MONDAY THOUGHTS: ONE OF THESE MORNINGS: Remembering Walter Hawkins

I'd had such a wonderful time yesterday. 

Worshiping, and having dinner in Waldorf with my daughter, and friends from Germany, had been so lovely. 

When I got home I was a little tired, but in a good mood. 
Even the soda spill, someone had allowed to dry up on the stairs, didn't bother me. I went inside, grabbed the 409 and some paper towels, and went back to the stairwell to clean it up. 

Ringing in my ears were my Mom's words, "If you see something that needs to be done, do it". 

When I finished, I decided to just shower and turn in early--but not before I checked my e-mail. 

I'd left my computer logged on, and immediately saw the Facebook post requesting prayer for the Hawkins Family and Love Center Church. 

My heart sank. 

Death is no stranger; it's coming just as surely as we are breathing (unless Jesus comes back first), but sometimes, you really do hope that certain people will always be somewhere around. Even if you only see them on occasion, you just don't expect the world to be without them. 

I found my daughter, and I suppose the look on my face prompted her to ask, "What's wrong?". 

With emotion, usually reserved for a close family member, I shared, "Walter Hawkins died." 

I began to cry, and she hugged me. I'm glad I was with someone who understood what his life's work meant to me, and how much I adored it, and respected him.

My mind traveled back to an April evening. 

There were a few people seated in the darkened Kennedy Center Concert Hall, as we went on stage to rehearse. Nolan Williams had arranged a Hawkins medley for the Sacred Sounds Concert. 

I'd learned, a few days prior, that I would be singing some of my favorite songs. I couldn't believe my ears when I was told I would be accompanied by The National Symphony Orchestra. 

"Going Up Yonder" was among the songs. It was the first song I'd ever sung in public in my life. I was a terrified 15 year old, who had only joined the youth choir because my mother insisted I find something to do at church. I had no aspirations to sing alone nor professionally, but in my heart, I wanted so badly to sing like Tramaine--even if only in the shower. 

I had never heard a voice so lovely and powerful. 

That day back in 1975, I was going to get my chance to sing the words she sang, but I had to be pushed.
Since 1975, and thanks to Richard Smallwood, my chance to actually meet Tramaine, and sing with the Hawkins family was realized. Bishop Hawkins—all of them— were always gracious and kind.

Thirty-five years later, I found myself standing on stage with some of the finest soloists and musicians in the Washington metropolitan area. 

Someone decided that the music of Walter Hawkins deserved to be honored at one of the most prestigious musical venues in the world. 

Someone decided that his songbook was a vital part of the fabric of American music. 

Someone thought it should be showcased in a place where excellence is the standard, and mediocrity has no seat. 

Someone thought that the nation's symphony orchestra should master Hawkins music, too. 

In addition to other Hawkins-penned tunes, I was going to, once again, sing "Going Up Yonder".  Unlike the first time, I had a sober grasp of pain, heartache, grace, and the priceless basis of my faith. 

Dennis, Larry, Lecresia, Francese, Duawne, and I assembled ourselves, and were given hand held mikes. As we faced the nearly empty seats of the concert hall, a man wearing a gleaming white shirt, waved. I waved back, not knowing who he was. 

We rehearsed the medley a few times, and I was suddenly transported back to the choir stand of Bethlehem Baptist Church. 

After we were done, we went to greet the man who’d waved at us. It was Bishop Hawkins. He took both of my hands and smiled at me. As I hugged him, I realized how fragile he was. I didn't know that he had been ill. His eyes sparkled, and he smiled. I felt like a little kid. I was just so overwhelmed to see him, and blown away when he told me I had done well. Just the opportunity to speak with him and hear his words of affirmation, made me cry. 

When someone has made such a significant impact on your life, there's a part of you that longs to let them know. I'm glad I had the chance, as bungling and incoherent as it may have been. It's amazing how all of the words you thought you would say are suddenly reduced to a big bowl of tears, admiration and gratitude. 

