25 Things About Erin

25 Things About Erin

So, back in 2009 when I first joined FaceBook, there was a note going around asking everyone to list 25 things about themselves and send the list on to 25 friends. Clearly, I did not have enough to do at the time, so I filled it out. Actually, I had a good time thinking this stuff up.  It's always a revelation to write about yourself...you find out the strangest things!  

Anyway, I thought you might enjoy it!  This was just before we went in to the studio to start tracking Nice Girls.  

1. I think Rob Mounsey is one heady dude.


2. My inner circle call me "The Dipster"


3. I like doing bookeeping. Go figure.

4. I sleep with two dogs and a cat. Poor Tony.
[Sadly, only one dog now.]

5. I believe that everything in my life - good and bad - is nothing more that an image created in my mind, and I can create or remove whatever I want anytime I want.


6. I can't write, or even think, when my house is dirty.


7. I thrive on change.


8. I wish I could remember more stuff...I think I may have done some pretty interesting things :)


9. The opposite of love is fear. But what is all-encompassing can have no opposite. (ACIM)


10. Did I mention bookeeping?


11. I am married to a lawyer, and he "gets" me better than any guitar player on the planet.


12. I am a hell of a good cook.


13. My jeans are tight.


14. My favorite songwriter who "can't remember the words" is Jesse Frederick.


15. I am happy, always seem to be, no matter what is going on around me.


16. Both of us are Gemini, and we disagree a lot.


17. Tony is a Libra, and he gets along with everyone.


18. I have amazing friends. They blow my mind.


19. Good fortune is a decision. I wish I had known that in my youth. Could have saved a lot of anguish over nothing.


20. I am afraid to upgrade to Leopard. I think it may be a communist plot to make my studio inoperable.
 [Since then, I've taken the  plunge.]

21. I am not deep, or complicated or mysterious; I am genuine and compassionate.


22. I get off on cursing.

23. I'm a good dancer.


24. I'm an excellent singer.


25. I thank God every morning for everything I can think of.



The End.

A Word About Pat Rosalia by Tim Hauser

A Word from Tim Hauser…

I was so saddened to hear of Pat Rosalia's passing last week.  Many things ran through my mind after hearing this sad news.  Pat was a high school and college friend of mine.  At one point, during my college years, we lived around the corner from each other.  At that time, in school, she was the girlfriend of my music partner and close friend Tommy Picardo.  We all spent a lot of time together, mostly listening to music, and singing.  Pat's folks had a basement playroom in their home, and I recall Pat playing Java Jive by the Ink Spots.  It became one of The Manhattan Transfer's first repertoire songs, and to this day, is one of the most popular and requested tunes.  Pat loved that song, and we all used to sing it, along with a lot of other doo wop tunes that were popular at that time.  Pat had this wonderful smile that gave away the kind of person she was - warm and eternally optimistic.  I loved hanging around with her.

Pat and Tommy subsequently got married, but it was a short-lived marriage.  She was living in New York by then, as was I.  I had finally left my straight job, and began trying to form a singing group.  Erin and I, and a potter by the name of Riki Kurtz began singing together, and Pat suggested a guy she knew from home named Marty Nelson. Riki did not stay in the band long, and Pat took her place, and that was the beginning of the real Manhattan Transfer.   Pat began dating Tommy's old singing partner Gene Pistilli.  Those two were a wonderful pair, and really loved each other.  Gene was a great singer/songwriter, and we all teamed up to become The Manhattan Transfer with Gene Pistilli.  We only made one album, "Jukin”.  I am, to this day, very proud of the work we all did.  We were a bunch of hippies having fun singing together, and we were all so much a part of that crazy, and creative time.

Pat and I eventually parted ways because of creative differences.  I saw her on a couple of occasions following our separation.  But after that, we went our separate ways, albeit for both of us, quite musical.

No matter what happens in life, every person that comes across our path is a gift from God.  For me, Pat was certainly a perfect example of that. My sadness today is for several reasons.  I'm very sad at the fact that she is gone, but I'm more saddened at the fact we never resolved our differences. For me, it makes it all too clear that these things are not as important as the love of a friendship.  Pat was my friend, and I loved her.  She is no longer here, but is in my heart as one of God's gifts.  That love will always remain.

