August 12, 2021 Leave a Comment

Buried Treasure – August’s Gem – I Choose Love

AUGUST!!!!!

Hello dear hearts! Welcome to the dog days of summer…humidity in the East, crunchy dryness in the West, fireflies for some, fiery flames for others.

(And why are they called dog days, I wonder?)

At the moment, I am longing to be on a beach by a lake in Maine or perhaps lying in an Irish meadow…anything that reeks of green!

This is my natal month. At some point SOON I will flip the rolodex on another number to add to my book of personal history. I am astounded that I have lived this long! And truly grateful that my feet still touch the floor and I don’t moan and creak too loudly as I rise.

(To quote my wise pal, Wendy Lane Bailey, I am becoming my own rhythm section.)

So many things to be grateful for!

I just gifted myself with a new book, THE BOOK OF JOY, by the Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu, about how to maintain and promote joy in this troubled world. The end of the first page quotes His Holiness saying everyday is your birthday…a new day to celebrate. I am resolving to apply that to my new mornings, pursuing coffee and joy rather than the front page of the paper.

In that light I have chosen a buried treasure from a long while back, co-written with the ever-talented and delightful David Friedman. This is a demo from a while back, sung by a truly WONDERFUL multi-talented genius woman …Ann Marie Milazzo. I hope you enjoy it.

It’s title… I CHOOSE LOVE

Here’s my August poem

FLAMES

There are flames

Of anger

Simmering

In the white dead grass

Of hunger.

There are flames

Of righteousness

Marching

Through the grey splintered wood

Of injustice.

There are flames

Of hatred

Racing

Across the drought-dry plains

Of ignorance.

There are flames

Of passion

Writhing

Along the new soft bones

Of imagination.

There are flames

Of compassion

Welding

The red hot hearts

Of humanity.

There are flames

Of love

Illuminating

The darkness of a fear-weary world

In the voice

Of a woman in pain,

In hope,

Standing alone

In a spot of light

Singing.

July 8, 2021 4 Comments

Buried Treasure – July’s Gem

Well, here it is. July! The fireworks are over, at least those made of gunpowder. (My shivering little dog is truly grateful.)

I find I am over fireworks. Nowadays I feel that fireworks are just bombs in fancy costumes…a celebration of weaponry… and I’ve seen enough to last me a life time.

I wondered, as I listened to the explosions from the High School football field down the hill, if this would be the last celebratory Independence Day, our country being in such emotional disarray these days. Then I received an e-mail from one of my high school chums, truly the smartest person I know (we’re talking Mensa here) that brought me cheer. She is an avid reader of everything!

This is what she sent my way…

Just finished reading Fears of a Setting Sun: The Disillusionment of America’s Founders, by Dennis Rasmussen (professor of political science at Syracuse University). Most interesting. Relies largely on letters and diaries revealing how pessimistic Washington, Jefferson, Hamilton, and Adams were about the future of the U.S. Only Monroe avoided complete loss of faith in the Constitutional system they had created.

Somehow I took great comfort in knowing that this country has been here before and still survives. May it be ever thus.

As for this month’s song, it is one of the less buried. I recorded long, long ago. But it just sounded like right now is a good time for its revival. It is called HERE AND NOW and I wrote it with a fabulous songwriter named Tom Snow.

I hope it makes you smile.

As for the 4^th itself in our little town, the parade was back…the kazoo marching band in all its glory, which made me very happy. I always enjoy the bunting and chairs that line the streets in preparation for THE DAY. And I am always sorry to see the chairs disappear.

Here’s the poem I wrote for them.

THE CHAIRS OF SUMMER *

It starts with just one chair
Alone…aloof…
Astride a busy corner
By a bus stop
Under a dusty oak

From Costco or Target,
Viet Nam or Taiwan
Worn white plastic
Ragged rainbow webbed
A solitary chair appears
Suddenly, surprisingly
Like the face of Mary
In a taco
A miracle of
The mundane

Tomorrow it will multiply
Magically into four…

Fourteen…forty-five
By week’s end
Four hundred plus
Bound together by bungee cords
Of anticipation

Waiting for the large pink people
Waving small bright flags
Who will plant themselves
Like sunburned petunias
Listening for that first squeal
Of high school clarinet
That rat-a-tat of
Snare drum
The buzz of fifty
Kindergarten kazoos
Flinging John Phillip Sousa
To the summer skies.

The fire truck will pass by

The flatbed filled
With princesses
Representing various
Vegetables
Pious folk on hay bales
With banjos
A float or two of bunting
And bed sheets
All will wave and cheer
Rise and go

Leaving the chairs
To sit in silence
As the sun dips
Behind the crisping hill
The sky explodes above
The football field

Then one by four by forty
They will disappear
Back to garages, closets
Invisibility
The annual migration
Complete

Until next July
Calls them out once more
To unveil their
True selves,
Their sacred
Purpose

To be
The chairs
Of summer

Stay cool! Stay positive! Stay kind!

