Nancy Davis Kho's Blog, page 17
January 16, 2018
Ep 21 Maternal Health Advocate Sera Bonds
“Reach over the divide:” Sera Bonds, founder/CEO of Circle of Health International (COHI,) talks about the power of transformative conversation, inherent racism in poverty work, and her changing definition of success at midlife.
Circle of Health International
More about Sera from the COHI site
Scenes from the International Jazz Festival in Port Au Prince, Haiti. Looks pretty much the opposite of what the man at 1600 Pennsylvania calls it.
Thanks as always to M. The Heir Apparent, who provides the music behind the Midlife Mixtape podcast – check him out here!
Related StoriesEp 20 Band Manager Amber BuistEp 19 “Maxed Out” author Katrina AlcornEp 16 Author Neal Pollack
January 10, 2018
Saving My Self-Importance
Recently, I saved Oakland. Not a big deal, saving the eighth most populous city in California. I don’t want any special attention for it, or anything.
Oh, you want to hear all about it? Well, I don’t want to deny you. I mean, I don’t think it’s a very important story or anything, but you’re so insistent.
It all started on December 27th. My family was at home, getting ready to leave after lunch for our long-planned vacation to…San Francisco. I thought I’d just take a little morning walk so I wouldn’t have to adjudicate the inevitable Outerwear Debates that arise whenever we travel seven miles across the Bay Bridge in a westerly direction. Marching along at a “I’m-fixing-to-eat-everything-I-can-on-vacation” pace, I realized that I smelled smoke.
The last few days of rain notwithstanding, it’s been a dry, dry winter– were it not for the crazy rainy season last year that filled up all the reservoirs (and caused one of them to overflow,) we’d all be panicking. And of course, with the North Bay fires in October and the SoCal fires in December fresh in our minds, every person walking around inside the Golden State has good reason to freak out around the smell of non-pot smoke.
So in addition to the hiking, I started sniffing at intervals, and scanning up and down the ravine in the middle of which my trail passed. Hike, sniff, scan, repeat. I was getting a cardiovascular workout, a sinus clearing, AND earning heavenly kudos from my late dad, the firefighter.
I had just about convinced myself that it was chimney smoke from one of the houses on the far side of the ravine, when I arrived at the exact spot on the trail where Achilles used to roll pine cones downhill and chase them. I glanced up the slope next to me. About twenty feet away, at the base of a tree, sat a pile of glowing embers, emitting big puffs of smoke.
There was no one else anywhere in sight, up or down the trail. So I scrambled up the steep slope, on hands and knees at a couple points, and threw dirt on the embers, and then more dirt, then I stamped on the spot, then I threw more dirt on top of that for good measure and stamped again for better measure, until there was no more smoke. The whole operation, from discovery to extinguishment, probably took 3.5 minutes.
Fire’s out
I am 95% sure the embers would have burned themselves out. There wasn’t a lot of brush around. But after I buried the coals and felt around with my hand, I realized the ground was warm in a much wider radius. That’s called a hot spot, in fire lingo, and it can start up again if it’s not completely drenched. (What do you want, I grew up in a home where Fire Apparatus and Emergency Equipment Magazine counted as bathroom reading.)
So I whipped out my cell phone and called the Oakland emergency number, reported the hot spot, then trot-marched ten minutes back to the trailhead to meet the OFD truck. Two firefighters carrying a shoulder-mount water tank and shovels hiked back in with me. When last I saw them, those two guys were spraying down the area and raking it out to make sure they’d gotten everything.
There were some empty wine bottles and food wrappers strewn about so it seems likely that some people thought Achilles’ ravine was an awesome place to start a campfire during a drought. Dummies.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t stay for the forensics because I had to hurry home and tell this story to my family who would, no doubt, be nearly paralyzed with gratitude and excitement over my heroic deed. I would never call it heroic, of course; that would be their word for it. Especially when I showed off the dirt caked under my fingernails from my ember-dirt-tossing.
I called them to the kitchen where I acted out the story, playing myself, both firefighters, and for good measure, the ghost of my dad. The general reaction by my husband and daughters to my story? “Wow. That’s great. Hey, should I take the down coat or the rain jacket? How cold do you really think it’s going to be?”
