Saint Lucy, eyeballs and all

Record shopping in Hamra (Part 1)

Poor Gavin. He arrived to start working for JRS Middle East, moving his life to a new continent, the day the office reached it's breaking point. Welcome to JRS.

My solution was to take him around the city, which is a pretty big joke seeing as how I never go out. I took him record shopping in Hamra, a kind of student district near the American University. We were looking for a record store I couldn't find, records he's never heard of, in a language neither of us could speak.

So breakfast turned into lunch, and a quick shopping trip turned into an all-day odyssey. We were looking for a man straight out of High Fidelity. I say "we", even though Gavin could care less about records. Every music shop knew of this man, but didn't really want to help us because he is so terrible – the type that has records you want but won't sell them, who laughs at your music taste because it's just not obscure enough, who would rather be left alone is his dusty attic shop with his music. We asked another record guy how to find him and he said, "I know where he is, but that man is NOT my friend!"

That's who we were looking for and it took us four hours to find his shop. But the hours of searching allowed me to get out of this rut I've dug for myself. See, when I got here I was so desperately homesick that I shied away from everyone. Living and working with great JRS people saved me from being alone all the time, but I didn't know how to process the constant talk about Syria, and death, and stress and war.

It was getting out in the city, with another foreigner, someone even newer than myself, that reminded me of normal life – not thinking of Omaha, not talking about Syria– but just wandering the streets looking for the curmudgeonly record guy.

Well, we finally found his shop, and it turns out he's in Germany for the week. But at least it gives me an excuse to go back.

Almaza, and Andy Ash

So, my time in Beirut in winding down, although I can hardly feel it. The office is in an uproar, I'm starting up my last few projects for JRS Middle East and Andy Ash just arrived to help.

I first met Andy in India, well over a year ago. I was dating his roommate but found myself up late night with Andy, talking about photography and singing "The Weight" over and over, seeing as it was the only song he could play on the guitar.

I've visited him and his family in England three times over the past year; conned him into meeting me in Paris to see Bruce Springsteen and then convinced him to road trip from London to Rome in his tiny, 2-seater convertible, top down, in winter. That'll test a friendship.

Now he's in Beirut, shooting a video with me about our education projects in Lebanon for Syrian refugees. And man, it feels like such a blessing to have him. After seeing him and his family more over this year than my own, it feels like I've got a little slice of family, of home, here in Beirut.

Andy arrived on Mardi Gras, which doesn't mean anything in Beirut, even though it's a former French colony. He got off the plane and we went out straight away with my roommates and colleagues. I'd like to say this was because of Mardi Gras, but every day here in Beirut is blur of whiskey and cigarettes. It's truly been a whirlwind here. I haven't been drinking, which has helped and hindered in it's own ways.

Beirut is a funny place. I don't know any Lebanese people; all my roommates until recently were from the same home town in Syria. Beirut is expensive cars, new condos, bars and restaurants. You hear about a bombing across town over Facebook in the morning and then go out at night.

And after a few months in the city, I've gotten strangely attached. I've never met JRS people like the guys I've met here. Maybe it's because they are from Syria that makes them so dedicated. But I don't think so; they are dedicated because it's in their nature. Maybe it's because the office has been turned upside down recently with new management decisions that have brought us closer through turmoil.

It's just because it takes time to settle in, and now it hurts to think I have to go. It took me and Andy a year or more to feel like family, but the people I've met in Beirut welcomed me into their big, crazy, dysfunctional family almost immediately.

You are all my Valentine! (hand-painted lovey-dovey cards)

This Valentine's Day was more or less an excuse to bust out the ol' water colors and get to work.

A Valentine to myself

I made a bunch of hand-painted Valentine's this year. I will post them on Valentine's Day but until then, I'll post just this one. This was made for a friend. But it was only made by person who can completely relate. So this one's really for all of us. Here's to we who are still trying, still looking, and still loving ourselves.

Happy fucking Valentine's Day!

Dear Dad, life will go on after this Super Bowl

Dear Dad,

I just left the sports bar early so I could get to Skype because I am waiting for the news that you burned our house down. I hope this message gets to you before you smash all our dishes.

Listen, take it from a girl whose been broken hearted by many guys before. Payton is a jerk. And you can do better. You don't want a guy who won't work hard for your affections.

We've all been disappointed before by a man. It's hard to watch a man you love so much just break your heart like that. I know. I promise. But you know what, it gets better.

Little by little, this day will feel farther and farther in the past. I'm glad you retired recently, because I know there will be days and days of mourning. But one day soon, you'll wake up and hear birds chirping, feel the warm sun and think, Payton who?

For now, remember that life goes on. Cinnamon rolls still taste as sweet. Cocker spaniels are still just as cuddly. Bruno Mars is still a dreamboat.

I suggest you buy yourself a copy of "Eat, Pray Love", tear up your photos and love letters to Payton, and mix yourself a Skinny Girl Martini. That's what I do when a guy like Payton breaks my heart.

Just tell yourself that you are done being let down. And there is true love out there. You just need to find someone who won't let you down. And I think I've found just the guy. His name is Doug, and he is perfect for you. In fact, he lives just around the corner.

So, if you haven't thrown the remote out the window, once your ready, turn the channel and watch some Bluejays. Because unlike the Broncos, they are going all the way.

And when these fingers can strum no longer…

I got to the JRS office in Beirut at 8:30 Tuesday to start my day only to see that Pete Seeger had passed away. We all knew he wouldn't live forever, although all lovers of music and peace and 3-part harmonies hoped he would; no one, no group of people can fill the space that Pete leaves, although he tried his entire life to get us to.



It's hard to put into words what Pete did for the world through his music; his most popular songs weren't often written by him- The Seeger Sessions, Bruce Springsteen's folk tribute doesn't contain music by Pete. But he rather chose songs, plucked them from all over the world and delivered them to us, like spreading "We Shall Overcome" through the Union movements to the Civil Rights
movement.



One example, that I think ties up Pete into a nice little bow is the song "How Can I keep From Singing," a hymn written in 1868 by Robert Wadsworth Lowry. 
Originally strictly a church song packed with "thou"s and "God"s it was retooled as a folk song in the early l950s.



The refrain went from "Since Christ is Lord of heaven and Earth, how can I keep from singing?" to the version we know now, "Since LOVE is LORD of heaven and Earth, how can I keep from singing?" Pete heard this new version and ran with it, singing it at protests and folk gatherings all over the country.

So why does this sum him up to me? Because Pete believed in the accessibility of the spirit. That is, once this song had been stripped of it's religious phrasing that would alienate people, and replaced it with universal language saying essentially the same thing, he shared it with the world, because he wanted to bring us out of our small boxes and bring us together in the wider human community. Pete Seeger didn't stand on the side of the road holding a sign about stopping this war or that war, he stood on the highway holding up a sign that said "Peace", an idea that unites rather than separates.





So now Pete is gone, only a few months after his wife of 70 years, and it's our turn to live by his example. We, the next generation have to continue his work for peace and ecology and love. Pete said there is only a 50/50 chance humans will survive the next 100 years. I'll take those odds.


Here’s the big ask: think of one thing YOU can do this week to prove that Pete's message will keep going.



"And when these fingers Can Strum no longer, hand the old banjo to young ones stronger."

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Feel free to read my other blogs about Pete here:

January 2011 – Pete Seeger, As Always, Thanks

August 2012 – Getting a Tattoo on A Thai Island, Check

August 2012 – Quite Early Morning

November 2010 – Pete Seeger Saves My Sanity

June 2009 – My New Favorite Thing