This week I was transported back to my childhood. Back to memories long put to bed, resting comfortably under old quilts ready to awaken when stirred by the right stimuli. The catalyst was a gentleman named Gerry and the Irish Rovers. While the events unfolded I was immersed in them, completely present in their beauty. It is only now as I sit back absorbing the experience that I truly realize their significance.
On February 25th I was chatting with Lynda Norman who had received a call from Shamma Sabir (a friend and very talented fiddle player here in Kelowna) asking if she knew of anyone who would put on a house concert. Shamma’s friend Gerry was coming to town and wanted to do a concert between gigs. Lynda knew that I was in the midst of creating my house concert concept, had the name chosen and was in process of building the website, but was not ready to launch. She proceeded to tell me that Gerry was touring with the Irish Rovers who would be playing 3 shows in the Valley and had Friday March 6th free. Aware of my full schedule, that I have no home of my own to offer, had only one prospect in mind who was unlikely available AND that it was 9 days away I responded….. let me see what I can do.
I hung up. Nine days. Nine days to pull it off in amongst a bazillion other things.
The time for Heart in the House to be born was now. The birth was earlier than it’s scheduled due date and required much labour (yes Shamma if you are reading this, the analogy was deliberate) in yet it was seamless and perfect, supported by a universal intelligence that smiles down upon creative endeavours and has a way of doing it with unexpected magic.
As the week unfolded a perfect location was found, the website was quickly finished (if I was going to do this I was going to do it right!) and seat confirmations began to roll in. Two days before the concert Gerry left me a voicemail that he would like to take me to lunch and chat about details and oh by the way he had two tickets to the Irish Rovers concert on Thursday night if I would like them….. ya, I am pretty sure I can juggle my schedule to accommodate that. The conversation over lunch with Gerry’s Irish accent and great stories was wonderful. I have Irish blood on both sides of my family and there is something soothing about it, something that resonates with the DNA of my lineage.
That evening as I sat listening to the Rover’s tell their funny stories listening to songs of long ago, my grandmother walked into the theatre and sat down in the empty seat beside me. She has been gone now for 27 years but there she was quietly tapping her toe and hand on her lap eyes closed and a smile on her face swaying to the music. Memories of her watching them on TV and our Sunday dinners of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and gravy swirled in my mind.
“Black Velvet Band”, “Wasn’t that a party” and “The Unicorn” played on and my smile widened as I walked back into my childhood home on the beach in Penticton. Juke box blaring away on the front patio while passers-by wondered what the heck was going on here, Mom and Dad and the multiple guests that filled our home each summer dancing and singing and laughing.
Friday, the night of the House Concert was pure magic. Marc and Amber have an amazing space, a 1909 Heritage home that was moved to this location. That night Marc said that when he first decided to take on that project in 1995 people thought he was crazy but when he sees the room filled with people enjoying each other and great music it makes it all worth it. They open their home often to our community and are lovely warm individuals. I opened the evening with my “Welcome Here” song and introduced our star for the evening, Gerry O’Connor.
The fire crackled away in the dimly lit space as this brilliantly talented musician introduced each piece with stories and then moved bow and fingers to form the notes that wept sad tales, blossomed love stories and squealed funny tales of pigs and kittens.
On February 25th I was chatting with Lynda Norman who had received a call from Shamma Sabir (a friend and very talented fiddle player here in Kelowna) asking if she knew of anyone who would put on a house concert. Shamma’s friend Gerry was coming to town and wanted to do a concert between gigs. Lynda knew that I was in the midst of creating my house concert concept, had the name chosen and was in process of building the website, but was not ready to launch. She proceeded to tell me that Gerry was touring with the Irish Rovers who would be playing 3 shows in the Valley and had Friday March 6th free. Aware of my full schedule, that I have no home of my own to offer, had only one prospect in mind who was unlikely available AND that it was 9 days away I responded….. let me see what I can do.
I hung up. Nine days. Nine days to pull it off in amongst a bazillion other things.
The time for Heart in the House to be born was now. The birth was earlier than it’s scheduled due date and required much labour (yes Shamma if you are reading this, the analogy was deliberate) in yet it was seamless and perfect, supported by a universal intelligence that smiles down upon creative endeavours and has a way of doing it with unexpected magic.
