A Refugee Field of Dreams

Taki Telonidis and Hal Cannon spent a recent evening on the west side of Salt Lake City, Utah, with refugee families preparing to cultivate gardens in an abandoned field. Taki, the Western Folklife Center's Media Producer, wrote this report of his experience.

It didn’t look like much when we got there one evening last week… just an abandoned field near towering power lines that buzzed and crackled, next to an empty softball field encircled by a chain link fence. This was on the west side of Salt Lake City, and we’d come to witness the first chapter of a story that has the potential to change the lives of dozens of refugee families struggling to make a home in America. This project is part of a “growing” trend that helps refugees capitalize on one of the few transferable skills they bring with them from the third world: farming. Last year, Salt Lake County’s refugee coordinator, Ze Min Xiao (Zee), facilitated a handful of tiny informal garden projects that not only provided refugees with food, but also put them side-by-side with Americans who took interest in the refugees, sprouting friendships and even a few potluck dinners. This year Zee is organizing a more ambitious project: a small training farm that will be managed and tilled by four refugee communities in the city. The short-term goal is to provide these folks with supplemental income, but the longer-term goal is to cultivate a crop of commercial farmers who might one day own and run their own farms.

Hal Cannon and I were excited about this project from the moment we heard about it a couple weeks ago. We’d been looking for a refugee story for several months, and this seemed like a perfect fit given the rural mission of the Western Folklife Center. Plus we’d get to follow the story from its inception, over the course of the summer, to harvest time. So the plan was to meet Zee and two facilitators at the farm site, and look on as they did an orientation for leaders of the four participating refugee communities: Ethiopian, Bhutanese, Burundian and Chin (from Myanmar). We’d parked our car and weren’t sure we were even at the right place until a second car pulled up and a man stepped out with an equally disoriented expression on his face. This was Michael and he was representing the Ethiopian community of Salt Lake. Other cars pulled up and it wasn’t long before about a dozen men and women (representatives as well as some potential gardeners) were surveying the weedy field… looking like a delegation from the United Nations. Zee and her colleagues Chris and Steve did their best to explain the size of the plots, and the plans for preparing and tilling the soil, bringing in a tool shed, building fencing and irrigation, etc. As they spoke, my mind was transforming this fallow field into a verdant utopia where the four communities would work side-by-side sowing the seeds of their future. I imagined our completed radio feature: an inspiring, quintessentially American story of rebirth in the new world.

I snapped out of my daydream when Zee asked if there were any questions, and the group began peppering the organizers with queries. It was clear that some had not understood all the information that was conveyed to them, while others were hoping to accommodate many more families than their plot could support. One man asked if it would be okay to grow medicinal plants he wanted to import from India, while another wanted to raise goats at the site. The questions were handled graciously by Zee, Chris and Steve who promised to explore as many possibilities as they could. It began to dawn on me just how ambitious this project really is. The potential for that utopia is there, but it’s going to take an enormous amount of physical labor, diplomacy and translation to get to the promised land. This is, after all, a mash up of four cultures, each with its own language, leadership style and way of doing things, all trying to create something that must conform to American rules and regulations.

The meeting ended with handshakes and an agreement to meet at the plot in 10 days with volunteers from each community who’d begin work on building rows and pathways for the farm. After Zee left, each delegation broke up into a huddle with the leaders of each group fielding questions from those who didn’t speak English. Hal and I were suddenly surrounded by animated conversations in four languages, as the field slowly turned golden in the evening light. The refugee farm project was officially under way, and I had a sense that there would be many huddles like this one in the coming weeks and months. Once again my mind drifted forward to what this plot of land might look like in two weeks, or two months, and whether this whole experiment would flourish or whither on the vine.

Crack!

I was brought back to the moment by the sound of a baseball bat hitting a ball. While we’d been engulfed in discussions about the farm, two women’s softball teams had taken the adjacent field and a game was in full swing. I stepped back to take in these contrasting worlds, impossibly different from each other, separated only by a few yards and a simple chain link fence.

P.S. Stay tuned to our blog for occasional updates and photos of the Refugee Farm Project.

On the Trail of John Lomax: Visiting Ella Gant McBride

Hal Cannon writes about a recent visit to Ella Gant McBride, who was recorded by John Lomax in the 1930s singing with her family in Austin, Texas. I felt guilty recently as I drove south from Salt Lake City to Santaquin, Utah, to visit Ella Gant McBride. Years ago, Bess Lomax Hawes had told me about the Gant Family. Beth came from a long line of folklorists: her father, John A. Lomax, had recorded rare folk songs from the Gants in the mid-1930s when they all lived in Austin, Texas. The Gants were Mormon, and Bess knew I’d grown up in Utah. She thought I should follow up, but I’d taken my sweet time.  

John Lomax recalls visiting the Gants in 1934 on a weekday, late in the morning. It was so quiet he almost left the house. Finally a woman answered the door in her bedclothes. Yawning, she whispered “Last night we all got to singing and dancing. We didn't go to bed until 2 in the morning," Eight children were still asleep and their mother, Maggie Gant, was staving off the Great Depression the only way she knew how. As Lomax reported in his 1941 book, Our Singing Country, she told him that “the singing kept us so happy, we couldn’t go to sleep.”

Bess remembered meeting the Gants when she was a young girl. While her father recorded the adults in the family’s shanty on the banks of the Colorado River in Austin, Bess and the younger Gant girls, Foy and Ella, hid out under the porch telling stories to each other and listening to the music that drifted down through the floorboards. Mike Seeger, who incorporated songs from these early field recordings into the repertoire of his group, the New Lost City Ramblers, liked to talk about “true vine,” the music that grew organically through family, occupation and community to be passed on through generations and occasionally shared with outsiders who cared enough to search it out. This image, of John Lomax and the rest of the family in the living room singing while the girls whispered and giggled below rooted by their own interests, brings the concept to life.

I played music with Mike just a year ago. He was one of my mentors and is gone now. John Lomax died in 1948, the year I was born. All of John Lomax’s children have passed on including Bess. And of all the Gant family that Lomax recorded, Ella is the only one left, sitting in a place called the Latter Day Assisted Living Center 60 miles south of Salt Lake City. As I drove down the highway I began singing one of those songs that Mike Seeger learned from the Gants, a song that many people have covered over the years including Bob Dylan, Joan Baez and Jerry Garcia. 

