April 1, 2008
Spotted planet
Island life.
It took me 15 hours, door to door. Each way. Three flights: the Friday Harbor 9-seat puddle jumper to Seattle, the Very Large Two Aisle Flying Yacht to Atlanta, and then to Newport News, Virginia and all the wonderful musicians and notes that awaited: an extremely long, narrow, claustrophobic tube in which only people of shortness could stand up (that’s the politically correct term these days, I suppose). Yes, the trip and all its flying and between-flight grounding time, was worth it. Having never even heard a concert wind band perform before, much less composed for one, I got to hear my new piece played beautifully by the U.S. Army TRADOC Band. I’m told it went over very well with the players and the listeners, despite my fears of utter ineptitude, and perhaps, an orange jumpsuit in my future if I didn’t do a good job.
A view like this, above, makes any grueling travel worthwhile.
These are just some of the 740 islands that sprinkle the Salish Sea around San Juan Island and its neighbor, Orcas Island. A number of them don’t even have names. Feel free to suggest some, but please avoid Tiffany and Jason. Overdone in the 80’s.
The flights that take me off the island and put me back down on it are the big reward on each end of these long hauls. It’s as though after schlepping across the country all day, someone turns to me and says, “let’s go to an amusement park and ride the rollercoaster and the ferris wheel!”. Despite being exhausted and ill-fed, existing on a diet of peanuts and sugar cookies on the planes, and cheese pizzas in the terminals, I reply, “Okay, let’s!” With each of these airborne adventures I gain a better sense of the dimensions of our planet and of the magic within this particular archipelago. I also probably gain an extra gray hair or two, because much as I love these flights for the visuals, I’m not the biggest fan of being a couple of thousand feet up in something that seems about as aerodynamic as my toaster oven.
When you land on Orcas, which was a nice surprise stop on our way out, here’s what you see:
Thousands of busy travelers heading in and out of the glass and chrome international terminal are just out of frame.
Not.
But a few deer and raccoons are.
I’m happy to be back. And in eight days, I get to do the amusement park ride again, on my way to Los Angeles. Hooray for the jet age; it brings me closer to nature every time it takes me far away from it.
Doug Palmer said,
April 2, 2008 @ 11:13 am
i quiver in trepidation to once again disagree with an artistic superior
but
Tiffany and Jason may have been overdone in the ’80’s but they haven’t been overdone as island names.
Glenn Buttkus said,
April 7, 2008 @ 5:16 am
What a cycle you are on, lady–and this is the price required to be sequestered on your island for sanity and security, while the dictates of marketing and promulgation require you to travel, to fly across this country like a great beautiful Jazz bird, with primal notes pounding in your pancreas, more composing in gestation as you travel to promote the children of yesterday.
I, too, was in the air last week, and the week before, traveling to the wilds of Texas, to the oder of bluebonnets, to the stickiness of humidity and the lush Spring greenness of the Gulf Coast. Melva and I attended a conference in Dallas, and then rented a car and drove south several hundred miles of wildflower strewn blue highways to her mother’s home. She is 83 now, and every visit is golden for all of us.
Your music soothed my savage breast this morning as I returned to the shambles of my office, as a coworker was in it last week covering for me. SAN NICOLAS ISLAND-1.L @ 2.45 luscious minutes. Was San Nicolas a Channel Island there off the Malibu coast? There is no history linked to it this time. That usually means you are playing the piano, or the piece was maverick, and never made full performance. Your views from the camera lens, and from your homeland heart, are always intriguing.
Alex has come home,
and she knows it;
lucky woman.
Wow, 740 islands in the archapelego, and many of them tiny and unnamed, like the music that dwells within you, waiting for its chance to be recognized, to be heard. ISLAND LIFE is this sweet jazz line, led by the drummer, and joined by the piano. Sax joins in to get it authenticity and verve. The piece has perhaps 740 notes, like the San Juan group, with some to spare for the Canadian cousins. The traditional jazz trio, piano, drums, and sax, bring us home. Ms. pianist lets one hand hold the beat, and ride it, and riff it, and the other hand is free for flights of fancy.
I agree with Doug, Tiffany and Jason have not been overdone as names of islands, bringing to mind Jason and the Argonauts, and the Greek Isles. But consider Wolf’s Bane, White Crest, Dream Adrift, or even perhaps San Shapiro.
Glenn