Healing the Gene Pool

You know that feeling you get when you are reading a good book and it takes you far, far away from reality? Yeah well the journey that I began on February 26 has been even better than that, it has taken deep into a wealth of ancestral information. My trip has taken me from Texas to Andalucia Spain and New Mexico then back, discovering clues to my family heritage. I have even come across scientific studies about DNA that have boggled my mind. This experience has changed me forever.

My journey began with the discovery that during in the Spanish Inquisition "The Fajardo Army" joined forces with the Catholic Monarchy, to expell the Sephardic Jews from Spain. My brother Phillip and I have researched our Sephardic Jewish heritage over the years so this took me by surprise. We even had DNA testing. How could I have missed that tidbit of information? Phillip's first thought was "Well just as our family is currently divided on family issues, I am sure we were divided back then too." I agreed. So that of course, lead to more research.

I have spent a month on google, combed through Wikipedia, reading Spanish documents then finally joined ancestry.com and a facebook group called "New Mexico Genealogical Society." I found pages and pages of information about my mother's side of the family, the Valdez and Padilla lineage. My research confirmed what I believed. My mother's side of the family, the Padilla and Valdez families arrived in New Mexico in the late 1400's early 1500's during the Spanish Inquisition.

Like any other project that I take on, I have given it my all. When I finally fall asleep after hours of research, I have intense time travel dreams. One night I fell asleep on the couch wearing some flat dangling earrings. I woke up clutching one of the earrings that had fallen off. I had been dreaming that it was my coat of arms and I was afraid of losing it. The surreal part of my life for the last month has been when I actually go out in public to meet friends for dinner.

Fortunately I have found that I am one of many Sephardic Jews that longs for information about my ancestors. One of the most informative finds came from an article I read on "The International New York Times Website" by Doreen Carvajal.

“The Forgetting River:
A Modern Tale of Survival,
Identity and the Inquisition.” 

Trailer

“The Forgetting River:

A Modern Tale of Survival, Identity and the Inquisition.”

In her article she mentioned a book called "The Ancestor Syndrome." It describes what I had suspected all along but there were a very few people I could talk to about it.... okay 2 friends, 1 son and a brother. The book is written by a French psychologist Anne Ancelin Schützenberger. She has spent decades studying what she calls the Ancestor Syndrome. Her research concludes that we're all links in a chain of many generation of our ancestors. Memories are carried in our DNA much like our physical features. We are therefore unconsciously affected by the suffering and unfinished business of our ancestors UNTIL we acknowledge the past. In other words, we revisit the events and traumas experienced by our ancestors in our lifetime, until the trauma is faced head-on and healed. I just read an article published today stating there has been research at Emory University in Atlanta that proves that memories are passed down to later generations through genetic switches that allow offspring to inherit the experiences of their ancestors.

DNA 

To say this was an Ahh Haaa moment is an understatement. One of my first clues that my life had been consumed by a a trans-generational issue was about 6 years ago. I went to have a reading done by a woman who did Akashic Record Readings. At the end of our session she asked "Is there anything else you would like to know?" I flippantly asked her why I seemed to always pick men that didn't really pick me. She asked "What does that make you feel and when was the first time you had that feeling?" Long story short, it went back to my dad favoring my sister. She asked me how old I was the first time I felt it. I said "When I was 3, 7, 15 and 18." I had no idea how I remembered those ages but it was true. She said "There is one more time after that and it is huge, do you remember?" I started to cry and said "Yes... when I was 32." She then explained to me that my dad and my sister had formed an alliance in a past life, she had taken care of him, therefore, in this lifetime, he took care of her. She affirmed that my dad asked to be forgiven. At the time I assumed she was talking about reincarnation.

Here's the issue with my dad and my sister when I was 32 in a nutshell: I had fallen on hard times after a break-up. I was a single mother of 2 young children, unable to make the mortgage payments on my a house that I had designed and built. Because I had borrowed $5,000 from my father to pave my circle driveway, his name was on the deed to the house. My sister's husband called a meeting with his attorney and over night they became proud owners of my home that I had poured my heart and soul into. Lock, stock and barrel. My daughter's piano, my china hutch, appliances, personal photos, dishes, my children's toys... everything. I had no choice but to leave my son with his father while my daughter and I moved from Austin to Amarillo so I could go to art school.