Pat, thanks for being my high school and college pal, my singing partner, and for giving me and a hell of a lot of other people Java Jive.  I'll always remember the big smile on your face every time you sang it on Green Grove Road.
Tim

Something To Remember You By.

Pat and Erin in 1981

Our Darling, Pat

by Erin Dickins, July 30, 2011

Pat left us. She was my best friend and a co-founder of the Manhattan Transfer.  She was the one with the banana.

Patricia Aurora Olivia Rosalia died on Tuesday, July 19, 2011, at 9:00 a.m. She was 67 years old. She was with her husband, Tim, and her beloved brother and sister-in-law, Giachino and Sandi Rosalia.

Giachino: “Don’t know why the Lord picked her, but it just had to be for something important - I just know. I told her the night before she passed that it was ‘OK to go home now, that mommy and daddy will be waiting for you and give them a kiss from me…and, of course, to save me a seat as it probably won’t be terribly long before I’ll be passing that way myself.’  She understood this and responded, ‘OK, I love you and I will see you later,’ and that was it.”

I met Pat in 1969 when the early Manhattan Transfer was still just a good idea. She was married to a guy named Tommy Picardo at the time. He was also known as Tommy West of Cashman, Pistilli & West, a production/songwriting team that discovered, and later produced, our great friend Jim Croce. Jim and Ingrid were living with Pat in New York. Those were days when we all - literally - put our small change in a hat to scrape together a pasta dinner at Pat’s apartment. Those were some of the happiest times I’ve ever experienced.

The marriage to Tommy didn’t last and that's a story in itself. It is rumoured that when Pat was walking down the isle to marry Tommy, her father whispered to her, "if you want to turn around and run, I'll run with you."  He knew it just wasn’t right.

Different story with Gene Pistilli, who had just written the mega-hit, “Sunday Will Never Be The Same”, for Spanky and Our Gang. I was completely taken with his passion and his gift. So was Pat. And theirs was a match made in heaven. A big, giant love story.  Gene was a handful in those days, and also our pied-piper. He was an irresistible force. And Pat was his rock.

Still, we had to talk her into working with our new singing group. She knew Tim, and had worked with him earlier, but didn’t want to be in a band as she was composing and doing studio work with our friend, songwriter Ellie Greenwich, as well as for Cash-West.  She had just written a chart hit with her song “Red Is Red,” which was recorded by Al Martino.

That first time we met, she had a broken rib and told me that laughing was very painful. I was in a checker cab with her and Marty and Tim; even the bumps were killing her. In spite of it, we found ourselves laughing so hard it hurt – all of us. I was instantly her biggest fan and was elated when we finally convinced her to sing with our group. There was something about her laugh that made everything right in the world.

Tim: "No matter what happens in life, every person that comes across our path is a gift from God.  For me, Pat was certainly a perfect example of that...I'm very sad at the fact that she is gone…Pat was my friend, and I loved her.  She is no longer here, but is in my heart as one of God's gifts.  That love will always remain." To Read Tim's eulogy, CLICK HERE.

Not long after, Tim won the battle of the names for our group with Manhattan Transfer, the title of a popular book by John Dos Passos. Thank goodness! The other two names in the running were Ebbet’s Field and the American Indian name Kawliga (after Charlie Pride’s big hit with the Hank Williams, Sr. classic).

We used to go to Pat’s parents’ home in New Jersey for weekend visits from time to time....and her mom was an amazing cook. There was always a leftover sitting on the kitchen table, and when we finished the first snack, she’d pull out the next. “You'll just taste it, won't hurt you. It’s just a bite.”  When dinner time finally arrived (we were usually stuffed to the gills by now), she would serve course after astounding course of homemade Italian delicacies – sometimes for hours on end - complete with the family’s own wine. And she was right, it did not hurt us. It nourished our souls.

We once stayed at my parents’ home in Annapolis. I remember Gene and my father sitting down on our patio to martinis and a bushel of piss clams and having a big old time. Dad was a dear, and a wonderful musician in his own right. He just loved our harmonies and was very proud of me. My mom wasn’t so sure….we were quite a sight back then. Me in antique dresses and purple suede high-heeled boots, Pat in short-shorts and Indian jewelry.