When first unto this country, A stranger I came I courted a fair maid, And Nancy was her name I courted her for love, Her love I didn't obtain Do you think I've any reason, Or right to complain  

Earlier, Ella’s son Wayne had told me repeatedly not to expect too much. I didn’t think I’d gone with expectations. I wanted to meet someone who had actually been recorded by John Lomax. I brought a CD copy of a few of the songs from the Library of Congress that Ella had recorded with her sister Foy when they were just girls. I fantasized that Ella would hear her girlhood voice and start singing along with those recordings. I would record this blending of the old lady and girl and my guilt would be assuaged. In addition, I’d get some good tape for our radio story about John Lomax.

The moment I walked into Ella’s room I realized I would not be recording anything that day. Ella had barely a whisper left as she sat in her recliner clutching a blanket, her eyes opening halfway to talk to me. I asked if she remembered the time under the porch with Bess and Foy and she answered yes. Then she asked me if I liked her. I answered yes. She opened her eyes a little and looked at me, saying in her faint voice, “I love you.” I asked if she still remembered the old songs from her family. Again, she said yes. I told her I had brought some recordings of her singing and asked if she would like to hear them. Again, “yes.” I put the CD in her bedside player and listened as the scratchy sound of the original 1935 acetate disk began to play. The recording started with the archivist saying, “AFS 64, A side.” He set the tone arm on the ancient disc three times before it would track from the beginning and then the music began—two sweet untrained voices, singing in unison.

My Love’s a jolly cowboy, he’s brave, he’s kind, he’s true, He rides a Spanish pony and throws a lasso, too. And when he comes to see me, our vows we do redeem  He throws his arms around me and then begins to sing

I could tell Ella was listening, recognizing the song. Just then, I noticed a homemade binder under her bedside table. A piece of paper was pasted on the cover, which read: “Ella loves to have these old songs read or sung to her.” I opened the binder. On the first page was a telling inscription: “dedicated to my eternal husband Mark.” Following were pages of family photos and a sheet talking about the importance of keeping and preserving family songs. Then came the collection itself, at least a hundred songs, both words and music all compiled by Ella. I knew many of them as old ballads from Great Britain, popular songs from the Civil War era, cowboy songs, sentimental songs from the day and original songs Ella had written. When she was compiling the book she consulted her family for the accuracy of lyrics and it brought them together. It started to dawn on me that Ella was the very last of this singing family who knew the joy of music mixed with the bitterness of hard times. These songs were at her core.

I turned off the first recording and asked her if she remembered the song. She said, “Oh yes.” Then she looked at me again and said, “I love you.” This time I don’t think she was talking to me. Maybe she was speaking to Mark, her eternal husband. She began to cry, “I love you so much. I love you so much.” She held out her hand and I took it. In her hand there was such love. It seemed for a moment that all that was left of Ella Gant McBride was a shell of a body, some scattered memories, and a clear deep abiding love, pure love. At that moment it didn’t matter that I was not the love of her life she was talking to. I was simply the conduit for her love.

I’ve thought a lot about interviewing, and have interviewed people all my life. The great practitioners approach interviewing with a variety of values. Some think it is all about listening. Others keep a critical mind and make an interview into a game of outfoxing the other. For me it is all about empathy, trying not just to listen but to feel what the other person is feeling. I’d never tried to interview someone with dementia before. With Ella I sought to feel what she felt as she listened to the songs. I’d never known her before today so I could not compare her to the way she was. I was there without judgment. In a way, meeting Ella for the first time was like joining her in her dreams. She did not have much language or voice left to express herself but she had feeling, strong feeling, and that feeling was love. We listened to the next song both sitting silently.

When I was a little boy, fat as I could roll When I was a little boy, fat as I could roll Sent me on a bus and then we had a show

Listen to Ella and her sister Foy sing "LongCameJohnny." Courtesy of the American Folklife Center, Library of Congress.

[audio http://westernfolklifecenter.files.wordpress.com/2010/05/longcamejohnny3.mp3]

After it ended I said, “Isn’t it amazing, 75 years later, we can still hear you and your sister singing? You were just girls. Do you remember singing with Foy?” This time she said, “Foy was my sister. I love her so much. Foy, I love you so much, I love you Foy.” Again, she started crying. It was almost as though Ella was calling out to Foy on the other side, calling for her sister to find her. I had come to express my gratitude to Ella for the Gant Family songs, but now I began to feel uncomfortable being a stranger in this very personal place. I told her I thought I better leave. She took my hand again: “Please don’t leave, stay a little longer.”

So, having no questions, no answers, I put on another song.

No more have I a mother’s love No more have I a father too No more have I a mother’s love

We sat and listened and I could tell she was taking it all in. Now it really was time to leave. I told her next time I’d bring my guitar. She said, “Good, I’d like that.” She asked for my hand and again told me she loved me. She took my hand to her lips and kissed it tenderly, then looked up and said, “I just want to die, I need to die.” I answered that I understood… and I do.

Hal Cannon

Read more about the Gant Family in a recent article by Michael Corcoran in the Austin American Statesman.

Ella Gant McBride passed away peacefully on the day after this blog was posted, May 19, 2010.

In the Footsteps of John Lomax: Angola Prison

The very first thing that happened at the rodeo Hal and I attended on Sunday involved four cowboys on four bulls, all set free at the same moment and holding on for dear life. It’s called the Angola Bust Out…and a pun IS intended…because Angola is a prison. Formally known as the Louisiana State Penitentiary, and informally as The Farm, Angola is the nation’s largest prison with over 5,000 inmates, most of whom are serving life sentences. A few times a year, the gates are swung open and the public is invited to attend a rodeo that features inmates competing in various events. Our visit to Angola was the culmination of a week-long field trip tracing America’s ballad hunter, John A. Lomax, on some of the paths he took in the 1930s and ‘40s combing the South in search of folk songs. Some of his most fruitful collecting came from prisons, including Angola where he recorded the famous songster, Leadbelly.

I’m not a rodeo aficionado by any means, but this one was remarkable to me in many ways, primarily because of how “normal” and unremarkable it felt. Here we were wandering the grounds with hundreds of prisoners all around us, working the concessions, selling art and “hobbycrafts,” and performing music on several stages. All these men were convicted felons, but had achieved the status of “trustee,” which meant they could interact with the public (under the watchful eye of security). We interviewed several musicians throughout the day, many of whom had been there for decades, and who would never leave the confines of Angola; there is no parole for a life sentence in Louisiana.

