MarketFest

If you're planning to come out to MarketFest tomorrow night (8/14) please stop by the Shasta County Arts Council booth -- I will be there promoting the North State Songwriters Group, handing out fliers on upcoming performances and selling CDs.

Slam Buckra is the headliner - should be a great show.

Postmark: Sikeston, MO, 1946

I am reading, with joy, letters that my Great-Grandfather wrote to his son, my grandfather, back in the 40s.

My Granddad, Phil Leslie, had moved his young family to Hollywood to work as a comedy writer during radio's Golden Age. His father, Leroy Leslie, shared his advice and concerns in a series of long, eloquent letters.

I marvel at the wisdom and the timeliness of the words he wrote 60 years ago. And I'm tickled to see how history is repeating itself.

In one letter, Leroy applauds his son's plans for a fishing trip. My Granddad was planning a fishing trip with his own young son, and decided to let the boy take some time off of school, hoping that missing school might make the trip a bit more appealing.

Leroy wrote:

"Not every father would have shot that angle of it, and you made a good investment. I know that from my own experience. Such time and attention as I have given my boys in the years past not only gave me a lot of pleasure at the time, but continues to pay phenomenal dividends."

Earlier this year, my husband Craig grumbled a bit about spending $110 on fishing licenses for himself and the three kids. But as he wrote the check, he told clerk "It's really a small price to pay to keep your kids close." And I know he meant it, because any chance they get, the four of them are out trolling on Whiskeytown Lake.

Makes me smile, to think of carrying on family traditions, and I'm eating up these words that reach across time and give me a bit of the picture of where I come from.

Saving Western Civilization, One Video at a Time

Back home from a lovely trip to LA (ahh...fresh air)-- where my buddy, Bob, gave me grief for not blogging often enough.

"I'm a songwriter," I told him. I need to concentrate on songwriting and recording. If I blog more often, I'm going to end up at a CD release party in September with no CD.

So I'll blog a little, record a little, and see how it goes.

I just finished mixing The Rosary Ring. It's posted below with the lamest music video of all time. Why do I post horribly lame music videos with my songs? Because I can't for the life of me figure out how to post audio-only files.

The irony is, I have always said that the downfall of Western Civilization can be traced directly to MTV. Hollywood producers interpreting songs? Their job is selling stuff, for crying out loud! Music is a deeply personal experience and music videos rob us of the chance to have a unique experience with a piece of music -- to get lost in a song.

That's the beauty of the Horribly Lame Music Video -- you don't have to watch. And unless you've been recently lobotomized, you won't want to. But if you'd like to listen, well -- I'd appreciate it.

This was my grandfather's rosary ring - I wear it as a Good Luck Talisman to keep me safe when I travel. So far, so good.


The Rosary Ring
words and music © Erin Coombs Friedman

His suits were set out for St Vincent de Paul
Books packed in boxes stacked up the hall
Eighty-two years of memories – all spoken for
She only kept one thing: The Rosary Ring that he wore


(Chorus)
A silver link on a silver chain
Rosary Ring -- Circle of faith
Over and over again
Begins where it ends
She journeys into the unknown
The Rosary Ring brings her home

When her courage is tested, her spirits are weak
She’ll reach for the necklace – count on the beads
Whisper the words she learned eagerly at his knee
Why it quiets her mind strikes of divine mystery

(chorus)