During and after our stint with the Transfer, the Manhattan brownstone at 155 Prince Street, in all its iterations, was the center of our universe. And Pat was its “Grand High Exhaulted Ruler.”  It was Bobby McKinnon’s apartment before SOHO was hip. When Gene and Pat lived there, it became a favored rehearsal spot. Always a pot of fresh coffee brewing. Always a lot of laughter. We sang for hours on end.  Here is the chorus to one of the songs we sang, written by Gene:

We sang those songs with feeling,

From way down deep inside.

They made us cry until we laughed,

And laugh until we cried.

We sang those songs together,

And no one was alone.

We sang those songs with feeling,

Just like we did back home.

I got my big red cat, Frank Rosalia, from Pat. He was the kitty love of my life.  She named him Frank specifically so that we could call out, “Hey Frankie!” (Imagine the Jersey accent here).

So here’s an inside joke: Later on, she was crazy in love with Harry. And when she first told me about it, I said, “Harry who?” She nearly died laughing. After Harry was over, Pat moved to San Diego - and took my heart with her.

Gene: “It figures that Pat and I found new loves – my Pamela and her Harry – as we were both ready to go our separate ways. But we never fell out of touch because I couldn’t go very long without hearing the best laugh anyone ever had. She shared it with me once more just a few days before she left us. Donna Patrizia, I called her – with her sparklin’ gypsy eyes and that joyful noise that will always be with us. Always.”

Darling Pat wrote me beautiful letters – often - and I still keep her writings in a file drawer. I cherish them. One of my favorites is entitled “What I Did On My Summer Vacation”, by Suzy Cream Cheese.  Suzy was my Pekingese dog, and summer vacation was a couple of weeks visiting with Auntie Pat while I was touring with Gregg Allman.  She likened walking my little dog to having a fuzzy bedroom slipper on a leash.

Here is an excerpt from her (San Diego) Christmas card to me in 1981:

“To tell you that I miss you wouldn’t exactly be true, but to say that I think of you often and mention your name and hope that the time comes easily so

         we can talk about things to come

         things we’ve left undone

         things that grow in the sun

         things that are served on a bun

         things that once weighed a ton but now are tossed

         lightly  aside

         things that no longer hide but flaunt in the

         faces of any who even glance in our direction

         things that will never pass final inspection

Digression is my favorite pastime…

I need to talk to you my sister-friend-love of my life.  I send you love and tropical flames for the Christmas fire.  From my palms to yours, Pat”

Marty: “Fair winds come, rustle the leaves to meet their demands and pleasures, then pass… leaving still silence for the tree to forever remember how it felt to sway for that wonderful moment.”

I can give you the laundry list of all the things we did together as friends and musicians, all the laughs and tears, all the tours we did, our chick group Ethylene and the recordings I made of her wonderful songs, but it all pales in comparison to her inner light, her joy and spirit. She was smart, funny, beautiful, kind, warm, generous, talented. And she made an amazing cup of coffee. But, who cares.

For me, I am just going to picture her, coffee in hand, in her favorite spot - on the stoop at Prince St. I’ll meet you there someday, dear.

“Sweet time spent, where does it go?” Pat Rosalia

The Two Jim's In My Life.....

I vividly recall an early appearance by the Manhattan Transfer at the Main Point in Bryn Mawr, PA in the early 1970’s.  We were very excited about that gig as we had listened to, and loved, James Taylor’s first album – and we were slated to be his opening act.

He was an incredibly warm and kind guy, quiet and pensive though. Our great friends Ingrid and Jim Croce lived nearby, and came to hear us perform.  James lit up upon meeting Jim Croce that night. I don’t remember how it came about, but after that meeting, the band (MT) spent a wonderful afternoon at the Croce’s house, singing and playing music, laughing and soaking in a beautiful warm spring day.

I remember James teaching Marty Nelson from the Transfer how to make a flute from a reed of grass pulled from a nearby pond. And the two of them sat on the bank making up songs while we sang along. James and the Croce’s became good friends – how cool to have witnessed the two jamming into the night with Gene Pistilli from Manhattan Transfer.  We knew it was very cool, but perhaps not how really extraordinary it was to hear these great talents together.