At the performance, it was clear that cancer hadn't stolen his spectacular voice. His dignity and strength were positively breathtaking.

Last night I watched youtube videos of vintage Hawkins performances. 

I talked to friends who were feeling the loss, but celebrating the incredible gift to world music that is the Hawkins Family. 

I smiled, cried, shook my head, and heaved heavy sighs until I fell asleep. 

I talked to my big sister, who is probably the only person I know who loves the music more than I do. She wanted to make sure that what she heard wasn't some horrible hoax. (People do have a way of announcing funerals these days when there's no body to mourn.) I wish it had been a hoax. 

The sobering truth is that years ago, as we clapped, rocked, and hummed along, Bishop Hawkins sang fearlessly, and with authority, of a day in June 2010. He told us, "One of these mornings, it won't be very long, you're gonna look for me and I'll be gone...I'm going away...".

This morning, I put aside everything I was doing and listened to the continuous offering of Walter Hawkins' music that was wisely and fittingly provided by radio host, Gerard Bonner. 

"I'm Going Away" 

"Right On", 

"Marvelous", 

"I Won't be Satisfied", "Changed", 

“He's That Kind of Friend", "Wonderful", 

“Thank You"...

Each song brought back so many delightful memories. Each song testified of a confident soldier who didn't just sing songs, but sought to inspire others to believe.

 

The broadcast soundly arrested my morning. 
The earlier songs reminded me of the day my Dad came down to the basement to investigate what we were listening to. We couldn't listen to "that rock and roll" on Sundays. We must have had the volume up too loudly, and appeared to be having way too much fun to be listening to the mandated Mahalia Jackson or Sister Rosetta Tharpe albums that, for years, served as Sunday fare.

 

"Love Alive" brought new life to the turntable. "It's Jesus music, Daddy! See? Listen!" 

After the music passed his test, it was freed from its Sunday-only prison, and brought light to the rest of the week from then until this present day.

I listened to each track, keenly aware that I knew every lyric and ad lib. 

I don't remember enjoying listening to the radio so much in years. 

It's official. I adore good music. The genre doesn't matter, but when one tags the name of Jesus onto a thing, or declares that it's "gospel" it just ought to have the tell tale signs that there's a relationship with God at the foundation it all. There just ought to be some sign of God and his word that oozes from the lyrics and instrumentation. At a time when the preoccupation seems to be more with charts, numbers, fame, showmanship, fashion, and awards, than encouraging souls, it is more than a relief to be able to listen to music that, at its core, is the redemptive message of Jesus Christ. 

My thoughts, as I listened, only confirmed what I already knew. Walter Hawkins was one of the most articulate and compelling singers ever. His were crisp and convincing vocals, fortified by the Word of God. His are songs of incredible substance and power, replete with excellent musicianship, passion, brilliance, hope, joy and glorious harmonies. 

Good music never grows old. 

Some master the making of noise and trite lyrics that fall flat, and move a listener to do little more than yawn. Others inspire priceless memories, and stir the heart. 

I thought about Quincy Jones' tune, "What Good is A Song". 

Listening to the music of Walter Hawkins, so adequately answers the question, and in my opinion agrees: 

"If a song cannot take you higher, then it's not good enough to sing". 

Competence and excellence ought to be the standard. Sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ ought to be the motivation.

It's raining now. Thundering, too. 

I opened the window to smell the clean air. The sounds that nature makes are glorious. The sounds that we make, and attribute to our relationships with God should be no less. 

Thank you, Hawkins Family for sharing your talents with the world. I am so grateful to have been touched by the life and outstanding musical legacy of Bishop Walter L. Hawkins.

SATURDAY THOUGHTS: PROMISES---The Studio Sessions Begin

I was a little tired on Thursday afternoon, when Stephanie called, and said she was 10 minutes away. 

It's been scorching in DC, and something as simple as putting on clothes can be a perspiration-inducing activity--even with the air conditioning set on "Antarctica". 

