Happy Valentine's Day!

My valentine to you is this little Romance from my suite entitled Ceremony for flute and cello (2011). It's performed by Betty Braunstein and Josh Aerie, the musicians who requested that I write it. They wanted music they could play at weddings when there would be no piano available, the musical forces being only the two of them: a flutist and a cellist.

Imagining what I fancied would be appropriate music for a wedding ceremony, I wrote a work in five short movements, which are entitled:

I. The Prelude
II. The Processional
III. The Ceremony: Romance
IV. The Recessional
V. The Postlude

As you see, the Romance is the middle movement, to be played in the middle of the wedding. I know that it's not usual for music to be played during the actual ceremony, during the exchanging of vows. But what if music were to be played during that amazing moment when a couple publicly affirms their love and commitment, symbolized ceremonially with the rings? What would be the right music for that moment?

The music would have to be tender, sweet, delicate, and romantic, yes -- but not overstated, please. Nothing like the soaring exultation of Tchaikovsky's Romeo and Juliet or Max Steiner's great love theme from Now, Voyager (as if I could even write such wonderful tunes ... I wish!)

I tried to write something simple and sincere, perhaps quietly expressing my own love story, married to the same remarkable woman for 42 years and counting.

Rick Sowash
Cincinnati, OH
Feb. 14, 2014

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Hello --

If you can spare 2 min, 54 sec., please click on the first link under "RECORDINGS," above. You'll be glad you did.

It's my friends flutist Betty Braunstein and cellist Josh Aerie performing "Prelude" from a suite I wrote for them two years ago. As many of your know, I am a part-time security guard at the Cincinnati Art Museum. On a beautiful October day in 2011, I was alone in the galleries when this Shaker-hymn-like tune came to me; it's the tune you'll hear in the flute, right at the beginning. I sketched it out on scrap paper, brought it home and expanded it into this piece.

When I was in my twenties (now I'm 63), I made a study of Shaker music. Many of the tunes that have come to me since have a Shaker-like feel. Simple, clean, direct, affecting.

This piece was performed just yesterday as the prelude to the worship service at Cincinnati's Mt. Auburn Presbyterian Church (where I am to be found most Sunday mornings, singing in the choir). People liked it. This morning I decided to share this mp3, far and wide.

To hear the Prelude, click on the link above.

Rick Sowash
Cincinnati, OH

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The Saturday before last was our 45th wedding anniversary. And this coming December will mark the 50th anniversary of our first date. I can hardly grasp that Jo and I have passed that many years in the close company of one another.

I like what Will Durant said: "The love we have in our youth is superficial compared to the love that an old man has for his old wife.”

I know that is true but, honestly, I don’t think of myself as an old man and I don’t think of Jo as an old wife. Heck, I’m only 67! And she’s 66! (Yes, I married 'a younger woman.’)

Still, superficially or otherwise, a half century in love with the same lady is, well, a long time. It’s not exactly an achievement. It wasn’t some steep task that we were determined to accomplish against all odds. We just kept on keeping on, day by day, sharing a great many laughs and not a few ongoing negotiations while half a century slipped by.

I once told an older, long-married friend, “When it comes to women, I’ve never been adventurous, never ventured out beyond the shallow water close to shore. No, in my whole life I really only had just the one girl friend and she became just the one wife.”

My friend looked at me closely and said, “You’ve got it exactly backwards. You have ventured far, far beyond the shallow water close to shore. You’ve made the epic journey, you and your wife.”

I knew at once that she was right and that there was nothing more to be said.

That being the case, let’s hear some quietly joyful wedding music, the second movement from my Ceremony for Flute and Cello, written specifically to be played at weddings, beautifully played by flutist Betty Braunstein and cellist Josh Aerie. click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the sore, click on the link above.

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“And now comes in the sweet o’ the year!” Jack Falstaff would say if he were with us and had been rightly instructed in American foods and drinks. Of course he would not have in mind the armies of the goldenrod, the “frosty asters like a smoke upon the hills,” the smoldering crumble of hues in the maple tree, or the bonfires burning gold and crimson on the verge of twilight.

