Life of a "tumbleweed"...
 
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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in Christene LeDoux's Road Diary:

    [ << Previous 20 ]
    Wednesday, November 22nd, 2006
    7:30 pm
    Written in Oct 2006 in Italy...
    Walking in front, alongside or anywhere near a European
    mommy pushing her baby in her buggy, is like riding a bike
    on the autobahn in front of her middle-aged husband in his
    newly purchased ferrari.

    Rules?
    There are none!

    The bigger...the more stylish and the one with more contraptions
    then that ferrari...holding anything you can imagine, including
    but not limited to; coffee, cell phones, shopping bags, toys, books
    and oh, the baby... have full road priority.

    If you can't move, walk, run or just plain get the hell out of the way,
    plan to be mowed down.

    Oh, p.s...
    The same goes for long legged girls in dresses on vintage bikes
    with enormous baskets...
    Don't be fooled by their flowing skirts, draping scarves and pretty
    faces...they too own the streets.

    They know it and if you don't, plainly, you get run over.

    So move out of the fucking way or get over it.
    Saturday, November 11th, 2006
    6:19 pm
    stones in my pocket...
    Stones in my pocket are making me happy today.

    As I walked along the beach of Torquay, England on this very
    cold winter day, I tried as hard as I could to avoid collecting
    stones.

    You see... this is a problem I developed on the beaches of Lendas,
    Greece this past June.

    When someone picked up my bag appropriately called, "the trunk"
    by Eagle Creek ... and asked, "Whatta' ya' have stones in there?!"
    I just couldn't say no with a straight face.

    I collected literally, almost 6 kilos worth of stones in Lendas alone.

    So by the time I made it to the beaches of England and Sweden
    throughout the summer, I was just plain in trouble.

    I managed to get the stones from Greece to England, the stones
    from England to Austria and the stones in Sweden back to
    England...never mind the stones I harvested in Austria.
    Those thank god, were able to live in the Austrian flat without needing
    to be lugged around Europe.

    Even so, I promised myself... n-o m-o-r-e s-t-o-n-e-s...

    But there I was. Completely mesmerized by the red cliffs of
    Torquay, the turquoise waters, lush green forest and cold chill
    in the air.

    The first moment I looked down to the beautiful array of colors
    and shapes, I knew ... that was the end of me and my empty
    pockets.

    Then as I pulled each one from the ground, looking for just the
    right stripe or curve, color combination or shape, I realized that
    I finally understood the phenonmenom of stone collectors.

    You know the ones.
    The friends and family with piles about their house, in planters
    in the garden, leading the way to the front door. And the very
    worst kind of collector, the one who layers then on the dashboard
    of their car.

    But I can't say the worse kind of collector anymore because I am
    right smack dab proudly standing beside them.

    In fact, I think I now take the prize for worst kind of collector.
    Or more like, craziest.

    For a girl already lugging too many bags around Europe and
    getting charged for too much luggage way too often, I have literally
    added on an additional at least 5 kilos each trip...all in the name of rock
    collecting.

    But in my sad little defense, I have to say....

    Although my life as a tumbleweed drastically changed my thrift
    store junkie, save every little thing in case I need it some day way
    of life, the newly acquired stone habit has reminded me...
    in a small way, that although I don't have the same physical space
    as I used to...as in, a real home to place them...
    I can still find a place somewhere in the world that reminds me who
    I am.

    Today it is the stones in my pocket that have given this weary hobo
    a temporary home...and reminded me...
    I am still the cookie-baking, garden-digging collector I was before
    the wind and road called to me.
    Wednesday, November 8th, 2006
    6:17 pm
    a past journal I have been meaning to post..... written in Innsbruck, Austria this Fall... - 8 Novem
    He was old.

    The kind of old you get when you spend too much time alone with the bottle.

    Born and raised in Innsbruck but spent most of the last ten living in and out of the bars.

    When we stopped in the train station, for a quick glass of red while waiting for the bus, he instantly began to chat us up.

    Without hesitation, he then pulled out a stack of worn, well-traveled photos. Marked, 1960, 65', 67', 70', 71' and on...

    He explained where he was, what he was doing, who he loved and who he is sure has long forgotten him...in each photo, year by year.

    ...And as the years and photo's progressed, his enthusiasm about his life fading. Divorces, deaths, moves and wanderings...

    By the time he reached 2006, he also reached into his pocket and took out a camera.

    He then stood up, asked for my hand and we began to dance.

    "My name is Reinhardt..." he said.

    After the song, after the wine and after the dance, Reinhardt took a photo of my face.

    He then smiled and said, "Now I tell the story of 2006"
    Friday, August 18th, 2006
    2:06 am
    love from Prague...
    It's so warm tonight.

    It turned cold since landing in Prague so tonight is a small rembrance of summer almost gone.

    Taking the train in from Plzen today, I mostly slept.

    When we arrived back in Prague, I slept off one of our first days off in a long time. It's nearly 10:00pm and I can say the day passed nicely on a train and in a down comforter as I write to you now.

    Tomorrow is day off number two and a plan to walk to the river, to the castle and picnic with wine, cheese & fruit.

    This time next week, I will be back in Austria...with an entire 5 weeks off - less one day for a house concert in Helmut's garden.

