Those were the days when kids were "home-preschooled", only spent 1/2 day at kindergarten and learned how to "find something to do"...

I was born on August 13, 1957, at Payne County Hospital in Stillwater, Oklahoma, almost 58 years ago!  It was such a different time.  You could look down Orchard Lane and see children wearing chaps and holsters, lassos in hand, riding tricycle 'horses', in hot pursuit of the next adventure.  Children too young to participate were 'in jail'...that's what the older kids might have called it...in their playpens, soaking in the sunshine and excitement from the bleechers.  

 

Moms like mine would get a lot of housework done while the kids played, outside.  It boggles my mind how much times in America have changed, in a matter of half a century.  

Once we moved to Louisiana (in time for second grade), our non-school hours were spent outside.  Fall meant raking leaves, often into a "football field" configuration, so that the game could commence.  In inclement weather, we congregated at our backyard neighbor's house for a rousing game of canasta.  Springtime meant baseball, and we'd ride our bikes to the vacant lot to work on hitting and fielding ground balls.  And our driveway was the year-round hangout for very competitive games of "horse" or "cat" since WE had the basketball goal.  

I treasured those times...and chose to be a stay-at-home mom so that I could give my kids the same kind of upbringing.  In some respects, I feel like I succeeded.  In other respects, I feel that I failed.  I regret the fact that I "caved" and let them have nintendo, cable tv and a vcr player when their age was still in single digits.  Electronics entered my home with a vengence...and creativity and inventiveness suddently took a back seat.  

I wonder how many of you reading this were blessed with the kind of "preschooling"  that I had.   I sure wish I could tell my mom thank you for all the hours of non-adult conversation that she muddled through joyously with me in tow.  I hope she knew...

Until next blog post,
peace and love to you...
dorothy

I'VE GOT MAIL...you know, the handwritten kind that catches you by surprise!

It was a ritual for them.  The letter would arrive one afternoon and before the week was out, Mom would sit at the desk, pull out lined paper and a fine point pen and prepare her response.  First she would comment on the incoming news.  Next, our weekly comings-and-goings would be delivered in perfect penmanship and impeccable grammar.  The envelope would be addressed, a stamp placed in the right hand corner, with the return address on the left, and out to the silver-gray mailbox she would go, raising the red flag to signal that there was outgoing mail.  Right about a week later, another letter would come, and the response would follow.  This was the way my mom stayed in touch and formed a close connection with her mother-in-law, my Granny Chambers.

I wonder who started that tradition.  Did Granny write the first letter?  Or did Mom?  I wonder if they had made a pact to write weekly, or if the tradition developed out of habit, a sense of responsibility, or love?  Certainly those are not questions I can ask at this point, because both of them are deceased... but I have a question to pose to present-day readers:  Has letter writing become a true lost art?

It's so easy, even on a whim, to draft an e-mail.  Or a text.  Or an instant message.  Or a facebook post to a long lost friend.  Sending it is a breeze...No having to look up (or remember) an address.  No stamps.  No waiting!  Ah, instant gratification.  Admittedly it's great to stay in touch!  That's how I've been rolling for some time now.  But the other day, I wrote a pen-and-paper letter to my friend.

My penmanship is not as pristine as it was in elementary school.  No sweat if I make a mistake.  Life is messy, and so is my writing!  Though I did start over, not in an effort to have the letter be "perfect"...Perfect is so overrated.  I gave it a read-over and realized that I had not presented my thought coherently the first time, and it's so important to me to truly communicate what is on my heart and mind.  In truth, this could very well be a letter that the receiver might treasure and keep to re-read whenever the mood strikes.

How many times, through the miracle of the internet, have I quickly responded to a digital message, and then said, "I sure wish I hadn't said that"!  Had I been writing the old-school way, in letter form, I would have changed the wording, for sure.  Sometimes lightning fast doesn't serve me well.  