So I think you’ll understand that, in search of a somewhat more enthusiastic reception, perhaps but not necessarily including fireworks and confetti, I shared my story with nearly every person we encountered in San Francisco during our staycation including Lyft drivers, random waiters, and a clerk named Bailey at American Eagle.
A post shared by Nancy Davis Kho (@midlifemixtape) on Dec 29, 2017 at 8:45pm PST
I certainly didn’t want to keep it from you, my blog readers.
Because if I can’t impress my family, I can always embarrass them instead.
Too many “fire” songs to choose from. I picked the one that always makes me laugh.
CommentsI knew I had to use that clip. Was almost worth finding a fire ... by Nancy Davis KhoGreat story – No one is ever as impressed with our heroic ... by Scott AttenboroughYou learned your training lessons well. Congrats ! Uncle R by Ray DavisYou’re a hero! Thanks, and thanks to your dad, for doing the ... by Risa NyeRelated StoriesDay of the DeadHappy Better Year Next YearBest End of Year List 2017
January 3, 2018
Top 5 Things You Can’t Live Without in 2018!
My older sister is smart, hard-working, and ambitious, and with the exception of the childhood years when she used to tackle me, tie knots in the feet of my pastel polyester tights to hobble me, and dash off before my parents could catch her, she’s always been my greatest cheerleader. She recently decided that 2018 should be the year that my blog generates passive income through Affiliate Links – you know, where I link out to vendors who sell all the trendy, cool stuff I write about – and they send me a little percentage of each sale.
What in the name of InstaPot is she talking about – who knew blogging could be anything but a time and revenue suck? Well, my sister for one – she works in the travel industry and her blog drives traffic to the eBooks she sells and she gets asked to consult and she’s brimming with good ideas about things to pack when you travel because she’s on the road all the time, perfect fodder for affiliate links and, well, you can see why I laid down and played dead when I was little and she came barreling at me for my tights.
“You always talk about books,” she said to me over the phone last week. “Link to Amazon so people can buy them!”
“Nope, I can’t because I have friends who are booksellers and authors so I just link to their pages instead,” I said. “None of us make any money, but at least we’re even.”
What about concert tickets? Girl, please. I’ve tried to slide into Ticketmaster’s DMs so many times, I think they bought a new phone. Ditto with Dansko shoes, my concert-going footwear of choice.
My sister had to go; she’d probably earned $6.40 in passive income just in the time we were talking but didn’t want to lord it over me.
I started thinking about what items of value I really believe in, what products I can push to my readers and still face myself in the mirror. And this is what I came up with, complete with a click-baity headline. Note: None of these are ACTUALLY affiliate links because I am easing into 2018 quietly. I don’t want to scare it by checking off goals too early. But this gives me something to work toward and to tell my sister when she gives me an Accountability Phone Call next week, after she’s earned another $25 just sitting still.
Top 5 Things You Can’t Live Without in 2018!
Foam Roller. Are you over 40? Do you wake up every morning and think, “cripes, that didn’t hurt yesterday”? Get yourself a foam roller and stash it in the corner of your family room, along with a promise to yourself to go on YouTube and figure out what you’re supposed to do with it! Eventually, something will hurt so much that you slump to the floor in pain and that’s when the roller comes into play. Lay the offending body part upon it and roll it until you’ve hurt something else so much that, comparatively speaking, the first ailment goes away! BONUS: if you have teenagers, they will die a thousand deaths watching you roll away your pains. It’s worth it just to see their embarrassment.
Aveda Dry Remedy Hair Oil. Are you over 40? Are you constantly monitoring your reflection in windows and mirrors to detect the first sign of dried out old lady hair? Do you wonder how, in Something’s Gotta Give, Diane Keaton managed to have both Keanu Reeves AND no flyaways, and do you suspect they’re related? I have no idea of Aveda’s Dry Remedy Hair Oil is the solution. I just know it smells good and has the words “dry” and “remedy” and “oil” in it, so it seems like it should work.
Avocados. I really like these. Avocado Lobbying Industry: HMU with your affiliate application form please.
Lovesick, Season 3. It had a MUCH better/worse name back in the day (Scrotal Recall) and is the only television show that ever induced me to go to a concert. Season 3 of this British comedy came out on Netflix on New Year’s Day and it’s already made 2018 much, much better than 2017. Luke is possibly my favorite character in film or TV, ever.
