Goldilocks and the Three Boroughs- A NYC Fable

There was this traveler who came through the big apple to reconnect with friends, seek inspiration and a little solitude. I know what you're thinking; with over 8 million people, how can anyone seek solitude?

The first several nights, this weary traveler felt pampered and cared for by a hometown friend, at the top of an apartment which overlooked Madison Ave, nearly reached the height of the Empire State Building, which she felt like she could reach out and touch. Glittery lights shown through the full length windows, which reflected on the mirrors that lined the other two walls of the master suite. She certainly appreciated the luxury and independence, but felt a bit out of place and nervous about messing things up. Banter with the doormen made up for the awkwardness. One day, she walked all the way down to the Occupy Wall Street and saw a stark difference. She wondered if any of those Occupiers would pass up the opportunity to stay in a pent house apartment for a couple of nights, for comfy bed and a hot shower, if given the chance...

After the Manhattan mid-town trip, she peeked into the life of friends from a not so distant past, but from a completely different world. The upper east side felt safe and comfortable and moderate. Perfect for up and coming professionals. The apartment was larger than she anticipated, hearing stories of outrageous monthly rent. But the underground was a completely different story, especially when she took a wrong train to the wrong stop, plopping her down in the middle of the Bronx in the middle of the night. It reminded her of her first subway experience at 12. A clever scammer stood at the gate, accepting tokens from the group of youngsters who passed though to enter. He probably managed 20 tokens worth of free rides before someone called him out and he made is escape.

The last night, she crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and hunkered down in Bushwick, to stay with another hometown friend. The sentiment and aura of the apartment felt the most comfortable of all, but the neighborhood, well, didn't. She was nervous in a different way this time and for the first time during all of her travels, felt a twinge of homesickness.

However, alls well that ends well, and on the final day of NYC, she reconnected with four friends from another world, which made her feel right at home again. And of course, every fable has a moral, right?

The New York City boroughs are some amazing places, with an amazing history, a vast diversity of ethnicities, amazing food, educational institutions, museums, theaters, parks, lights... the list could go on and on. For the first time, though, the distribution of wealth was displayed out in front like a children's pop up book, each new page full of surprising images. So, be respectful of those who have more, or who have less than you, but don't covet their lifestyles. Embrace what luxuries come your way, and find the silver lining when the clouds turn gray. And then, keep traveling.

Shrinkidinks and Cowinkidinks

Coincidences. I get a huge kick out of them. But I often wonder if they really are just that? Or if all the little things we call coincidences are leading up to something larger. After all, circumstances that have led to this journey have led to these so called coincidences. Or maybe, it's all just a bunch of junk...

The other day, probably when we were driving through the Adirondack mountains from Albany to Burlington, I was thinking about how I'd like to start typing my poems on an actual type-writer, because I like the font and I like the simplicity. And I'd like to put together a little booklet to share with others to read.

We pulled into Portland, ME on the 18th, with no agenda and no place to stay, so I set up shop at Local Sprouts, a highly recommended c0-op cafe, which didn't disappoint. My decorative light switch covers are making their way into other people's homes, which is so awesome. So I decided to go out to the car to get my supplies to begin making more, and to feed the meter, and when I cam back, I noticed a type-writer sitting on a table, begging to be used. I couldn't believe my eyes and I couldn't believe I hadn't noticed it earlier. I asked my new friends behind the counter if it was always there and they didn't know anything about it either, so I sat down and typed a letter which read:

dear my dear friends,

wow, it has been a really long time since i've used one of these :) it was sitting, ready for use here at this cafe in portland, me..can you help me findone of them?? ///? i want to start typing all of my poems one one. i used to have one when i was a kiddo. it's a shame to have gotten rid of it, and my paren'ts awesome 10 speed bike.

[insert poem here]

well, it's time for the owner to use it now. just in time! thank you for reading. this was meant for your reading enjoyment.

love from the road!