How does this relate to a trans-generational issue. We carry the memories, the traumas of our ancestors in our DNA. I had just suffered my own personal Spanish Inquisition. My father and sister have an alliance, she looks like my his side of the family, she was named after his mother and later took on his sister's name. I look like my mother's side of the family. Take that information a step further. My mother's ancestors were expelled from of Spain during the Spanish Inquisition. My father's side of the family were in cahoots with the Catholic Monarchy. The Sephardic Jews were given 4 months to leave, having to sell their homes for little or nothing, leaving all their belongings behind. My father was very pleased to help his daughter who had for years, run off to California for months at a time with her abusive boyfriend, leaving her son with our parents. Before my sister and I were born, my father's sister died at the hands of an abusive husband. My father was not going to stand by and watch that happen again. She was now settling down with someone he could trust after all, they were married in the Catholic church. So he did everything he could do to make life easy for her. I on the other hand, was practicing mysticism with crystals and incense, doing yoga, meditating and working at Whole Foods Market. Where was the good in that?

I called a truce when my niece was born by taking her a teddy bear to the hospital. After a couple of years, I moved back to Austin to be with my son again. My sister and her husband allowed me to stay with them for 2 days, then promptly on Monday morning, she took me out to rent an efficiency before my furniture had even arrived. Even at that, I just accepted this as status quo. For years the whole family participated in sweeping the reality right under the rug as I numbed myself to the atrocity of my children and I being kicked out of our home by my family. Looking back, I can see that it was an extremely dysfunctional family unit. I took my children there for holidays, never saying a word as we ate Thanksgiving dinner off of dinnerware that was once mine. Shamefully, for over 20 years I was under the impression that my sister and her husband had paid my father the $5,000 that I owed him up front as a down payment on the the house, only to find out later that they paid him a measly $100 monthly. So the obvious question from an outsider would be why would he do that for her and not me?

Then 4 years ago I rented a duplex from a friend of a friend. I poured my heart and soul into yet another house, completely remodeling it with customized mosaic floors and cabinets.. He refused to renew my lease when my 2 yr lease was up, knowing he could get more than double what I was paying. This eviction hit me like a ton of bricks. I realized that there was no logical reason for it. My rent was never late and I made massive improvements on the property. This time there were no family ties, therefore I was able to feel anger towards a landlord who had wronged me. This experience helped me to get in touch with the deep rooted family betrayal I had felt for over 20 years. I felt the pain of the unseen webs created in our family, the underlying family secrets that made it hard to deal with what was emotionally difficult to look at. By this time both of our parents had passed away. I thought it would became easier to escape from the invisible threads and the unspoken secrets and deal with the established alliances but very quickly realized dead or alive, the scenario was repeating. Now my sister was, and still is, in charge of the family estate.

My brother Phillip and I talk almost daily about healing, especially the healing of our family. We both have heart problems. Why? We are heartbroken. I'm not sure at this point what healing would even look like. I have, however, been reading a lot about about trans-generational healing and invisible loyalties within families. There is a therapeutic method called "Family Constellations" founded by Bert Hellinger that attempts to reveal a previously unrecognized systemic dynamic that spans multiple generations within the family unit. In the mind-space, where memories and images come alive, a powerful transformation occurs. You feel the presence of an ancestor whose trauma is at the root. When they are seen, acknowledged and honored for what they endured, the thread of trauma dissolves. In its place comes a feeling of love and connection.

I have experienced first hand how well this might work because it wasn't until my son was in rehab in recent years that my ex-husband realized that I had no other choice but to divorce him years ago. He had put me and his children through the same thing that he was watching his own son do to his family. He had spent all those years blaming me. These days my son is constantly taking inventory and attempting to make better choices and he and his father are now closer. Being able to openly communicate honestly seems to be key.... or there is alway Constellations Therapy!

Here's to healing the gene pool!