Righteous Indignation. I am giving this away by the pound in 2018. Racial justice, #metoo, Women’s March, the Donor Relief Act of 2017, defense of the planet: I had a restful holiday and I’m coming out swinging in the new year. Leave a comment below if you’d like to be my affiliate on this one – no money involved, but a heap of satisfaction and an answer to the inevitable question from our grandchildren, “What did YOU do to stop the madness?”
Used to think this was a gimmicky song until I read/listened to Greil Marcus’ The History of Rock and Roll in Ten Songs. Which, obviously, I will not link to in a way that makes anyone any money.
CommentsVery inspirational for me to NOT look for affiliate links for ... by CarolynThe scene I always think of when someone gets a windfall like ... by Nancy Davis KhoThat would normally cost you $13/laugh, but I'm offering an ... by Nancy Davis KhoOh how I hear you, girlfriend! I looked into affiliate links ... by Charlene RossYou made me affiliate laugh several times here. I love this ... by Ann ImigRelated StoriesHappy Better Year Next YearThe Nutcracker, Through 2017-Colored LensesConcert Review: Sheila E.
December 28, 2017
Happy Better Year Next Year
I finally figured out what 2017 reminds me of. It’s the annoying, clingy guest at the party you didn’t want to attend in the first place.
I mean, even at the worst party, there are bright spots: the shrimp platter on the sideboard, the wine refill you didn’t have to ask for, the chance to show off your new dangly earrings. I went to Australia for the first time, I found an awesome suede trucker jacket on deep discount at Levis.com, and my youngest daughter developed a recipe for tofu that we all enjoyed. The party, I mean 2017, hasn’t been a total loss.
But every time it started to seem like this was going to be an okay party/year after all, that annoying guest would lurch into sight and say something like, “Did I tell you about how much money I made at my app development start-up this year?” or “I just ate 100% of the shrimp!” or “Your earrings are cute but have you heard what the Mexican said to the Chinaman?” and the bubble was burst.
Dreamers deferment. Removal of EPA protections and the words “vulnerable” and “science-based” from the official lexicon. Another death of a black person at the hands of a cop. There are no Lyfts available to whisk us away from this mess, and even if there were it’s all surge pricing, all the time.
You don’t leave a party like this and think, “Was THAT ever fun!” The best you can probably muster is, “It’s over, and I survived.”
But that’s not nothing.
We survived. And we’re a little wiser for it. We maybe learned a trick or two about avoiding a repeat. At the party, maybe it was dodging and deflection – “Hey, I think they’re bringing out more shrimp, you should totally go look!”
As for 2017, maybe it was call your senator and donate to down-ballot progressive candidates. Maybe those were things we didn’t think much about when the party was good/the world was not a dumpster fire, but we get it now. We see why it’s useful, we’ve gotten a little practice, and we won’t hesitate to deploy those skills in 2018.
I’m not ready to bust out the dangly earrings quite yet, but as we shut the door on this 365-day monstrosity, I raise a glass of bubbly to you, my fellow survivors. I’m hopeful that 2018 will be a slightly better party. If we get out the vote properly next November, it may actually be a “Was THAT ever fun!” party.
And that’s not nothing.
Xxoxoox Nan
CommentsAnd my first party of 2018 will be in Seneca Falls NY, where ... by Sally BerryAnd a rockin' soundtrack to match. Happy New Year, pal! Nan by Nancy Davis KhoBut they're so delicious in cocktail sauce! Lots of love to ... by Nancy Davis KhoHappy New and Improved Year to you, too! xoxox by Nancy Davis KhoJOEY! You were the answer to a Christmas Eve party game I ... by Nancy Davis KhoPlus 4 more...Related StoriesThe Nutcracker, Through 2017-Colored LensesIt’s A Lot Right NowDay of the Dead
December 22, 2017
El Vez Holiday Show
El Vez, The Elvettes, and the Misfit Toys
Earlier this year I attended a writing workshop on radical inclusivity, hosted by Moxie Road Productions. The idea was to spark writers to think about how our work can build bridges, deepen understanding, and create new connections for and between people of different backgrounds. My favorite part was a panel discussion where published authors talked about how they approach writing characters who are very different from them, and the advice given by novelist Aya de Leon. She basically said, “If you want to write authentic characters who are different from you, you need to get to know people who are different from you.” Basically, get out of your bubble and cultivate a diverse set of friendships.