Sound belly-timber would be his notion of a “sweet,” and at this season that would bring salivary thoughts of brown apple betty loaded with spices, of soft cider just oozed from the press, of hard cider ennobled by age, of applejack turned into liquid fire by successive imprisonments in ice, of apple cobbler, apple turnover, applesauce served with roast pork, deep-dish apple crumble served with ice cream, and of apple pie in its glory, with a roof of crust over top.

Yet the fact that the apple is good to eat and drink seems a gross consideration when we recall that it is a big sister of the rose, delightful in shape and hue and odor, as lovely in the fruit as in the flower. Thinking back from October to May, from the bough so laden that it has to be propped to the time when its burden was mostly bloom and numberless bees, we realize that the harvest of apples is one of the dreams that come true.

We could only dream of it back there when the orchard smelled like a wine of the gods and every flower was a tavern; but now here it is, this largess, this bounty! No matter how hard we have toiled to bring it about, we always know, even in an off-year, that the apple harvest is better than we deserve.”
— Odell Shepard (1885 - 1967)

Here is prose one can admire! Musical, rhythmical, lively prose. Tonal prose, conservative in the best sense. Lyrical, pleasing, a joy to read aloud or with the inner voice we hear in our mind’s ear when silently reading to ourselves alone.

Shepard, author, poet, musician, to me a hero, taught English at Trinity College. One of his former students shared with me his axiom about writing: “Make it clear. Make it simple. Make it sing!”

Superb advice. The man practiced what he preached.

How does prose SING? In rhythmical, alliterative phrases like these:

“the smoldering crumble of hues”

“soft cider just oozed from the press"

"its burden was mostly bloom and numberless bees”

Ah, I bask in prose such as that.

He finds ‘le mot juste’, the right word:

“crumble” “oozed” “numberless” and “salivary thoughts."

Well said, sir! Well said!

I love his merriment, too, and his modesty, his evident joy in writing about a gloriously humble thing, the apple.

Would that there was more such prose-poetry in this sorry, shaken, post-modern year. Shepard contributed what he could, while he could. He makes me smile.

May each of us contribute what we can, while we can. May we prompt smiles.

Here’s a brief thing I’ve done, musically, that may induce a smile. To listen to flutist Betty Braunstein and cellist Josh Aerie (featured in my forthcoming CD “Seasonal Breezes”), playing the fourth movement of my Ceremony for Flute & Cello, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.

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They looked like ordinary teenagers. Looks may deceive.

At the end of my presentation on writing and creativity, I invited them to ask questions. To my astonishment, almost every hand went up.

If you have presented programs for teenagers you will know what astonished me.

As an author who has written mostly for young people, I have visited more than two thousand schools, presenting assemblies and workshops. I’ve learned what to expect from youthful audiences and to adjust my expectations according to how old they are.

Give Kindergarten through second-grade kids a chance to ask questions and lots of hands go up. Less so with fourth- through sixth-graders.

Give teenagers the opportunity and rarely will a hand be raised.

How to break the ice? Why is there ice in the first place?

Fear. Most teenagers are frightened of each other, scared of appearing to be too “goody-goody” in front of their peers, terrified that they will be mocked for asking the “Nice Mister Author Man” a question.

But the teenagers I mentioned above were different. They did not fear one another. They liked and supported one another. They ventured lively questions and then, after I answered, they pushed for yet more information. I thought, “What an extraordinary group of young people. What an extraordinary school.”

One of the students I met that first day was Ian Fisher, an ardent young reader who, I learned later, often ponders the question, “What book next?” More about Ian anon.

“Leaves of Learning” is the school’s name. The students, about 260 of them, aged 3 through 18, are home-schooled. They come to LOL for enrichment, studying subjects they cannot learn at home.

At the end of my day as a Visiting Author at Leaves of Learning — November 5, 2013, a day that changed my life -- my friend and hostess, teacher Terri Burch, who had arranged for me to visit the school, pronounced: “You should be teaching here!”

I was intrigued.

I’d never taught before and I love my leisure, but I thought teaching at such a school might be fun. I decided to give a try, to teach just one school-year, courses in French, Music Theory and Storytelling.