LOVE,

Amanda

May 13, 2021 Leave a Comment

Buried Treasure – May’s Gem

During my year of DOWN TIME, I like so many, have been cleaning out my closets, my drawers, my music files.

I have been traveling back in song-writer time to some of my oldies-but-goodies., looking for more BURIED TREASURES. And I came upon this one, which I had forgotten about, and upon listening, realized how very fond of it I am.

It is called THE OTHER SIDE OF MY HEARTBEAT.

A love song, of course.

Written and recorded in the 80’s…ye Gods…

and wonderfully sung by a very dear and talented friend of mine named Mara Getz.

It is a demo. The arrangement is definitely 80’s, (which, I have to admit, was my favorite music period.)

I challenge anyone out there, who likes this song, to re-make it and bring it into the 21^st century!

So sit back, relax, and enter my WAY BACK MACHINE.

My poem for May

BECOMING

I think I shall become a rose

Velvet-crowned

Scarlet headed

A ball of silent fire suspended

Mummy-taut

Between sun and soil

Lanced to earth on emerald spear

Pulled to the eye-clear air-pure void of sky

By iron webs of light

Spun and spinning

From groin and beak of star spider

Sun sparrow

Stretched to screaming silent expectation

Leaves outstretched

Thorns tip-tilted

Waiting breathless

For Dawn’s hot tongue

Moon’s cool finger

To touch and stroke

To make my skull explode

In shrieks of color

Wails of perfume

Shameless

Silent shouting

I am no more a thing tight-closed

A promise in Springtime bud

I am at last a truth

Red loud, blood vulgar

Full-blown at last

I am become a rose

Happy May!
With Love & Music
Amanda

March 22, 2021 Leave a Comment

Buried Treasure – An Extra Gem

ANOTHER BURIED TREASURE!

Happy birthday, Stephen Sondheim!

I consider Stephen Sondheim a miracle on the planet!

His music rocked my world, opened my mind to the infinite possibilities of NEW musical theatre,

and fed my insatiable hunger for brilliant lyric writing.

(When I finally decided that I could write lyrics, it was because, in large part, I had heard his art and was inspired to be my best, most clever lyrical self. Sometimes I even came close to achieving that ambition).

His birthday is upon us, and I wanted to wish him a happy ,happy birthday and to thank him for being.

I decided the best way to do that was to sing my favorite Sondheim song, arranged by my brilliant musical pals, Michele Brourman and Stephan Oberhoff.

SEND IN THE CLOWNS, sent with love to HIMSELF, the one and only Mr. Sondheim.

Gratefully,

Amanda

PS You can buy the song on iTunes or Amazon

March 9, 2021 1 Comment

Buried Treasure – March’s Gem

MARCH!!!!!!

Is it coming in like a BIG , fierce lion or a cub?

One year almost to the day since the doors slammed shut to just about EVERYTHING! ONE YEAR!

And, to mis-quote Mr. Sondheim, we’re still here! (Most of us.)

I don’t make light of all the tragedy and madness that has surrounded us, how can any of us?

But I continue to look for the blessings inside the curses…blessings like creative innovation on so may levels…

taking time to slow down and look deeper, breathe slower, connect, appreciate what IS rather than what DOES, to strengthen our Good Deed and compassion muscles. It is still a long slog, I know, bugt I feel like I am at least wearing some new emotional shoes.

( I TRIED putting on a pair of my concert high heels and walking around the house. Just to see. OMG! 365 days of sneakers has ruined my ability to glide on graceful, catlike, tiptoe across the floor. (Was I EVER catlike?) I am going to have to practice , practice, practice, so I will be ready when concert season reappears…whenever THAT may be. Visions of Jimmy Choo’s under sweat pant pajamas …the fashion look for 2021!)

I must admit I am more hopeful. The changing of the guard makes me NOT dread reading the paper in the morning over my multiple cups of coffee. There appears to some good news making the front pages, if only at the very bottom.

My Buried Treasure for this month is a brand new one I wrote with my beloved bestie, Michele Brourman. It is called MY HEADLINE FOR TODAY. I wrote the lyric after waking up happy on a Sunday morning. I sent the lyric to Michele, who created the perfect melody. I hope it brings some pep to your step!

WAVING

I wave at men who mow the lawn

and children with their backpacks on

and passing dogs with laughing tails

and people who deliver mails

And UPS trucks grumbling down

my street in shades of poopful brown

Though now my arms, like flags unfurled,

Are flapping soft and flying-squirreled

No longer lean. No longer lithe

As when they once would wrap and writhe

And fan mad flames of lost desires

That kindled in some frantic fires

And still I wave with all my might

In hopes of bringing some delight

Or even just a tired smile

To those who trudge each hard-fought mile

And those there are who pity me

For them I wave most splendidly

In hopes that they may someday see

Beneath the folds and furls and fears

Of endless days and aching years

The promise of our history

The children we will
Always be

With Love & Music

Amanda

My poem for May

BECOMING

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