Hazle Lee Dove October, 18, 2011

********************************************
Then I sat down and began collaging the covers. The rest of our stay in Portland was wonderful and our CSing hosts were amazing, taking us to lighthouses in the rain and letting me spread out my mess to finish 6 new covers. I even read some poems and attempted some songs at open mic night before Luna Moth and Blue Valley Farmer blew everyone away.

Fast forward to Cambridge and Boston. It was really comforting to stay with friends from Oklahoma and run through streets so tiny, I felt like I was on the set of a theatrical play. We got to the house show and I met some of the hosts. I walked into my new friend's room and guess what was sitting on her desk? Yep. And she proceeded to tell me she had two, after publicly displaying all of my excitement. So I asked her if she would consider selling one of them to me. It wasn't until after the show that I told her about my plan, and eventually found myself sharing the letter with her. And she thought about it throughout all the beautifully moving music that was performed that evening and afterward told me I could give her $10 for the typewriter that shares the color of a dove. Want to know what really fuels that coincidence flame? My friend is from Peru, which is where the main character of my book is living and doing field work, deep in the Amazonian jungle, with an indigenous tribe that consists of about 50 members.

Yesterday, we walked around Walden Pond State Reservation and later walked around Boston for the purpose of looking for their local Food Not Bombs serving site, only to the Occupy Boston, and coincidentally, the Food Not Bombs information table. It was being manned by the co-founder, who pointed out where the first FNB site took place, across the street, 30 years ago. He stayed with one of my friends from Oklahoma when his car broke down for about two weeks.
http://www.foodnotbombs.net/

Today, I am typing all of this in a penthouse apartment, overlooking about 50 rooftops, and straight down Madison Ave, watching the taxis inch by. Nearly a stones through behind me is the Empire State Building and in front of me, to my right, is the Chryslter Building. I'm staying with a friend from Oklahoma, who told me last night that I'd have a lot in common with her other friend who is also staying with her. She told me she did Peace Corps in West Africa and that they met when they were both living in Burlington. Later, in walked in her friend, it turns we had already met, in The Gambia, because that's where both of us served. I barely knew her then, and barely know her now, but jesus christ, what a coincidence.

10/18/11 Public Service Announcement

Running through Washington Park, I was swimming though a sea of pink. I passed a group of women and one of them was smoking a cigarette. I didn’t have enough nerve to speak my mind to her about smoking during a Susan G Komen breast cancer Race for the Cure. Perhaps someone else did… Instead though, I told the “Team Granny” survivor congratulations.

I also walked to this amazing neighborhood co-op grocery store. It had the biggest bulk item section I’d ever seen in a locally owned shop and I got brown rice and yellow lentils and granola and dates and chili lime peanuts and peanut butter and also carrots and tortilla chips, all for about $15. The co-op offers so much to its customers, but it doesn’t offer me the crap candy that I eat pretty much on a daily basis, so I walked literally right next door to the dollar store. But the two stores couldn’t have been farther away from one another; practically polar opposites with regard to commodities and customers, yet they shared back walls.

The words to this poem began stirring in my head on the walk back home…

PSA 10/17/2011

Here’s a little advice, from little old me

I’m no one special really

Just one of those apples who happen to fall not too far from the family tree

Faults of my own, faulty wires, a lose screw of one or two

Sticking out like sore thumbs, taking it as it comes

Obsessively compulsing, mind always pulsing, until everything is in its exact place

Now for the tid-bit

Kindly turn the music down, adjust your seats, prepare a new drink and put out the smoke

Excuse me, madam? The smoke?

I’ll forgive you once because perhaps you haven’t got a single clue

About what cigarette smoke can do to my little babe, and even worse, to you

But darling, during this survivor’s walk, you’ve got no place or room to talk

Or we’ll just continue to stop and gawk

And I’m so, so sorry that breast cancer took your best friend’s life

It too has run amok among my own mother’s milk ducts

Now, time for a quick intermission break

Go ahead and choose a snack

But I’d think twice about grabbing that

We learn through practice, must practice what we preach and in turn, preach what we learn

So for cake’s sake and for your salud, let’s get lost in this labyrinth and pick some fruit

Fresh fruit, organic apples, locally grown greens

You’ll find it all here at the Cut Out The Crap community food co-op

You know it, don’t you? It’s right around the corner from the dollar store

Oh, the food here you can’t afford?