Please watch this video about

Three Dimensions of Consciousness

by Dan Booth Cohen

Fajardo Heritage.... Musical and Cultural

Last week on February 26, while drinking my morning coffee, I felt compelled to do some research on my Fajardo ancestry. The week before I had written about Anthony Bourdain's trip to Spain and his interview with the flamencos. I was still pondering their definition of "Duende." I was listening to "El Duende Flamenco de Paco de Lucia" to see if I could gain insight into what the word "Duende" meant to Paco, the most famous of Flamenco guitarists.

In my research I found that Paco was from Algeciras, Andalucia, Spain. Andalucia being the most populous and the second largest of the 17 autonomous communities in Spain. Then I found a castle in Andalucia called "Castillo de los Fajardo." I will tell you more about the Castle later.

Much of the information was in Spanish but I felt like I was being guided by spirit to dig deeper. I took a break to get more coffee and rest my brain. I opened the CNN website to read a little morning news and discovered that Paco de Lucia had died of a heart attack that morning. What are the chances that I would be listening to his music and researching the region of Spain where he was born on the morning of his death? I was really blown away by the synchronicity. As I read on, I realized Flamenco originated in Andalucia, as was bull fighting.

This photo of Paco de Lucia is haunting
to me because he looks so much like my father. 

Click here to see music by ----> Paco de Lucia

My father, Felipe Montoya Fajardo, at the age of 80.

The Meaning of "Duende"

The original meaning of duende is a fairy or goblin-like creature in Spanish mythology. The artistic term was derived, in the spirit of the fairy, as a mysterious power that everyone senses, not everyone has and no one can explain.

Duende is equal parts irrationality, earthiness, heightened awareness of death and a dash of the diabolical. It's an innate power... not requiring work or thought. It lives within, only requiring spontaneity that allows one to feel connected through one's DNA to become aware of their bitter root existence. The place where pain is felt, has no explanation yet allows us to create music, art, poetry, and drama. It is the craving to live the life of a genuine artist, no matter the cost.

Duende is an introspective emotion that materializes only when one can let go of frustrations and the need for perfection, allowing raw art to infuse the soul. Duende-fueled artists and performers capture worlds of passion, energy and artistic excellence in climatic shows of spirit while living on the edge.

For a musician, duende means playing your guitar until your fingers bleed, taking yourself as far as you can go and then going one step further. As an artist, it means dipping your paintbrush into your soul and painting your truth on a canvas, baring your soul to the world. It is a heightened state of authentic emotion, expression and authenticity that creates the mysterious power to move others to tears. A woman with duende can dance and she is magical. Yet a performer with technical skills with a lack of the invisible presence of this unexplainable force will leave his audience unmoved.

To say a person has duende is the highest compliment.

So the story goes....

The Fajardo family originally came from Ortigueira, a seaport in the province of Coruna, Galicia in the northwest of Spain. The Fajardos arrived in the Kingdom of Murcia during the invasion by Ferdinand II de Aragón between 1296 and 1304. During this era, Spain had not yet become one country, it was comprised of a number of kingdoms. While the Fajardo dynasty began to rise in power during the 13th century, the height of power and influence for the Fajardo Dynasty was from the 15th to 16th century at which time they were not only in power of Andalucia, they had also taken over Murcia as well.

In 1469 Spain was united by the marriage of Isabella de Castile and Ferdinand II de Aragón. The Catholic Monarchs conquered Granada, expelling the gypsies who had arrived in Andalucia around the year 1425. Along with the Jews and the Moors, they were persecuted in the Spanish Inquisition. At that time the Catholic Monarchs established the basis of the modern state:

• One True Faith of Catholicism 
• One Army 
• One Territory 

Upon the Catholic Monarchs ascent and successful defeat they consolidated their power by rewarding their supporters, among them was the Fajardo Dynasty. The Fajardos played an important roll as late as the 19th century.

On October 15, 1507 "Marquis de los Vélez" was the title was given to the Spanish Military Fajardo family by Queen Joanna I de Castile. Pedro Fajardo, the oldest son of Luisa Fajardo y Manrique was the first to hold the title.