Each and every person we spoke with was thoughtful, articulate and fascinating. It seems that their incarceration had forced them to come to terms with their past and their future in ways the rest of us rarely do. Maybe we’re just too busy with the responsibilities and distractions of daily life to philosophize like they do. We met Wayne, the young man who’d been asked to sing the national anthem at the rodeo, who was so humbled by this honor that he’d studied the words and thought deeply about the sacrifices made by America’s soldiers to secure the freedoms we enjoy as Americans, even though he’d forfeited his right to those same freedoms.

We also met Michael, a 27-year-old who writes and performs gospel rap songs, but who previously had rapped about his life on the streets as a “gangsta.” His new songs were positive and upbeat as was his conversation, but at one point he hinted at his sense of frustration and hopelessness in the early days of his incarceration. After we followed up on this point he took a deep breath, paused, then told us in detail about the night he attempted to commit suicide, and how the only reason he’s still alive is because he couldn’t find a place from which to hang himself. He then went on to talk about finding a bible that same night, and beginning his conversion to dedicating his life to studying the teachings of Christ. Because the rodeo was so loud, I had to get very close to him with the microphone, and I’ll never forget how his eyes locked on mine as he explained his ordeal. I don’t think I blinked for five minutes.

We spoke with many other prisoners that day and—to a man—I found their stories moving. And this leads to perhaps the biggest surprise in spending time with these inmates: my own reaction. I generally believe in being tough on crime, yet here we were with convicted felons…and not only did I feel comfortable, I felt compassion and empathy. On an intellectual level, I know these people have committed crimes, and that these crimes involved victims..some of whom may not have survived the incident. This is one of those experiences that’s going to take a while to process…and as crazy as it may sound… I look forward to my next visit to prison.

Taki Telonidis

In the Footsteps of John Lomax: East Texas

After a lovely dinner with our old friend and Houston City Folklorist Pat Jasper, we spent the night and got out of town driving through miles of urban sprawl. Finally the East Texas countryside opened up as we rolled into Huntsville, home of the Texas State Prison and its Museum. We had been turned down to visit the prison here so the Museum had to suffice. We had interviewed Bob Pierce earlier about the creativity in prisons so we got to look at many actual artifacts he had collected both showing real weapons and less direct weapons, remembering the old Woody Guthrie idea that his guitar was a weapon against fascism. After checking out a mural depicting Leadbelly on the side of a building near Huntsville's main square we drove on north toward Lovelady where the Gillette Brothers make their home. 

I'd known Guy and Pipp Gillette from Elko but my admiration for them grew as we witnessed their passion for the old-style life of East Texas ranching. Their ranch, its historic buildings, and the loving way they keep the traditions of their grandfather, all attest to how much they care for place and tradition. It was a joy to be taken through the construction of each out-building and then to the ruin of an old place on their ranch which used to be the social center for the black community in the neighborhood.

We got so wrapped up in the tour we were late driving into the community of Crockett where the Gillettes have established a music civic center called the Camp Street Cafe with music at least weekly. Folk musicians from all over go out of their way to tour to the Gillette's venue. There, we met a black preacher and his old cousin to talk about Camp Street in Lomax's time, contrasting the music scene today with that of the day when Lightnin' Hopkins played for nickels and dimes on the street which used to be the center of African American life in the town. We ended our visit with chicken fried steak, another fine American tradition and a final visit to the statue of Lightnin' Hopkins.                                                                                                                   

Hal Cannon

Steve Zeitlin, Hal Cannon and Taki Telonidis stand next to the statue of Lightnin' Hopkins honchoed and maintained by the Gillettes across the street from the Camp Street Café, where Lightnin' used to hang out and play songs for the local African American community.

In the Footsteps of John Lomax: Austin and Houston

Lomax_sm

John Lomax grew up on a farm hearing the songs of cowboys on the trails and also the songs of freed African American slaves. Something in those two experiences guided him through a life of preserving and valuing those two particular traditions. He was a man of his times, so his attitudes may not jibe with how we see race today; nevertheless, Lomax never wavered from believing that these two musical traditions were essential to the American character. We spent the morning at the Lomax collection at the University of Texas at Austin with John Wheat and folklorist Roger Renwick. They both have studied extensively the life and times of John Lomax and we were able to have a really interesting conversation and interview about the man and his work. 

Wheat_sm

On the drive from Austin to Houston we listened to archival radio shows that were recorded by the Library of Congress narrated by John Lomax. The series The Ballad Hunter brilliantly and unabashedly laid out a rationale for the importance of folk creativity and what it means to a democratic nation to value the voice of the people. It's an inspiring radio show that in our cynical world everyone today should hear.

Downtown Houston is not fun to drive into after the lovely Texas countryside full of spring blooming wildflowers. We checked into a big impersonal hotel and made our way to the offices of the Houston Press, a weekly hip tabloid. There we sat with the great grandson and namesake of our subject, John Nova Lomax. At 40 years old, Lomax is the past music editor for the paper and feels a deep connection to the Lomax name. He loves his city in all its diversity and creative talent and works to bring out the finest talent of Houston. He also has a keen interest in social justice and combines all to carry on the Lomax name.

John Nova Lomax_sm

John Nova Lomax is a journalist for the Houston Press and writes extensively on the new music of Houston and the complexities of one of the most dynamic cities of our century.

Hal Cannon

In the Footsteps of John Lomax: Fort Worth and Meridian, Texas

Don Edwards

 Taki Telonidis and I are in Texas for the week working on a radio documentary on the legacy of John Lomax, the first folklorist to record cowboy songs and other great American musical traditions. We've just been here a couple days but spent most of the first part of the trip with Don Edwards who showed us the Fort Worth Stockyards where Lomax recorded cowboys in 1909.On the second day, Don took us to Meridian, Texas, where Lomax grew up. Don was very generous with his time and talents. 

Next stop was to visit Rooster Morris and his wife Jody Logsdon. These days Rooster is in the schools all the time talking to kids and playing his fiddle. It was really wonderful to see them and talk to Rooster about his great uncle, Jess Morris, who was recorded by Lomax and was a wonderful cowboy fiddler.