Good advice for writers, good advice for everyone else: by staying open and curious about other people and their interests and lives, you will have created the optimal environment to be empathetic and informed. And to have experiences you’d never dreamed of.
All of which is a long way of saying that Wednesday night, I went to see a guy I’d never heard of, El Vez, the Mexican Elvis, perform his Christmas show, and had one of the nicest nights of the 2017 holiday season. My friends Michelle G (the Xicana punk drummer) and Michelle T (Latinx journalist with a punk rock heart) were going, and I invited myself along. I know them both from various Bay Area reading series. Even if I didn’t grow up listening to the same music they did, I trust Los Michelles’ music taste implicitly.
This video is a little taster of how El Vez rolls in the Christmas spirit. (The action in the video below starts at the 2 minute mark and really gets cookin’ around 5 minutes.) He’s saucy. As he likes to say, El Vez “puts the X in Xmas.”
If I didn’t have friends like Michelle Squared, my Christmas holiday celebrations would range from Nutcracker to Nutcracker and back again. Think how much bigger our worlds are when we stay curious and cultivate that diverse set of people in our lives. It’s a good thing.
Feliz Navidad, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year. I wish you all peace, stamina, and hope in the year to come. Thank you so much for making Midlife Mixtape a part of your lives in 2017.
P.S. Moxie Road has another great one-day workshop coming up in January – New Year, New Moxie. Bay Area writers, check it out…
CommentsAnd a God Jul to you and the whole family! by EllenThis is great! I saw El Vez years ago in LA! What fun by Mary Allison TierneyRelated StoriesEl Vez Holiday ShowThe Nutcracker, Through 2017-Colored LensesConcert Review: Sheila E.
December 19, 2017
Ep 20 Band Manager Amber Buist
“Know your worth:” In this year-end supersize episode, Amber Buist, manager of indie-folk sensations The Accidentals, talks generosity and serendipity on tour with the band. Plus updates and musical surprises to wrap up 2017!
The Accidentals website/store
Valslist.com
The Accidentals Tour Diary – fun insider’s look at life on the road, written by the band (and hey, I made it in as a highlight!)
The Accidentals are on tour in 2018 – including a San Francisco stop on March 24 at Great American Music Hall. Check out dates near you!
Save Yourself – new EP from M. the Heir Apparent, who provides the music behind the Midlife Mixtape podcast. Available December 25 2017
The Accidentals lose their bananas upon meeting some dogs in the Oakland hills during their recent stay chez Midlife Mixtape.
Related StoriesEp 19 “Maxed Out” author Katrina AlcornEp 16 Author Neal PollackEp 17 Travel Writer Lavinia Spalding
December 15, 2017
Best End of Year List 2017
At this time of year, you can’t turn a corner on the soon-to-be Internet Toll Road without crashing into a “Best Of” list. Well, tighten your helmet and put on your wrist guards like it’s 1992 and you’re going rollerblading, because I’m going to hit you with the Midlife Mixtape version.
No, it won’t be a formulaic Best Song/Album/Live Concert kind of list, primarily because that conversation is taking place over on the Midlife Mixtape Facebook page. (Have you liked that yet? It’s fun. Like hanging out in the smoking area of your high school in the ‘80s, only without smokers or Aqua Net fumes.)
For the record, mine was “Day I Die” by The National/Melodrama by Lorde/Frank Turner at the Warfield in January.
Like Lorde’s choice of fashion for this video, I like to go for eclecticism. So here’s a Best Of List you won’t find anywhere else.
Best Age-Related Insult
My good friend Dawn was out walking her dog in my neighborhood when she stopped to chat with the four-year-old who lives across the street from me. “I’m probably going to get a new neighbor soon,” said Jonah, gesturing to my house. “Why?” asked Dawn.
“Well, Nancy’s getting pretty old.”
Best Binge Watch
Godless on Netflix. Like Willie Nelson sings, my heroes have always been cowboys, but in this series the cowboys were some badass cowgirls including Lady Mary from Downton Abbey. Lady Mary on the Prairie is wayyyyy more interesting than the one stuffed up in the castle, let me tell you.
