Little known Sudiefact, and other ramblings on a rainy Saturday in October

It's a rainy, drizzly, grotesque Saturday morning here in the Beltway area. Just got back from a "nutritious" breakfast at McDonalds, and just thought I'd write for a while.

I know..."Why do I have a picture of Stockard Channing on my blog?" Because she and I - as hard as it may seem to believe - share one stupefying, pigeonholing fact about ourselves.

Yes...both of us played Rizzo in "Grease".

She, however, got to cavort with John Travolta and Jeff Conaway, both very good looking, OBVIOUSLY heterosexual guys. My "Danny Zuko" in the Washington Community Theater production (1997) was gay, and later on was my hairstylist when he was a student at a local cosmetology college in Iowa. My "Kenickie" wasn't gay, but I was related to him by marriage when I married my first husband. As a matter of fact, he kept looking at me funny in auditions and asked me why I looked familiar to him. I said because my picture used to hang on the wall at his grandma Grimm's house. "Huh?" he replied.

"I was married to your step-cousin Mike" I repeated.

HIs jaw dropped to the floor.

"WOW. You seem so...different."

"That's because I am." (How smug was that reply? God, I was a bit full of myself.)

We got along like gangbusters after that, but it was hard to simulate making out with him. I kept hearing "Dueling Banjos". Somehow, we got through it. I pretty much retired from community theater after that, save for one disastrous attempt to direct a show. I am NOT meant to be a director. Yuk.

Anyway, enough of that glimpse into Sudiegirl's past.

Let's see...not much news here...the baby panda at the National Zoo has been named, but Mommy is still keeping a tight rein on the boy. Reminds me of a guy I dated in college, but ANYWAY...

Also, I learned about an icon of jazz piano/vocals that lived here in the district and passed away this week. Shirley Horn died at the age of 71, and spent most of her life singing and playing here in the DC area but had champions in the industry such as Miles Davis, Wynton Marsalis, and many others. One thing she commented on that struck me was that she was hurt that other female jazz pianists/singers (such as Norah Jones and Diana Krall) didn't really acknowlege her as an influence, yet you could hear it.

That's a burden, I think, that many vocalists bear. Whether they're professional or not, if they've been singing they either consciously or unconsciously mold their sound around others that they hear and like. I know I did, and still do.

A few to mention: Barbra Streisand, Judy Garland, Lena Horne, Linda Ronstadt, Bonnie Raitt, Janis Siegal, Diana Ross, Etta James, Aretha Franklin, et. al. have all contributed to the way I sing pop songs, ballads, etc. The sound is still uniquely mine, but the phrasing, timing, choices, etc. have been picked up from them and others I've heard and liked along the way.

As a matter of fact, one of the sweetest compliments I ever received was from my niece Chloe. When I sang at my Grandpa DuVall's funeral in late January, she told me afterwards that I sounded so pretty. She said, quote, "You sounded like a black lady AND a white lady, mixed." Then she added, "It's OK...that's a compliment." I never thought about it, but that's the sound I've always WANTED to have, and it took a 10 year old girl to tell me I'd achieved it.

The "musical osmosis" is a blessing and curse, especially when people tell me I sound like Bette Midler. I don't LIKE Bette Midler's voice from a purely technical standpoint. I HATE it, as a matter of fact. If anyone wants to capture me and torture me for political secrets, all they'd have to do is put me in a room and pipe in "From A Distance" and "Wind Beneath my Wings" on endless loop and I'll tell them stuff I DIDN'T DO just to make them stop. But unfortunately, she was influenced by other people I liked, and the osmosis/sponge-like absorption continues. Just as long as I don't sound like Gordon Lightfoot, I'm happy.

It's too bad that acknowledgement isn't always given to groundbreaking musicians like Ms. Horn, but Shirley Horn definitely earned her place in the pantheon. Keep on jammin' in heaven, Shirley...I want a front row seat to hear you when I get there.

Anyway, another thing that has me melancholy this week...my parents are selling my dad's shoe repair shop equipment.

He had this huge, gray metal machine that had 4 - 5 different rotating wheels on it. You could buff, grind, polish shoes or whatever with it.

One of Dad's old employees called it "The Monster" and was scared to use it after she got her sweater caught in it. I can't say as I blame her. It was a behemoth, and I could easily see it pulling a "Stephen King" on us after getting its first taste of blood and all that. He also had a sole stitcher, a cobblers' bench and other items of the trade. But why does that make me melancholy?

Because that's another sign of my parents getting older and slowing down, and that means I'm getting older, right?

I mean, my youth (and young adulthood) contains memories of stopping by the shop to say hi to my dad, running to the back of the shop to hug him and give him a kiss.

He would be covered with dust from crepe-soled shoes, slivers of rubber, leather "crumbs", maybe some oil or grease, but I didn't care. He was still my dad, and I would hug him if he were covered with liver and onions. (Well, maybe not that extreme, but you know what I mean.)

Also, that machinery meant we had things in life that we (as a family) wouldn't normally have - music lessons, special treats, a savings for Mom and Dad, etc.

Many nights, Dad would work late in the shop so we could have these things. He was a night owl anyway, but he would still come home tired from doing extra for us. We would miss him, and (to my shame) I drove Mom nuts asking, "When's Daddy coming home? Why does he have to work late so much?" Mom missed him too, so my nagging didn't make things any easier.

In addition to the shop, Dad was also an Army Reservist from 1976 - 1987. Those were other nights, weekends, and two-week stretches where he was gone and I missed him and nagged Mom. I think she would have been more than happy to sew my mouth shut, but she understood that I missed him. I think she was hurt sometimes because Dad seemed to get a warmer welcome from me because he was away so much. She was there EVERY DAY and didn't get beans except whiny questions and a snotty attitude from me.

But anyway, through the years he cut back...he left the Reserves when I entered college, he retired from the Post Office when I married my first husband, they moved the shop machinery to the house so he could work from home, and now the shop is slowly folding. It's just kind of sad to see. I know it's the circle of life (thanks Elton for implanting that cliche, BTW) but that doesn't mean I can't be sad about it.

I guess all I pray for is that as Mom and Dad's life continues, they gain joy and satisfaction from the new things and people they encounter as they have to let go of more of the old. That's all you can hope for, isn't it?

Sorry this isn't happier, but hey, it's raining and i'm entitled.

Smooches in spite of myself,
Sudiegirl