The Fajardo Crest Earned October 15, 1507 

The name Fajardo is frequently seen throughout the regions of Andalucia and Murcia, linked with castles, cathedrals and various municipalities all showing the importance of the Fajardo Dynasty and the role played in shaping the region's history. I mentioned earlier that my search began by finding a photo of the "Castillo de los Fajardo." It took me days to discover that it was built for Pedro Fajardo when he was appointed the first "Marqués de los Vélez" and Governor of the kingdom of Murcia by the Catholic Monarchs, Isabella and Ferdinand. (Yeah, Isabella and Ferdinand and I are now on a first name basis)

Castillo de los Fajardo 

This is a fortress in Murcia that is still owned by the Fajardo
descendants Fortuezela Fajardo

List of "Marquises of los Vélez"
1st Marqués de los Vélez - Pedro Fajardo y Chacón
2nd Marqués de los Vélez - Luis Fajardo y de la Cueva
3rd Marqués de los Vélez - Pedro Fajardo y Fernández de Córdoba
4th Marqués de los Vélez - Luis Fajardo y Requeséns
5th Marqués de los Vélez - Pedro Fajardo y Pimentel
6th Marqués de los Vélez - Fernando Fajardo y Álvarez de Toledo
7th Marqués de los Vélez - María Teresa Fajardo y Álvarez de Toledo
8th Marqués de los Vélez and 9th Duchess of Montalto - Catalina Moncada de Aragón y Fajardo

So... with that being said... let me back up a bit. A couple of years ago my brother, Phillip and I did a little genealogy research.... and I do mean a little. We discovered that both our mother's name (Padilla) and our father's name (Fajardo) are Sephardic Jewish surnames. The word Sephardic comes from Sefarad, Hebrew for Spain. We even did DNA testing. I personally spent a couple of years feeling like I had to do something to undo the wrong, appalled by the infamous Spanish Inquisition of the 15th Century, when the "Reyes Catolicos" (Catholic Royalty) conquered Spain and ordered Spanish Jews to convert to Catholicism or leave the country or face execution without trial. I was taking it very personal. I had personally lost ownership of my home more than once in circumstances beyond my control and then just in the last couple of years, I have been experiencing the gentrification of my city, Austin, Texas. I didn't even own a home by this time. I sold my last house 7 years ago and a month later I was laid off from my job of 15 yrs. There is no financing available for fifty-something year old, self-employed artists. I rented a run down house, personally spent thousands of dollars remodeling. I spent months creating customized mosaics in the bathroom and kitchen with Italian and Spanish tile and wood floors throughout. I thought I would be there for a while. I was expelled after 2 yrs., when my lease was up. The landlord was able to doubled the rent with my artistic renovations.This issue was at the core of my being! I had to leave my beloved Austin for 6 months to regroup. I was feeling the pain of the Spanish Jews that had 3 months to leave Spain and were ordered to take no gold, never to return!

Then on February 11 (last month) I was ecstatic that the Spanish government announced it would grant citizenship to the descendants of Sephardic Jews... okay .... it has been 500 years .... but I suppose better late than never. Right? But wait, now I have discovered that the Fajardo Dynasty was in cahoots with Isabella and Ferdinand... That is just too weird! Hummmm..... what is the bible quote about the iniquity of the fathers on the children and the children's children, to the third and the fourth generation.

...and on that note...Today is Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. It is a reminder of human mortality, and as a sign of mourning and repentance to God. The ashes used are typically gathered from the burning of the palms from the previous year's Palm Sunday.

I am guessing yesterday many of you celebrated Fat Tuesday. One of the most notable celebrations being in New Orleans. Well guess what, Lgio Fajardo was the first Fajardo to arrive in the US and he landed in New Orleans in 1825.

I am taking a break.... these darn Fajardos are wearing me out!

The Artist - Painting My Own Truth

My son, Christian called me the other night.

Christian: "What are you doing, mom?"
Me: "Watching Anthony Bourdain and doing some artwork."

Christian: "I am so proud of you. You spend so much time doing your art. Do you know how long it has been since I have painted?

Me: "How long?"
Christian: " It's been a long time."
Me: "What are you doing?"

Christian: "I am on my way home from a 15 hour day at work."

Me: "Wow, I wonder why you haven't been painting."