Best Sleep Tip
The older I get, or the longer CheetoSatan remains in power, the worse I sleep. I’ve already done all the things Ariana Huffington recommends, like turning off devices well before bedtime. I also do a few she doesn’t, like squinching my eyes shut when I inevitably make my middle-of-the-night bathroom run so that I won’t see the numbers on the digital clock, because if I KNOW it’s 3:23 then I guarantee you I will lay in bed calculating how many hours sleep I’ll get if I fall asleep right now. No, NOW. NOW. Oh god is it already 3:26? Tomorrow’s going to be AWFUL.
Luckily, when I was in Texas in November for my friend Wendi Aaron’s birthday, I learned she is a certified sleep coach. I learned, because I had gone to bed late one night in the house we were staying in and was laying there waiting for the sweet release of slumber, when the door opened and Wendi lurched into my field of view.
“Why did you go to bed already? That’s how you sleep?” she said, referring to the way I lay in bed with my head on the pillow and my feet pointed south, I guess? “You look like a psycho.”
She then got into bed with me and demonstrated the “right” way to sleep which involved six pillows, a leg thrown over me, and simulated drool. Confident that she had thoroughly interrupted my REM sleep to demand I rejoin the party, she then went to lay down in her own bed “for a quick sec” and we never saw her again. Her method really works, obviously.
Quickly jotting Wendi’s advice on sleeping into my phone, after she woke me up. As for the bedtime cowboy hat…when in Rome, right?
Best Cocktail
My friend Andrew is an Episcopal priest of the progressive liberal variety, so it wasn’t a total surprise when he texted me to say that he was tending bar one night in San Francisco as part of a Planned Parenthood fundraiser, and that I should come out for a drink. Feminism demanded it, so two friends and I drove all the way into the city for a drink, arriving near the end of Andrew’s guest bartender shift. He’d maybe had a couple of nips of holy wine before we got there, but took our drink orders for Moscow Mules with equanimity.
He then disappeared down the bar for the approximate length of a Sunday Eucharist. When Andrew finally returned, he set down three cocktails that were, no question, the worst drinks any of us have ever had. “Those are AWFUL!” I said to Andrew.
“Yeah, what’s in a Moscow Mule, anyway?” he asked.
I suggested maybe the time for that question would have been before he left town to go fix the world’s least complicated drink order, but he had a better idea and just upended vodka into all of glasses. So in terms of impact, that was the best cocktail of the year. Thanks, Planned Parenthood and organized religion!
Best New Skill
Twenty episodes in, I can clip out an “um” from a podcast interview recording without even listening to it, because I recognize the shape of the soundwave. I also know to cut the big block of blue soundwaves that precede every question I ask, because it is inevitably me saying, too loudly, “SOOOOOOOOOO…”
I’m putting final touches on my super-size end of the year podcast episode which airs next Tuesday, Dec 19, clipping all the way. Hope you’ll give it a listen!
What’s Yours?
SOOOOOOOOOO…Leave me your own “Best of” category in the comments. The weirder the better.
CommentsYou and I both know that this little man – whom I adore – ... by Nancy Davis KhoHa, out of the mouths of babes. I kind of felt J was staring at ... by DawnOk, that age-related insult made me laugh out loud in the ... by EllenYou are my best live audience hands down. (Releases feather ... by AnnRelated Stories“Bright Star” Ticket GiveawayIt’s A Lot Right NowIt’s Purrfect
December 11, 2017
The Nutcracker, Through 2017-Colored Lenses
Are those figurines throwing alt-right hand signs?
As I sat in the audience last weekend watching our youngest daughter dance in Oakland Ballet School’s Nutcracker, it struck me like a sugar plum between the eyes: 2017 has changed EVERYTHING. You can’t even enjoy a good youth ballet for the thirtieth time– that’s not an alternative fact, we’ve seen this production thirty times since the girls started dancing in 2008 – without reflecting on how the world has changed in the past twelve months.
Let me count the ways.
Opening scene and its charming snowfall. I used to worry that the delicate soap flakes that flutter down from the rafters, eliciting “oohs” and “aahs” from the audience, would make the dancers slip. This year I thought, “At the pace we’re going with climate change and dismantling environmental protections, soap flake snow may soon be the only kind our children ever see.”