Come May, the students were happy, the parents were happy, the director was happy and I, “Monsieur Sauvage” (as my Frenchies call me) was the happiest of all. I’ve been joyfully teaching there ever since.

One of those happy students was the afore-mentioned Ian Fisher. When he enrolled in my courses, I got in the habit of asking Ian, “What are you reading now?” His answers fascinated me. Most of the titles he mentioned were new to me. Novels from Japan and Central America, histories of remote and exotic places, biographies of people as unknown to me as I would be to them.

One day I asked him, “Ian, how do you choose what book you are going to read next?” He thought about it. “I don’t really know,” he confessed at last. “I keep a stack of them around and just find my way.”

Ever since I was about thirteen -- Ian’s age when I first met him — I’ve wrestled with the problem of how to decide what to read next. When Ian admitted that he didn’t know how he made his choices, I suddenly remembered that I had drafted a little book on exactly that question, years earlier. It had seemed like a promising idea for a book, and I had enjoyed developing it, but I had never done anything more with it, never brought it into print.

Now I realized that my embryonic book might grow into a valuable resource for Ian and other readers.

During the spring of 2014, Ian and I tossed ideas back and forth. That summer I tutored Ian in French, but we spent a lot of our lesson time talking about how we made our reading choices.

I read the draft I’d written and shared it with my friend Pat Marriott who delighted in it, encouraged me to publish it, and volunteered his services as an editor. We set to work.

Here’s the description that will appear on the back cover:

Every reader faces the question “What book next?” The realm of reading choices is vast and bewildering. In this unusual book, author/composer Rick Sowash gives an account of his adventures as a reader who, grappling with his own bewilderment, arrives at practical and inspiring insights for readers trying to decide: “What book next?”

I’m still teaching at “Leaves,” where Ian Fisher is now a senior (very tall and very well-read, you may be sure!).

What joy it is to teach at such a place! I get to explore my favorite subjects in the company of intelligent and delightful young people who share my enthusiasm.

Just think: I’m teaching people who are fifty years younger than I am!

I’m a professional Grandpa!

Like all non-profit organizations, our school needs to raise money. Having seen the beneficial effects the school has had on so many students, I’m launching “What Book Next?” so as to generate a little moolah for the school.

100% of my profits – royalties from commercial sales and profits from copies purchased from me by friends and fans like you -- will be donated to the school.

I am proud to do this, proud to be a teacher at Leaves of Learning, proud of my students, proud to put my talents, such as they are, into the service of a good cause.

The principles and ideals that are conveyed in “What Book Next?" are those of our school. To wit, both the book and the school embrace the notion that each of us is responsible for our own education and that learning is life-long.

Would you like to read “What Book Next?” You’ll get your chance! It’s due to come out next month. That’s when I’ll send y'all a mid-week email (not to be confused with my Sunday morning e-pistles, where nothing is ever offered for sale nor ever will be) with an order form offering the book for $9.95 plus shipping.

Friends and fans who can’t afford the purchase: let me know and I’ll send you a free PDF instead.

What times we live in when such a thing is possible!

Now let’s get to some music!

To hear Betty Braunstein and Josh Aerie play the Postlude from my Ceremony for flute and cello, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.

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Remember back in March when I shared “Serpent Mound,” my tone poem for solo cello, premiered in a youtube video featuring Sherill Roberts? Yesterday, Sherill emailed me this delightful message:

“Rick, I wish you could have seen my two little grandkids (8 and 5) slithering around on the floor, choreographing ‘Serpent Mound’ as I played it. The music really spoke to them.”

Adorable! One of the sweetest rewards of composing.

If you missed that message back in March, you can still see and hear Sherill playing “Serpent Mound.” You’ll find the links at the bottom of this message.

Try “slithering around on the floor” while you listen.

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This Thursday will be our 49th wedding anniversary.

A half century is a long time, but it doesn’t feel like an achievement, a steep task accomplished against the odds. We just kept on, day by day, week by week, sharing many laughs, a few sorrows and daily negotiations on matters large and small. Meanwhile, five decades slipped by.

