Well, somehow 2018 came galloping without my being aware, and here ‘tis, almost St. Paddy’s Day, almost Spring, and almost Easter. I have sprung forward reluctantly into Daylight Savings Time. I know my mind and body will eventually adjust. But what do I tell the DOGS, who are determined that I should be up and cheerful before the sun OR caffeine???!

One should never be grateful that time has gone by, but BOY, am I glad the last part of 2017 is OVER!

What an insane ride, and I am not even talking about the Political Circus that seems to keep evolving into something new and very strange!

I am trying extremely hard to keep anger and frustration, that great legal team, at a minimum, and watch what is transpiring all over the globe, not just here, with an interested and semi-clinical eye, knowing that all things must pass (myself included).

I had an enlightening and delightful experience when I recently performed a Valentine’s Day concert with my sister in music Michele Brourman, in Fairfield Texas.

(This is us rehearsing in the glorious home of our most generous hosts, Marc and Jan. Friends for life!)

I hadn’t been back to Texas in some years and did not know what to expect. And was charmed and delighted by everyone I met (most of whom, I KNOW, are armed and diametrically opposed to most of my political views.) We never talked politics. We talked art and music and how to help the children of the community to be introduced to the joys of theater and choir and art. These charming and intelligent folks care as much about the planet and its inhabitants as I do. Their perspective is just different. And I realize how insulated I become here in my beloved artsy California community in the Ojai Valley. I need to get out more!!!!

Speaking of the Ojai Valley…as Steven Sondheim wrote so pithily, “we’re still here”. Took 8000 brave firemen and a hundred trucks, but our home and our town survived the worst wildfire in CA history.

I had never had to evacuate before! (ALWAYS leave your car half full of gas and have a bin close at hand to load up your important documents. And don’t forget several days’ worth of underwear. That I forgot.) Luckily, I have beloved cousins in the Santa Ynez Valley who were happy to house 3 dogs, 3 cats, and 2 actors for several days. (Leave it to family! Who else wants actors for days???)

Christmas, between the fire, the ashes, the mudslides, the broken arm,

the duo flus (top and bottom…TMI?), sort of disappeared. But the New Year has brought joy, music, new projects and even some gentle rain. I am watching it right now out my window as I type. Loving the color green, which I was sure I would never see again.

As I ponder my 70^th year (how in the world did THAT happen??????), I am inspired by those around me who keep on doing, creating, performing, inventing with such astounding vigor… Happy 90^th, Marilyn Maye! …happy opening night, my beloved husband George Ball, as you open in KING LEAR this week…as the King…nice way to START your Shakespearean career at 83!

… I am determined to spend much more time with the older and wiser AND the younger and more enthused, and turn off the screens, large and small, that so easily steal my soul and attention. I only hope I can contribute something beautiful or useful or healing this year.

And I wish you the same!

Love, A

Here’s a poem for you:

                                                                 PASTEL                                            

When you’re young,
Everything is Technicolor.
Red is always crimson,
Blue is more than blue.

Your heart is always pounding, beating,
Breaking, tortured, shattered.
Until the next installment,
And then it’s good as new.

Love and lust are permanent,
Wishes made for granting.
Life is one long symphony
You know will never end.

Drink the wine at once.
Why wait for the decanting?
Your skin tone is forever,
And tomorrow is your friend.

Then life becomes an opal
Whose colors keep on changing.
Red and blue are mixing
Like blood that leaves the vein.

I trade the heat of noon light
For a moonlight shade of romance.
When I listen to my heart,
Sometimes I hear the sound of rain.

Now I don’t pop the cork
Till the name is on the contract.
And I don’t buy the car
Till the check is in my hand.

If I miss the bliss of frenzy
And youthful indiscretion,
I can still be made a fool by love.
But now I understand.

And life is good.
And all is well.
It’s only just
A little more

Pastel.

