The old church is rechristened, as it were, when their live rock nights take over. In What’s Left, my novel many of the musicians are already connected to the family restaurant, one way or another.
As I explain in a passage that was more than anyone needed in the final version:
Much to their credit, Dimitri and Graham and Barney and Pia have a knack for attracting talent – and for listening to all their ideas. It isn’t all just food-oriented, either.
Oh, I’m so glad Cassia’s stopped talking like this. In the final version, she’s refreshingly snippy.
Thanks to her aunt Yin, a teenaged Cassia winds up booking up-and-coming acts – ones that can play well in their old church. It’s a matter of people skills and organizational skills, especially, along with taking good advice from her musically alert cousins.
Imagine stepping in for her. What kind of music or other entertainment would you most like on the schedule? Is there a local band or singer or comedian (nobody widely known yet) you’d like to pitch to Cassia if you could? (Feel free to add a link to their website or YouTube action, if you wish.) Go ahead, shamelessly plug them, be the loyal fan club – let the world know! Go wild, oh yay! Me? How about a weekly contradance?
Let me confess, as an author, this was an impulse purchase for me. Have you ever driven through an old residential neighborhood and noticed an old church just plunked down in the middle of the block?
The one in my novel What’s Left sits next to the family manse. Here’s an early description of the site, one I decided not to include in the final version:
One thing that hadn’t been discussed when he left was the use of the old white church. We bought it just because we could. Thea Nita has joked it was the missing lot on our Monopoly board, and you could agree that she’s right. Yes, it was a great indoor playground for us kids but, as I’ve learned, that hardly justified the expense. Early uses included folk dancing, especially square dances and New England contras – events that included live music and callers, along with instruction. And there were a few weddings. It wasn’t a particularly big church, though – the pews held maybe a hundred people? Well, we promptly put those into storage.
Oh, I’m so glad she stopped talking like this! In the final version, she’s pretty snippy. You get the idea.
I’m ready to up that capacity number somewhat, anyway. Wouldn’t 200 be more fitting?
If you’re like me, music’s an essential part of life. I’m in a community choir that rehearses in the social hall of a church that rents out space for our offices, too – we do a big Christmas production at Harvard every year. I could imagine something similar working out of this space.
Where do you go for live music or dancing? Do you prefer a small club setting? An auditorium? A big arena? Or just somebody’s garage or basement? What kind of neighborhood is it in?
My newest novel takes place in a Yoga Bootcamp. It’s run by an unorthodox American swami who’s also known as Elvis or Big Pumpkin, for good reasons. His followers think he’s divine, and they’re out to spread the word as yoga itself is first becoming popular across the nation.
Each of them has moved to his farm to intensify their practice. What they find has as much to do with cleaning toilets or weeding the garden as does standing on their heads in exercise class. Even a single day can embrace eternity as well as a cosmic sense of humor.
Mysticism? It’s largely quite down-to-earth, as you’ll see.
The novel is being published and released today at Smashwords.com. And that certainly has me levitating.
Be among the first to read it!
I stuck two rotting potatoes in the ground and got eight pounds in return.
Not a bad investment, is it?
Well, I stuck them in two old planters with just a covering of soil at the bottom late last spring and kept covering them as the stems and leaves shot upward. Didn’t take long for the entire container to be full. Three or four months later, in early September, the lush foliage went kaput, and it was time for harvest.
Have you ever eaten truly fresh potatoes – the kind picked just an hour or two before cooking? It’s a revelation. Roasted, they’re so creamy and sweet. Melt in the mouth, if you nibble at the oven. By the time they get to the table, they’re getting some firmness … but, oh, they’re still heavenly.
You don’t have to visit Maine or Idaho or even live there to discover what this means.
Since these are transcribed from the Hellenic alphabet, their spellings in Latin script can vary.
Here are ten.
- Yasou. Hello.
- Kalos orises. Welcome.
- Ti kanete. How are you?
- Ine kalo. That’s good.
- Ne. Yes.
- Ohi. No.
- Signomi. Excuse me.
- Efharisto. Thank you.
- Parakalo. Please. Also, you’re welcome.
- Goodbye. Andio sas.
I’ll leave the swear words to Cassia in my novel What’s Left. Especially the ones she learned at church camp.
After years of gardening in this place, her design became apparent, even in the raised beds.