Rooster Morris

After that we interviewed a folklorist/historian/prison archivist who talked about Lomax's recording of prison work music and discovering singers like Leadbelly. That was interesting too. Today we visit the Lomax archive at the University of Texas speaking to John Wheat and Roger Renwick. Then we drive to Houston to visit John Lomax IV who is a young music writer and great grandson of the original Lomax. We will have dinner with folklorist and friend Pat Jasper. On Thursday we spend the day with the Gillette Brothers in Crockett Texas and talk to them and members of the African American community about cowboy music, blues and folk music in East Texas. 

Steve Zeitlin, director of CityLore, is co-producing this with us and he and Taki are then taking me back to the Dallas Airport where I have to fly home for a day to attend my brother in law's funeral. I join them back in Louisiana on Saturday to record at Angola Prison where Lomax recorded Lomax and other Black musicians and singers. 

Hal Cannon

In the Footsteps of John Lomax

Don Edwards talks to the Western Folklife Center Media department outside the White Elephant

The Western Folklife Center has been asked to produce a story for National Public Radio on the folk music collecting of John Lomax. This coincides with the 100th anniversary of the publishing of his first collection, Cowboy Songs and Other Frontier Ballads, in November of 1910. We are working with a New York folklife organization called City Lore and hope to produce other stories on the journeys of early folklorists to discover the soul of America through its folklore. On this week-long journey through Texas and Louisiana, we go to the place Lomax grew up and saw, first-hand, the cattle drives after the Civil War. We visit the Elephant Saloon at the Stockyards in Fort Worth where he collected cowboy songs and where Don Edwards sang those same old songs in the 1970s. As we journey along the same paths Lomax took we contrast the world he lived in with that of contemporary America.

We hope to produce a second story on Lomax’s collecting of musical traditions of African Americans. Lomax looked for singers in isolated communities and visited prisons to collect blues, gospel and work songs. He felt that cowboy music and the music of black America were two of America's great musical traditions. We will end our travels this week at Angola—the largest prison in America—where we will document the rodeo and talk to musicians and singers in that prison.

DonE._1

Saturday Night Dances, quiet, and ....

Sunday (01.31.10)

I had intended to attend both Saturday Night dances (I had hoped to try out my waltzing and swing), but in typical Elko fashion, the weather and roads changed. I decided to stay home. So like me, this blog is lacking information about those dances.

To fill that gap, please leave a comment about the dances (Wylie and the Wild West dance and then Corb Lund and The Hurtin' Albertans dance ) if you attended them.  Your participation in the blog will fill those gaps and your comments will be appreciated.  And then I can remember that night vicariously through your comments.  :--) 

I hope that all of you who did go to the dances had a great time.  I have heard those bands play dances before and I know that they most likely kept you on your feet as much as you would let them.  For me, I guess I need to keep practicing my waltz and swing until next year.

Monday (02.01.10)

Pretty quiet around here.  I easily found a parking spot outside of the Western Folklife Center (WFC).  I'm sure I saw David Wilkie and Denise Withnell (Cowboy Celtic) in the WFC gift shop after noon getting some things.  Bimbo Cheney stopped by and said hello.  I got to say one last hello and goodbye to Tom and Carol Gamm.    

Tuesday (02.02.10)

It is quiet again today.  Found parking easy enough.  The WFC staff is having a debriefing session.   I'll rack my brain to see if I can think of anything for them.  The office is clean and things are back to where they usually are after the Gathering. 

I hope all of you made it home safely to your regular post-Gathering routine.  Did I mention that it is pretty quiet around here? 

Is it January 2011 yet? 

Rabbitbrush Marie

Teamwork With a Capital T

Although the Saturday Night Dance at the Elko Convention Center is well underway by now, the best example of teamwork I've seen at the Gathering (not counting pulling off the entire Gathering) happened in the moments leading up to the Friday Night Dance with Geno Delafose and French Rockin' Boogie. Around 6:00 pm last night, I walked into the Turquoise Room to check on the Dance set up.  The sound guys were moving microphones, the lighting guys were focusing lights, Mike Polise was setting up the drum set and the Convention Center crew was screwing down the dance floor.  Everyone was working at their own tasks to prepare for the night.

Then I noticed that the other dance floor is in the back of the room.  Nervously, I asked Steve (of Convention Center helpfulness) if we can move the dance floor.  This mistake was completely my fault.  We have always refered to the room as the Silver Room, but it's actually the Silver and Gold Rooms combined.  So when I told him to set up in the Silver Room, meaning the Gold Room of course, that's just what they did.

With a gently disapproving nod, Steve told his staff to move the floor.  One of them suggested we just try to slide the 27' X 27' dance floor into the other room.  "Why not?" I agreed.  So the guys working on the second dance floor and I got down on our hands and knees (thank goodness I decided to wear jeans yesterday) and on cue, pushed.  Then Trent Thompson, who was setting lights, hopped in to help.  On the first couple of tries we moved the floor about one foot.  Tom and Carol Gamm walked by and jumped in to help.  Other people in the room rolled up their sleeves and pushed.  It was an impromptu dance of its own right.  At one point we realized that all the strong Convention Center guys were at one end and the weaker of us were at the other.  Someone shouted, "switch!" so I switched places with someone and Carol switched places with someone else.  It was seamless.  After a few heaves, we moved that dance floor 30 feet.  One of the Convention Center guys said it would have taken at least 40 minutes to rebuild the floor.  We scooted the floor in less than ten.

The Silver and Gold Rooms saw at least 400 people two-stepping across that dance floor, but only a few of us boogied the dance floor across the room just a couple hours before.

Why The Gathering?

Hi, my name is Kathi and I'm the program assistant and volunteer coordinator for the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering.  Every year you hear people ask and tell why they like to come to the Gathering.  I thought I would explain why I enjoy being part of this great event, too. I am fortunate enough to live and work on my family's ranch here in Elko Co.  Sometimes in the dust, dirt, snow and mud; the way too hot and the way too cold of ranch life it's easy to forget how fortunate I am.

That's what makes the Gathering special to me...every year when I sit in on a show, I'm reminded of how much I love branding calves, working cows and, yes, even putting up hay.  It's like a wake up call saying, "Yeah, life out here can be mean and hard when you're trying to work pairs and the wind is blowing a hundred miles an hour, but there are a lot of worse places you could be."

That's why I come to the Gathering.  Yes, there are friends and good times to be had, but there's also folks who understand how great it is to get up at 1am to check heifers in March or how fun it is to drag calves to the branding fire.  I guess to make a short story long, these performers put the romance back into a lifestyle that doesn't always seem so romantic.