I for one am going to try to sit down and write a letter to a friend or family member every week.  I'm going to lose myself in delicious nouns and verbs, adjectives and adverbs, and conjunctions and contractions as I choose them with delight.  With any luck, my letter will be received as a treasured gift, created thoughtfully and carefully, with love...and will find its way into a 'treasure box' when it reaches its destination.

I for one am going to use Monday morning as writing day.  How bout you?

Until next blog post, 
peace and love to you...

dorothy

Interesting Connection between 2 Seemingly Disconnected Issues: Teaching about the Holy Spirit at Children's Chapel at Church...and Memories of My Mom's Last Days.

For the past few days, I have struggled to come up with the words:  how would I explain the Holy Spirit to young students who would attend the Sunday, May 24th Children's Chapel at my church?  So easy to picture God, and Jesus, but that concept of being filled with the Spirit has always been difficult for me to put into words.  I began to ponder, who are those people in my life who I consider to be filled with the Spirit?  What qualities do they embody?  On the top of my list is my mom.

Her name was Luella Dugas Chambers.  She was truly my best friend in adulthood, and my hero in life.  She lived 19 very full and appreciated years after her initial diagnosis of breast cancer, which re-emerged in her bones and finally in her lungs.  What qualities did she exemplify in her final days? 

After the doctors told her there was nothing more they could do for her, but to keep her comfortable, she smiled and responded, "I just want to thank you for all you've done for me.  It's been so wonderful to have this extra time with my family."  The only dry eyes in the room were hers.  I couldn't wrap my brain around that.  

There was an understanding, a peace, a tranquility, a joy, an acceptance of the moment, that she possessed and that was PREVALENT in her last days.  I fought the prognosis, but she was comforted by the littlest things, and did her best to comfort US.  Her smile was bright, her faith was strong.  She had final words of wisdom for me.  And she gave me the greatest gift of all, unbeknownst to her. 

She was a devout Catholic and at that time, I too was a practicing Catholic.  A couple of days before she died, the Eucharistic minister came by to offer her communion, but she could not swallow anymore, and had to refuse.  The minister asked her to kiss the host, and then placed the host on my tongue as I 'received' for my mom.  In all my then 38 years, I had NEVER experienced ANYTHING like receiving the Eucharist for this incredible woman.  

Something changed inside me!  I felt like I was shaking all over.  I felt like if I didn't sit down, that I would faint.  At that moment, I learned something incredible about what the Eucharist meant to my mom...and how the Holy Spirit moved inside of her each time she received...and that one time, it moved through me as well.  I'll never forget that moment, and though I've prayed to have that experience on my own, it has evaded me.

What does it mean to be filled with the Holy Spirit?  I knew how to explain it all the time.  Ironically enough, my mom died 19 years ago today, on May 25, 1996, almost 19 years to the day after I struggled to find the words to teach Children's Chapel yesterday.  All I had to do, in the end, was reflect on my mom, because she truly reflected the Holy Spirit every single day.  

One more time, Mom, thank you for your inspiration.  I love that I can still turn to you.  Keep the lessons coming...

Until next blog post,
peace and love to you

dorothy

WAKE UP AND DREAM...Part 2 (complete with VIDEOSONG!)

During a conversation with fellow songwriters, someone posed the question, “What makes some people give up...yet other people rise to the challenges of life?” I realized what keeps me going. I need to keep a dream in focus, at all times!

In a previous blog post, I mentioned a song that I had written, called Wake Up and Dream, and I also mentioned that I was planning something really special with this song. 

I recently collaberated with longtime friend and producer, Daniel Lee of Boonelight Productions, in creating a videosong of Wake Up and Dream. Interspersed are snippets of interviews (conducted by Daniel) that celebrate the hopes and dreams of various people who keep their dreams in sight.  Here are some specifics:

Song written and performed by Dorothy C. LeBlanc.  

Videography, audio, editing, lead guitar, percussion:  Daniel Lee.  

