Blogging on the Powwow

It's hard to believe that Summer of the Oboe (SOTO) 2012 is almost over. Didn't it just begin? But, last night I had my last rehearsal with my community band and on July 29 I will play my final concert with them for the season. I hate to admit it, but before long I will be teaching on Tuesday nights and during my drive home, I'll be thinking about the band rehearsal that I am missing " back home ."  SOTO 2012 was too short, but all together enjoyable. This year offered a new adventure, which was playing next to a 14 year-old oboist. He's a great oboist and I was thrilled to have the opportunity to help bring him into the fold of community band. I was once a 14 year-old oboist in a community band--the Bath Municipal Band --and I was shown great kindness and patience by everyone in the ensemble, but most of all, by our director, Jimmy Footer. Perhaps I received special privileges because my parents were both music teachers, or because they both played in the

I'm not sure that anyone could ask for a better neighbor than Bob. He and his wife, Ovaline -- or, Ovie, for short -- have lived on our street since 1967. Bob is a retired maintenance worker who grumbles daily about getting ripped off by our town, state, and federal governments; who has the greenest thumb of anyone I know; who loves to chat with the neighbors; and who showers his great-granddaughter, Ava, with love, attention, and most important -- patience -- for 40+ hours a week while one of his granddaughters works. Bob and Ovie, at a recent neighborhood cook-out that we hosted at our house. Anything that Bob plants springs to life, both in his small, in-town lot, and in his double plot in the community garden. In his small yard, he grows blueberries, apricots, lettuce, broccoli, tomatoes and herbs. Many of these plants are grown in pots, especially the herbs. Just walk past his house and his oregano will reach out and slap you.  Bob loves to share his gardening with

I've had a whirl-wind of a week. I tend to take short conference trips and short family visits into Maine. In the past week I packed both such trips into my life. I took my usual 48-hour conference trip - this time to Chicago, The Windy City . I go to 3-4 conferences a year and somehow I had never been to Chicago. As some of my readers know, I tend to dislike cities. I find them impenetrable. When I visit a city, I feel like I am routed into a special section of the city that is designated for tourists, which is usually the equivalent of a tourist shop in Kennebunkport that sells ceramic lobsters with the word "Mainah" on them. I find cities crowded with people and cars, and expensive. I am never able to come away from a city with an idea of what it would be like to live in said city. Nevertheless, I had heard wonderful things about Chicago, so I threw caution to the wind (pun intended) and took an afternoon to see some of Chicago. In truth, my tourist activities star