    I'm dreaming of the many hikes in the Alps and day trips out of Innsbruck to Milan, Munich, Switzerland and who knows where else.

    Touring solo in England the end of Sept., will be both a relief and a strange reality. The summer touring with my trio, The Black Sheep Girls has been both challenging and beautiful.

    I have learned so much and in the end, we have worked a great show and a lifetime friendship.

    Winter only feels around the corner. I don't know why... it just does.

    Maybe because I will return to America just in time to gather fallen leaves and share turkey and cranberries on Thanksgiving Day.

    Seasons pass so fast now. It was just yesterday I was leaving Austin. It was May and strangely, May feels both like a year away and only yesterday.

    love from Prague,

    Chris
    Sunday, July 23rd, 2006
    1:51 pm
    ramblings from the roads of Europe....
    It's hard to believe it took me since Greece to write.

    From Cambridge to get the girls and off we went, I have not
    had a free moment or space - both in my head and literally
    speaking since.

    I write to you now from the London Stansted Airport.

    A hair-raising, "Yes, I'm a bonified California driver" 3+ hour drive
    from a cottage in the British countryside ensued....and he we are.
    If you're wondering, I never worried for a moment.

    With less than 20 minutes to spare for check in, we were met by the
    rental car agent at the departure curb. After calling on the race over
    (doing 85-90 on the M25 is indescribable...) he agreed not only to
    meet us there but to take £40 and fill the tank for us.
    Black Sheep Girls have all the luck.... usually...

    Do I want to tell you the story of the London taxi driver that took an hour
    off the meter and let us tag behind him as we found our way to the
    flat? .... London by car? I never said I could do that!
    Okay, I'll save that story for another day.

    Should I spill the beans about my little sheeps being sent into the
    street at 3:30am in Cambridge? Or perhaps the next day after when
    we found a £60 parking ticket on our rental car, appropriately called,
    "Picasso....?"

    Maybe I should tell you about the unpacked but 3-encore show in
    Leceister.... or the packed but £3 making show at The Troubador in
    London? It seems both want us back and promise to make it big.
    Being a Black Sheep has some positives.

    The beginning of the tour was a sold-out show in Ryde at the Isle
    of Wight and just as you can imagine, is one of - if not, the most
    beautiful place in all of England. Both the people and the fairy
    dust floating around the air, make for a place you never want to
    leave.

    So here I am back, back to being at Stansted...

    The girls have gone on to Stockholm without me until we
    meet in 3 days for our first leg of the Scandinavian tour.

    I sit here in an Italian Cafe, with my cappuccino and chocolate,
    about to head to Innbruck, Austria.

    I live my life by the minute, never mind the day.
    Things like cappuccino's and chocolate really keep me going.
    Taking chances and hearts along the way, I am learning how
    to keep some of the treasures I collect for myself.

    So until next time....
    Sunday, July 9th, 2006
    11:58 am
    my spirit still roams the beaches...
    of Lendas...

    When people tell you they went on an excursion or to a healing place or even as simple as camping alone...and something happened...they are as serious as, well, I'm not even sure how to describe this feeling... this thing that really happens to you.

    I thought long and hard about how much I could shed and share...how much I was willing to give away about my time in Greece.

    I don't keep so much for myself as most of you know. My brain works as a writer and as I see it and sometimes, well most of the time don't see it..but feel it... it is my duty to write and bring you to places you have not been... or maybe take you back to a place or state of mind you lost. I'm with you all the way. And truth be told, I just can't help myself most of the time.

    But after two days back on British soil, I just can't muster the strength or the... I don't know really... to tell you just what happened to me on the beach of pebbles, cobble-stoned streets and amongst the deep soulful eyes of Lendas. Something almost as deep as the gaze they hold when you try to rush by and they slow you down to partake in Retsina and conversation.

    They don't see you as a busy girl with so much to do... or a lonely traveler with need for respite.
    They just see your spirit, clear without any muck at all.. and expect the very best from you.
    And what you end up discovering... is there is so much good you hide amongst the papers and the calls, the running, the lonely heart. You don't even realize what you are missing until you have slowed like a kite adrift. Honestly, I felt quieter than I ever have in my life... in every way.

    So I am holding my stones collected and given, running my hands down my newly tanned skin.. but mostly gazing into absolutely nothing... just trying to convince my spirit it is time to come home.

    If by chance it doesn't return, I suppose I can collect it next year when I return.

    For now... my spirit still roams the beaches...
    ...of Lendas...
    Saturday, June 3rd, 2006
    8:34 pm
    in the lieu of bus fare...
    In lieu of bus fare....

    ...I opted for red wine & chocolate.
    £3 return is what I would have spent.
    In US dollars, that's $6.

    Sometimes you gotta take the sulfites and sugar over the quicker
    transport.

    At least that is what I convinced myself of .... a week into being back
    on British ground.

    I really just needed a quick fix for this otherwise
    nail-clawing, heart-wrenching-leaving-my-safe-ground, friends & family
    annual trek back to Europe.

    Why this year was so hard... why I kicked and screamed all the way to
    Heathrow... I have no idea.

    But I did. So that is that.

    And I suppose it's no different than my entire life.
    All the life stops that changed everything, every-time.

    They say every seven years you change.
    Every cell in your body changes at seven-year intervals ; emotional,
    physical and mental.

