I Do Realize How Blessed We Are


I am going to work
And I'm thinking hard
I hope things change soon
I don't want them to be this bad.

Can't live with uncertainty
On the back of my mind
It's easier to keep pacing
one tiny step at a time

Looking around me
It's scary at times
What has happened to others
May just decide to visit us

So I kindly close my door
To keep the uncertainty out
I don't mean to be rude or mean
I just don't want to socialize

I want to know what's coming
I need to be aware
Don't want any surprises
That my heart may just not bear

So waking up each day
Knowing I have a job
I send a quick little prayer
To the almighty up above

Thank you lord for another day
Thank you lord for all you do
Thank you lord for my whole family
The one that was a gift from you

Things could be a lot worse
And yet you are kind to us
I guess we are being lucky
And blessed you are here with us.

.

Better to bloom late than never

Bonnie Gibson (photo from bonniegibson.com)

The Capt and I had a date last Thursday night, to hear local jazz chanteuse Bonnie Gibson singing at Seamaster's in Barra. We don't do the town very often, so it was a special occasion, and the gifted Ms Gibson made it even more special with her singing and her humor. It seemed every song she sang was either one I know well, or one I'd love to know. She had two guitarists: Marco (her longtime main squeeze) and a young, very talented fellow whose name I forgot, though the Capt was very impressed with his playing.

Before she took the stage, Bonnie cruised through the packed house, warmly introducing herself and getting acquainted with her audience. When she stopped at our table, the Capt mentioned we're also performers and she invited us onstage for a number or two. A wonderful opportunity we had to turn down because we haven't been practicing together.

Beyond jazz standards that she made very much her own, she went on to sing a couple of tunes that really tickled me: "Don't Advertise Your Man," (which I haven't heard in decades) and Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time." She did her own version of "Summertime" dedicated to Barra de Navidad, warning that we shouldn't tell anybody about this unique place except our coolest friends. (Not to worry: I've been blogging about Barra for three years, but I consider all six of my blog readers very cool.)

She wandered playfully through the audience, moving to the music, growling some of the lines like an old-time blues singer. During her break, she turned over the mike to a young singer/songwriter who performs elsewhere in Barra. But I couldn't wait for her to resume her set and see what else was in her repertoire.

On our way out we stopped to talk to her again and buy one of her CDs. She told us she lives here in Barra, and Thursday was her last show of the season because Marco is headed back to Canada. She invited me to get together for a singers' chat while I was here. It's so rare to meet another jazz singer, especially in Mexico, and I was eager to compare notes.

So today I spent an hour at the Sands Hotel pool with Bonnie, learning more about her career, commiserating about the challenges of finding performing opportunities in a male-dominated industry (even more so in Mexico). We have a lot in common: she's a late-bloomer like me, having begun singing at 40 although she had already been in theater for years so she's very comfortable onstage. We're both mated to musicians, a situation that seems ideal since we don't play instruments ourselves, but can be fraught with problems at times. She spends five months of the year in Barra, and has been coming here for 21 years. She would live here all the time if she could, but she also has a home in Vancouver, Canada. She teaches Spanish in Barra as well, and holds singers' workshops periodically. (I'm already hoping at some point I'll be be able to take part in one.) Lots of info on the Spanish and the workshops at her website , bonniegibson.com.

She reminds me a lot of my online singing coach, Chrys Page.

I invited her, her niece and a friend to join us tomorrow night when we go to Melaque for the finale of the week-long San Patricio celebration.

P.S. My first loaf of sourdough bread was a dismal failure, and now I'm trying to decide whether to get back on the horse or shoot it.