It's been so hot, that I have not been inclined to go out unless I absolutely have to. 

I was eagerly preparing myself this day, though, and took the ride from DC to Bowie, MD. 

The closer I got, the more the tiredness went away, and even the heat wasn't an issue anymore.

It's recording time.

We've been rehearsing for several months, once a week, the way we always have, when it's time to work on a new project. We've been patiently taught, and just as it was at the very first rehearsal, the only instrumentation is Richard on piano. 

Unlike the very first rehearsal, though, technology has given him fantastic new toys to play with. We have new toys, too--no more cassette recorders. 

We've gone from the basement rehearsal room, of the old Metropolitan Baptist Church on 13th Street, to the basement of Richard's beautiful new home (which, by the way, affords us about the same amount of space.)
The songs are beautiful, and I already have a favorite. Raymond Reeder and Daniel Weatherspoon have written great songs, too.

Fifteen years ago, Vision was formed. We're a little older now, but the enthusiasm is as bright as it's always been. The thought of a new project always brings back memories: 
*Finding out, on a trip to Chicago, that we were going on our first trip to Italy. 
*Getting my wish to sing with Maurette. 
*The loss of my mike partner, and our fashionista JoAnna Johnson, and more recently, amazing tenor (and chef) Jeffrey Waddy. 

We've experienced deaths of parents, and births of children. We've logged thousands of miles in travel, and amassed zany stories that we're always saying we're going to compile. We've been through a lot--- some good, some bad, yet here we are again, bringing to the world what God has whispered into the ear of my friend, mentor, teacher, and all around good guy, the Maestro, Richard Smallwood. 

"Adoration", 

"Healing", 

"Rejoice", 

"Persuaded", and 

"Journey", are behind us, 

and sometime, in October this year, "Promises" will also be a reassuring source of encouragement, for so many listeners.

When we arrived at Richard's house, we could hear the familiar noise. His little Christian dog, Mozart always meets everyone at the door. (I call him a Christian, because he literally lies down with his tiny head on his crossed paws when we pray.)  To hear him bark, you'd think he was a much bigger animal. 

I suppose, he's used to us all by now, and he was his usual, overly affectionate self, when we arrived. 

It's always nice when Vision gets together, and we have a chance to catch up with each other, until Richard says, "Okay guys. Let's get started". 

The whiz of a wiz, Steve Ford is on hand, once again (Richard said he wasn't doing anything musical without him). 

Master engineer, Tom Petroski, had already set up all of the recording equipment, and transformed the room, in which we'd rehearsed, for so many months. 

In each of our seats were headphones and radios. 

It's always fun to hear the orchestration for the first time. 
This session was just to get a bed of vocals to use at the recording studio. Steve, like Richard, has super bionic ears, so we can't get away with weak intros, flubbed lyrics, or off notes.

He won't let us go out like that...lol

We finished three songs Thursday night, and it seemed as if time went by so quickly. When he said we were done, I was kind of disappointed. 
It's official. I could sing with my Vision family all day.

It's not lost on me that being a part of Richard's ministry changed my life. 

I don't know if I could be more grateful.

AFTERNOON THOUGHTS

It's hot. If I didn't know any better I'd swear the air conditioning is crying. Make sure every white garment you own stays clean and available.

Glad I listened. Sometimes that's all a friend needs--not opinions and advice.

It's hot. Oh. I said that already.

Fruit it is. Turning on anything that produces flame would just verify my insanity.

Make sure all of the blinds' slats are facing up. Even if it's only in my mind, it seems a little cooler when they're up.

Listen to the music again. The test of whether you really know it or not is coming soon. Be grateful for the vocal rest.

The blueberries and cherries were delicious. Buy more.

MONDAY THOUGHTS: A CAPITOL FOURTH: THOUGHTS ON THE FIFTH

I totally missed the call letting me know that I didn't have to be at the venue until 6:30. 