Christian is proud of me. That's nice, really nice. I am proud of him too, and I am proud of Adriane as well. They have both chosen a family life. Christian works long hours in the restaurant business and goes home and reads to his six year old at bedtime. Adriane is back in school. I love that. My kids know it has been a long road to arrive to my destination. The place where I can spend precious time on my art. They know first hand that I spent the majority of my life trying to strike a balance, most of the time putting everyone else's needs before mine. I feel blessed that I have reached this stage of my life. Jane Fonda calls it the third act. My children are grown and they have their own families. I still consider them to be my greatest works of art. Now my kids are like established gardens that I spent years tending to and fertilizing. No longer weeding my garden, I feel blessed to be able to spend most of my time as an open channel to the energy that has always been an important part of my artistic being. That space that allows me to create spontaneously. For years I had to live within the boundaries of society and even then I was told that I was too sensitive....as if I had a choice.

Most creative people have rituals to allow their creativity to flow. Sometimes they aren't even aware that they are doing it. When I had a 9-5 job, mine consisted of spending a three day weekend at home alone. Now I have all the time in the world. I'm really having fun with it, taking it a step further with my creative atmosphere. I learned this trick from my friend Lana. Every year on her birthday, she comes up with a theme and we create a set and spend a weekend filming a short movie "on location." It is a blast! So for me, as an artist, it is easy for me to transform my surroundings and spend a few days in an exotic place. Spain, for instance. I cook traditional Spanish food, throw open my French doors and listen to Spanish music and Waa Laa, I am there!

I know... it's not as romantic and tragic as some of my favorite visual and recording artists. Thank God!! I used to think it was a necessary part of being a good artist to be tortured. I couldn't even listen to Townes Van Zandt's music when he was alive because his personal life freaked me out to the core. Christian turned me on to his music again when he was in his twenties, it was only then that I could separate the art from the artist and learned that most of his greatest songs were channeled. I learned to look past his horrible relationship with a close friend. Don't get me wrong, some of my best work has been created in the very darkest of times but I don't need to go back there to experience that emotion. In fact I shield myself from it. Now I meditate and do yoga. I appreciate that Townes would just wake up from a dream with an amazing song in his head. Unfortunately, I sort of bought into the creative ritual needing to be painful. For Townes and many others it included illicit drugs and other deviant behavior. My list of favorites, Frida Kahlo, Georgia O'Keefe and Amedeo Modigliani were tortured artists. That belief took me through some very destructive behavior of my own not only as an artist but many times becoming the muse for art or the music.

I was watching Anthony Bourdain in Tangier the other night talking about his favorite writer, William S. Burroughs. No thanks... I don't even like his book "Naked Lunch." He was a heroine junkie who murdered his wife. The thought of being in one more relationship with someone who plans lunch, dinner and nightly activities around where and what they are going to drink doesn't appeal to me. It really never did but I sort of overlooked it.

However, tonight Anthony Bourdain was interviewing a Gitano, Spanish Gypsy in Granada, Spain. I totally related to his passion, it didn't feel as destructive. He was describing duende. It is the hardest word to translate to English and I have often wondered if it is because it is the nature of the Spanish culture. Duende is the sublime power to attract through personal magnetism and charm. Yet at the same time it is the passion that comes from within, especially in unrequited love. This particular Gitano believes that heartache and pain is required to create great art. I think I am just going to have to make it my goal to prove him wrong.

So just for the record, happy hour for me is the minute I wake up to the sunshine in the morning.

Julliette of the Herbs

Wow! I have never heard of this wonderful lady, how is that possible? I love it when I put the questions out to the Universe and information like this just shows up. Julliette's knowledge and wisdom is so inspiring!

Click on the photo below to watch the documentary.

Juliette de Bairacli Levy

November 11, 1912 - May 28, 2009

"Juliette of the Herbs" is a beautifully filmed lyrical portrait of the life and work of Juliette de Bairacli Levy. She was a world renowned herbalist, author, friend of the Gypsies, traveller in search of herbal wisdom and the pioneer of holistic veterinary medicine.