Friday Night Dance, Roses, and Alligators!

One of the “the projects are done!” projects that Tamara (Gathering manager) gave me to work on was the schedule of events for the 26th Gathering.  The line item word processor document would be given to the Elko Daily Free Press for their articles. 

Line item document- picture cutting up your schedule and placing each show and event, line by line, into a document.

Also using that same document, Tamara had me make separate lists for each room at the convention center, the auditorium, the G Three Bar Theater, the school sites, and the WFC gallery and bar for each day of the gathering.  Those lists would be used to make the large foam board and paper schedule signs that you have read outside of doors at the different venues this week.  The first project was completed during the first or second week of January and the second one was completed over a week ago, but every time I would work with the Saturday schedule, I had the same feeling come over me- “Oh… its over.”   It is the same feeling I get on the last Saturday of each Gathering. 

 One way to explain the feeling would be lots of rain during the Gathering, then drought during the other 51 weeks of the year.  That is as close in words as I can get to explaining it now.

I had the same thing happen when I was in Nashville.  It took a few weeks for me to realize that when I woke up the next morning, Nashville would still be there, 52 weeks a year.  It was in Music City that I realized what would be “over” during the Gathering for me.  The writers and players went home, away from here.  I love being around writers and musicians.  My writing improves because I am around them, by learning from them, almost by osmosis.  Writers understand each other in ways that other people don’t.  And I will write to be around them.  I have written more this week than I have in a very long time.

 Thank you, Dan Gudgel, for your Gathering blog posts; mine are better because of yours.

But, still …today is Saturday... that Saturday of the year... when it is over.

Friday Night Dance

I was right in my blog post yesterday; the people at the Friday Night Dance needed to take a nap before going.  I made it until 12:15 AM and all I did was spend the night listening to the music and practicing my waltz steps and the Zydeco two-step in the back. 

 Hum.… It seems Zydeco is not in this word processing program’s dictionary!  Maybe the programmers have never heard Geno Delafose and French Rockin’ Boogie play!

During the dance, I saw Tamara Kubacki and Dan Gudgel boppin’ and rockin’ to the Zydeco beat!  The staff works so hard all year to prepare for this week that it is good to see them out enjoying some of it, too.  I also saw many of the artists dancing and visiting.  It was great to see them partaking in some of the fun!

 There are two more dances tonight- the Saturday Night Dance with Wylie and the Wild West at the convention center starting at 9:30 PMand then the Midnight Dance with Corb Lund and The Hurtin’ Albertans in the G Three Bar Theater from Midnight to 2 AM.

Last night, the music and dancing was contagious and crazy.  I had the fun opportunity of showing Meg Glaser the Zydeco two-step dance that Geno taught the elementary students last week.  The dance floors were crowded with people!  I am still trying to figure out how the people in the front part of the room who were sitting in chairs didn’t get knocked over by the people on the dance floor.  Geno, Demetric, Kent, Popp, Germaine, and Dale Patrick were safe up on stage.  That might have been the safest place to be last night! 

At 12:15 AM, I decided that some rest would be a really good thing since I had an early start the next morning.  I went to my car, scraped my windshield, and headed home.  I didn’t want to get up this morning, but I did.  I can get dressed fast when I need to.  And I walked here.  It was faster than scraping my windshield again and warming the car.   

Alligators

What would a blog post from me be like without mentioning alligators?!  Kathi Wines said I might be visited by Iris Wall.  I told Kathi that was good because I needed to talk with Miss Iris about alligators.  Also, I may need to find some of the other Cracker cowhunters to talk about the animal, so if you see one, leave a comment telling me where the sighting occurred.  I better hurry up and make some peace with alligators, the Gathering ends tonight. 

Miss Wall walked in here.  I told her that I am familiar with fish being in ponds, not alligators.  How big, I asked?  She said 10 to 12 feet for alligators would be normal.   Normal.   She invited me to visit her sometime.  It might just take seeing one in person for me to make peace with an alligator. 

After Miss Iris left, I needed to find someone downstairs, so I headed to the gallery.  I didn't find the person I needed, but I did find Buddy Mills who is the Cracker whip maker that you might have talked with this week.  I asked him and he grabbed his whip.  Then, he cracked... his whip... in the gallery... twice!... for me!  The whip sounded like, but was a lot louder than, a cap gun.  If you asked me today, I'd probably say yes, that I believe that the word Cracker comes from the sound of the Cracker whip and relates to how the Cracker cowhunters use their whips to communicate over long distances and through cyprus groves and pine islands.  Mr. Buddy also told me the differences between a bull whip and a Cracker whip.  One difference is that there is more play at the handle of a Cracker whip. 

Miss Iris said 10-12 feet long was a normal length for a gator.  Mr. Buddy added they could be as long 12 to 14 feet.  That is almost three of me lined up head to foot!  He used the display case with the nylon rope in it in the WFC gallery to show me how big a gator's head can be.  Let's just say gigantic!  I also learned from Mr. Buddy that it is possible to keep a gator's mouth shut with just my pointer finger and thumb.  No kidding!  (No, I won't be trying that soon, but if I ever need to, thanks to Mr. Buddy, I'll have it in mind.)  When gators are moved, a person only needs to wrap black electrical tape around the gator's mouth.  That's it!  They don't have strong muscles to open them.  Mr. Buddy also told me about how, if a rider gets too close to a gator, the alligator will start rolling toward the horse and rider and try to roll up the horse! 

Miss Cynthia was just here.  She told me about how the alligators will just walk around, anywhere.  Cleo Hanson joined in the conversation and agreed with Miss Cynthia.  How does a person get used to that?!

I am still confused about what a hammock is , so I need to search out Mr. Doyle Rigdon to ask that follow-up question to yesterday's panel discussion.  And I'll also let him know that Florida now means more to me than Mickey Mouse, gators, and hurricanes.  Yes, there are (very friendly, engaging, down-to-earth) cowboys and cowgirls in Florida.  I've met enough this week to know that.

 Side Note

One dozen long stem red roses were sitting on my desk for most of this morning.  No, not for me, but I did get to enjoy them until the owner found them.  Happy Anniversary, Lucy!  

What a way to send off our Florida guests and all of you- It is snowing in Elko!   I offer thoughts of safe travel for all who are leaving Elko today, tomorrow, and next week.

See you next year for the 27th National Cowboy Poetry Gathering.