By the end of our run at the Main Point, we were closing James’ show with him singing the old Carter Family classic, “Will The Circle Be Unbroken” complete with four-part harmony, tambourines and plenty of love. It was magical for us all.

A year later, after the release of Manhattan Transfer’s first single, “Winterlude,” we all attended a James Taylor concert at Princeton University, where Tim Hauser’s cousin Curt Gathje was a student. Curt later created the artwork for  “Jukin”,  MT’s first album on Capitol Records. At that concert, we were able to get backstage – you can imagine how early-on in his career this was – and gave him a copy of the single.

That was my last encounter with James Taylor until I attended his concert with Carole King in Philadelphia last spring. Again, I was fortunate to have been invited backstage by my good friend Robbie Kondor who was in the band.  I re-introduced myself to James who was very cordial me, as he was to everyone in  the  huge swarm of admirers waiting for a moment of his time.  

But one thing I said commanded his full attention.  As I recounted the story of our day in the sun with Jim and Ingrid, he looked deeply into my eyes and a big grin came instantly. He took both my hands in his. “Wow,” he said. “I totally remember that day.”  Forty some odd years had passed and we both remembered that magical day as if it were yesterday.

And here’s a funny aside….last New Year’s Eve, my husband and I attended a party at the home of old friends in Birchrunville, PA.  I was introduced  -  as a founding member of the Manhattan Transfer - to a very nice man named David Yaeger. And David said…”wow, you played the Main Point in the 1970’s.” Yep. “You opened for James Taylor.” Yep. Then he said…..wait for it…….”I was your sound man.” 

My mother used to tell me that it is a small world and I should always be kind and nice to everyone I  meet. Glad I was.

Of Course I Eat Healthy!

Of Course I Eat Healthy!

(But only if I can cook it in under 20 minutes)

I was recently invited by Backstage Gourmet Radio (http://www.backstagegourmet.com/) to contribute a few favorite vegetarian recipes to discuss on-air in on June 6^th. Please join us!

This is easy, or so I thought.  Well, the request itself certainly was simple, but it got me thinking about what I eat and how I nourish my physical being.  The good choices, the kinda-sorta good, and the midnight after-gig indulgences.  For years now, I have been engaged in an ongoing discussion – rather negotiation – with myself about who I am - and who I would like to be as defined by diet.  I am still having trouble narrowing it down.  One thing’s for sure….all my best thinking involves an espresso!

 I grew up in a home where food was front and center.  My mother was the ultimate foodie before we even knew what that was.  No TV dinners here!  She could whip up paella, a masterful curry or the most delicate poached sea bass in her sleep.  Holidays were an extravaganza of irresistible delicacies.  Mom regularly treated us to international foods and exposed me to a great variety of flavors, textures and preparations.  Every single meal was fresh, well prepared and celebrated. We ate all our meals in the dining room at a beautifully appointed table.  She carefully chose simple but perfectly paired wines for dinner.   Not that she was stuffy; rather, this was what juiced her and it was clearly an expression of her love – a gift she gave to my father and me three times a day.

So naturally, I learned to share her passion about food and wine and found myself carrying on her traditions, cooking elaborate meals for friends and family, exploring exotic cuisines and even studying for a while.  I cooked in a restaurant for a year, learned charcuterie and attended regular wine tastings.   I felt like a Julia Child wanna-be, spending days and days on a  multi course meal – starting with stocks and demi-glazes, fretting over every detail and nuance, and enjoying the hell out of every minute.  Food preparation is beautiful to me and I like to create little still-life paintings with my ingredients and tools.  Somehow it makes everything taste even better!

Eventually my music career got in the way of all this good fun, and I had to find ways to condense my food-as-art approach to fit my busy schedule.  I was away from home a good deal, and so my goal was to have delicious and healthy food at the ready whenever possible.  While I still enjoy undertaking a full-on food production from time to time, my standard fare now is simple, fresh and put together in minutes.