Juliette with Gypsies

For more than 60 years Juliette lived with the Gypsies, nomads and peasants of the world, learning the healing arts from these peoples who live close to nature. Juliette's well-loved and now classic herbals for animals and for children have been a vital inspiration for the present day herbal renaissance and holistic animal care community. Juliette's extraordinary life story is as colorful and as exciting as her tremendous wealth of herbal knowledge.

This documentary was filmed on location with Juliette, 11 years before her death on location in Greece, Spain, France, Portugal, Switzerland, England and America. It is interwoven with Juliette's vast collection of archival photographs, together with scenes of Gypsies dancing and Bedouins with their herds, "Juliette of the Herbs" is an inspiring portrait of a remarkable healer.

Juliette died very peacefully in the early hours of Thursday, May 28, 2009 in Burgdorf, Switzerland. She was 96 and had a remarkable life, a peaceful death and will leave an incredible legacy.

The Life of Spanish Varilleros

Yesterday I posted a photo on Facebook of my kitchen wall that pays homage to my son.... or his art anyway. One large painting of a flower and two small ones on the side. My friend Bonny Holder, who lives in New Mexico, made a comment that the flowers were in New Mexico colors and she reminded me that yesterday January 6, New Mexico turned 102 years old. Only 3 years older than my dad?

Then last night someone posted a video of Puerto de Luna, NM, the little community where my mother was born and raised and where she then married my dad. These events prompted me to search the internet for more information about Puerto de Luna. I find myself in my own little history lessons from time to time and before I know it, I have spent hours combing the internet for useless information.

This time I found that in the late 1800's there were Spanish Varilleros who traveled to all the rural communities selling goods. Everyone looked forward to having them come because they also provided news from the neighboring communities and played music "de la Madre Patria" from the mother country of Spain. Then there were the gypsies that roamed these parts of New Mexico in caravans. They would camp between villages in several red wagons fully equipped with tents, bedding and cooking utensils. The men would trade horses and steal chickens while the women were fortune telling and using herbs to heal the sick. I had never read any of these tales before. This was found in a book called "The Lore of New Mexico." As I read these stories, I remembered that I used to have vivid nightmares as a child about being in a caravan of what I know now to be gypsies. There were carnivals and chaos. I had nothing to base any of these fears on since I had never had that experience in this lifetime. And I have always like guitars, guitar music, especially with a Latin flair. I also felt a very close connection to the stories of Billy the Kid. He was known to have lived on a ranch with with my Great Uncle Hilario Valdez. I used to think that maybe I had been there in a past life but now I am finding studies that show that in addition to determining our physical characteristics, our vulnerabilities to certain diseases and our personality, our DNA holds important memories of our ancestors. That explains it. I was living on the Gerhardt Ranch and was kidnapped by the gypsies. LOL

There have been a few times in my life when I felt like I was living the life of a gypsy per se. However there is one winter twenty three years ago that sort of took the cake. I had just returned to Austin from LA, were I was working for an advertising agency. I didn't have a job so I spent my Christmas holiday selling my art at the 23rd Street Austin Renaissance Artist Market. I would have to say that was one of the toughest winters ever. My son spent his two week Christmas holiday helping me set up my tent every morning and hanging out with me for the day selling my art and then helping me tear it all down at night. Did I mention he was sick for most of the two weeks standing out in one of the coldest winters in Austin history? There was an artist in the booth next to mine who complained about me having my sick child there, as if I had a choice. She later had children of her own and changed her tune... I love when that happens.

I was on the board of the artist market and in charge of designing and placing the ads in the newspaper. The week before Christmas I went into the Austin American-Statesman office to place the ad. As I sat there on the second floor at the Statesman, gazing out the window in the warm office, I thought of how nice it would be to work in that office. It was heated. I wouldn't have to work all night creating jewelry only to have to stand out in the cold all day to sell it. I wouldn't have to live like a gypsy!

The week after Christmas, when the Christmas rush was over at the artist market,  I went and applied for a job in the Educational Services Department at the Statesman. Much to my surprise, on January 6, I had the job! Wait.... January 6, 1912 New Mexico joined the union and January 6, 1991, I got a real job working at the newspaper! I never put the two together until last night. What a coincidence.