The waxwings have appeared in droves at our backyard fountain, in all their feathered finery. They always remind me of a bunch of tiny train robbers who have just finished a heist and have decided to hit the saloon for a bath and a beer. They are a harbinger of Spring and Fall. So welcome to our yard, James Brothers. And behave yourselves!

Spring has indeed come leaping into existence here. All it took was a few drops of rarified rain. The wisteria, the lilacs, and the orange blossoms are competing for Floozy of the Month. At night, you can faint from the battle of fragrances on the evening air.

Last time I shared a blog space with you, the year had not yet turned. And now it has and is spinning faster and faster. We spent all of January in our favorite escape pod, New Zealand. Gorgeous. Peaceful. We both caught that horrendous coughing bug that has been circling the globe and were down for the count for the first ten days.(NEVER get on a plane with a cold! For your own sake and everyone else’s. My new mantra.) The beaches were warm, the wine was cool, and the people were heavenly. I could not ask for a better way to start the year, after the phlegm departed. (Is that a song title? Probably not.

February was full of inspiration and discipline. I even gave up coffee, bread, and wine for the month. (My body had been singing “LIVER, COME BACK TO ME” all the way home on the plane.) Who knew that could be done without wanting to ax-murder everyone in sight????

I have been writing song lyrics like a mad thing, and flinging them at beloved Michele Brourman, who gamely picks them up off the e-floor and brings them to life. This is the year of the next McBroom CD. I am now debating whether or not to make this a crowd-funded piece of art. It would be interesting to learn the process that has done so well for so many. I am so into new, knowledge-expanding experiences this year. And in these strange days for the music industry, recording a CD, if you are not affiliated with a label, (and who is anymore except for Taylor Swift?) is not necessarily a profitable proposition. But it is still so important to me to get the musical stories told…let the babies out of the closet, to fly or fall, but at least to be in the SUN! So I seek to learn what I can. About damn time! Believe me, I will let you know what I decide, and SOON!

The immediate future holds a lot of delightful adventures. Heading to NYC the end of March to receive the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Manhattan Association of Cabaret (MAC). I am deeply honored. Then to London in April for TWO whole weeks of warbling in my favorite boite, Crazy Coq’s at Brasserie Zedel. LONDON IN SPRINGTIME. Now THAT’S a song title! And Michele and George and I are recording a series of Broadway standards for the BBC which will be released on BBC 2 this summer. (Wait till you hear George Ball’s version of LOST IN THE STARS. My SEND IN THE CLOWNS ain’t too bad either.)

Later on there will be a week of teaching songwriting master classes with Michele B. in Telluride in July ( hurt me!) and then to Pittsfield, MA to perform a duo concert with the best singer in the US today, Ann Hampton Callaway. That is a dream come true! After that, who knows???

Something wonderful did happen, via the e-thers, this week. My fabulous friend, actress/opera diva, Lucy Shaffer, is doing a new play in which she stars as an actress who lost her actor husband when she was young. She let me know she is using an EARLY publicity photo of my father as her inspiration. This is her dressing room mirror on opening night. My dad would be SO THRILLED!

CULTURE CORNER:

MOVIES:
THE BIG SHORT ( should have won the Oscar) terrific!

BOOKS:
THE GOOD LIE ( about the boy soldiers of Sudan) terrific!

THE BONE CLOCKS by David Mitchell (absolutely fascinating!)

STATE OF GRACE, THE JOSHUA ELEGIES by Alexis Rhone Fancher (absolutely glorious poems about the loss of a child. I cannot recommend too highly!)

CATALOGUE OF UNABASHED GRATITUDE by Ross Gay ( poetry that makes your heart jump for joy!)

Speaking of poetry… I was sent a poem by the divine Rumi, with which I will conclude this episode. In these days of rabid political mayhem and confusion and anger, it resonates deeply in my heart. I hope it will with you, too!

Happy Spring to you all!
Love, Amanda

THE GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

— Jelaluddin Rumi,
translation by Coleman Barks