I try to spend one day a week preparing several meals, and extras to store.  Soups, curries, lasagnas and grilled foods are nutritious and freeze well, so these are my go-to foods. I also keep on hand several varieties of frozen fruits and veggies from Trader Joes – they are delicious and enable me to whip-up something healthy in a pinch.  It is great when I come home exhausted to find something homemade all ready to go.  This is my cabbage veggie soup.

And I always try to cook with a cat!  (On the counter – not in the stew).

This is not to say that I don’t also love junk food. Everybody loves junk food. Mac and cheese and fried chicken are a revelation. I haven’t had a whopper in about twenty years, but man they were good.  So the trick for me is to find ways to hit the spots without actually putting this garbage in my tank.

I am a Gemini, and on any given day of the week you can find me doing yoga, drinking herbal tea and eating tofu, while the next day I’ll be into the mojitos, grilling shrimp tacos and dancing to a Bono concert on Palladium.   And after a gig – well, I’ll have fries with that! 

So, I guess narrowing it down may not be a realistic option for me.   Although I find it seductive, I have not yet found the inspiration to become a full-time vegetarian.  I am a part-time vegetarian, and part-time Frenchman, and part-time Hawaiian, and part-time Thai, and, and, and, and…..   

Thanks, mom, for getting me started!   Here are a few yummy vegetarian ideas!

Erin’s Carrot Curry Soup

Delicious, quick and easy - and it freezes beautifully!

2 Tbsp virgin olive oil

1 Vidalia onion - medium chop

4 stalks celery – medium chop

2 Tbsp Madras curry powder – you can certainly use less, but I like a pronounced curry flavor.

1 Tsp cumin

2 lbs carrots – medium chop

1 Quart Vegetable Stock – Pacific Natural Foods makes a good one, Wegmans does, too.

Salt and Pepper to taste

Additional 2 cups of water, if needed.

Gently sauté onions and celery in olive oil for about 5 minutes, stir in curry, cumin and a pinch of salt, and sauté for an additional 5 minutes. Add carrots and toss to coat. Add stock and simmer until vegetables are tender – about 15 minutes.  Let cool for 10 minutes.  In batches, transfer broth and vegetables to a food processor or blender and blend until smooth and creamy. Return to pan and add additional salt and pepper to taste. Thin with water if desired.  If possible, make this soup a day in advance, as the flavors are even better on the second day! Rachel Ray adds a dollop of sour cream and some chopped chives – a great presentation for a dinner party.

Mom’s Breakfast Fried Rice

My mom served fried rice regularly for breakfast. It is a great way to use up leftovers, and a delicious way to start the day!  This is a no-fail recipe. You can add more or less of anything, and cook longer – or not – as desired!

1 Tbsp Roasted Sesame Oil

4 Garlic Cloves – chopped

1 Tbsp Ginger Paste (fresh ginger is fine, too if available)

3 Cups left over cooked rice (2 or 3 day old is best – brown, jasmine – whatever is on hand)

2 Cups chopped veggies (onions, peppers, ‘shrooms, zucchini, broccoli, peas – whatever you have or love)

3 Whole Eggs

Tamari Soy Sauce to taste (about 2 tbsp for me)

Sprinkle of red pepper flakes

Whisk eggs until well blended, combine with cold rice and mix well.

Heat oil in a well-seasoned saucepan over medium heat; add garlic, veggies and ginger paste and sauté for 3-5 minutes. Add rice/egg mixture and spread evenly over cooking surface. Cook for 3 minutes at least before stirring. The idea here is to get the mixture toasted a bit so that it is a little crunchy. Cook, stirring occasionally for another 6-8 minutes until evenly browned. Remove from heat and toss with Tamari sauce and red pepper flakes to taste. Careful with the pepper!  Serves 4 as a main.

Spinach Pie

This is a riff on a favorite Donna Hay recipe – she is a master at simple, elegant preparation. Serve with a green salad and crusty bread.

1-16 oz package of frozen leaf spinach – well drained

2-15 oz containers of ricotta cheese

5 whole eggs 

4 oz Muir Glen fire roasted organic tomatoes (yum!)