The Marketing Department of the Austin American-Statesman
Around 1995

 I don't know what I was expecting of that job, I just wanted to be out of the cold.  I don't think I expected to work there for 15 years! But one year lead to the next. Then my kids were teenagers and I needed a safety net and insurance. I stayed in Educational Services for 7 years and then moved into Marketing for 8 years. All in all, my experience at the Statesman was a good one. I made many very good friends and I learned a lot. My biggest lesson by far was that the creative part of being an artist of any kind is a very small part of being successful. One has to know how to market yourself. I am guessing that the traveling Spanish Varilleros were good at it because they successfully left a good impression on their customers. The gypsies, maybe not so much because of their dishonesty.

I haven't been at the Statesman for 6 years. I thank God every day for the internet. Now I get to sell my art from the comfort of my own home and work when I want. YaY! I love my life!

A Sad Day in the Name of JFK

Our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this planet. We all breathe the same air. We all cherish our children's future. And we are all mortal." 

- John F. Kennedy

One of the most memorable days of my life was in October of 1960. I was a mere 5 years of age. My mother sent my father off to work and sent my siblings off to school. With me in tow, she went to the Amarillo airport, where John F. Kennedy was to speak while campaigning to be President.

I remember it as if it were yesterday. It was a cold and windy day. JFK got off of a plane to speak to a small crowd of Democrats on the runway of the Amarillo airport. As he walked up to the podium, my mother was holding me in the front row of the crowd. He looked at his notes and then glanced over the crowd that was behind a temporary chain link fence. He motioned to one of his aids to take me from my mother and lift me over the fence. The man gently sat me on the front row of about 3 rows of chairs in front of the fence that were designated for the press. I sat front and center. It was the first time I remember being star struck. I didn't know who he was or what he did before that day, but I knew he was special. After his speech, he came down from the podium and as he was shaking hands with those in the media, he bent down and kissed me on the head. I felt I had been blessed.

Needless to say, when the news came of his assassination, 50 years ago today on November 22, 1963, I was sad. We were released from school and when I arrived home, I found my mother crying. A stunned nation mourned.

Emmylou Harris singing "Abraham, Martin and John"

Obama, Clinton Families Pay Tribute To JFK

Children Make Me Laugh.... And They Grow Up Too Fast

Last night my son called to share one of those funny stories that parents and grandparents live for. He said "Mom, Andrew just pulled a Christian on me." I thought oh God! What has he done? Instead it was one of those educational moments that only happens once in a lifetime that is simply heart warming.

Andrew to his dad, in his all knowing six year old stance:
"Dad, it is NOT War War Two, it is World War Two."

Christian said he was trying his best not to laugh at Andrew's new realization because he remembered the time when he was about four or five, just learning to read. We were driving home in Oak Hill and he saw the sign that we had passed many, many times that read "Oak Hill."

Christian said to me in his five year old surprised voice: "Mom, it's not "Oh Kill, it's Oak Hill."

It took all I had not to laugh. It only stood to reason that Christian would think it was called "Oh Kill." It was in the mid 80's and he and Adriane spent a year driving around with me in the "Oak Hill" area looking for a place to build our dream home. Convict Hill was my first choice since it was on the edge of town, high on the hill. Bt there were scary rumors of long ago, when prisoners, with their ankles hobbled by heavy chains and iron balls. The prisoners cut stone for the Capitol Building that was being built in Austin. Some men died on the site. There were stories of prisoners being buried in shallow graves on that hill. Hence the name "Convict Hill." I don't know why I would scare my 5 year old with that story but needless to say, we decided to buy land further out off of Circle Drive.

When Dylan was about five years old, he realized that we were all saying "remember" and not "renember" and was upset that nobody had bothered to correct him. It is just one of those things that you hold on to for as long as you can, because learning how to say words correctly is just another step in them growing up and moving on with their life.

Dylan is turning 17 in 9 days and talking about going away to school. They grow up and learn how to talk way too fast!

Time flies when you're having fun.