 Rabbitbrush Marie      

Food, Alligators, and G Three Bar Jam Sessions!

In his blog about the Gathering, Dan Gudgel talks about how hard it is to sleep during the Gathering.  My trouble is eating enough food. 

Yesterday, I had a great breakfast while the artists were meeting- scrambled eggs with cheese, O’Brien potatoes, a biscuit, and some sort of strawberry pastry that had cottage cheese (I think) in it.  Yum!  My eating for the day started good, but then ....

 For the past four Gatherings, I have helped out at the Thursday morning meeting and I love it.  It is a great way to see the Gathering performers together in one room, visiting and getting acquainted.  It is not about performing on Thursday morning.  It is about people being people.   

Over the past five weeks, I’ve been making participant packets, name badges, working on a few of the schedules, making phone cards, and working on other projects that had deadlines prior to this week.  The work had to get done, so eating (and shopping for food) over the past week has been crazy. 

Today is a different day.  The projects are done.  All of you (poets, musicians, workshop people, panelist, filmmakers, stage crews, audience members, etc.) have taken over.  I actually had the day off from my two jobs, so I didn't set my alarm last night and I slept in until 10:30 AM this morning.  Then I went to the Are there Cowboys in Florida? discussion and learned more about Cracker cowhunters, and for lunch I had a jack cheese/green chili/red onion quesadilla with a two bean salad on the side and I drank a pomegranate and blueberry juice drink.  As I said at the beginning of this paragraph, the projects are done (and my eating reflects that).  

Yes, there are cowboys in Florida, but I’m still having trouble visualizing ¼ of a mile of open land between swamps and trees.  Oh, that would be like putting swamps and trees around my parent's 40 acre ranch ...  I get it now.  I wonder what our Florida guests thought about the open space of the Nevada desert when they went on their ranch tour this past Wednesday? 

I also learned this morning that calling a Cracker cowhunter a cowboy is a more modern way to describe them.  Also, (I learned lots!), they talked about five foot long alligators.  Hum, I'm 5' 8"....  I'm not sure about those odds!  And, if you want a great description of what it means to be a Cracker, ask Iris Wall. 

During the discussion, Iris Wall told all of us how to catch an alligator, not that I plan on doing that real soon, but who knows!  It involved my toes (I pictured them bare when she explained it, but I'm thinking steel toe boots would be a better idea) in the water with a submerged  gator.  Picturing me in the water with an alligator is shocking enough... putting my toes near him...!  I need to work on this alligator thing some more. 

G Three Bar Jam Sessions

So what else have I seen during my “the projects are done!” time?  The Thursday Night Jam Session in the G Three Bar here at the Western Folklife Center (WFC) was hopping.  Charlie Seemann (WFC Executive Director) was playing guitar in the middle of the musicians’ circle.  Standing and sitting around him were Stephanie Davis, Danny Wheetman, Miss V The Gypsy Cowbelle, Richard Chon, and a bunch of other players whose names I don’t know, but whose music I enjoyed.  There were 6 fiddles, 3 guitars, 2 banjos, a piano player, and I did my best to add percussion with my improvised drum.  Christina Barr and Craig Miller were dancing elegantly just outside of the fireplace nook.  I think they were dancing a waltz, but I didn’t start counting (1,2,3  4,5,6) to figure it out.  Part of the time I practiced my waltz stepping behind the piano while the music played. 

I've practiced my waltz steps since before Christmas and I'm getting to where I don't have to count.  Of course, my counting might come back (quickly) if I get the chance to add a dance partner to the mix.

In addition to playing in the circle or listening to the music, the G Three Bar is a great place to just visit with people.  While standing outside of the circle last night, I had seperate conversations with Geno Delafose and Demetric Thomas about a local school assembly they performed at this week.  I had heard that they got the students and teachers dancing while they played!  (See Devon's post Kid Rockin' Boogie for pictures and the details!)

I hope the people who are going to the Friday Night Dance took a nap sometime today.  They’re going to need the extra energy to keep up with Geno and French Rockin' Boogie!   

Every night the jam sessions are different.  One never knows who will show up.  No matter what, there is music being played and conversations waiting to be started.  Tonight and tomorrow night the G Three Bar Jam Sessions start at 10:00 PM.  If you’re looking for something to do, come join the fun.  And Saturday night, stay for Corb Lund and The Hurtin’ Albertans who are playing the Midnight to 2 AM dance in the G Three Theater.  That will be a late night!

I'm off to see what is happening at the convention center. 

My projects are done and it is Friday night!!!!!

Rabbitbrush Marie

Kid Rockin' Boogie

This year, as the de facto education sort-of coordinator guy, it was my job to call up a handful of artists and ask them how they’d feel about us tossing them in front of several hundred rambunctious school kids and telling them to be entertaining.  And, as with every year we did find a brave handful willing – and even excited – to go along with it.   So on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday the vans rolled out delivering various combinations of Diane Tribitt, Dave Stamey, Janice Gilbertson, Mike Beck, Dave Bourne, Jerry Brooks, Florida poet Doyle Rigdon and Louisiana zydeco masters Geno Delafose and French Rockin’ Boogie to serve up some kid-sized cowboy poetry and music around Elko, Wells, Carlin and even Eureka.  Twice on Wednesday, for the Cowkids Stampede, we packed 900 local kids into the Convention Center auditorium to see Riders In The Sky.  And today Corb Lund performed and talked music with the band and choral students at Elko High School.

Kid Rockin' Boogie 1 (with Geno Delafose & French Rockin' Boogie)

On Tuesday I got a break from intern duty and snuck over to Elko Grammar School #2 to check out some of the fun.  I pulled up, parked, followed the sounds of accordion and rubboard into the gym and caught Geno and the guys rockin’, and our Zydeco Dance Workshop instructors boogyin’, before a bunch of grade-schoolers, seated cross-legged on the floor.   

 But the real fun started when Geno took questions.  Things like “Are you famous?” and “Have you ever played music in Missouri?” and the two-parter “Do you have your own CD? ‘Cause I wanna buy it.”  

Kid Rockin' Boogie 2

Then one boy stood up and asked, “So why didn’t you teach US how to dance?” Some kids laughed, and some teachers frowned in the boy’s general direction.  Geno paused.  He glanced at his band, turned back to the mic and said, “Tell you what I’m gonna do.  Everybody stand up.  I want you to take two steps to the left, now two steps to the right.  Good.  That’s the two-step.  Alright, let’s go!”

