Pee Wee Stephens, Pete Mayes, Grady Gaines, Calvin Owens, Joe “Guitar” Hughes,
and I don’t know the gentleman playing bass on the stage at Billy Blues (1999)
— Image by kenne
During our time living in the Houston area, Joy and I were very much into live music, especially the blues. Although there are still plenty of blues venues, many have passed with time. One such place was Billy Blues, on Richmond Avenue on Houston’s trendy westside. Regional and nationally known blues musicians played there for about seven years. Known for its 63-foot-tall saxophone made of Volkswagen Beetle parts and beer kegs, the venue never seemed to capture the same blues feeling of clubs in Houston’s working-class 3rd and 5th Ward communities. “I love the blues. It’s a feeling,” Martha Turner said to Roger Wood in his book Down In Houston: Bayou City Blues. “You got to feel a song, you know. When a person comes into a club to see you, they enjoy your expression, not so much as what you’re singing. They watch your face.”
“You watch this person sing a song,
and it’s almost like you’re doing it yourself.
Know what I’m talking about?
You enjoy that blues.
The Blues is something you can identify with.” (Martha Turner)
During these trying times, what better way of coming together than with The Blues, and Buddy Guy reminds us,
“. . . you treat everybody just the way you want them to treat you.”
— kenne
Lyrics
I've been around a while
I know wrong from right
And since a long time ago
Things been always black and white
Just like you can't judge a book by the cover
We all gotta be careful
How we treat one another
I say
Skin deep, skin deep
Underneath we all look same
Skin deep, skin deep
Underneath, don't we all look the same?
A man in Louisiana
He never called me by my name
He said "boy do this and boy do that"
But I never once complained
I knew he had a good heart
But he just didn't understand
That I needed to be treated
Just like any other man
Skin deep, skin deep
Underneath, don't we all look the same?
Skin deep, skin deep
Underneath we all look the same
I sat my little child down
When he was old enough to know
I said "I fear in this big wide world
You're gonna meet all kinda folks"
I said "Son it all comes down to just one simple rule
That you treat everybody just the way
You want them to treat you"
Skin deep, skin deep
Underneath, don't we all look the same?
Skin deep, skin deep
Underneath we all look the same
Skin deep, skin deep
Underneath, don't we all look the same? Yeah
Skin deep, skin deep
Underneath we just all look the same (the same, yeah)
Skin deep (treat everybody), skin deep
Skin deep, skin deep
All look, all look the same
Skin deep, skin deep
Don't we all look the same?
Joy with Grandchild Audry and James In San Antonio, April 2009 — Image by kenne
In the previous posting “Ready To Start Going Places” I used an image of the San Antonio River Walk which brought to mind a video I produced of our spring vacation in April 2009.
A Teacher’s Teacher: Ellis Marsalis (November 14, 1934, April 1, 2020) Image Source: Chicago Tribune
All of us reach an age when it seems like every day someone of our generation dies, even more now with the COVID-19 pandemic. Sadly, on April 1, a giant in education and jazz became one of the numbers in the current pandemic.
In the 1980s, Ellis Marsalis, with his sons, became the fresh new face to a resurgence of jazz in the last decades of the 20th century. “My dad was a giant of a musician and teacher, but an even greater father,” Branford Marsalis said in a statement. “He poured everything he had into making us the best of what we could be.”
Ellis Marsalis had a light and graceful touch at the piano, allowing his enter fellings to pour out like a gentle flowing mountain stream. He had held a weekly gig for decades at Snug Harbor, one of New Orleans’s premier jazz clubs, before giving it up in December.
The New Times critic, Stephen Holden wrote: “Sticking mainly to the middle register of the keyboard, the pianist offered richly harmonized arrangements in which fancy keyboard work was kept to a minimum and studious melodic invention, rather than pronounced bass patterns, determined the structures and tempos.”
One of my favorite Cole Porter songs done superbly by Ellis and his son Branford.
SCVN President, Phil Bentley Teaching a Kindergarten Class In Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
As Sabino Canyon Volunteer Naturalists (SCVN), we are not currently offering nature education programs to school children and the public because of the coronavirus. However, individually we are in the canyon, encouraging everyone to spend time outdoors.
This morning naturalist Nancy Wilkenson, who teaches in our kindergarten program, did this short virtual nature walk encouraging people to come out to the canyon. Nature is always open!
The Rhythm Room, Phoenix, Arizona (February 28,2020) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
It’s been several years since we have seen our good friend Diunna Greenleaf live.
So, when we learned that she was going to appear at The Rhythm Room in Phoenix,
On February 28th, we made plans.
I’m now in my 16th year of retirement. Still, like a lot of retired people, I stay very busy, working as a volunteer naturalist in Sabino Canyon, where we teach children about nature, leading nature walks and hikes on the many trails in Sabino Canyon. When I’m not volunteering, I spend my time doing creative things, usually after morning conditioning activities.
Over the years, I have created an extensive iTunes library of music and recorded poetry and psychology. This morning while walking in the neighborhood, I had my iTunes library on shuffle, and two of my non-music recordings of authors came on; Charles Bukowski, “Something for the Touts, the Nuns, the Grocery Clerks and You” and Alan Watts lecture titled “Insides and Outsides.” It was spiritual.