My Dad always says "You never have to make up an excuse for being early", and early I was, by about 4 hours. 

My daughter drove me to the hotel at around 3 PM. 

It didn't make sense to go all the way back home, considering how unpredictable traffic can be in the city, during special events, so I decided to treat myself to a salad at the hotel restaurant. 

My sister arrived about an hour after I did. I was happy for the company. I think the waiter was feeling sorry for me sitting there all alone.

Lori and I took advantage of the offer to have our makeup done by the artists on site, got dressed, and took the shuttle to the venue. 

It was hot outdoors, but not unbearable. 

In the tent, was a set of very comfortable patio furniture, lots of water, fruit, and other goodies, and a steady stream of nice people. 

Vickie arrived, and we stayed in the comfort of the tent, until it was time to accompany David.

The atmosphere was so pleasant--and the Chinet paper plates made nice, sturdy fans. 

Someone from catering brought out jumbo shrimp and red peppers on skewers, and I broke my usual "no food before singing" rule. 

One of Gladys Knight's musicians brought me a paper plate, on which he had written "Second Baptist Church". 

We all got a big laugh out of that. We did look like church mothers, sitting under the tent fanning ourselves...lol.

Reba McIntire's band members were friendly, too, and everyone made sure to exchange Facebook, Twitter, and other contact info, in case our paths ever crossed again. 

Another nod of approval from Jack Everly, was so humbling.

David was milling around in his unassuming way. 

The way he carries himself, no one would ever know who he is. 

There were a handful of students from Virginia, whose teacher is a member of the Washington Choral Arts Society. Because of her, they had a chance to participate in the event. David definitely made their day. People don't have to be nice, but it's so refreshing when they are. David had done such a great job singing the National Anthem, and he could have very well gone into his trailer and stayed, but, to his credit, he didn't, and stopped to take pictures or chat with anyone who asked.

The stage director came to get us from the tent as Darius Rucker started his set. 

Even some of the crew were singing along backstage to "Proud to Be An American". 

We were reminded that there would be a tribute to the music of John Phillip Sousa, performed by the NSO, and then we were to find our marks on stage. 

Jimmy Smits introduced David. 

Maybe it's the teacher in me, but I remembered the feeling I always had when one of my students had to recite a poem, give a report, or present their artwork. 

There were times when I couldn't directly help, but silently rooted for them to do well. 

I knew my own issues with fear of rejection, and I always wanted my students to feel as if someone in the room was listening, and actually cared. 

We complain so profusely when young people mess up. Too often they aren't encouraged when they do well. 

David is certainly no novice to performing in front of large crowds, but in my head I kept repeating, "You can do it. You'll be just fine. Just sing".

 

There were sprinkles of that tell-tale hysterical, "Oh my god" teenage shrieking going on as he spoke, that let me know there were young ladies in the crowd who probably wouldn't have cared if he had just stood on stage like a statue, and stared at the sky! 

As he'd done in rehearsal, he smiled, and just sang his heart out. When he hit that last high note, all I could do was smile. 

He was done. 

We were done.

After it was over, as moms do, we let him know how proud we were. We were very glad to finally see him eating something, too. Once again, someone left us a nice reminder of it all on YouTube.

Sometimes you meet people, and after you do, you're so, so sorry you did. I can honestly say that pleasant vibes were hovering over "A Capitol Fourth". 

I'm also happy to have heard authentic singers, whose live performances don't make you suddenly dismiss their recordings as some crafty engineer's science project. 

I want David to be like Gladys and Reba--still wowing audiences for years to come. 

It was a privilege to meet him. Not only is his future bright, but so is his present. 

I hope and pray that those tasked with the business concerning him, will always remember that a human being is attached to that beautiful voice. 

I hope that, in their continuing efforts to promote him, they remember and respect the standards by which he lives. 

Far too many entertainers are sold the lie that certain destructive behavior is a part of the territory on the road to superstardom. Far too many pick up vices, burn out, find themselves in trouble, or sadly, die too soon because they embraced a lie. 