    I guess it is time.

    Come to think of it, I can really feel the bend as I wind round that
    next seven-year interval.

    And like those of the past...
    Kicking and screaming on my way to training in Washington DC
    to go teach in Ghana, Africa, landing safely on my way
    at the Grand Canyon instead.
    I would have clawed at the big blue sky if it was possible to stay in Colorado....
    and literally leaving buckets of tears on a long trail while saying goodbye to
    San Francisco for Nashville.

    Was it ever really different than now?

    Another place, another time... another last ditch effort to keep things
    the same. Avoid as much change as possible ... all the while
    aching and bleeding for any sign of it.
    And when it does inevitably come and it's filled every possible
    space I thought safe from it, it seems eventually... I do give in.

    So in lieu of bus fare.. I have chosen to celebrate yet another
    safe passage to the next thing...

    ...with chocolate and wine.
    Monday, May 29th, 2006
    9:44 pm
    Help Christene stay on the road...
    Hi everyone,

    I hope you are doing great wherever you are.

    So I am in London...embarking on my latest European Tour til
    the Fall... and well, as I sit here in a flat in London, I am looking
    over my finances cringing.

    I used to have a link up on my old site to make donations and
    since I put up the new one, I forgot to add it back.

    It seems so in your face and I'm kind of embarassed too... but
    the truth is, your donations really do keep me out here.

    So alas.. I decided to add it back as well as post it here.

    You are completely what keeps me going.
    Thanks for your support in every way... whether you can donate or not...
    it means everything.

    love from a cold, blue flat in London,
    Christene






    Saturday, April 29th, 2006
    11:30 pm
    he built a box...
    My father has a bad heart.

    But he had a bad heart before his body decided it
    was bad.
    Not the genetic kind.
    But the kind someone gave him when they
    said he was no good.

    .........

    The guitar case was tough but is a guitar case
    ever tough enough to keep the guitar safe?

    We put my Ted Thompson hand-crafted beauty
    in it's coffin. Wrapped the soft case around it, bubble
    wrap after that.

    And that's when it happened.

    He pulled out Fed Ex boxes of all shapes, all sizes...
    a box cutter, fragile tape, fragile stickers... the works.
    Pulled up his sleeves....

    And then he did it.

    He cut, sliced, diced, pulled, pushed, held and molded
    those pieces into the most beautiful box a guitar, guitar case,
    soft case and bubble wrap ever saw... could ever wish
    for.

    Each piece of fed ex box, smoothed and rounded to
    perfection.... circling the guitar like it was meant to be...
    built for life.

    Hours and a glistening sweat rippled face later, he
    emerged from the frantic making of the box.

    Then he just stared it at.
    Nothing.

    Not a, "Do you think it'll hold? I wonder how much
    it weighs?"
    but instead... one of those moments when you
    know it's something you are supposed
    to be memorizing.

    The kind of moment that leads me to believe....
    a year later, here in my studio, in the back of my house
    in Austin, Texas... as I come across the photo's of that
    very box...
    both proudly built, and anxiously ripped apart...

    That he was trying to tell me something.
    And I want to tell him I memorized it.
    Sunday, April 16th, 2006
    9:00 pm
    too many to remember...
    The time has come to fill my walls
    with photo's and words from my
    past.

    I don't exactly when or how
    it happened... that I felt this nagging
    urge...this complete obsessive need
    to pull every photo from every year
    of my life to surface....
    to travel down memory lane
    on a daily, daily, daily basis...
    but whenever it came is besides
    the point. It's here.

    I study each photo carefully
    to remember each day and each
    person and if I am lucky, the feeling
    that was so powerful, it took up
    the entire picture.

    Was I happy?

    Did I smile for the camera and
    say cheese without regard to what
    was really on my mind?
    Isn't that what we do?

    So how do I know what was
    really inside that day?

    As time goes... is it even traceable?

    Does it get to the point of too
    many to remember?

    Is that when we begin retail
    therapy, progressive groups
    and life changes like massive
    weight loss, getting our teeth
    fixed and changing our hair
    altogether?

    Does my new photo collage
    tell me all that?

    Can I wake up each day
    with my smiling past staring
    me down... and feel like today is
    even better?

    This is what getting older
    feels like.
    It's not tangible but palpable.

    I swear I can really feel it.
    Wednesday, April 5th, 2006
    10:35 pm
    neatly folded maps in the door of the car...
    I'll never be the kind of person
    with neatly folded streets maps
    in the door of the car.

    The kind of person who overpays
    the bills so next month will
    be lighter.

    The rise-early and finish the to-do
    list before noon kind of person.

    Up til today, I still thought I could
    be.. just maybe, getting closer...

    I drove a friend's car today.
    A never-did-I-spill-a-thing-on-
    this-carpet kind of car.
    With yes, neatly folded maps.

    I zipped through town with my
    shiney wheels.
    Half expecting to hear the
    clunks and clacks and scary
    sounds of driving that I am
    used to. I hear only the
    soft, serene buzz of the
    tires glidding along the
    highways.
    I feel safe.

    Each time I climbed out, I
    felt a sort of satisfaction in looking
    around the seats and floors and
    seeing nothing...
    Closing the door to a clean
    car. Organization.
    Could it be?
    Nice...