2 Tbsp chopped dill

1 tsp chopped chives

¼ tsp nutmeg

8 oz small Heritage tomatoes, halved

6 oz feta cheese, crumbled roughly

Sea salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.  Squeeze any remaining liquid from defrosted spinach and combine with ricotta cheese, beaten eggs, tomatoes, dill, chives, nutmeg and salt & pepper.   Gently fold until well combined, and spoon into a greased ovenproof baking dish (12 cup).  Top first with the fire-roasted tomatoes, then sprinkle with feta and finally, place the halved tomatoes on top - cut side up.  Bake for about an hour – pie will be lightly browned and “set.”  Let rest 15 minutes.   May be served warm or at room temperature. Serves 6

Haupia – Hawaiian Coconut Pudding

I lived in Hawaii for ten years and am a big fan of traditional Hawaiian food. This very simple dessert is a staple at luau – Hawaiian celebrations. Although, as a rule, haupia is set in a cake pan and cut and served in small squares, I like to use individual ramekins. The whole world has recently discovered the health benefits of coconut – the Hawaiians have known all about it for centuries!

6 Tbsp Cornstarch *(do not substitute arrowroot or agar-agar – they will become slime-y)

4 Tbsp Superfine Sugar (or Stevia)

1Can Thai Coconut Milk 15.5 oz (or fresh - see below)**

1/2 Cup fresh shredded coconut (or packaged unsweetened – available at health food stores)

A few drops Vanilla Extract

Pinch of Salt

A few drops of lemon juice

Butter or nut oil – for greasing ramekins (almond oil, macadamia oil, etc)

 In a medium saucepan, combine cornstarch, sugar or stevia and ½ cup coconut milk.  Add remaining coconut milk and simmer stirring constantly until you have a clear, thick liquid, which will coat a spoon.  Keep heat low to prevent curdling.  Remove from heat and add vanilla.  Pudding may now be poured into a shallow flat bake pan or small ramekins and topped with shredded coconut.   Chill for several hours before serving.  Try serving your haupia with a serving of fresh fruit – mango is my favorite, but pineapple, strawberries or papaya are super, too.  Try chocolate and macadamia nuts for a decadent topping!  Enjoy!

* This makes the traditional and very “hard” pudding, which can be cut into squares like brownies.  If you desire a more custard-like consistency, decrease cornstarch to 3 tbsp.

* *Coconut milk can be easily made at home. Take 3 cups fresh grated coconut and cover with 1 1/2 cups boiling coconut water (both available at health food stores). Let stand 20 minutes, and then puree mixture in a food processor. Strain through cheesecloth, and voila! The flavor is amazing.

My Nice Trainer

 by Erin Dickins                                                                                                                                   

Photo Michael Ramondo



As I embark on round two of my musical career, it occurs to me that once again, I am setting myself up to be in the spotlight.  And this time around, the spotlight has taken on a new meaning – I am not 23, and media is totally out of my control.  Between smart phones and Flip video, Facebook and YouTube, things are likely to get pretty ugly pretty fast.   To think that in the past I was concerned with my teeth looking white!  Hah!  That now seems now ludicrous.  God knows what horrifying poses might be innocently “tagged” for all to see!   What saggy, gray, puffy, bulgy, downright depressing images might be shared – to exist forever in the blogosphere?  As my family, friends and fans snap and upload away, my beloved Photoshop and I sit cringing on the sidelines, unable to pretty things up.  So, I decided I had better take action.

Not being one for surgical procedures, I bought the most expensive goopy skin products I could find, and hired a personal trainer. Over 40 and wrinkle-y is tolerable. Over 40 and out of shape is not.

So, for about a month now, I’ve been working with just the nicest guy.  He is kind, considerate and encouraging.  He’s designed a moderate workout plan and has put together a very manageable not-on-a-diet eating plan that is meant to fit my lifestyle.  Of course, nothing could ever fit the cherished rock-and-roll lifestyle that I so begrudgingly abandoned a while back.  My very nice new trainer tries to make sure that I do not hurt myself by over-doing it.  The last time I hired a trainer I beat the shit out of him on the tennis court.  SIGH.

In any event, even with this kinder, gentler approach, I am making progress.  I’ve lost some weight, my jeans are looser and my energy level is better.  Why, just this morning I commented to my husband that I am beginning to think that I may someday have a waist again.