You’ll need to leave and shop next door?

Because there you can purchase so much more?

I’m so sorry, my sweet, sweet dear

It makes my blood boil too and it’s just not right

That the 1% can afford to eat so great

And that the 99% will eat so poor

Later, I found myself in another alternate universe, upon landing in Burlington, Vermont. A unique type of tea house, called Dobra (there are only four in the US, including Madison, Burlington, Portland, ME and Ashville), that originated in the Czech Republic. The tea house led to listening to Arabic chanting, which lead to our couch surfing friend telling me about her art hanging at a coffee shop, a quick walk away, which led to my stepping into the place and immediately hearing the words to a song from an artist whose name I didn’t recognize, but had to learn right then that very instant. Because the lyrics referenced flying into Senegal and having crazy lucid dreams from the malaria medication. Which I’ve experienced. So I walked straight to the front counter and asked the barista, who told me it was Elephant Revival. Apparently, two of the band members are from Talequaa, Oklahoma, which is really bizarre because the very next moment, I turn around and see my friend Brooke from Oklahoma, sitting down with a friend, sipping coffee.

Piecing together the peace to the corps

I usually remember my dreams when I'm first waking up in the morning. Lately though, for some strange reason, I haven't been able to remember any of them. Perhaps it's because of the constant travel? I know that I'm dreaming, because I'll acknowledge it a tiny bit before I'm fully awake. Then, the other night during a show, after telling the story of our music and art journey, a man said something that confirmed my theory. He said, "Man! We'll you're just living the dream, aren't you?!"

We've been in AAAlbany for a couple of days. (That one's for you Aaron and Andrew Adams). It's beautiful, even in the rain. Last night we played for free ice cream at a gourmet ice cream and candy shop, I mean, uh, heaven. This morning I went on a run and in the afternoon the three of us explored the capital city of New York state. On the way to a tea shop, I mean, uh, Joey's version of heaven, we strolled through a rolling park, along a modest river. Words and the melody to a new song followed me like a little puppy, all the way through the park, but once we emerged to traffic lights and juice bars, it left my mind and this particular tiny pup song may be lost forever, only to follow and inspire another...

New York is beautiful in the autumn. The images of the colors of trees are stained glass, into my mind like a daguerreotype. But unfortunately that's what they'll remain, since the card in my camera decided not to cooperate recently. In Buffalo, the show was canceled unexpectedly just hours prior to playing. Unfortunate news at first, but we learned a valuable lesson after discovering an open mic night AND booking a last minute show at Nietzsche's Bar. Our initial misfortune became my very first appearance as Hazle Lee Dove, poet, singer/song writer and glockenspiel dinger, at the legendary Elmwood Lounge. Okie Opie's Night Club fans and "Cuckoo's Nest" enthusiasts would have felt right at home at the Elmwood Lounge. It felt like the three of us were extras the missing open mic night scene in Milos Forman's 1975 film. By the end of the night, the guys had sold a bunch of CDs and we made nearly 2 tanks of gas worth in tips and art sales, which put a new spin on the DIY aspect of our travels. After Buffalo, we stayed the night in Rochester with a wonderful couple of PhD candidates and couch surfing hosts whose personal library collection was so expansive that Joey and Cody wanted to cancel the rest of the tour and bury their noses in books.

Peace Corps will continue to bring treasures in the form of returned volunteers, along this tour. The Gambia RPCV hospitality is gold. I'm certain it has to do with knowing how amazing and refreshing a shower and a vertical resting position is at the end of a long journey. I'm am enjoying seeing friends I haven't even had contact with in years and introducing the guys to them and catching up, even if only for an afternoon. I'm about to discover an entire mine in the NYC/Washington DC area. Thanks to everyone with whom we've stayed and all those with whom we may stay. You are helping make our travels rested, clean and safe.