    This sort of thing doesn't
    dawn on me when I am back
    in Europe. I don't drive but
    maybe once in a blue
    tour through England or
    Ireland...
    I tried to drive through
    Austria, Germany and
    Switzerland but the boys
    in the British band I toured
    with took a vote.
    Oh well, maybe next time.

    Nevermind that...

    When I do drive in Europe,
    I have maps all right... but
    the maps I "carry" if you could
    call it that, generally fly out
    each window at least once
    a day.
    The weather is mild, especially
    in England (to me anyway)
    so windows are usually down
    and I cruise in and out of
    the "real" round-a-bouts
    at speeds I should probably
    not mention.
    Hey, have you driven in
    England? They go fast.
    Maybe not Italian or
    German Autobaun fast
    but compared to the
    policed roads of the US..
    especially Texas...

    I'm usually doing everything
    I'm not supposed to like
    talking on the phone and
    drinking coffee.
    Do you know in Ireland it
    is illegal to drink um, coffee
    and drive?

    So the last thing I am
    keeping track of are those
    darn maps.
    Tricky little suckers, no
    wonder they take flight,
    who can fold those things...
    never mind stuff em' in the
    door?

    They fly from one end of
    the backseat to the next...
    from the front to the back
    and then, wala, right out the
    window...
    Sorry!

    I usually give up about the
    first week and keep extra
    on hand... always being sure
    to get a new one from whatever
    hotel I may be at.
    I should be keeping a sign on
    my car, "Back off wanker, I've
    got maps and they like to fly.."
    but I don't.

    Instead I pull over, try to collect
    my trash and move on.

    It never once dawned on me
    that maybe folding them
    neatly in the door would make
    this whole business of collecting
    while driving and reading maps
    a bit easier, not to mention safer.
    But no.. instead I imagine the
    closer they are the easier
    they'll be to get to.... and no
    matter how many map planes
    I have set out to fly the M4, I
    don't learn my lesson.

    So as I look at the perfect
    little pile in the safely running,
    perfectly cleaned door of my
    friends car, I promise myself that
    maybe...just maybe...

    I will work on being the kind of
    person who keeps neatly
    folded maps in the door.
    Monday, March 27th, 2006
    5:00 am
    still awake?
    Midnight in the Breckenridge Hospital
    Emergency room.

    It's more crowded than ever and filled
    with more wounded then I have seen in my life.

    Blankly staring until someone passes by...
    then all eyes on the slow late night shuffle of the
    lucky sucker about to go in to be seen.

    My fever is so high I'm surprised my brain hasn't cooked.
    I can't believe I can think straight... let alone find
    a space on the floor to wait out my turn.
    It's cold and hard and is just what I need to
    cool my body down.

    After watching "Cops" from afar and people
    up close, I lock eyes with him.

    Short and scrawny and wears a baseball
    hat you know only leaves his head at bedtime...
    he looks tired, sad and defeated.

    I attract the wounded.
    It's a lot in life I have parked securely in...
    so long as I know when to drive away.

    I don't... and like every other time, I can't seem
    to get near the get-away car.
    In the end, I don't want to I suppose.
    After all, who am I to judge the wounded
    when I myself am the walking broke?

    "I have a screw here ... see... it's stickin'
    out my neck... been there long time now
    and my girlfriend say I reckon you go fix
    that... so here I am... god damn...that surgery
    never did feel right... but I guess I been
    drunk so long I aint' feel nothin..."

    His face red from his love of alcohol
    getting brighter, more alive and more
    animated.

    Now he is talking to talk and every now and then looks
    up to say, "you alright darlin?"

    I nod my head and smile and answer with words
    like, "yeah.. uh huh... that's great..."
    And I know I'm an ass because what I am really
    doing is thinking how much I want to know...
    why he has a screw coming out of his neck...
    where is his girlfriend?

    But he is talking to fast and so much and to
    the air, that I don't feel there's enough time or
    space to jump in....
    So..,I just listen and nod and say my insignificant
    words.

    Another hour passes... then another.
    The crowd isn't letting up and every time I think
    it's slowing down, a new batch of the
    bleeding and bruised wander in.

    With red eyes, holding arms and faces...
    limping and whining, scanning the room for
    sympathy...surely empathy?
    But no one gives in.

    He's been quiet for awhile when I start to
    doze off.

    I awake to him sitting on the floor beside
    me...

    He tells me everything...

    Born in Virginia, in the Blue Ridge Mountains.
    "Got me five brothers... count them five brothers.
    Lived in every major city and hopped every
    train from the west coast all the way across
    to New York City...
    Got me a bottle one night and decided to
    hop on that train... me and my girlfriend..
    we both fell at the same time...
    I broke my neck...four places, four count them.
    Got this here screw...see? She wasn't
    so lucky. Lost her toes first. Then it
    turned into gang green... got her no
    feet, no legs no more. Just gone...
    what's yer' name darlin?"

    "Chris"

    "Well.. nice to meet ya' Chris...
    you wan' a soda from that there
    machine?"

    "No thanks" I told him.
    "I don't drink soda....

    And he stood up to get a soda
    for himself.

    "Dalton... calling Dalton.. please
    come to the triage desk..."

    No last name?

    As it turned out, no more Dalton either...

    That was the last time I saw him.
    He never came back.

    "Christene LeDoux...calling Christene
    LeDoux to the triage desk..."

