stay busy for many reasons, but uppermost is moving forward and living in the present, while honoring the past.  I kept that in mind when in Narrowsburg (www.alliancesite.org) last week and bopped into the gallery to get a sneak-peek at the “Art in Sixes” exhibit that was about to open with a reception that I was unable to attend.

For the 12th year, gallery director Rocky Pinciotti has culled hundreds of small works of art from hundreds of local artists and grouped them by genre and medium into an exhibit that is (IMHO) always extraordinary. “The official numbers for this year’s show,” Pinciotti’s email informed, “are 546 works submitted by 164 artists.” Working under the constraints of the artwork being “no larger than six inches in any direction” always seems to inspire the artists, and I’m blown away each year by the creativity involved. Miniature sculptures, paintings and photographs adorn the walls of the Alliance Gallery through the month of December and as always, I highly recommend checking it out.

Last Saturday also marked the finale of the 2016 Bradstan Cabaret Series (www.bethelwoodscenter.org) season and while the shows no longer take place at the Inn (www.bradstancountyhotel.com), they live on in the Event Gallery at Bethel Woods where host Scott Samuelson continues to provide big name entertainers a home in which to perform. “One of my favorite singers on the planet Earth is with us tonight,” Samuelson said while introducing headliner Liz Callaway. “She might just actually be my favorite entertainer in the Universe!” he exclaimed before Callaway took to the stage for the sold-out crowd. Opening with a never-heard-before arrangement of Rogers and Hammerstein’s “Cockeyed Optimist,”  Callaway held the audience in the palm of her hand throughout the evening, with accompanist/arranger Alex Rybeck tickling the ivories at her side. “Alex can literally play anything!” Callaway enthused, and that became evident during the concert, while she sang some memorable tunes, reinvented by some of Rybeck’s  incredible arrangements.

It’s nice to know that I’m not alone sharing personal stories in a public forum, and Callaway did just that, sprinkling anecdotes about her life and career into the mix, while performing some Broadway standards, (“Something Wonderful” and “Frank Mills”) kitschy sixties faves (Petula Clark’s “Downtown”) and well-known tunes (“Leavin’ on a Jet Plane”), once again arranged in an unsuspected, heretofore unheard style. Just outside, the weather began to look ominous and as folks filtered out, the snow began to fall. Scanning the sky, I shuddered at the thought of being snowed in with nothing but my own thoughts to keep me company, and I hugged the dog, reminded that Dharma’s birthday is just around the corner, and that she turned one year old on that fateful last trip to visit Mom in Florida. “If we could start anew, I wouldn’t hesitate. I’d gladly take you back, and tempt the hands of fate,” the old song laments. Tears on my pillow, pain in my heart? Yes, but such is life. Celebrate with your loved ones this weekend, and hold them tight. Isn’t that what giving thanks is all about?

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