I hope you enjoyed the video...and please feel free to share.   Soon I'll share more about this song that is so very special to me...

Until next blog post, peace and love to you,

dorothy

 

The High Price of Perfection...and the Principle of Good'nuff (Part 2)

Hi, I'm Dorothy.  And I am a recovering perfectionist.  I was stuck on the perfection roller coaster for the first 56 years of my life.  Not just obsessed with grades (though I had to make an A, hopefully with the plus sign behind it).  I stressed about my athletic performance;  my weight/body image; even my musical pursuits. I could suck the fun out of any pursuit.  I'm working hard, at 57, to celebrate the luxury and IMPORTANCE of being just good'nuff...

Which takes me to this particular story, which began in Port Aransas, TX, on Saturday, November 10, 2012, right around 8:00 in the morning.  (I was there for a weekend songwriter workshop called Life's a Song.)  I was enjoying my 2nd cup of coffee, walking on the beautiful beach, breathing in the sea air and searching for shells.  My entire life, I had tried to find that perfect sand dollar.  You know, the one with absolutely no chips.  Unattainable perfection. I had never found it, until that particular morning... 

I had coffee in my right hand, and various seashells in the other.  It was a beautiful morning, with the seagulls swooping in and soaring and the waves gently rippling near my feet.  I had found 3 or 4 really cool shells that morning.  I had picked up a few broken sand dollars because they were certainly better than nothing.  I took a swig of my coffee and looked down and STOPPED IN MY TRACKS!  I did a doubletake...It couldn't be, but it WAS.  I knelt down, afraid to touch it.  To say that my heart skipped a beat is an understatement.

Okay, I've found the sand dollar.  I have coffee in one hand and seashells in the other.  I immediately dumped my coffee out (a rare occurence!) and dropped the shells I'd collected into the porcelain mug.  So now I have one hand free.  I pick it up oh so gently, in disbelief.  I had made the trek to the beach that particular morning to walk a few miles before the workshop began...but my walk was pre-empted by my need to get this sand dollar placed safely in some kind of protective shelter, so I wouldn't break it! 

I walked slowly back to my room and attempted to wrap it securely.  I tried paper towels, but kept checking it to see if it had gotten scratched or broken.  I tried tissue, but how much tissue would be needed to protect it?  If I had been home, I would have found some bubble wrap and a tiny box.  I thought about putting it in my car, in a cup holder, where I could watch it the whole way home.  Truly, I had found perfection, but it bothered the hell out of me!  What if I messed it up?  

Wait, isn't this really how I've been living my life?  Achieving this impossible status...and then stressing over keeping it that way?  I wrote a song ", said the sand dollar" about the epiphanies I gleaned from that little gift from the sea.  Here's a link to the song.   I sure hope you like it.  My performance was not perfect, but I think it was good'nuff!  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nwAXl3oAqcw&feature=youtu.be 

until next blog post, peace and love to you...
dorothy

WAKE UP AND DREAM...Part 1

Twelve years ago, I had never bellied up to a microphone with guitar in hand.  I was 45 years old when I first muddled my way through John Prine's Let's Talk Dirty in Hawaiian and The Beatles' Blackbird at an open mic hosted by Jason Hanks in Baton Rouge, LA. You could have cut the tension with a knife!!!  Everybody knew I was a first-timer and they really wanted me not to suck!  (Which, admittedly, I kinda did...)  When I struck the final chord, the applause was DEAFENING, and I could see everyone who had held their breath for me suddenly get color back in their cheeks.     

See, it was my dream to play music out in the world, after coming out of cancer treatment the previous month.  Twelve years later, I make my living as a musician.  I do music therapy with Alzheimer's patients and seniors with dementia; I perform as a children's musician; I am a songwriter; I am a jazz guitarist; I am drawn to any stringed instrument, and continue to try out new ones.  But it all started because a few people encouraged me to go for my dream*...