The entire house scene. This is the heretofore charming Act One setting in which two parents, three children, and one governess welcome a toymaker, Herr Drosselmeyer, and his apprentice for Christmas Eve festivities. Now it’s fraught at every turn.
Does the governess have family affected by harsh immigration rules? Is she herself a Dreamer? Could her very safety be at stake? Maybe that’s why she spanks the children so much but seriously, lady, don’t you worry that all that perfectly-on-the-beat spanking is going to contribute to childhood depression/anxiety/anger?
Oh, and now they’re gonna send the governess to answer the mysterious knock at the door, when it could be ICE agents?
Phew, it’s not ICE. It’s just your friendly neighborhood Roy Moore come to give gifts to three children under the not-so-watchful eyes of their parents. I think this might be called “grooming,” people. The Republican party in that town is probably trying to talk him into running for school board or town supervisor.
Phew, Drosselmeyer is definitely creepy, but seemingly more of an alcoholic than a pedophile (all those nips out of his hip flask.) Should there be an intervention?
Wait, maybe my instincts were right about Drosselmeyer – he suddenly appears stage left as Marie dances her big solo in the living room. Who let him back in? Was it ICE?
The fight scene between the soldiers and the mice. All the soldiers have guns. Whether they had bump stocks is hard to see from row J, but they probably do because everything is terrible and everyone has guns and the NRA is probably doing some backroom deal with the Rat King to upgrade his side’s firepower.
The Nutcracker and the Rat King fight over Marie. Did Harvey Weinstein direct this part? At one point they are literally pulling her arms in opposite directions (oh and hey, she’s the only one on pointe) and I wanted to scream “#metoo #metoo #metoo! Let her go!”
The Land of Snow. This is the Act 2 scene where a series of dancing Christmas Delights entertain Marie and her Prince.
Spanish Chocolate. Is this a commentary on the recent secession vote in Catalonia? Does the sole male dancer represent the Eurozone, post-Brexit?
Russian Licorice. I don’t recall snorting, “You mean, Russian INTERFERENCE,” derisively and scowling through this dance before 2017, so that was a first. Godspeed, Mueller.
French Bon Bons. As my daughter and her partners danced through this flirtatious little number, all I could think was the Trudeau and Macron bromance to which America can never be a party.
Mother Ginger. She has 800 children, depending on whether the Danspace dance studio is participating as guests that day. Think maybe she could use some family planning? Or was the Planned Parenthood in her community forced out by hypocritical Evangelical anti-choicers?
By the time we got the last notes of the finale, I was as exhausted as the male dancers who were hoisting ballerinas over their heads all day. And just like the ballerinas who are nursing their sore feet and exhausted muscles this week, I am going into recovery mode.
Because I heard the Spring Show might be Hansel and Gretel.
Drosselmeyer’s apprentice moonlights as a DJ, ya heard?
CommentsThanks for being in the 2017-colored lens camp with me, Nancy. ... by EllenRelated StoriesConcert Review: Sheila E.It’s A Lot Right NowEp 16 Author Neal Pollack
December 8, 2017
Concert Review: Sheila E.
I have seen the future, and it is funky.
Last night Oakland’s own Sheila Escovedo aka Sheila E aka The Queen of Percussion celebrated her 60th – yes sixtieth – birthday at Oakland’s fabulous art deco Paramount Theater, in front of a crowd that looked like a United Nations recruitment poster. As diverse as Oakland and the East Bay is, most concerts around here have an easily recognizable majority constituency – hipster millennials, African American aunties, Latino teenagers, white moms from the Oakland hills, whatever – that varies by the musician.
But Sheila E had ALL those groups and more, including the oft-underrepresented Spandex Jumpsuit Wearers demographic. The group of four friends who came with me has agreed that we should join the Spandex Jumpsuit ranks for the next show.
Yes We Can (find Spandex Jumpsuits in our sizes) but maybe not you two photobombers in the back
This is the second concert I’ve seen in 2017 that started with an excellent comedian, also the second show in which I failed to get the comedian’s name. This guy (anyone? Did anyone get a name?) was Latino and spent his entire set making an important and very funny point: the audience comprised lots of different races and ethnicities and ages and abilities, that it’s possible to find the humor in our differences respectfully, and that the name Shaka Cholo is probably going to get a kindergartner in trouble.