With that, upper-octave cheers filled the room, and the gymful of kids made that simplified two-step last almost all the way through “Move It On Over” before the whole room erupted into an all-out freestyle dance-party.  During the next few songs the chaos included conga lines, spinning kid circles, a mohawked would-be breakdancer, and just about every student – and more than a few teachers – flailing their limbs about, running around, pitching their cowboy hats in the air and expending their post-lunch sugar high to the lively sounds of zydeco right here in Elko. 

Kid Rockin' Boogie 4

Kid Rockin' Boogie 3

.   

Overall, I thought it was an appropriate answer to a fair question.   

Seeing all this, I realized I still remember the assemblies I saw as a kid, and these kids probably will remember this one for a long time.  It’s an important side of the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering, and one most folks never see.  I’m glad that on Tuesday afternoon, thanks to my job, I got to.   

 I just wish I’d arrived in time to hear Diane Tribitt’s response to the question “What’s manure?”   

-- Devon the Intern

The Gathering Press Corps

Lora Minter and Darcy Minter

Each year thousands of diverse people descend on Elko for the National Cowboy Poetry Gathering. Amongst the talented performers, the excited audience members and the frantic volunteers are a chosen few members of the nation’s and the world’s press corps -- all in town to capture the unique stories that are part of this annual event.  Hidden away in an upstairs room at the Convention Center -- pseudo-sister’s Darcy and Lora Minter (no we’re not related -- just one of those weird coincidences) -- work with newspaper and magazine journalists, film makers, radio show hosts, television crews and photographers who come to town in search of hidden insights into cowboy poets and musicians.

Our job is to overview for reporters all the opportunities the Gathering brings for education, entertainment and collaboration. We arrange interviews, provide background information, guide reporters to unique stories and solve a lot of problems behind the scenes. That job takes us to some interesting places. We might huddle on top of the Western Folklife Center in the snow while a photographer aims a long lens off the roof. We might track down a sound man for an odd metal fitting to connect a National Public Radio reporter into a sound board. We might carry a camera for a NBC crew. The job is varied, sometimes stressful and ALWAYS interesting! Along the way we encounter some great people who are deeply interested in learning about Western life and who wonder about the future of the culture in a rapidly changing, modern world.

Often the working journalists that hail from big cities arrive with preconceptions about small town citizens and rural inconveniences. The majority leave at the end of a hectic several days, amazed at what they have heard and seen, exhausted from way-too-late nights and many early mornings, and more knowledgeable of a lifestyle they’ve come to respect. Almost always they remark on how friendly everyone was. The Gathering provides an opportunity to educate the world about cowboy culture, the West, and a little town called Elko -- all through the stories these working professionals release out into the wide world. We’re happy to be a small part of spreading the word. We couldn’t do it without our media guests who come to learn -- or the wonderful local newspaper, television and radio reporters who share their stories with all of us.

Darcy Minter and Lora Minter (from the press office)

Cracker Cowboy Questions (Now that's alliteration!) and Exhibit Opening

Photo by Jessica Brandi Lifland

This afternoon inside the Western Folklife Center in the Wiegand Gallery, a gallery opening will be held for the Florida Cattle Ranching: Five Generations of Tradition exhibit.  If you are a Western Folklife Center member or a stakeholder, the opening begins at 3:30 PM.  The general public is invited to attend the opening at 4:15 PM. 

 If you attend the gallery opening or if see the Cracker cowboys and our Florida guests walking around town this week, here are some questions that you might consider asking them.

• Seriously, how big are the alligators?

• Is the word Cracker from the word Quaker or is it from the sound the Cracker whip makes?

• Have you ever been bitten by an alligator?

• How do the cattle behave when there is a hurricane? What do you do?

• What does swamp cabbage taste like? To get the cabbage, do you have to get into the swamp… with the alligators?

• Do you bale hay in Florida or do you have lots of permanent pasture and lots of water? Can you use swamp water for irrigation?

• The Cracker cow, what breed is it and how is it related to the Texas Longhorn?

• What does alligator taste like? Chicken?

• How is a Cracker whip different from a bull whip?

• Is it true that the Florida State University Seminoles were almost called the Florida State University Crackers?

• Are you enjoying your time here in Elko? You know, we don’t have alligators or hurricanes here, but you might want to watch out for badgers and wait five minutes for the weather to change.

 If you have the opportunity, please be sure to welcome all of our Florida guests.  I’ve personally met most, if not all of them.  They are all very kind and very friendly.

Rabbitbrush Marie

P.S.  Yep, I"m thinking about those alligators!  Maybe by the end of this week, with the help of our Floirda guests, Florida will mean more to me than Mickey Mouse, alligators, and hurricanes.  :--)

The Artists Have Arrived

The artists have arrived.  Well, most of the artists have arrived.  Weather is often not our friend the week of the Gathering.  Right now, Elko is beautiful--clear skies, a dusting of snow on the lawns, dry streets and warm temperatures.  But it's been snowing in North Dakota, South Dakota, Montana, Utah, Colorado and just about every other place where the artists are traveling from.  DW Groethe decided to fly in to Elko since the roads out to Rodney Nelson's place (where they were meeting so neither would have to drive the 1,200 miles to Elko alone) were all closed.  Rodney wasn't sure he'd get out because the power kept going out. Elizabeth Ebert decided the trek was too risky through storms and snow to make the journey. There have been other troubles getting the artists here, too.  Some of Corb Lund's band, The Hurtin' Albertans, had their flights rerouted.  We were missing Corb's drummer for a while, but he showed up just in time to catch the shuttle from Salt Lake City to Elko.  Dennis Gaines was almost left in Salt Lake because I forgot to tell him how to get from SLC to Elko (thanks to Chris Simon for picking him up).  Nick Spitzer had some flight delays, but Andy Wilkinson and Andy Hedges were kind enough to squeeze him into their car.  They left Salt Lake City just before midnight, arrived in Elko early in the morning, then Andy and Andy had a show at 9:30 am.  Troopers, all of them.

Rodney Nelson and Chris Simon by Sue Rosoff

Thank goodness we work with the artists we do.  Rodney called me every couple of hours to update his status.  He drove from North Dakota last night, with only three hours of sleep (in the car, no less), just so he wouldn't miss his first show, "Punny Poets."  Yvonne Hollenbeck, Andy Nelson and Pat Richardson had found someone (rather, something) to fill in for Rodney if he didn't make it.  Lucky for Rodney, he didn't have to be represented by a very accurate drawing Pat Richardson sketched and then placed atop a toilet plunger.  Lucky for me, everyone who performs at the Gathering looks out for each other. and they do it with good humor.