    Almost 3:00 am in the Breckenridge
    Hospital Emergency room and I'm
    still awake...
    I think.
    Sunday, March 12th, 2006
    7:36 pm
    little pumpkin newsletter/march 2006
    WELCOME to the.....

    Christene LeDoux * Little Pumpkin Music Newsletter
    March 2006 (!) NEWS for songwriter Christene LeDoux
    Issue No. 79

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    -- I'm still here!
    -- Playing in your home...
    -- CD is on it's way...
    -- Trio?
    -- LittlePumpkinMusic.com is live!
    -- Quote for the month...

    Hi!

    Sorry for the lack of a newsletter for so long. I know it's not like me.

    When I returned from Europe, I went straight to California to be with my papa,
    Colorado for the Rocky Mt. Folks Fest, Nashville for the Americana Conference
    and Baltimore to sing in a wedding then back & forth to California for my dad
    & the holidays...

    So I am finally catching my breath and just barely tossed the pumpkin out...
    yes, it's been on the porch since Nov!

    Speaking of Austin... I was lucky to meet a great group of NOLA musicians,
    including the Neville brothers. I was asked to hand clap on the new Katrina CD/DVD
    they were recording & filming.
    It was a total blast to to hang out with such amazingly talented but still very sweet
    musicians. I just got word the CD was picked up by a major label and is heading
    for the grammies! Does that make me a grammy-nominated hand clapper? :-)

    The new site (thanks Audra!) and CD are both underway and will both be
    debuting and releasing before I head back to Europe this Spring.
    Thanks for your patience while I worked all this out.

    As you know the CD, is now underway with another amazing producer by the name
    of Mark Hammond. He has worked with everyone here in Austin from Shawn Colvin
    and Ani DiFranco to all of Eliza Gilkyson's work. I'm super, duper excited to
    finally have this baby so watch out... it's almost here! The next CD will be
    with the original producer I had planned to work w/ this time around.

    So...I haven't been off the road in almost 4 years (I know, scary!) so uh...
    a big pit stop to take care of a lot of business both personal and musical .. has been in order.

    If you were looking for me at Rockrgrrl...sorry I missed you. I was looking
    forward to performing as well as moderating and speaking on a marketing panel.
    I sure hope you had a great time.

    Some of you may already know, I had to also cancel the little pumpkin music
    showcase at Folk Alliance this year.
    And unbelievably, I am forgoing the SXSW madness this year as well.
    Yes, it's all part of the slow down-focus plan I have been working...
    and yes, it seems to be working.

    It has managed to also bring me back together w/ my wonderful Swedish
    friends and form a trio we call, "The Black Sheep Girls." The site still
    has much work, but it's up if you'd like to take a peek so far...
    http://www.BlackSheepGirlsMusic.com
    We'll be recording our CD in Greece this June so it looks like I'll have
    that to offer you as well. This summer, we'll be touring all over Scandinavia,
    The Czech Republic, England and possibly Scotland and Ireland.

    Just a quick note to also let you know my record label web site:
    http://www.LittlePumpkinMusic.com
    is finally live! Stop by and see the new roster, tour dates and more.
    Major distribution is in talks now and should be part of the little pumpkin
    family before Christmas. That means all the CD's through little pumpkin
    will be available everywhere!

    Lastly and most importantly, the "Back Home Compilation" to Benefit Children's
    International has been released and is available for purchase.
    Raymond is a Baton Rouge, Louisiana music lover I have had the pleasure to play a
    house concert for.... and he's got a huge heart to match... so please stop by and take one home:
    http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/backhomecd

    Speaking of Europe...
    Booking is underway for my return to England and all over Europe this Spring!
    So looking forward to getting back to my second home in the world.

    If we have been in contact regarding a house concert or you are interested in
    hosting one or helping me book a show in your town, please send an email to:
    littlepumpkinmusic@yahoo.com (my usual email has been on the blink, please use this address)
    I am planning to be all over Europe once again and am happy to come to your country...
    have I been to it yet?
    The areas confirmed this round are: As always, England.
    Scotland, Ireland, Sweden, Denmark, Norway, Germany, Czech Republic and others pending...
    where are you?

    Thank you always for your support. It is truly you that keeps me going.
    That's the plain truth.

    Lots of hugs, wishes and magic in your new year.

    lv,
    Chris

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    Quote for the month...
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Leave the beaten track behind occasionally
    and dive into the woods.
    Every time you do you will be certain
    to find something you have never seen before.

    - Alexander Graham Bell
    Thursday, February 9th, 2006
    12:39 am
    easy people...
    Scandinavian women are a breed like no other.

    They are both grounded and free, beautiful and unaware.

    So much so that I can only sit in awe that they exist.

    In America, we are fast.

    We talk fast, we move fast and want it all...fast.

    We listen to talk and when we do, we can't stop.

    So when I arrived back in the country this Fall, I was in
    absolute shock every time I opened my mouth or even worse,
    kept it closed to "listen."

    Yes because even I, a self-confessed addict to world traveling
    can't keep my big, fat trap shut practically the minute my little
    American toes hit my home turf.
    And when I did arrive and was almost immediately interrupted
    without even remote acknowledgement of what I said,
    I just went along with it.