I once told an older, long-married friend, “When it comes to women, I’ve not been adventurous, never ventured out beyond the shallow water close to shore. I had one girl friend and she became my only wife.”

She looked at me closely and said, “You’ve got it backwards. You ventured far, far beyond the shallow water close to shore. You made the epic journey, you and your wife.”

We started with very little. Jo had a used Saab and a modest amount left over in her college fund. I had almost nothing and a year of study still between me and my B.S. degree in music composition and comparative literature. (By the way, if you’ve got some literature you need to have compared, my hourly rate is very reasonable.)

We couldn’t afford a honeymoon trip. After our wedding on Jo’s front porch in Bellville, we set up in a tiny ‘college-town’ apartment. A year later, I’d landed the job of Music Director at a large Lutheran church in Mansfield. My annual salary being $6500, we’d still not managed a honeymoon trip. Too expensive. Then we had an idea.

In February of ‘73, I wrote to the powers that be at the Shaker Village at Pleasant Hill, KY, a restored Shaker colony. I offered our services. We would present programs on Shaker culture and music, dressed in Shaker costumes, teaching the visitors Shaker songs and leading the singing. We would do programs for four days in exchange for food and lodging, nothing more. A working honeymoon, it would be fun.

They replied, saying, “Great. Come in May.”

Gulp. In truth, we knew nothing about Shaker music beyond “Simple Gifts,” very little about Shaker culture and had no costumes. But we were young, bright and confident. We had three months to prepare. We set to work, studied the music and the culture, made costumes. Come May, we were ready.

We were a hit and got asked back several times. I printed a flyer about us, sent it to historical societies, libraries and the like. Our Shaker Village gig gave us ‘cred,’ we had many invitations. We charged $50.

We were even invited to stay a week with the remaining Shakers at the last Shaker colony, located in Sabbath Day Lake, Maine, where we ate, conversed, sang and worshipped together. (That trip was not a second honeymoon; in keeping with the Shaker practice of celibacy, male and female guests slept in separate quarters.)

What I learned about Shaker music made me a better composer. I have often attempted to fashion tunes that aspire to the noble simplicity of the best Shaker hymns; they bear the same relation to my music as English folksong bore to 20th century English composers I admire.

One of my tunes in a Shaker style comprises the opening movement of my “Ceremony for Flute & Cello,” written to be played at weddings taking place at venues where there is no piano.

To hear that movement, beautifully played by the musicians for whom I wrote the suite -- flutist Betty Braunstein and cellist Josh Aerie -- click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.

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My “Christmas Ceremony for Flute & Cello” was beautifully recorded by Betty Braunstein and Josh Aerie, the musicians who requested me to write the suite. They needed music to play at an upcoming Christmas wedding that was to take place at a piano-less venue.

Trying my best to devise music for a Christmas wedding ceremony, I wrote a suite of five short movements, titled:

I. Prelude
II. Processional
III. Romance
IV. Recessional
V. Postlude

No Christmas carols are quoted in this suite. The only thing about the music that warrants the use of the word “Christmas” in the title is that the music seems to me to be warm, beautiful and sacred in somewhat the same way that certain moments in the Christmas experience can sometimes be felt by some of us.

(How’s THAT for a way of putting it that leaves all toes unstepped-on?)

The Romance is the keystone movement, to be played during the wedding ceremony, an accompaniment for that amazing moment when a couple publicly affirms their love and commitment, symbolized with the exchange of rings. Music is not usually heard during the ceremony but I asked myself, if music was to be played at such a moment then what music would feel right?

For a creative person, such a question is like the spark that flies from flint-and-steel into a nest of dry tinder. Some quick blowing upon the spark and the tinder will burst into flame. When people sometimes say that they wish they were “more creative,” I advise them to ask questions of themselves, expecting answers. Questions generate ideas, I’ve found.

The music would have to be tender, sweet, delicate, and romantic, yes -- but not overstated, please. No soaring exultation; instead, something simple and sincere, music for a scene in a film when two ordinary people discover that they are beloved by one another.

The music could also ‘under-score’ a scene late in my own on-going love story. That ‘film’ has co-starred my Jo, a remarkable woman, since our first date on December 10, 1967. An age ago. It’s a long movie and it isn’t over yet.