Almost everyone is here and it's like being home again.

-Tamara

Video Artistry in Elko

Taki_CU

This is a special invitation for you to come and experience one of the most unusual programs at the Cowboy Poetry Gathering…the 2010 Deep West Videos.  These are short videos and slide shows made by ranchers and other folks living in America’s outback.  These shows have heart, they have humor, and they have spirit.  They give the rest of us a window into the personal lives of folks living in the most remote corners of the West. As WFC’s Media Producer, I’ve been involved in this program since it began 10 years ago, and some 58 films have been produced since then.  What was originally a one-year project to encourage ranchers in the Elko area to tell their stories is now attracting videomakers from half a dozen states.  And Deep West Videos have come to represent many facets of life in the rural West…not just on the ranch.   It’s been interesting for me to see how this program has evolved over the years.  The original group from Elko county were all ranching women.  I think the men were afraid of computers.  After a few years though, the guys began to trickle into the program, giving it a different flavor. Then we started hearing from ranching folks outside Nevada.  Most recently, the program has evolved to include people who live in rural places, but not necessarily as ranchers.  The program is attracting younger folks, such as Kristin Windbigler and Kier Atherton…people with one foot planted in the traditions of the rural West…and the other walking in the 21st century, iPods in hand.  Their films show us how they artfully combine the old and the new in their day-to-day lives…creating a new West.

My hope for you is two-fold.  First…that you’ll come see this year’s films, and spread the word to those you know.  They’re screening at the Convention Center in the Turquoise Room on Thursday and Friday at 11AM.  They’ll also be on our website and on WFC’s YouTube page…plus they’re available on DVD.  Second…that you’ll pitch us a story for next year.  Contact me or my media colleague Hal Cannon (1).We want Deep West Videos to reflect rural living in the West in all its variety.

Taki Telonidis

(1) Editor's note: Please send emails about Deep West Videos to wfc@westernfolklife.org.

New Hats in Elko

Hi, I’m Devon the intern. I’m not from around here.  You might not guess it from my Taft-esque moustache and brass Wild Turkey belt buckle, but if you ask me, sure, I’ll admit it: I’m from California. San Francisco even. I’m no gold miner, buckaroo or anything close to a cowboy poet. But I am a fan of interesting slices of American culture and a pretty adaptable dude. Maybe that’s why I finished college, packed up and moved to Elko, Nevada for an AmeriCorps internship with the Western Folklife Center.

I’ve only been here since August, and I’ve never even been to a Gathering, but – from the WFC to the NCPG, the poetry to the music, my coworkers to the townsfolk, and the nearby ghost towns to the all-night local karaoke dives – this place has made me into something of an Elkoholic.

I’m here thanks to the gov’ment. When the economy went south, Nevada’s Great Basin Institute harnessed some AmeriCorps coin, teamed up with the WFC and rescued me from a post-graduate life of Segway tour guiding and Awful-Awful gobbling in Reno.

Dudein' It Up

Since arriving, I’ve tried on quite a few new hats. Working mostly alongside Meg and Tamara on our programming, I’ve had tasks as diverse as working on contracts and grants, organizing an Energy Symposium, selecting photos for the NCPG program book and packing saddles (well, to be shipped).  Whatever needs to be done, really.

It’s been nice acquiring new real-jobbish-type skills, as well as being around people who like to work good, long and hard every day of the week. Consequently, it’s also been nice having a bar downstairs.

Best of all so far, though, has been all the great people I’ve met here. Or at least talked to on the phone. With many of the artists, I expect no shortage of shaking hands and hearing “Ohhh! So YOU’RE that guy!” And now, after reading this, I guess you can do that, too.

For the Gathering, when it comes to education, I’m your man. If you’ve received an email about a workshop you’re attending, probably one with – to Tamara’s chagrin – a handful of exclamation points and lame jokes, it probably had my name at the bottom. And if you’re a local student yodeling with Riders in the Sky at the Cowkids Stampede or discussing songwriting with Corb Lund in your school’s band room next week, I’ll be the scrawny moustachioed dude running around making sure everything works.

In fact, I’ll probably be that dude all over town this Gathering. So if you see me, feel free to flag me down and remind me that I’m the intern and make me do something for you. Or to say hello and sneak me a quick nip of Wild Turkey. You know, whatever you prefer.

Either way, I’ll see you at the Gathering – my first, as I already can tell, of many.

-- Devon Blunden, The Intern aka Programs Assistant aka AmeriCorps/GBI Volunteer

Moooving Day in Elko

Every year we send a fair share of merchandise, workshop supplies and other items over to our outpost at the Elko Convention Center, but this may be the first time we've shipped livestock.

Mad Cow!

Well, OK, she isn't "live," but she is a full-size genuine Cracker Cow, and she came to us all the way from Florida.

A beautiful artifact in our featured exhibit, Florida Cattle Ranching: Five Centuries of Tradition -- produced by the Florida Folklife Program, Florida Department of State, and Florida Cultural Resources -- there just wasn't a good place for her in the Wiegand Gallery, so we put her in the cozy Fireplace Nook... right next to the leather furniture.

Although we'll miss her staring at us from across the room and startling all who enter the bar, we think she'll enjoy her new job greeting guests at the Convention Center.

We just hope that all this moooving around won't make this cow a "mad" one...

Mad Cow

Har Har,

Devon the Intern

Moving Day in Elko

2010StoreMovetoECVA01

Today is "Moving Day" as the City of Elko assists the Western Folklife Center Gift Shop with moving to the Elko Convention Center as we start setting up our second Gift Shop, full of good things. Last week, there were boxes everywhere, so that is our first photo, although the pile has shrunk considerably. I was lucky enough to get a shot of the first truck as it pulled out from the alley today on its way to the Convention Center. We have an occasional snowflake drifting by this morning so the boxes are covered with blue tarps.

2010StoreMovetoECVA02

And since I had the camera in hand: here are some of our wonderful Elko volunteers assisting with getting the beverage storeroom filled, so that we'll have plenty of libations on hand for the Gathering.

BeverageVolunteers

Krys Munzing, Web Content Coordinator (and occasional very-non-professional photographer)