    I hung out with okay-no-so-great-for-me people and took
    whatever morsel they were willing to give out.
    No, I don't mean a long criminal history, you're not so
    nice to meet kind of friend.
    I just mean the kind of friend(s) that slipped in while
    you weren't paying attention...
    Which was, well.. a lot of the time.

    And I guess I went into some sort of denial or worse yet,
    fell right back into what seemed to be cultural role.

    So tonight as I toss back wine and salad, spinach pizza and
    conversation, I look across the table at each of my Swedish
    friends., Lisen and Eva and in beautiful awe, can't believe
    but thank my lucky Texas stars... that I let myself go.

    It's only been 5 hours since their arrival and already, I am
    aware that my guards are down and imagine this... I am safe.

    There is no waiting to talk, talking so you can't breath nor
    taking whatever morsel is willingly offered.
    No, "so, tell me how it's going with so and so and so and so..."
    But more like a natural progression and one that tells me, you...
    someone is REALLY listening.

    The kind of conversation, without pretense and competition,
    haste or pride. The kind that flows...literally...like the very
    red wine we are drinking.

    So before tonight... I had forgotten.

    Forgotten how much I miss Europe and Sweden.
    My Scandinavian friends and bottom line, being around
    souls that just get it.

    Is it like my sister Annette who has been practically
    native in Spanish since a little girl? Who listens to mostly
    Latin music, watches Latin novellas and for lack of a better
    way to describe it, seems to belong to the culture?

    Is it like that?

    Do I just have an infinity to the Scandinavian way of life?

    Is it like the way my music has brought me into a culture .. one
    which my sister fluent in Spanish will never understand?
    Just as I will never understand hers?

    Is it yet another thing to love?
    To miss?

    Because here I am in America and for the life of me,
    I can't think of one time I have felt this free to flow
    and hit the ground at the same time...

    There is love in the house tonight.

    My girls are fast asleep after more than 48 hours
    of traveling and being awake.

    Two bottles of wine, one pizza and a salad later... they
    are probably so far gone they have no idea they have
    both turned my world upside down and inside out at
    the same time.

    You know, the kind of inside out that reminds you
    it's okay if you put your shirt on backwards sometimes.
    Sunday, February 5th, 2006
    4:55 pm
    what I really craved...
    I needed chocolate.

    It was getting late, it was raining but still...
    I needed chocolate.

    I grabbed my keys, slid on some flip flops
    and headed out.

    As I held the key to open my car door, it
    dawned on me that maybe walking to get
    it would make up for it having it.

    I could see lightening and hear the train
    in the distance.... feel rain on my face
    and the warm humid feeling that comes
    with it... sneak under my sweater.

    I passed houses with lights, heard lovers
    laughing on a porch and gave directions
    to an elderly couple lost in the neighborhood.

    I made a decision while walking.
    That I would walk more.
    And especially in the rain.

    An hour later and back in front of my house,
    I realized it stopped raining...
    and my craving for chocolate gone.
    Tuesday, January 31st, 2006
    9:06 pm
    before ther art collector came to town...
    On the corner of S. Congress and Ben White
    at a red light fiddling with my CD player.

    Finally found my favorite Leonard Cohen CD
    and popped it in.
    .......
    “I saw a beggar leaning on his wooden crutch;
    he said to me, "You must not ask for so much."
    .......

    When I looked up... I saw him reach in the highway
    medium to gather his belongings.
    A blue backpack.

    I read in a recent article somebody local
    has been buying signs from homeless
    people for his art collection.

    On one occasion a homeless man holding
    his sign refused to give it up.
    Nothing could convince him.

    For the past week and a half
    I have passed the S. Congress and Ben White
    intersection almost the same time each day.
    And each day I see him.

    I never noticed the words written with
    a black sharpie before… at least not
    until today...

    "I aint sellin' it so don't ask!"

    And I can't help but wonder
    what it said before the art collector came to town...
    Saturday, January 14th, 2006
    6:56 pm
    Little Pumpkin Music Newsletter/January 2006
    WELCOME to the.....

    Christene LeDoux * Little Pumpkin Music Newsletter
    January 2006 (!) NEWS for songwriter Christene LeDoux
    Issue No. 77

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


    In this Issue...

    -- I'm still here!
    -- Texas tour in Feb?
    -- Playing in your home...
    -- Quote for the month...

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Hi!

    Sorry for the lack of a newsletter for so long.
    I know it's not like me.

    When I returned from Europe, I went straight
    to California to be with my papa, Colorado for
    the Rocky Mt. Folks Fest, Nashville for the
    Americana Conference and Baltimore to sing
    in a wedding then back & forth to California
    for my dad & the holidays...

    So I am finally catching my breath, tossing the
    pumpkin out (yes, it's been on the porch since Nov!)
    and removing the Christmas lights.

    Speaking of Austin... I was lucky to meet a great
    group of NOLA musicians, including the Neville brothers.
    I was asked to hand clap on the new Katrina CD/DVD
    they were recording & filming.
    It was a total blast to to hang out with such amazingly
    talented but sweet musicians.
    I just got word the CD was picked up by a major label
    and is heading for the grammies!
    Does that make me a grammy-nominated hand clapper? :-)

    The new site (thanks Audra!) and CD are both underway
    and will both be debuting and releasing before I head
    back to Europe this Spring.
    Thanks for your patience while I worked all this out.
    I haven't been off the road in 4 years (I know, scary!)
    so uh... a big pit stop to take care of a lot of business
    both personal and musical .. has been in order.

