14 July

Concert: The Creative Life. Being Professional.

by Jon Katz
The Creative Life
The Creative Life

I remember going to a Border’s store in Virginia during a book tour five or six years ago, and there was a mix-up about the dates and there was not a single person in the audience, I was looking at 70 empty chairs for the first time in my writing career. The store manager was in a panic and I saw  him whispering to some employees who pulled off their name tag ID’s and slid into the chairs pretending to be fans. For me, the essence of being a profession is that you give as good a reading and talk for two people as you would for 1,000 and I’ve had the chance to do both. I told myself that I would give that night my full enthusiasm and focus, and I did, and I took questions too and signed three books,  and I am prouder of that reading than any other I have done publishing 23 books.

I was reminded of this today when Maria and I went to see an outdoor concert sponsored by a local arts center and the town’s Chamber of Commerce. Athena Burke is a good friend of Maria and Maria is very loyal to her friends, and I was very happy to go,  Athena is a successful singer and lyricist with a wonderful voice and a large following all over the country. Cambridge is a small town and it was about 90 very humid degrees when we got there, there were perhaps a dozen sweltering people scattered around in lawn chairs or sitting on the ground.

I felt for Athena, it was tough to sing and keep a singer’s energy up, I was soaked and drowsy in seconds, she sang for two hours.  She told jokes, bantered with her percussionist, talked to the audience as if she was in Carnegie Hall. Afterwards Maria and I turned to one another and talked about her professionalism, how she never flagged, complained or showed anything but great energy and enthusiasm. She gave a great concert in front of a handful of people in awful weather.

Creative people do not have easy lives in America, not now, when the country’s political leaders and many people are so hostile and indifferent to the arts. They struggle through rejection, corporate control of the culture, a distracted public.  Art programs have been slashed all over the country, as have grants and library budgets. Athena, like all artists,  is constantly looking for grant money, which is increasingly scarce, making and selling her CD’s. Writers and artists are having a rough time now, all the ones I know are working harder than ever for less and less money. But I know few who have given up or quit. Part of being creative, I think, is being creative about challenge and change, that may be the most creative thing any of us ever do. I see this spirit so often in the creative people I know. They just keep making their good stuff, and somehow, most of them get by, committed and grateful to be writing their books, singing their songs, making their quilts and potholders. You just can’t break them.

I was glad we went to see Athena. Not only did we get to hear a great concert for free, but watching her made me proud of the professionalism that all good artists and writers value. I strive for it in my own work, I see it every day in Maria.  It is something we see and respect in one another as well as other artists and writers.

When Athena finished, Maria went up to congratulate her, she said it must have been hard to show so much energy and excitement in the wilting heat. Not at all, said Athena, she sings just as hard for a dozen people as she would for five hundred, no matter the weather. Like me, she believes that is what professionalism is.  I am proud to be living a creative life, it is always challenging, always rewarding, never static, never easy. The creative spark is sacred to me, and it shines brightly, even in a small town pagoda on a stifling July afternoon.

14 July

Next Chapter, For me. For Red. Decisions.

by Jon Katz
Next Chapter
Next Chapter

For Red, for me also, another chapter unfolds. I have always said about Red that he is one of those dogs who take you places, and today, we began another phase of his remarkable adventure, his wonderful story. We are completing the next phase of Red’s  training as a therapy dog under the supervision of Vermont Therapy Dogs. When I joined hospice as a volunteer with Izzy, we didn’t need any therapy certificate, all I needed was  a note from the vet. I wanted a more formal program this time, and a certificate that would open up all the options for Red, from work in residences and nursing homes to the more complex work in hospice. Even since Izzy’s time,  regulations and insurance restrictions require a certification progress, and it’s a good idea. I want to be sure as well.