“The love we have in our youth is superficial compared to the love that an old man has for his old wife.” -- Will Durant

To hear my little Romance for flute and cello, click on the link above.

You can see a PDF of the score by clicking on the link above.

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Why did the Shakers require every member of their sect to master music notation?

The Shakers, one of America’s most colorful and creative religious sects, called themselves, “The United Society of Believers in Christ's Second Appearing.” Others termed them “the shakers” because they shook; that is to say, they danced. Their worship services were vigorous. They sang exuberantly and they danced to the rhythms of the simple songs they themselves had composed.
If you asked them, they would tell you that they didn’t compose those songs. God did.

They sang in unison, abjuring harmony and counterpoint. No instrumental accompaniment. No organs, pianos, fiddles, guitars or banjos. Only unison singing could express their union with each other and with Christ, whom they believed had returned in the person of their founder, Mother Ann Lee.
The Shakers invented a simple method of notating music. The reason they required every Shaker to master it is appealing. Believing that the will and character of God was revealed to mortals, often and anew, in the form of musical metaphors, every Shaker was expected to be ready to notate any melodic inspiration that God might send them.
It is a charming notion. When a Shaker, while hoeing in the garden, cooking a meal or tending to livestock, realized that a tune was taking shape in their minds, they would jot it down. That way, it could be remembered and shared later in worship with the other congregants.
Every Shaker was, in effect, a composer! The astonishing result of this belief and practice was that in their 200-year history, the Shakers, numbering about 18,000 in total, produced over 24,000 hymns.
What I love and admire about this Shaker insistence that every member learn music notation is that it demonstrates an openness to the possibility, even the high probability, that God might, at any moment, SING specifically to you and that whatever God sings to you is to be shared with others in turn. The Shakers derived no profit from their music. All Shaker songs are anonymous, though they would not have put it that way. To their way of thinking, the music was not anonymous; the composer was God, no less.

I am not a Shaker. But I am something of a mystic. I believe that musical inspiration can come to anybody, anywhere, any time and, when it does, what the recipient is hearing is the voice of God. So said the Shakers. None other than J.S. Bach would agree completely. It’s a joyful idea and it makes me smile.

The ingenious Shaker notation system was “letteral.” Above each syllable of the lyrics of a tune, a letter was placed to indicate the pitch: C, D, E, F, G, etc. No sharps or flats. Rhythms were indicated with flags and dots, as in traditional musical notation. The system was perfect for the unison singing of simple tunes. It could not be used to notate multiple, polyphonic voices, let alone accompanying harmonies. But that was OK. Shakers sang only in unison.

In my twenties, I studied Shaker music. The interesting contours, lively rhythms and perfect symmetry of their best tunes have a lot to teach a young composer. One of several original tunes I composed in the Shaker style is heard in the Prelude of my “Ceremony for Flute & Cello.”

To hear flutist Betty Braunstein and cellist Josh Aerie playing the Prelude, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.

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“We leave not only a carbon footprint as we journey on planet earth, but a soul print as well. Scattered around us everywhere we go is tangible evidence that we have been in this place. As a result of our presence, this place is either more—or less—loving and hopeful." -- Kayla McClurg

I try to be conscious of the “soul print” I leave, wherever I go, but I have other things on my mind.

If I could always be aware that I am leaving “soul prints”, then I would, hopefully, have at least enough presence of mind to try to induce smiles even if only by addressing a stranger: “Hello, how are you?”

That’s my intent but, grumpy about something or other, my “soul prints” are smudged and directionless.

It helps to be reminded that grumpiness itself is often comical. When we are grumpy, we are ridiculous. If we could observe ourselves at such moments, we would laugh.

Even the word “grumpy” sounds funny. It calls to mind the lone scowler, “Grumpy,” among the otherwise cheerful Seven Dwarves.

For some unknown reason (unknown to me, at least), all the words that rhyme with “grumpy” are also funny albeit in slightly negative ways: lumpy, dumpy, bumpy, jumpy, frumpy.

