Penny Rene's Milk Memo: April 2000 Archives

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Week 2 in Nashville

13 · Apr · 2000

Before I left OKC, I told myself that there would come a day that I would feel as if I had made a terrible mistake by moving to Nashville and that I would think my whole life to be one big train wreck. This is the nature of taking charge of one's life - wondering, when things get bad, if I have made the right decision.
But I knew I would feel this way and I knew I would be wrong; thus preparing myself for last Tuesday. Alas, here I am today, at the keyboard, alive.

Yesterday I hand delivered resumes to the likes of City Press, Zeitgeist Gallery, Ruby Green Foundation, Squint Records, CCM Countdown, and the Nashville Scene. I interviewed at an artist management company on Music Row. I found a job... for Laurie.

Today, I plan to deliver a dozen more resumes. I’m considering a career in retail... I cannot help but giggle. This is my ridiculous life.

On the way home, I stopped in Portland Brew for a double mocha and sat down to assess the damage and write a poem about the first thing that came to mind.

Escalating Blue, a chorus I discarded last Sunday, ran through my mind. Though I may not keep it this way, I put it with verses I wrote that same Sunday in church. So, this is my offering today, to the critics, the instant memo deleters, and the kind readers are scribblings I wrote:

escalating blues

I rest like a baby in the palm of your hand
and refuse to face the light of day
All those distractions bang on my door
though I have nothing to say
It is two lifetimes from this house to where I came from
So, there’s no going back even when this life is done

Escalating blues
This house is full of escalating blues
and You are green
Today I offer up my dreams
You smile, saying “Life’s not what it seems.
It may look like escalating blue Because you’re green”

I close my eyes as a guitar pulls me along
Surrender of sight, sound and touch
Excuses lie on the sweet tip of my tongue
But they never amount to much
If I sit on the front row and speak of my visions unseen
Will You open a window and tell me what all of it means?

penny rene'

Posted by Penny Rene at 01:36 PM

And the Pendelum Swings Me Into a Duane Eddy Tribute

4 · Apr · 2000

At 12:38 am on Thursday, I sat down to try to explain the night’s events but found that no matter how I say this, it’s likely that someone out there won’t believe me.

So, I turn to clichés:

• Two tickets to the Duane Eddy, Grady Martin Tribute hosted by Chet Atkins Musician Days at the Ryman... free.
• Sitting in the balcony with newlyweds Amy & Vince Gill... free.
• Two passes to the Bell South After Party with Duane Eddy... free.
• Seeing John Fogherty, Marty Stewart, Vince Gill, Dave Pomery, Bonnie Bramlett and Peter Frampton perform together - live- for three hours... PRICELESS.

On that note, I submit to you my latest song, hoping I remember all of it correctly, due to the original being lost the last time I was thrown off the net.

-possible-

it was easy to think myself cheerful
hopeful even, all the way to my toes
reinvention, restoration maybe possible
a star your love could not oppose
i the one who polishes the moon
maybe you could let this feeling linger in the room

possible, maybe
oh baby
to mark a path we’ve never taken
possible, maybe
i’m just a little crazy
i could have been mistaken

there’s a few lips i’m found kissing
but only one that i want to hear talk
revival, flicker, flame ‘twas possible
if you’re already running, i’ll just walk

the love i know raised a dead man from his tomb
it’s possible you’ve walked away too soon

possible, maybe
oh baby
to mark a path we’ve never taken
possible, maybe
i’m just a little crazy
i could have been mistaken

last night i dreamed you offered me the world
though it wasn’t yours to give, i accepted gracefully
i can’t believe how i’m taunted with the fortunes
of those who can misplace their love so easily

4/00 Penny Rene

Posted by Penny Rene at 05:07 PM

Baby Brown

3 · Apr · 2000

Last week I went to New York on business. It was my first time to visit. I didn't have an agenda of what to do. I've never really been the tourist type. The only thing I really cared to see was the Statue of Liberty. You know why? Because of my dad. My dad was in the US Air Force for 20 years. He worked under Johnson, Nixon, Ford and Carter. I was a military brat, and I'm not the least bit ashamed. I was very proud of him then and now. I thought about that while I sat on a bench, staring at the Statue of Liberty across the water.

Some of my friends don't even know their fathers. Most people feel like their dads just don't measure up. Being a father must be hard. A mother (in the beginning) gets respect by default - she was the one who went through pregnancy and birth. But it's almost as if dads have to earn our respect.

You think no one prepares a woman for motherhood? Imagine being a dad. What training do these men have, anyway? Especially older men. For so long there was no emphasis on a man being a loving father- showing affection, spending a great deal of time with the children. My grandpa R. is described as a man of few words who worked very hard. Sound familiar? So, somewhere between the age of 12 and 20, we see these people as they really are. Men. Not fortresses of strength and wisdom, but men -- some a little more vulnerable than others. It's a tough transition as a kid.

I remember once, running through a sticker patch in our suburban neighborhood, falling to the ground in agony from the thorns in my little feet. I couldn't bear to pull them out myself, so my friend yelled for help. My dad had just come home from work. Still in uniform, he strolled down the sidewalk to me. The stickers were gently removed, with a little giggle on his part, and I ran on my merry way as if nothing ever happened.

Fast-forward eighteen years to a dinner at my parents’ house after I had been home from Romania for barely a week. It was clear my dad did not understand why his baby girl felt the need to trot off to Eastern Europe, nearly wrecking her career in the process. His exact words were "People need you here in your own country. You could've done that here!" It was the greatest thing I had ever done and he seemed to think I had betrayed him for it. His words fell on me like a storm. Nothing compares to that disconnected feeling I had. He finished his dinner as if nothing ever happened.

Fathers. Dads. My daddy. Where bridges fell, we built new ones. I don't know how, but I suspect it has something to do with my own failures and my own hope that people will see past those flaws to who I really am.

A few years back I was sitting in the living room of my parents’ house, having a conversation with my dad, about life, travel and such. It was a bit strange, both of us adults now, discussing my childhood in matter of fact tones. As he was bent over fiddling with his shoes he said something like "I know I wasn't there for you kids when you were little. I should have been. I really regret that now, but you know I really love you. I thought I was doing what was best at the time, but I was wrong." His voice had cracked a little and I could see the regret on his face.

Every negative story I'd ever been told about a father seemed to come to a screeching halt in my head when my daddy sat there in front of me, apologizing for not being better for me and my brother and sister. For all the toughness, for all the absence, he had still emerged as my hero, providing a security for me - unmatched by any man I have ever known. The apology was accepted, and any thoughts of him "not measuring up", evaporated in that room.

I look at my brother, sister and I, and I know that we are blessed far beyond what we deserve.

Think back to the best memory of your dad. Remember how much you adored him? Now think about a child you love -maybe a niece or nephew, maybe your own kid. Think of how you would do anything for that child, how your love for him/her amazes you. Multiply that love by a million. Know that's how much your dad still loves you. No matter what. ...No matter what.

Penny René
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"Baby brown plays with Frankenstein at the top of the stair
Daddy's catching a flight to who knows where
Another kiss and tell on the white house lawn
Give her one kiss and she'll be gone"

Penny René
-From Holiday
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