Remembering Artz Ribhouse

Z and Art

Today, 9/11 is a sad day for our nation, yesterday was a sad day for south Austin. Artz Rib House, my home away from home most every Monday night for many years, was demolished. It had been a long time coming but it still knocked me for a loop when I saw the demolition taking place while driving down South Lamar yesterday. I cried all the way to my destination.

Artz Rib house back in the day

The Studebakers

Artz Rib house, yesterday

Artz Rib house, yesterday

In the 1990's on any given evening, I could walk from my house in Barton Hills to the corner of Lamar and Bluebonnet to hear music at Artz. Monday was my favorite because I knew that I would see from 10 - 50 of my best friends there to hear Sarah Elizabeth and the Banned. Sarah's mother Sudie, otherwise know as "The Queen Mother" was there every Monday dressed like a million dollars. I have always said I want to grow up to be Sudie. She taught us so much. I remember hearing her say, as she counted the money from the tip jar at the end of the night that one should tip AT LEAST one dollar for each member of the band. I thought that isn't much but on second thought, it is more than most are willing to tip.

Sarah Elizabeth Campbell

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Sudie, Sayra and Vicki

Bill, Marcia, Sudie and Sayra

Chris, Sudie, Karen and Slaid

I was talking about how sad I was to my daughter today and she reminded me that it was a Monday when she went into labor with my grandson Dylan. Needless to say, it was one of the few Monday evenings that I missed Sayra Elizabeth and the Banned play at Artz. Shortly thereafter, Dylan started going with me on Monday. He grew up holding court at the bar, drinking sodas, eating ribs and telling jokes to the big guys. When he got bored he would make his way to the back patio where he played in the dirt with his trucks and tractors. One of the few times I didn't take him, I got home and he came up and hugged me and immediately smelled the BBQ smoke on my clothing and said "You went to Artz without me!"

Rene and Dylan

After about 15 years, SXSW became sort of a joke for local Austinites so Paul Barker put together a great week of FREE showcases called "South By South Lamar" with Albert and Gage usually playing on the closing Saturday bill. I saw some really great music every year, some local and some from far off lands who where just in town for SXSW.

Albert and Gage

Chris, Dave, Sarah

Christine and Christina

The Flyin'A's

Beth and George

Thursday nights during "South By South Lamar" we had Hawaiian shirt contests. 

Marvin and Danny playing Thursday evening
Hawaiian Shirt contest night

Here are some of the best shirts.

Z, Madgie, David, Art and Danny

Danny, Art and Z

Madgie Art and Christina

Madgie and David

Paul Barker, Danny Britt and Winker with me, Christina announcing the winners!

When Artz fell on hard times we had a benefit to raise money. 

Christina, Z and Beth

Rene and Pam

Christine and Pam

Winker

Auction items at benefit

This is one of my favorite posters I have ever designed
and look at the line up of musicians who came out to support Artz!

Art signing posters to be auctioned off

Z and Art

May Birthdays

There was another traditional that began at Artz on Monday nights as well. There were so many of us that were born in May that we started a May birthday celebration, which later led into having a birthday almost weekly for whomever was having a birthday.

Front Row: Sarah, Sherry, Christina Cash
Back row: Debbie, Madgie

Paul, Sherry, Sarah, Cash, Christina

...then there were times Jon Emry and his band played at Artz,

Art being the bass player in the band.

David, Beth, Art and Jon

These times at Artz will be missed but fortunately as I told Sarah Elizabeth yesterday:

 "The good news is that you (Sarah Elizabeth) have a loyal family that follows your sweet soul and beautiful voice around from venue to venue. Thank God for El Mercado South!"

.... and in the words of  my dear friend Sarah Elizabeth:

"Artz Rib House was so generous in having local musicians play weekly. He and Zenobia made it a great place to hang, eat baby backs and kick-ass potato salad and a kind of clubhouse of some real characters. A great place to see your friends. Those years mean a lot to me. It's a big hit, losing that place." ~Sarah Elizabeth Campbell

As the song goes...

Don't it always seem to go that you don't know what you've got til it's gone
They paved paradise and put up a parking lot

... In closing... a gentle reminder.... we'll see you Monday night at El Mercado and Donn's Depot!

Some of these photos by Winker. Thank you Winker!
No names have been changed to protect the innocent :)