Same with most of their cousins, the “ump” nouns, they are comic and mildly unpleasant: chump, rump, slump, sump-pump, mugwump, thump.

The French word for grumpy is “grincheux.” It must be the source of Dr. Seuss’ inspiration for his Grinch, the creature (I can’t think what else to call him) that “stole” Christmas. He ended up leaving positive “soul prints” in spite of himself.

May we all leave positive “soul prints” in our wake. May we prompt smiles more often than frowns or blank indifference.

Here’s a brief thing I’ve done, musically, that may induce a quiet smile. It’s not funny. It’s joyful -- which is even better than funny. Listen to flutist Betty Braunstein and cellist Josh Aerie playing the fourth movement of my Ceremony for Flute & Cello, by clicking the link above.

There's also a link you can click to see a PDF of the score.

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I recently did something I have never done before.

An old friend of mine -- we befriended one another when we were both eleven years old -- is recovering from major surgery, confined in a brace for two months. We sat down together at his kitchen table and read through “The Tempest” each of us taking opposite parts in the dialogues. I had “dibs” on Prospero, the character of all of Shakespeare with whom I identify most closely. My friend made a marvelous foil, reading the parts of Caliban, Ariel and the rest of the cast of lovers, villains and spirits.

We had such fun with it that we decided to “do” Twelfth Night next and we’ll be meeting soon to do just that, having ordered copies for cheap through an on-line used book service.

This is my idea of ‘grown up’ fun. His, too.

As you may know, both Twelfth Night and The Tempest are termed comedies, not because every line is funny, but simply because these plays end with multiple weddings and no corpses littering the stage.

Both scripts call for quite a lot of music. Twelfth Night is almost what we Americans call “a musical comedy,” there are so many songs and so much call for incidental music. The Tempest, too, requires Ariel to sing several songs and features dancing “nymphs and sickle-men” in straw hats doing country dances. And then there are the weddings all set to take place, we are to understand, immediately after the play is over.

All of which brings to my mind a certain yearning for some quietly joyful wedding music. I have just the thing: the second movement from my Ceremony for Flute and Cello, written specifically to be played at weddings.

To hear it beautifully played by flutist Betty Braunstein and cellist Josh Aerie, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the sore, click on the link above.

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Christmas music in May? Sort of ... but not exactly.

My “Christmas Ceremony for Flute & Cello” was written in response to a request from flutist Betty Braunstein and cellist Josh Aerie. They needed music to play at an upcoming Christmas wedding that was to take place at a venue with no piano. The two of them -- just a flute and cello -- were going to provide the music for the ceremony and celebration.

I tried my best to devise music for a Christmas wedding ceremony, writing a suite of five short movements, titled:

I. Prelude
II. Processional
III. Romance
IV. Recessional
V. Postlude

No Christmas carols are quoted in this suite. The only thing about the music that warrants the use of the word “Christmas” in the title is that the music seems to me to be warm, beautiful and sacred in somewhat the same way that certain moments in the Christmas experience can sometimes be felt by some of us.

(How’s THAT for being circumspect?)

The Postlude comes last. It is music to be heard “when all is said and done,” with the ‘hitching’ of the couple has gone off without a hitch. It’s a moment of great joy … and relief. The mother of the bride and everyone else involved in the planning and implementation of the wedding can now heave a great sigh and smile broadly and maybe wipe away a few tears.

What music, specifically, would suit such a moment, what key, what meter, what melodic contours?

Such a question is like the spark that flies from the striking of flint upon steel. Caught in a nest of dry tinder, blown upon quickly and tenderly, the spark ‘catches’ and the tinder bursts into flame.

When someone ask about the source of creativity, I don’t pretend to have a profound answer. I can only tell them that, for me, the act of posing questions to oneself generate ideas. Questions spark ideas, at least for me.

It’s not just F sharps and B flats though. The music would have to be tender, sweet, delicate, and romantic, yes -- but not overstated, please. No soaring exultation; instead, something simple and sincere, music for two ordinary people affirming that they are each other’s beloved.

To hear Betty Braunstein and Josh Aerie play the Postlude from my Ceremony for flute and cello, click on the link above.

To see a PDF of the score, click on the link above.