While this is all well and good, I am not fool enough to believe this is all he has in store for me.  I figure I’ll get to just amble along in this loveliness for a while, and then he’ll lay it on me – the real workout, the real diet.  It’ll be brutal, I just know it.  I figure he’s just getting me sucked-in as deep as he can before he drops the bomb.  So for now, I am trying to appreciate every minute for as long as I can.

Today I received a rather disturbing e-mail from my nice trainer. Along with his usual kind words of encouragement, he sent along a very funny blog (author unknown) about working out.  Yep, this is it - I fear the moment has come.  You may not hear from me for a while, but if I manage to emerge from this experience alive, I will be the one with the ibuprofen – and a waist.  Enjoy.

A Woman’s Week at The Gym  

(Posted by Jennifer Hillier 5/15/10 Author - unknown)

http://www.jenniferhillier.ca/2010/04/oldie-but-goodie-womans-week-at-gym.html

Dear Diary,
For my 40th birthday this year, my husband (such a sweetheart) purchased a week of personal training at the local health club for me.  Although I'm still in great shape since being a high school cheerleader 23 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.  I called the club and booked sessions with a personal trainer named Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and underwear model.  My husband seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started.  The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
MONDAY:
Started my day at 6:00 a.m.  Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me.  He is something of a Greek God, with blond hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile.  Woo hoo!

Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines.  I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today.  Very inspiring!

Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around.  But I know this is going to be a fantastic week!

TUESDAY:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door.  Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air, and then he put weights on it.   My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I ran the full mile.   Christo's rewarding smile made it all worthwhile.  I feel great!  It’s a whole new life for me.

WEDNESDAY:
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it. I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals.  Driving was okay as long as I didn’t try to steer or stop.  I parked on top of a bicycle in the club's parking lot.

Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for this early in the morning, and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine which is very annoying.

My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on the stair monster.  Why in the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators? Christo told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy my life.  He said some other shit, too.

THURSDAY:
Asshole was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed.  His thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl.  Excuse me, I couldn’t help being a half an hour late – it took me that long to tie my shoes.

He made me work out with dumbbells.  When he wasn't looking, I ran and hid in the restroom.  He sent some skinny bitch to find me.

Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine – which I sank.

FRIDAY:
I hate that bastard Christo more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world.  Stupid, skinny, anorexic little aerobic instructor.  If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.

Christo wanted me to work on my triceps today. I don’t have any triceps!  And if you don’t want dents in the floor, don’t hand me the goddamn barbells or anything else that weighs more than a sandwich.  Asswipe.


SATURDAY:
Satan just left a message on my answering machine.  He asked me in his grating, shrilly voice why I did not show up today.  Just hearing him speak made me want to smash the machine with my diary; however, I lack the strength to even use the TV remote control. I spent the day watching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel.

SUNDAY:
I’m having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank God that this week is over.   I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun – perhaps a root canal, or a hysterectomy.

I Quit by Erin Dickins

I Quit

by Erin Dickins

Photo by Michael Ramondo

 I’ve been trying to quit music for more than twenty years.

Actually, it’s not so much the music, but the business of music that wears me down. Music in its essence is a muse, a Sirens’ call that is ever out of reach for the conditions that surround it. To experience music in its purest form, one would have to treat music as a hobby. Something you do for love alone. You get a day job and play music whenever you can fit it in. You jot down lines in a notebook by the bed, and read them six months later wondering why you never wrote that song. But even as such, reality will find a way to compromise the love affair. You “play out” just for the sheer joy of it, but, let’s face it, the cats need to be paid, the club requires that you fill the seats, your music doesn’t fit that venue, you are too old (or too young, not indie enough, too hip for the room, not the look we want, too avant-garde – although that one’s never been applied to me). So the joy and the pain get all balled up together, and I guess THAT is the real deal one must face in this relationship with the beloved, Music. You gotta “pay to play.”

I spent my early years in New York as a successful studio singer after a very cool run with the Manhattan Transfer, which I founded with Tim Hauser, Marty Nelson, Pat Rosalia and Gene Pistilli in the late 60’s. I was so young in the Transfer days that my mother had to sign contracts for me! It was a great experience, but not a fit. I found singing harmony absolutely delicious but longed to develop my voice as an artist. So we parted ways after several years together performing, and having recorded a charming album, Jukin’.