Alan Watts — Insides and Outsides (audio)
Charles Bukowski Video
We have everything, and we have nothing Some do it well enough for a while and then give way Fame gets them or disgust or age or lack of proper diet or ink across the eyes or children in college Or new cars or broken backs while skiing in Switzerland Or new politics or new wives Or just natural change and decay — The man you knew yesterday hooking for ten rounds or drinking for three days and three nights by the Sawtooth mountains now just something under a sheet or a cross, or a stone, or under an easy delusion Or packing a bible or a golf bag or a briefcase How they go, how they go! All the ones you thought would never go Days like this, like your day today Maybe the rain on the window trying to get through to you What do you see today? What is it? Where are you? The best days are sometimes the first, sometimes the middle, and even sometimes the last. The vacant lots are not bad Churches in Europe on postcards are not bad? People in wax museums frozen into their best sterility are not bad? Horrible, but not bad? The cannons, think of the cannon And toast for breakfast and coffee hot enough to know your tongue is still there Three geraniums outside a window, trying to be red and trying to be pink and trying to be geraniums No wonder sometimes the women cry No wonder the mules don’t wanna go up the hill. One more good day, a little bit of it
Enough and not enough Arcs and pilgrims, oranges, gutters, ferns, antibodies, boxes of tissue paper In the most decent sometimes sun There is the softsmoke feeling from urns And the canned sound of old battleplanes And if you go inside and run your finger along the window ledge, you’ll find dirt, maybe even earth And if you look out the window, there will be the day And as you get older you’ll keep looking, keep looking Sucking your tongue in a little Ah, ah, no, no, maybe
It’s the Holiday Season and what better time for Joe and Ricki Mensching to hold an open house for their train room, which takes up the space of their three-car garage. Ricki had asked me if I would take some photos, five are in this posting. Click here to see all 25 photos.
I also took five video clips, which I edited into a short movie of the Train Room Open House.
— kenne
Mensching’s Train Room Open House — Images & Video By kenne
Poetry and Music Soluting The Common Man.
Julian Tuwim’s poem nails it.
In my younger days,
I worked with many a Harlan Clancy —
Tom Russell writes and sings
about in the album “Folk Hotel,”
referencing Aaron Copland’s anthem,
“Fanfare for the Common Man.”
In those early days,
the winters could be harsh,
and having spent many
a Christmas in the cold north,
I end this trilogy to The Common Man
with Merle Haggard,
“If We Make It Through December.”
— kenne
The Common Man
When plastered billboards scream with slogans
‘fight for your country, go to battle’
When media’s print assaults your senses,
‘Support our leaders’ shrieks and rattles…
And fools who don’t know any better
Believe the old, eternal lie
That we must march and shoot and kill
Murder, and burn, and bomb, and grill…
When press begins the battle-cry
That nation needs to unify
And for your country you must die…
Dear brainwashed friend, my neighbor dear
Brother from this, or other nation
Know that the cries of anger, fear,
Are nothing but manipulation
by fat-cats, kings who covet riches,
And feed off your sweat and blood – the leeches!
When call to arms engulfs the land
It means that somewhere oil was found,
Shooting ‘blackgold’ from underground!
It means they found a sneaky way
To make more money, grab more gold
But this is not what you are told!
Don’t spill your blood for bucks or oil
Break, burn your rifle, shout: ‘NO DEAL!’
Let the rich scoundrels, kings, and bankers
Send their own children to get killed!
May your loud voice be amplified
By roar of other common men
The battle-weary of all nations:
WE WON’T BE CONNED TO WAR AGAIN!
— Julian Tuwim
Tim Russell writes, Harlan Clancy
“. . . out there in the middle of Ohio,
a place you’ll never likely go . . .
Euro tourists never make it there . . .
the America of the shit jobs, farms,
remote ranches, wrecking yards,
inner-city brothels, shooting galleries,
used car lots, and back street bars that
still have Narco corridos, or Otis Redding,
or George Jones on the jukebox.”
Pee Wee Stephens, Pete Mayes, Grady Gaines, Calvin Owens, Joe “Guitar” Hughes,
Joy with Grandchild Audry and James In San Antonio, April 2009 — Image by kenne
Lake Tahoe — Image by kenne
A Teacher’s Teacher: Ellis Marsalis (November 14, 1934, April 1, 2020) Image Source: Chicago Tribune 
thesheaf.com
SCVN President, Phil Bentley Teaching a Kindergarten Class In Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
Sabino Creek Below The Dam In Sabino Canyon — Image and video by kenne
The Rhythm Room, Phoenix, Arizona (February 28,2020) — Photo-Artistry by kenne
Charley Parker, A.J. Murphy, Diunna Greenleaf, Kenne Turner, Dale Armet
Bob Corritore and Diunna Greenleaf — Photos and Video by kenne
Self-portrait (Photo-Artistry)
Mensching’s Train Room Open House — Images & Video By kenne
“The Common Man” — Photo-Artistry by kenne