    If you were looking for me at Rockrgrrl...sorry I missed you.
    I was looking forward to performing as well as moderating
    and speaking on a marketing panel.
    I sure hope you had a great time.

    Some of may already know, I have cancelled the
    little pumpkin music showcase at Folk Alliance this year.
    If you haven't got word about the cancellation, please send
    me an email and I will send you more details.
    This was a hard decision to make but I am positive it was the right one.

    Although I have cancelled attending, performing and
    running the pumpkin room at FA... my good friends
    Eva and Lisen from Sweden are still coming.
    I invited them to perform in my room before I had cancelled it.

    Since the cancellation, I am trying desperately to put together a short,
    last minute tour of Texas with the three of us the week after Folk Alliance.
    Lisen especially is in *love* with Texas and Texas musicians.
    They're both very talented by the way (Lisen sounds like Emmy Lou Harris!)
    so you won't be disappointed.

    If you can help us put together a few last minute Texas
    house concerts or shows, I sure would be grateful. <3

    Lastly, booking is underway for my return to England
    and all over Europe this Spring.
    If we have been in contact regarding a house concert
    or you are interested in helping me book a show in your town,
    please send an email to: littlepumpkinmusic@yahoo.com
    I am planning to be all over Europe once again
    and am happy to come to your country!

    Thank you always for your support.
    It is truly you that keeps me going. That's the plain truth.

    Lots of hugs, wishes and magic in your new year.

    lv,
    Chris

    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    Quote for the month...
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Leave the beaten track behind occasionally
    and dive into the woods.
    Every time you do you will be certain
    to find something you have never seen before.

    - Alexander Graham Bell
    Monday, December 5th, 2005
    9:23 pm
    then he fell down...
    "Until they run out of money or fall down..."

    That is what a British correspondent said in a report regarding
    Britain's new drinking law passed...
    that bars can stay open for as long as they'd like.

    A long tradition of closing at 11pm, the bell ringing and two to
    three pints quickly in hand, is long over.

    The hope in the law change is it will make be people less rushed
    to down their booze before 11pm, less drinking problems etc...
    But as a very drunk Irish citizen with drink in hand, in London
    replied to the new law, "here's to twenty fours hours..."


    Then he fell down.
    Friday, November 11th, 2005
    12:07 am
    metal and wood ...
    When my good friend Charlie died two years ago, I was in the middle of a
    hectic tour in England.

    I needed to go home. Go to his funeral. Laugh it up with our musical friends
    about what a crazy, loving nut Charlie was.
    But there was no way I was going to make it so I let it go.

    At the time of Charlie's death, I was in a weird place in my life which in
    turn, effected my career.
    I needed something great to happen, a sign...something reminding
    me all this solitude, driving, flying, luggage-lugging, stale coffee-drinking
    was worth more than missing one of my greatest friends funeral.

    The next morning, I awoke to an email from a luthier in Michigan.
    He was a fan of my music and wanted to build and sponsor me a guitar.
    He said choose everything; the wood, the style, design... you name it.
    Let's name it after your song, "tumbleweed."

    And later that day, I got a call to join a two month tour of England and
    Ireland with one of Ireland's greatest songwriters.

    I knew immediately it was something Charlie would have a hand in.
    I remember feeling his energy before I found out he passed away.
    He had been gone for a few days before I got the email.

    Last week, my best friend lost her mom.
    In High School, Rhonda was like a second mom to me.
    While attending College in town, I used to stop by to read her
    my stories, before I had to go to class and turn them in.
    Trish wasn't even there half the time.

    "Oh Tina" she would say, "you're such a great writer. I know you'll
    do great things."

    I didn't see it then and really, had no idea why I kept writing, let alone
    why anyone would read it.

    Rhonda would drive us to the mall and all the way, would keep the
    windows shut since I had 'just done my hair.'
    She'd pick us up when we wanted, even giving Trish enough money
    to pay for my lunch at times.
    And even when Trish and I fought, Rhonda stayed neutral and usually
    brought us back together.

    Then years passed. Trish and I lost contact.
    I moved around a lot, from state to state, a good part of my 20's.

    When Trish and I rediscovered our friendship, I was becoming a
    songwriter.
    I lived in San Francisco and Trish, married in a town just outside of
    Modesto, where I grew up.

    One Christmas, I went to visit Rhonda, Trish and the rest of the family.

    She was so happy to see me. Just as sweet as I remembered and quick
    to bring out drinks, snacks and old photo's.

    Time has again passed and that was the last time I saw Rhonda.

    Last week, she passed away.

    I wanted to make it to the funeral and although I wasn't out of the
    country, I just couldn't make it happen.

    Rhonda has been gone for a little over a week.

    Last week, a personal trainer, came from nowhere to offer me free training.
    And the other day... a mechanic to fix my truck.

    In fact, when I came home from working, my truck was ready for the road.
    He insisted I don't pay him and instead, have him over for a home-cooked meal.
    Something he hasn't had in years.

    How a mechanic and trainer came to me is beyond me.
    I needed both desperately.
    And since their arrival, I can spend my money on a plane ticket home for
    Thanksgiving instead.

