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On Friday, eight of us detoured away from the convention to tour plantations. At first, I was hesitant given the haunted grounds where such violence happened against enslaved people. But I like that the group chose to visit Laura, a Creole plantation, as well as Whitney, one converted and dedicated to telling the story of Blacks who suffered there and in the larger state of Louisiana. I sought education.

At Laura, I learned that Creoles share the traits of 1) being Roman Catholic, 2) speaking French and 3) being born on U.S. soil. They are, by definition, a mixed race. I noticed that while there was some crossover, the light-skinned people tended to be the owners and the dark-skinned people tended to be enslaved.

The guide did not gloss over the cruelty that ensued. A Black woman shed tears as she tried to ask a question when we visited the slave quarters. I was too stunned, afraid of the feelings I might unleash if I breathed deeply or spoke aloud.

While I was physically miserable, I’m glad we toured Whitney midday, outdoors in humid, high-90-degree heat. The impact was grueling as we traipsed through the exquisite artwork listening to ex-slaves relay their memories through our individual audiophones. It was hard to imagine how humans could possibly survive from sunup to sundown working in those sizzling sugarcane fields.

When I finally reached the cool chapel, the last stop on the self-guided tour, I wept too.

Afterwards, a friend shared an article in which New York Times ethicist, Kwame Anthony Applan (on 12/28/2021), advised a guest who was invited to a wedding on plantation grounds to decline and explain why.

I knew I must write. Maybe I am on a high horse here, self-righteous even. But in Martin Luther King, Jr.’s words regarding silent complicity, “In the end, we will not remember the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”

I can no longer witness racism, historical or otherwise, and condone it in silence.

I’ve been traveling and working on a specific hospitality skill—making reservations that include others.

Absolute score while in New Orleans: Rob and I signed up for a demonstration at the cooking school then invited four new convention friends to join us. We even nabbed a six-top to sample Chef T’s scrumptious snacks and brew together.

So it’s been four years since our northwest chapter of AMICA—Automated Musical Instruments Collectors Association—hosted the international convention in Seattle. That auspicious occasion was immediately before Rob’s cystectomy (on July 19, 2019). This year we celebrated Music and Wellness with these wonderful men and others in New Orleans.

Usually the convention is an annual affair but, like the rest of the world, we had to postpone NOLA and skip gatherings in 2020 and 2021 as well. We all got our traveling feet wet again last year and met in San Mateo. That’s where we established the new tradition of convening over dinner for a chapter meeting during the week.

In 2024, the convention will be held in the LA area, July 2nd to 5th. Mark your calendars now.

It’s taken me a year to succeed in making-electronic-reservations-for-friends-in-another-country-with-short-notice department. I started trying about a year ago in Scotland. Finally last week in Norway, I scored.

While in 0slo, I practiced by getting tix to live music events in-person at ticket booths. For instance, I got an orchestra seat to Cosa fan tutti in Oslo’s magnificent opera hall by the sea. And later, my friend Sus and I bought tix to a blues & booze shrimp cruise.

Then when we were in Trondheim, we met Megan and Sverre, a musician and retired math professor who own an antique shop. Glad it occurred to me to ask for their recommendations when we were together. They told me about Antikvariatet, a music café that hosts an open mic on Sunday nights.

It’s difficult to make an online reservation when you know 10 words in Norwegian. And it’s awkward to invite only a few when you’re traveling with a gang of 23. Especially following the generous example of a fellow traveler who had managed to create two dinners at Norway’s finest restaurants when we arrived in new towns. He even researched, reserved, then invited all who wanted to come and adapted accordingly. It helped that he spoke the language.

With all this togetherness though, I was craving a 4-top for conversation sake. Besides, I suspected the venue was small. Solution: Invite the three others from our supper group back in Seattle. They all said yes. I also coached others about how to make their own reservations (and some did). It really wasn’t much trouble and, was it ever worth it!

I tried again to make e-reservations, this time in the activity department. I invited the whole group, “Come join me at Pust, the sauna in Bodø. It floats. It’s gorgeous, cedar-lined. They say Norwegians love it, especially in the winter. Never mind the optional swim in 5 degree (C) water.”

Needless to say, we had tons of fun splashing around. As we said out on the road together, working on our BS degrees, “Never let the truth get in the way of a good story.”

*Photo Credit: Kathy Buholm

This is funny.

Last night some of us went to a speakeasy-like open mic at Antikvariatet in Trondheim, Norway.

With beer and nuts in hand, I was eager for the entertainment to begin.

MC Isaac played a tune and then speculated that the crowd was a bit shy. When he said spoken word would do, I stepped up, read “Those Trolls” (two posts back), even got a laugh or two. My tablemates snapped this photo.

By breakfast, I was a famous performer. People asked, “What did you sing?”, “Did you nail a contract?” or commented “No wonder you went to the opera in Oslo.”

Ah, dreams of the big time. Best is imagining getting chuckles out of my husband and kids.