I have a new dream, y'all, as of mid 2014.  I want to travel throughout the United States and play songs I've written at open mics and gigs in every single state of the union.  I live in Louisiana, so I can check that one off.  I've played a bunch in Texas, and once in Indiana. About 10 years ago, I got to play in Potlach, Idaho with my first duo partner.  I'm heading east this next trip.  Savannah, Georgia, here I come!!!   Because of the kindness of 2 wonderful friends, I have a chance to play twice this coming week in their new community! And mid-February will find me in Nashville, TN!  I cannot believe it!  Y'all, I'm 57 and I'm living my dream.  Color me grateful and excited and at times a bit intimidated...but I've got a special mission in my life and it feels right! 

I wrote a song called Wake Up and Dream.  I am planning something really special with this tune, and I'll share more in the next WAKE UP AND DREAM installment.  I wonder if anybody out there is chasing a dream.  I would love to hear about it...

Until next blog post, peace and love to you...
dorothy

* No way I can thank everybody who encouraged me, but here are a few who have helped me in my travels: Catrina Rogers, Terri Hendrix, Lloyd Maines, my Life's a Song Friends, Beth Harvey, Mike and Debi Chambers, Karen Kelley,  Daniel Lee, Renea Hanna, Sally Morgan...and so many many more.  Another special thank you to my buddy and long-time duo partner, Mike Whitney, who did quite a few Louisiana 'road-trip' gigs with me!  Thank y'all...

53 YEARS OF MARRIAGE...IS IT A THING OF THE PAST?

He was a big man on campus...a tall, handsome north Louisiana Baptist, studying Agriculture at  Louisiana State University in the late '30s and early '40s.  She was a beautiful but very shy south Louisiana Catholic, studying Home Economics at the same university, during the same time period. The stories each would recount of their first meeting were vastly different! 

My dad, Doyle Chambers, was one of the few guys on campus at the time who had a car, and that made him the perfect double-date candidate for those who didn't have wheels.  My dad's friend (I'll call him Joe) decided that my dad needed to get a date so they could 'double' and dad would drive.  Doyle agreed, as long as he got a date with 'that girl over there', who was friends with Joe's girlfriend.  Doyle had had his eyes on her for the longest time, and knew that she would be the woman for him.  He was instantly smitten!

My mom, Luella  Dugas, was so shy and unsure of herself, that when Joe's girlfriend tried to fix her up with Doyle, she said, "I'm sure it's not ME that he wants to go out with.  I bet he wanted to take my roommate out."  But no, Doyle knew who he wanted to date, and it was Luella.  My mother would later tell me, "Within 5 minutes on our first date, I KNEW that this was one guy I would NEVER go out with again.  He was a north Louisiana Baptist (she was a south Louisiana Catholic...her mom would have NEVER permitted that match!!!!!), he smoked, and he drank.  That was it...he was not a candidate for her affections...

They were married on January 30, 1943, and were together until Luella's death on May 26, 1996.  They survived the hard WWII years; brought 3 children into the world; weathered childhood polio scares and inflamed tonsils and Oklahoma tornadoes and Louisiana hurricanes.  Each battled cancer several times over the years, and even painfully witnessed two of their own children have their own cancer journeys.  Life was certainly not a bed of roses...but there was never a doubt that they would get through every twist and turn,  TOGETHER. 

My Dad passed away in September 2005.  This Friday I will celebrate what would have been their 72nd wedding anniversary.  A remarkable feat!  Never a bed of roses, but a journey they walked TOGETHER.  For a lifetime.  Please watch the song I wrote to celebrate their love.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTFZTMMinsI&list=UUuAONW1409a_dSl9bFX6L4g 

I'm curious.  Do you think that 53 years of marriage is a thing of the past?  I don't.  Instead of letting hardship destroy them, it brought them closer together.  That's the key, I believe.  They truly married for a lifetime.  As always, thank you for reading...

until next blog post, peace and love to you

dorothy