The Big Bridge

Lovelies,

A new web site is a lot of work.

But such a good sign!

It means enough change has swept through my days that last year's presentation no longer applies.

Now it's updated to reflect the 4 roles that have emerged as my life's work: artist, producer, songwriter, and songwriting coach.

As I wrote the quadfecta of bios, I recognized that with every chapter of my life, the past changes, too.

Meaning, with the better view from each new perch, I see my origin more broadly. More clearly.

In particular, as I wrote an "artist statement," I saw myself in high school, hanging on the words of my band director, Norm Richardson. In addition to 1-2 hours of rehearsals day, we'd spend an additional twenty to fifty minutes just talking. It didn't seem to matter to either of us that I was supposed to be in class! To me those conversations, odd and riddled as they often were, were a lifeline. They suggested a world beyond Cape Elizabeth, Maine 04107. Because though we were both firmly tethered north of "the big bridge," the music, not to mention simply the LONGING for more, transcended.

The last time I saw Mr. Richardson was years before he died. He came to a show and the next morning we got breakfast at Becky's Diner, a Portland staple a stone's throw from the docks. We had a bit less to say to each other, our high school angst having been replaced by angsts of more unrelatable sorts. But on the way to our cars I took a breath and told him what had always been on the tip of my tongue. He'd meant so much to me. He'd saved my life. Had he realized it? I loved him.

The awkwardness was unbearable. As I remember it he said nothing and quickly drove away. My cheeks were red for days.

But now I'm glad he knew.

WIth love,

Rachel