Next we're off to Vermont, where I'm certain to go into a glucose or sucrose coma with all that maple syrup. I'll write some letters for the novel and begin selecting images for new light switch covers. I've sold all but 5 of the original 16.

Michigan, Again, Again

Ahead of me I see rows of clouds the letter C

And all around, on the ground, a sea of fields of grains and greens

I’m soaring by, an open road, fueled by friends and lovers and mothers and brothers

That cover me like an heirloom blanket until I’m homeward bound

Okay, wear your OK home on your heal, and your heart in my hand

Because home is where your heart is and

Now their home is where your art is

So, Mr. Blue Bird sits perched on my shoulder

It’s true, it’s factual

This dance of living is extremely satisfactual

Home is where the heart is, now their home is where your art is...

Have you ever met anyone who works for a company that makes those little latches for the stalls in the public restrooms? Yeah, neither have I. But if you think about it, like I did while staring directly at one this morning, someone, probably lots of someones, does. Because they exist and they exist everywhere, all around the world. And as someone who, as Cody put it “has the bladder of a 90 year woman”. “Golf ball sized”, added Joey. I have unconsciously stared at more than my fair share of those latches.

On my way back to the States from Gambia to see my family for Christmas in December 2007, I sat next to a guy who worked for a company that sold fluorescent light rods to hospitals. We talked on the subject for about an hour, while I thought to myself that I’ve also held hour conversations with physicists and in reality, I could even talk for an hour to a log.

After attending Nana’s memorial, and hearing her described by others as “having never met a stranger”, I’m thinking I must have inherited Universal Conversational Disorder from her. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t always like to talk. I do, however, find interest in so many things and find human beings very, very fascinating.

Someone once told me that you should say at least four words to a toll attendant when you stop to pay a road toll. I’ve also heard they have a higher suicide rate than other professions, which leads me to end asking questions about their families and their most prized possessions… I suggest you try it next time.

So much has happened over the last week! We camped out in Chicago for four nights, visiting friends and family. I stayed with a friend from the Peace Corps and visited with another one, one evening. Cody and Joey stayed with a friend from OK one night and Cody’s brother the others and I enjoyed independence and autonomy during in Chicago. I spent my time with the Okie pal, biking around and enjoying the weather, eating good food and thrifting. The shows were fun and some CDs and art was sold. From there, I took a detour back to Oklahoma, stopping a night in Kansas City to pick up a friend who was also attending the Brileen wedding. The guys took buses to their shows in Sagatook, Mt. Pleasant and Grand Rapids, MI, which provided their own, very interesting material for stories, lyrics, letters and journals. Next time you see them, ask them how their ride went.

Norman was just as wonderful as always. Brian and Kathleen began their wedding by singing a duet to “I only have eyes for you” as their entrance to us guests. That should set the scene for the rest of the night. And so many friends, I saw, in such a short amount of time. It was incredible, really, and so was the hospitality. I renewed the car for another month, went to a yoga class and a wedding, check in and got an update with the friends who are subletting the house, ran a couple of times, unpacked and repacked what was left in the car, visited with people contributing to the tour in non-monetary ways, sold some of our art to dear friends, all in the time span of about two days. It was a busy but fruitful visit. On Oct 9^th, I began the trip back to meet the guys in Grand Rapids, staying the night again in Kansas City. The next day, I began the solo 10 hour drive. It actually wasn’t as rough as I anticipated, especially thanks to Sarah and Jeanne, who loaned me their music players. I discovered ways to entertain myself and before I knew it, Blue Valley Farmer, Luna Moth and I were physically embracing each other and we were off to Ann Arbor to cut down on the next day’s drive to Buffalo, NY.

In Ann Arbor, we had a short, but very sweet visit with Aunt Kay, who, among countless other friends and family members, is helping make this tour possible for us. I am so grateful we all got to meet each other and learn more about everyone’s endeavors and passions. She gave us excellent advice, as innovators and creators about copyrights and trademarks. Aunt Kay, our gratitude is endless, for your wisdom and belief in us.