I want to be an old, old, old, old, woman and turn on whatever technology will serve as television in the future, and applaud an older, wiser, prosperous, even more vocally satisfying David Archuleta.

Did I say that "A Capitol Fourth" was great? 

Gladys Knight was absolutely fantastic. 

Reba McIntire did not disappoint. 

Lang Lang was remarkable. 

It just reaffirmed that we have so many gifts and talents in the world to please every palate --and enough room in our hearts to celebrate them all.

I was sure I would want to go home early, but I stayed until the last of the fireworks reached the night sky. 

It seemed surreal to be standing on the stairs with people I'd only seen on television. There we all were, admiring the display, and then I think reality struck--we were all going to be trying to get to our various destinations through a maddening maze of vehicular and foot traffic, at the same time.

The usually 3 minute ride from the venue to the hotel took a half hour, then another ten minutes to the parking lot. Clearly, most of the traffic was not heading south, and once we made it to the 3rd Street tunnel it was smooth sailing. As we rode through the city, it was obvious that every law, concerning the use of fireworks in DC, was being broken all over the place. 

All across the sky, were bursts of light that rivaled what took place on the Mall.

When I got home, I watched "A Capitol Fourth" the way I thought I would have this year--from the comfort of my bed. 

I got to see what others saw, and realized that my perception wasn't based on being there. It WAS great. When I got settled at home, I also listened to the pops, cracks, and explosions going on in my neighborhood, that lasted until well after 2 AM.

I thought about my week and how much fun it had been. Somehow, I wasn't nearly as aggravated by the incessant noise, and drifted off to sleep around 2:30--I think.

I woke up this morning, and thanked God for letting me have the experience. (I don't know if it will ever happen again, or if I will ever again see some of the people I met, but I prayed that God would bless and keep them safe.)

My daughter had a wonderful idea to just go out. We had no plan. It was "hot as fish grease" as Vickie would say, but not unbearable. 

We walked around Barracks Row, and stumbled into a quaint little shop called Sweet Magnolia. 

After that we had lunch at Matchbox. Even though it was 100 degrees outside, it was cool enough inside to try their cream of crab soup. I think I have found a home.

The Fourth of July has come and gone. This year was a winner for me. Right now, as I listen to the first of this evening's explosions courtesy of my neighbors, I'm praying that it will rain--a lot. 

Somehow, on the FIFTH of July, the festive noise of the previous day transforms into a gross disturbance of the peace...: )

Note to self: You have ear plugs. 

Use them...oh...and tomorrow is TUESDAY.

SUNDAY THOUGHTS: A CAPITOL FOURTH----FOUR REHEARSALS

I'm so impressed with the level of excellence I've experienced, since being asked to participate in "A Capitol Fourth". 

I'm especially impressed with the very polite, well-mannered, and delightful David Archuleta. 

There's no arrogance or swelled head with this talented young man! 

I'm also happy I had a chance to meet his mom, Lupe. 

It's funny. All three of us background singers are old enough to be his mom! 

My own daughter is 10 years older than David. 

As old school as I am, it is SO refreshing that, in spite of his notoriety, he demonstrates such respect for his mom. That respect, then, carries over to everyone else he meets. 

He has been so gracious to all of us. 

God knows I can't stand, and don't have patience for bratty, smart-mouthed, disrespectful, kids who have been informed of their rights, but not the responsibilities that go along with them. 

David is a breath of fresh air, and I pray that he doesn't allow the trappings of fame to chip away at the standards that Lupe has clearly set. 

I can't say it enough. Good home training goes a long way.

There have been four rehearsals. 

The first, was on Thursday afternoon with Jerry Grossman on piano, and Jack Everly, conductor of the National Symphony Orchestra. 

Lori, Vickie, and I met David for the first time. 

We were given sheet music, and from the moment we all sang together, it was as if we were a musical family. 