Living in New York at that time, being a studio singer was the most logical way to earn a living, and it had great allure. It was lucrative, anonymous and a light workload. I recorded almost every day with New York’s most elite singers and musicians (like Valerie Simpson, Melissa Manchester, Patti Austin, Irene Cara, Daryl Hall, John Faddis, Rob Mounsey, Steve Khan, Will Lee, Steve Gadd - just to name a few). Boy, do I have stories. I sang on everything from Burger King commercials to the Talking Heads, from American Airlines to Yoko Ono. The job description read: Learn how to copy the sound of every singer and every style in popular music today, and reproduce it in the studio within a matter of three minutes, and we will pay you buckets of money. Whoa.  This was big fun, but still I had not found my voice as an artist. I hadn’t even explored it. I was busy being “everybody’s everything” as my good friend Ed Shockley recently said.

During this amazing time, I found the idea of touring pretty much irresistible, and offers came through my studio singer/musician colleagues.

My first road experience was with the Gregg Allman Band. We did a two or three month tour (who can remember) in the United States. Butch Trucks, Chuck Leavell, Randall Bramlett, Tommy Talton and Greg Boyer, strings and horns and the marvelous Annie Sutton (with an occasional visit from Dickey Betts) were in that band. It was brilliant. My parents were absolutely horrified, and when my mother came to a concert and met Gregg at the Academy of Arts in Philly, I was equally horrified to witness her telling Gregg that the green lighting gels were not flattering. But, in hindsight, that was a very good place for a rock and roll stage mother’s attention to have been focused.

Shortly thereafter, I was offered an incredible international tour with Leonard Cohen. We had just completed work on Leonard’s album, “New Skin for the Old Ceremony,” produced by John Lissauer, and the band was astounding. Leonard is indescribable so I won’t even try. The music was delicate and rough, sophisticated and carnal and an experience I will cherish forever.

This is when I got it – the part about being an artist. Working with Leonard made a profound impression, and although I did not leave New York for another ten years, I knew I was changing on a cellular level.

 The first time I actually tried to quit the business, I moved to Hawaii – as far away from the New York recording scene as I could get without ending up in Guam or something. “They’ll never find me here,” I thought. It worked for almost three years until I started meeting some amazing players and couldn’t resist the call. I was sucked back into the vortex (more on that later) but still hadn’t figured out the lesson.

Over time, Hawaii in itself gave me the answers I sought. The environment there is one of deep connection to earth and self (Haleakala Crater on Maui, Hawaii is considered the earth’s fire vortex – no wonder I felt sucked-in). It is an environment where most everyone you meet is on a spiritual path; you can’t help it surrounded by such power and beauty. So far removed from the pressures of an inauthentic business, it was there that I learned that I am not my resume, not my age, or weight or bank account. That what matters is not me. What matters is the gift of music I have been given, and my willingness to share that gift.

I consider it my honor and my responsibility to spread the joy that I experience every time I open my mouth to sing. Music is an instrument of transformation, and I am wholly transformed when I sing. We all listen to music and attend concerts for that purpose - to be transformed. We come together to forget our worries and fears, our limitations and our sorrows.  Whether conscious or not, when we allow ourselves to surrender to music, we return to the place in our souls where Love resides.  Where joy is rockin’ the house!  And, so we become en –lighten-ed by music. We literally lighten-up.

 

If I can be an instrument for that transformation, just for one holy instant, then I have done what is asked of me. That’s how you heal the planet, right? One song, one person, one joyful encounter at a time. It’s nice work if you can get it.

I am not sure why I have tried to escape this calling so many times over the years. Maybe it felt too big for me to handle, or maybe I had to get to know a more authentic me in order to carry it off. But I have finally surrendered myself completely to my passion and my calling, and I am up to the task, whatever it takes.

 

And, in the instant of my surrender, I realized that there is nothing left to for me do but cherish every joy-filled second of the ride. Everyone and everything I need - musicians, writers, producers, songs and support team have all arrived, as if on cue. Funny, I now no longer see any obstacles. It is all just perfect.

And, I will gladly “pay to play.”

www.ErinDickins.com