And now for the Empire State…

I remember being 3 years old and voluntarily and excitedly following the nurse into the operating room, with Barbie in tow, for security. I remember hoping on the bed, laying back and a minty flavored mask being placed over my nose and mouth. Barbie got one too. I remember being carried outside to the car, in my father's arms. The sunlight was painfully bright, but I couldn't see a single thing, due to the patches placed over my eyes. I'm not sure if my first memory was that corrective eye surgery, but it sure stands out.

I remember sitting next to Meme in the car, squeezing her doughy hand, on the way to Beavers Bend. It was one of the most comfortable places I could have been. My family was on our way to one of the numerous traditional trips to the beautiful Oklahoma state park. I don't remember how old I was.

It was my 17th Halloween. I remember slamming on the breaks of the blue Taurus Meme willed to me after her death, three days after my 16th birthday, only to crash into the passenger side of the tiny car. I was going 55 miles an hour and pushed it all the way into a pole on the other side of the street. I remember the air bag inflating and my adrinaline pulsating through my body. My immediate concern was my 13 year old sister in the passenger seat. I got out, went around and pulled her out of the car so fast, it's the only part I don't really remember. We stood shaking, then sitting, as cars began to slow down and stop, then ask for my parent's phone number. The male driver from the other car emerged wearing a dress, high heels, and a blond wig. His absent passenger would have perished, I'm certain now.

I remember our family trip to Anchorage to visit my aunt and uncle. We went salmon fishing and I caught my first and only fish in life, thus far. My uncle was so proud, he gave me a kiss on the lips. I don't remember my age.

I have lots of memories. But the reality is, I've lost most of the ones I've made. It's the simple truth and unfortunate fact of being a human. And without audio, video, or film documentation, even more of them could have vanished. When I discovered writing and drawing, an entirely new creative form of preserving memories was at my fingertips. Even more confusing, though, is the idea that bad memories seem to stick around longer than the good ones.

I'm certain there are many memories from this tour that I will not have to write down or take pictures of in order for them to remain imprinted in one of my brain wrinkles (to take from a lyric in one of the songs from our gracious hosts' band French Films about Trains in Cologne, MN). However, as one may be able to tell, I'm not taking too many chances by posting these online thoughts, taking pictures and keeping my own little personal journal.

Minneapolis was awesome. I'm glad we visited and they played in September, because I don't like the cold, and the weather was perfect. Same for Cologne and Chicago. We've had beautiful fall weather and have been really really fortunate. The show was successful in Minneapolis, even though it transformed from practically an acoustic show to a straight up techno dance club within minutes. Our hosts were so so wonderful. They shared their food, cooking more than once, floor space, bicycles and wisdom. I got to see an old Okie friend and ride around on a bike for about 2 hours, along gardens and creeks and through greenways. I did yoga and picked up some tidbits for the book.

In Cologne, our hosts played music, loaned us their family canoe, gave us each our own beds, not to mention cooked the most amazingly delicious dinner of vegan chili and beer bread and breakfast of muffins and hot apple granola crisp before we made the long drive to Chicago. I went running along the farm roads lined with corn and marveled at the leaves changing to colors of yellows, reds and oranges that I forgot even existed.

Chicago has been so nice and familiar and relaxing. I'm staying with a friend from my Peace Corps days and it has been enjoyable to have freedom and alone time. I'll be making the drive back to Norman in a couple of days to renew our rental car and attend a good friend's wedding, before meeting the guys in Michigan to head onto Buffalo, NY. Detours in life just help to get us back on track, right?

La vida de la paloma

Language lessons,
Laughter without laughing creates guttural laughter, all the ways to tears

These boy by my side, drive me crazy at times, driving me across the country

We see tiny winged green fairies, acorn caps for hats, brown bucks staring back until we're staring at the white tail

Music lessons, lessons in life, lessons in love, lessons for learning

We rescue food, but in reality, it rescues us
Keeping us strong, carrying us on

Everywhere I glance, the blue bird perches on the posts
Taking my letters in its beak, delivering pages and delivering peace

A piece of my mind, with some peace of mind
Piece by piece, we connect the states