We got suggestions from Mr. Everly concerning the end of the song, and he told David to take all the time he wanted. 

Of course, I was happy to be singing alto, and couldn't have been more delighted by the blend. It must have worked, because David was pleased, too. To me, that's all that matters. 
If you're a background singer, your job is one of support. There's already a leader in place. Push him or her--not with random noise, uncontrolled adlibs, or distracting onstage antics--but with the tight, harmonious vocals a song calls for. 

Being a background singer is a nice way to affirm the voice of someone else, and help make their job easier. 

I just kept remembering what someone told me a long time ago, "Be prepared, and do your best. You are valuable. Don't go in without having done your homework". 

David's not some whining teeny bopper. He's not a singer one can easily dismiss because of his age, either. It is so apparent that he loves to sing. That's different than being enamored with the sound of one's own voice. 

I like good singing. No. I ADORE good singing. 

God knows, I'm happy when a singer not only performs a song, but communicates it. 

I think, by now, I know "heart" when I hear it. David's vocals seemed to get better with each rehearsal. 

Some people need background vocals to camouflage the fact that they can't really carry a tune. That's not the case with David.

The second rehearsal, on Friday morning, was at The Kennedy Center, where we were accompanied by the NSO. 

David's voice, and the never-disappointing symphony was breathtaking. For such a young man, he has an old soul, and it resonates.
At the same rehearsal, we had an opportunity to hear John Schneider rehearse his script and song. (We agreed it would have been nice to add some BGV's to his smooth rendition of "When The Saints Go Marching In". 

It's true. Singers like to sing every chance they can get...lol.)

The third rehearsal, yesterday morning (primarily for camera blocking), was at the venue on the Capitol grounds. As we sat in the tent, David came in, and we all were goofing around with different vocal warm-ups. 

Catering provided my favorite Tazo and Bigelow teas, too. 

When the director called for us to come to the stage, again, David knocked his vocals out of the park. He clearly provided a treat for sightseers, who happened to be passing by. Applause was coming from all directions. Before we even got home, a delighted, and obviously trembling fan had already posted the rehearsal on YouTube.

Last night's dress rehearsal was a true dress rehearsal in the sense that this afternoon's performance can't possibly get any better. Old church folk would say that David "felt his help coming on" because he gave a little bit more. It meant something to fans that he was actually there and didn't send a representative. The crowd was especially engaging and responded positively, though --even when "A Capitol Fourth" staffers stood in for headliners who hadn't yet arrived. 

Again, video of the rehearsal made it to youtube before I could put my key in my front door.

It's been a wonderfully pleasant musical experience all around. I couldn't be more grateful. 

I've met some incredibly gifted people. 

Walter Miller, Lang Lang, Reba McIntire's guitarist, James Kimball, and of course, members of the Choral Society and NSO, who were friendly and kind. 

The atmosphere on the west lawn is so lovely. 

It's been a good day.

Now if I could just borrow Michelle Obama's arms for this evening, it would be perfect.

SATURDAY THOUGHTS: A CAPITOL FOURTH- AND A FEW FIRSTS

I've lived in DC most of my life. 

Yesterday, I ate at two restaurants for the first time. 

I had breakfast at the famous Florida Avenue Grill, where the pancakes are powdered with cinnamon. (The host said I should be ashamed of myself for waiting so long to visit, considering I graduated from Howard University. I promised that as soon as I got home, I would become a Facebook friend).

 
I had dinner at Kanlaya Thai Cuisine, where I didn't think I could find shrimp with garlic sauce any better than the dish served at Oxon Hill's Beijing Hunan, but I did. 

Both meals were great. So was the company. 

Thanks to my friend Victoria, my week and weekend went from average to exciting. 

She says it was divine intervention. 

I like her reasoning.

Did I say that I've lived in DC most of my life? 

Yesterday afternoon, I found myself on the grounds of the US Capitol, rehearsing with American Idol runner-up, David Archuleta. 