As the week unfolded a perfect location was found, the website was quickly finished (if I was going to do this I was going to do it right!) and seat confirmations began to roll in. Two days before the concert Gerry left me a voicemail that he would like to take me to lunch and chat about details and oh by the way he had two tickets to the Irish Rovers concert on Thursday night if I would like them….. ya, I am pretty sure I can juggle my schedule to accommodate that. The conversation over lunch with Gerry’s Irish accent and great stories was wonderful. I have Irish blood on both sides of my family and there is something soothing about it, something that resonates with the DNA of my lineage.
That evening as I sat listening to the Rover’s tell their funny stories listening to songs of long ago, my grandmother walked into the theatre and sat down in the empty seat beside me. She has been gone now for 27 years but there she was quietly tapping her toe and hand on her lap eyes closed and a smile on her face swaying to the music. Memories of her watching them on TV and our Sunday dinners of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding and gravy swirled in my mind.
“Black Velvet Band”, “Wasn’t that a party” and “The Unicorn” played on and my smile widened as I walked back into my childhood home on the beach in Penticton. Juke box blaring away on the front patio while passers-by wondered what the heck was going on here, Mom and Dad and the multiple guests that filled our home each summer dancing and singing and laughing.
Friday, the night of the House Concert was pure magic. Marc and Amber have an amazing space, a 1909 Heritage home that was moved to this location. That night Marc said that when he first decided to take on that project in 1995 people thought he was crazy but when he sees the room filled with people enjoying each other and great music it makes it all worth it. They open their home often to our community and are lovely warm individuals. I opened the evening with my “Welcome Here” song and introduced our star for the evening, Gerry O’Connor.
The fire crackled away in the dimly lit space as this brilliantly talented musician introduced each piece with stories and then moved bow and fingers to form the notes that wept sad tales, blossomed love stories and squealed funny tales of pigs and kittens.
The concert portion of the evening ended and we gathered for tea and snacks and conversation. A moment to connect and exchange stories and to meet the gentleman that Gerry had brought with him to take pictures for the evening, the official photographer for the Irish Rovers and the host of the Maui Celtic Radio Show, Hamish Burgess. Hamish was so wonderful and talented; he is a visual artist and created the poster for the Irish Rovers. He also wanted to know who the musicians were in the room as he wanted to chat with them about opportunities available to them. He even generously posted details of our concert and project on his Facebook page the next day!
As we gathered again, the chairs were moved to create a circle with Gerry in the key position, we have 6 fiddles, a banjo, a ukulele, a djembe, a bodhran, penny whistles, a cello, and a couple guitars. We move around the circle, each musician taking a turn at leading a song with everyone joining in. Those individuals not playing sink into the couches and chairs behind the circle and soak in the instrumentals and burst into song each time the opportunity arises.
This house was built in 1909 and you can feel it singing along. It has sung many times in its 106 years. And you can feel that this was the way it was is back then, no television, no electronics, just a fire burning and folks gathered in community and song. I know this happened in many homes during that time and I can’t know for sure that it happened in this one but I suspect it did, again another link to childhood memories.
My Grandmother Edna McAfee (nee Stansfield) was born in 1904 and immigrated to Canada when she was about 6. She lived in a large old farmhouse with three siblings, Ernie, Frank and Carrie. Although it wasn’t this farmhouse, it was one like it and it too was filled with music. I never saw that home but I heard the stories of how their father had them march around the kitchen table, flag in hand singing “Never let the old flag fall”.
I return to my childhood home and close my eyes and there she is again, Grandma McAfee banging out a tune on the piano in the covered porch of our home (she played completely by ear and could never read a note) and my Great Uncle Frank singing at the top of his lungs while we watched and tried to sing along.
Thank you for visiting me this week Grandma, I think of you often and smile, come again soon. Thank you Shamma, Lynda, Gerry and the Irish Rovers for making that visit possible.
My Grandmother Edna McAfee (nee Stansfield) was born in 1904 and immigrated to Canada when she was about 6. She lived in a large old farmhouse with three siblings, Ernie, Frank and Carrie. Although it wasn’t this farmhouse, it was one like it and it too was filled with music. I never saw that home but I heard the stories of how their father had them march around the kitchen table, flag in hand singing “Never let the old flag fall”.
I return to my childhood home and close my eyes and there she is again, Grandma McAfee banging out a tune on the piano in the covered porch of our home (she played completely by ear and could never read a note) and my Great Uncle Frank singing at the top of his lungs while we watched and tried to sing along.
Thank you for visiting me this week Grandma, I think of you often and smile, come again soon. Thank you Shamma, Lynda, Gerry and the Irish Rovers for making that visit possible.