    It's not about a guitar, or a tour ... a trainer or a mechanic.

    Charlie was the kind of person always thinking about everyone else.
    His spirit roared and before you even spotted him, he was running
    to you with with arms open.
    He'd plant a hug and before you even spoke, he always seem to know
    just what you needed or who he could introduce you to and sometimes,
    knew just the kind of music you needed to hear.
    He just knew.

    So it was no surprise to me that after he died, he was still up to his old
    tricks.

    Rhonda was ready to solve your problems if you asked and when you
    needed a friend to listen, she was a true listener and not just waiting to talk.

    So it was no surprise to me that after she died, she just had to help me one last
    time.
    I could and can, still hear her raised like a song voice telling me I can do
    it, I will make it all work and I will be okay.
    "Things happen for a reason Tina."

    It's just an instrument made of wood and a car made of metal.
    No comparisons to the lives of Charlie and Rhonda.

    But now that they are gone, in some small way... every time I play my
    tumbleweed in some country far away from home ... I will be thinking of Charlie.

    And while driving my truck, on a tour all alone, ready to call it
    quits ... I will thank Rhonda for keeping me going ... for listening to my
    words when even I couldn't hear them.

    It's crazy that you feel their love from the very things that mean
    the least in this world, just a little metal and wood.
    Wednesday, November 2nd, 2005
    2:39 pm
    running for cover or shelter?
    On a layover in Houston, realizing I am definitely in Texas
    as I order Barbq and beer.

    I hear "Blue eyes crying in the rain" and scramble to pickup
    my cell phone when I realize it's playing at the Starbuck's
    next door.

    When I travel, sometimes I am full of energy, ready to talk
    to anyone. Other times - ruuuuunning for cover.

    Today I am bit under the weather but relatively calm & cheerful.
    I am mostly in an introverted mood as I choose my Barbq and
    with my free hand, twist off the top to my Texas Shiner Bock beer.

    There's a weird phenomenon that happens when I am in that
    "run cover cover" state of mind in an airport.
    It seems every one and their mother, brother and whomever else
    happens to be passing by, wants to chat.

    I am now gripping my warm beer (it never was cold) ... staring
    into the bottom as I tip to my mouth.
    I close my eyes and savor my fizzy moment in perfect solitude.
    When I come up for air, the seats around me seem emptier now.
    Relieved, I dive into my laptop and begin the tedious task of
    answering the usual backed-up email.

    One beer ... turns into two and at now happy prices, I am tempted
    to go for a third. I reluctantly stop.

    I pack my computer, sling my guitar over my shoulder and head
    for Gate C37 on the non-stop to Baltimore.

    Still running for cover at this point, I choose a spot on the
    carpet, in the corner... far, far away from everyone.

    Within minutes, a man appears and before I can flash that, "Please
    for the love of god don't talk to me look" he launches into...
    "So, where ya goin'?"

    "Baltimore"

    "Whatcha' do? Do you live in Texas? I'm just goin' to California
    for business... yeah, good ole' work. Oh, is that a guitar I see there?
    Would ya' sing me a song??"

    Yikes! I didn't even have a chance to flash the look, let alone
    say hello... and lastly, not even close to having enough time
    to answer all his questions.

    Too late for running I see.
    I'm in a corner now - and it was all my doing ...
    there is no-where-to-go ... he's got me.
    Damn.

    "I live in Austin ... well England too but I'm here for the
    winter ... Texas I mean. Heading to sing in a wedding."

    "Oh, Europe!" he says "I just returned from Europe. You been to
    Copenhagen?"

    "Oh yeah. That's where these cowboy boots came from."

    "Stockholm?"

    "Oh sure. I was just there a better part of the Spring and Summer
    actually. I love Sweden."

    "So tell me, what's yer' name then?"

    "Christene, er... Chris, yeah Chris."

    "Weeeeell ... nice to meet you Chrissy ... So, tell me - how does
    a young lady such as yourself keep loneliness at bay? It must
    be difficult to sustain a relationship?"

    "Uuuh ... yeah .. I uuuh .. (So I'm thinking, not only can I not
    run but now I am answering the question that seems to be on repeat
    in my life. Since when did flying get so damn philosophical??)
    I guess like anyone really. I do things that make me happy.
    Like hunting for the best coffee in the morning, buying a
    snack on a moving train - and savoring it as I watch the scenery
    fly by. I try to see friends and family along the road, stay with
    them if I can. Sleep a lot ... at least nowadays. Eat a lot of
    chocolate ... and ... just keep going I guess.

    "Hmmm..." he says as he kneels his suit covered arms onto the top
    of his legs.
    "Sooo ... one can surround themselves with friends and family, children
    and grandchildren and ultimately, we are still entirely on our own
    aren't we?"

    "Well .. yeah, it looks that way uh ... "

    "Jack, just call me Jack."

    He stands up, straightens his slacks and boards the 5:55 flight
    to Sacramento.

    "Thanks for the talk Chris, it's been great! I feel a lot better"
    (Eh?)

    LAST CALL ON FLIGHT 1531 TO SACRAMENTO

    And he's gone.

    Five minutes of being cornered and I am feeling less alone.

    I suppose running for cover could also mean running for shelter ...
    and sometimes that can be a good thing.
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