I've never liked crowds, so I've usually watched the "A Capitol Fourth" celebration on PBS, from the comfort of my home. 

This year, I have an artist's pass. 

David will be singing "Stand By Me" and I'll be happily singing alto in the background. 

It's a pleasure to sing backup when the voice out front is so beautiful. It makes you want to be that much more supportive. 

Mr. Everly seems to be pleased with our vocals, and that's very reassuring. 

David's mom, Lupe, asked if she could take us home with her. 

David said he likes that we're not holding back. 

We feel as if he's pushing us. 

Mr. Grossman said he loves our blend and tone, and wishes we had more to do at the event. 

We do, too, but it's been such a delight to be a part, and see how things work behind the scenes.

I sat in my seat yesterday, as we waited for David's sound check, and laughed. I have only pressed my way to the Monument grounds, on purpose, a few times in all the years I've lived in DC. 

I don't like fireworks, unless they're being detonated by a professional at an organized event. 

I was dreading, and have for years dreaded, being at home on the Fourth of July. My neighbors apparently get their fireworks from the Pentagon. 

In a city with a gun problem, it would seem that the City Council would listen to the wise counsel of the fire chief, join other neighboring jurisdictions, and ban fireworks altogether. 

What I hear, in the weeks leading up to Independence Day weekend, and for weeks after, are not sparklers. If someone was being shot at, who could tell the difference? 

The noise begins before sunset, until a little after midnight, or when I finally fall asleep--or whichever comes first. 

I know there must be a noise ordinance in the city. 

Laws, concerning noise and fireworks use, are broken routinely East of the River--and the rickety wooden stands are a horrible eyesore as you enter the city from Prince George's County at Southern Avenue. 

The Fourth of July has been a source of aggravation and noise for years. This year, the noise will be a lot more joyful and bearable: 

Gladys Knight. 

Reba McEntire. 

Darius Rucker. 

John Schneider. 

Lang Lang. 

The Choral Arts Society of Washington. 

The National Symphony Orchestra. 

I'll experience beautiful live sounds this year--not the headache inducing din of random pops and explosions, coupled with the competing, booming speakers of various picnickers, in the park across the street. There will be no need for me to flee to my Dad's house this year. 

This year, I'll be in the shadow of the Capitol, with people I love, doing what I love.

David's a delightful young man, and I pray, one of the ones who won't be negatively impacted by notoriety. 

We made it all the way through dinner, before a young girl rushed up to him and asked, "Are you American Idol?" 

That was followed by lots of cell phone photos, and a father who said, "I don't know who you are, but my son says you're famous". 

Another excited girl seemed to be trying to see how many different poses she could make. 

We all stood around like mother hens with Lupe, who was laughing at it all, and at the same time, making sure things didn't get out of hand.

I'm very grateful...and should be getting up. 

There's another rehearsal in a few hours.

WAKING THOUGHTS

You're still alive. Thanks, Lord. Get up.

Thank You, Lord. What can I do for you, today?

Remember that "drink water as soon as you get up" thing that someone suggested? Do it. Send a note to Brita one day and tell them how cool their filter pitcher is.

Those shoes are missing the empty boxes they came out of. Reunite them.

You fell asleep on your homemade icee/slurpee/freezie thingy. Fuze + Bitter Lemon + Ocean Spray Cranberry juice. The first few icy scrapes were delicious. The ceiling fan has been on all night. No telling what's in the cup. Let it go. Try again.

Hopefully you'll finish the painting today. Need more primer and green acrylic paint.

Look and see if the dress is still available. If it isn't pick something else--even if it's not for you.

There's watermelon. You don't have to cook that.

You may need to invest in a pick since you have successfully resisted the relaxer. Your hair is healthier than it's been in years...now the Afro Sheen song is running through your head.

Yesterday's gone. Yes, you could have gone to Louisiana, but you put it off for something that isn't going to happen. Forget it. Keep moving.

Stop putting things off.