We spent several hours going through a lot of tests and challenges and today we went into a nursing home in Manchester, Vt., for the first of three supervised visits. We visited lobbies, walked down hallways, went into private rooms. Karen Thompson was right about Red, he is a natural, he visited more than a dozen patients, and like Izzy, he made eye contact, bonded with five or six people. Red was a bit anxious, he had never been in a building like this with many people in wheelchairs. He kept looking at me for encouragement and reassurance and when the hour was up, he was exhausted.

But he did beautifully, he is even calmer than Izzy, some of the patients had cats and Red found himself nose-to-nose with some hissing animals and didn’t blink. Like Izzy he needs some direction, mostly to understand what the work is. When border collies enter new spaces, they start looking around for the work, for the sheep or their equivalent. When Red put his head on a patient’s knew and allowed his neck to be massaged, he turned to look at me and I nodded and praised him He got it.

I’m not sure where we go from here, once the evaluations are done. I am drawn to hospice work, yet there are some reservations. I’ve done that, and I am not partial to repeating experiences, I like to move forward not back. There is urgent work for therapy dogs in Veteran’s Hospitals helping new and old veterans who are traumatized or disabled. That is calling out to me. I like nursing home work, but there are plenty of therapy dogs out there doing that work, and I think Red has an extraordinary ability to connect with people, to bond with them and calm them. I am very conscious of the vets returning from Iraq and Afghanistan to a country that loves to go to war and then forget the people who fought in them. Men connect with Red very strongly. So do many women.

And then, there are other issues. I’m very busy now, managing an enormous transition in my creative life, not to mention moving, writing e-books and paper books, managing the blog and the photos and trying to sell our other farm. Therapy work is a commitment, if people expect us we need to be there. When Karen Thompson gave Red to me, she said he was a special dog, she hoped he might end up in therapy work, and getting to know him, I see what she saw. He is a special dog with special gifts and it seems to me it is my obligation – this is loving a dog for me – to see that those gifts are used.  I haven’t figure it out yet, I think I will have to make this decision by the Fall. Perhaps it will be clear to me by then. Next Saturday, Red and I will go back to Vermont for our final two evaluations. Watching him will help make it clearer what the next chapter might be for us.

 

 

14 July

Sunday Garden: Lips To The World. Love From Detroit.

by Jon Katz
Lips To The World: Live Your Life
Lips To The World: Live Your Life

You don’t have to grow your own food or live in the country or love a donkey or walk in sylvan woods to live a meaningful life. A wonderful woman who lives in Detroit – she is a 76-year-old grandmother who will not live Detroit because her grandchildren are there, and her husband of 47 years died right in the house, and she sends me messages on a Nokia smartphone her grandson, a firefighter, gave her before he left Detroit for work elsewhere. She loves my photos, the donkeys, and the donkeys, but she trades me the beauty in her own life. She has a small garden behind her house, she has a chair with some flowers on the rooftop above her bedroom. Each day, she brings flowers to elderly shut-ins on the block and walks her toy poodle Martin, named after Martin Luther King, who she had the pleasure of meeting.

I cannot recall or imagine how she found my blog, I don’t really want to know. Miss Lucy is not afraid, she is ready to join Jesus any time he calls her, she says. She loves Red and Flo the best of all, donkeys make her nervous. She loves Maria’s quilts, she would love to have one some day, I suspect she will get one.

She sends me poems, stories, good wishes and compliments, I do the same for here. I think we are in love with one another, Maria would not mind that. She sings old hymns from her porch at night, bakes cookies for the kids on the street. She is the organist in her church, there are only a half-dozen people left, no minister. She honors the people who stay behind, raise their children, look for work, find community in a forgotten world, she loves her home just as much as I love mine, she will never leave it, as I hope to never leave mind, and she reminds me every day that some of the most meaningful and wonderful lives do not have gardens, animals or rolling hills in them. I would never diminish Miss Lucy by forgetting there are many ways to put your lips to the world, even if you have to eat store bought food and put three bolts on your doors at night.

Love to you, Lucy, great lady.

Email SignupFree Email Signup