I loved the bit he did calling audience members from various branches of the Armed Services to make themselves known – and there were a lot of them in the audience– razzed them each a little bit (he himself was Air Force or, as he put it, “I was thiiiiiiis close to being in the military!”) Then he’d ask the audience to show their appreciation for that subset of soldiers and vets. Cool.
Then it was time for the birthday girl to take the stage. Sheila grew up in a musical royal family here in Oakland; her dad, Pete Escovedo, is a Latin big band leader who used to play with Santana, her two brothers are musicians, her sister is a dancer, and when someone handed a mic to Sheila’s eighty-year-old mother Juanita, the “Happy Birthday” song that emerged from her lips made it clear RIGHT quick whence the vocal talent emanates.
Awww. Flanked by her dad and mom.
(Wiki-whaaaatttt? I had forgotten that Sheila E. is Nicole Richie’s aunt; her brother Peter Michael is Nicole’s father. I almost fear including this fact in the review, because my friend Maria is still mad at me for mentioning that Beck is a Scientologist in his concert review, when she had no idea. I report the facts, ma’am. I don’t make anyone hold tin cans so I can do an audit.)
Out piled the giant Sheila E. party train including drummers, backup singers in caftans, a trombone player in a minidress, a rapper, a guitarist upon whom Prince was surely smiling, two Army soldiers in uniform, and Miss Sheila E. herself, barefoot and resplendent in a gold lame duster coat and crushed velvet bell-bottom leggings. You read it here first: once I finally tire of the Spandex Jumpsuit life, I plan to coast into my Grandma years in a cloud of duster coats and velvet bell-bottom leggings. Funkiness mandatory, shoes optional.
The first song? The national anthem, performed with gusto and samba beats by twenty people onstage who represented every shade under the sun. People were screaming “You’re the birthday queen!” and “We love you Sheila!” and “OOOOAKKKKKLLANNNDDDD” all around us. Meanwhile, as my friends and I danced to the anthem like it was a dance hall funk hit, a white man in front of us was taking a knee, his fist in the air, to protest racial injustice.
2017 has been so heartbreaking, but every time I want to give up, something like Sheila E’s concert makes me think, nope, something much bigger is going on. All this damage being wrought by CheetoSatan and his minions is working like a propellant to get people up and out in resistance, and a bonding agent to see the beauty in working together and having each other’s backs. Black Lives Matter, #metoo, DACA protests: all of it is painful but necessary work to surface long-simmering problems so we can solve them.
And when you look at Sheila E at sixty– gorgeous, assured, transcendent – it makes it seem not just possible but likely that strong women who value inclusivity will save us all. Whether delivering a blistering drum solo using all four of her limbs, or singing her “Rock Star” single from the audience and segueing it into an “Purple Rain” singalong, or inviting Freddie Stone of Sly and the Family Stone, George Clinton, and oh yeah an entire samba band onstage, Sheila E puts her whole self into her message of love and music and “Yes we can!” She wants us to do the same.
But don’t worry; she’ll start us off with a beat.
CommentsI. Can’t. Believe. I. Missed. This. by FloribundaRelated StoriesConcert Review: Father John MistyIt’s A Lot Right NowMusic Books for Holiday Gift Giving
December 5, 2017
Ep 19 “Maxed Out” author Katrina Alcorn
“It starts with compassion:” Katrina Alcorn, author of “Maxed Out: American Moms on the Brink,” on structural changes needed to help GenX women at the breaking point, a reminder that change is inevitable, and her rocker flock of urban chickens.
Maxed Out: American Moms on the Brink
The New Midlife Crisis for Women on Oprah.com
From left to right. Joan Jett, Blondie, David Bowie (far background), and Tina Turner.
And the song I knew would be the theme of this episode:
Thanks as always to M. The Heir Apparent, who provides the music behind the podcast – check him out here! And if you’re in the Bay Area, you can catch his new album release party on Dec 15 at the Lost Church SF – more details here.
Related StoriesEp 16 Author Neal PollackEp 17 Travel Writer Lavinia SpaldingEp 18 Girl Advocate Lynn Johnson
