Greetings fellow Aquarians and Amigos!
Given that February is the month of love, I feel I must address the fact that I don't write too many love songs. I suppose one reason, is that I'm not exactly the romantic type. If potential suitors were to crawl up after me on a vine, I'd mace them. I suppose I learned these survival techniques from my mom. When I was a kid, she'd say stuff like, "If you get kissed, your lips will rot." She'd follow this warning with, "Danger, danger everyone's a stranger - run!" As a kid, I lived in fear of catching "something" or someone catching me. Sex Education did not make my fears subside one bit. If anything, I now had pictures to accompany what could potentially happen to me if I kissed anyone.
I was too young to realize that my mom was trying to protect me from the dangers young girls can find themselves. I was so clueless, that I'd even wonder why the lips didn't rot off the faces of my favorite TV stars. They got lots of kisses. Especially on the series, "The Love Boat." I'd perch in front of our black and white television and catch every episode and kiss I could. Our old TV sported rabbit ears and a channel dial as big as a dinner plate. It had a booty on it that rivaled J.Lo's. This was of course, before flat screens, cable, DVDs, or a remote control.
Back then, it seemed like every time I'd catch an episode of "The Love Boat," it would coincide with the exact day that my braces were tightened. My mouth would hurt so bad that my eyes would water. To ease the pain, I'd sit there, with an icepack stuck to my face and silently curse the captain of "The Love Boat." I was envious that he was so well versed on all things love. He was wise. And I felt like a dumb-dumb.
Life grew even more interesting for me, after my orthodontist introduced my "Brace-Face" to headgear. He beamed and quacked, "No one will notice at school." I'm not sure what planet he was on. I guess my mother was happy, because me wearing headgear would definitely prevent me from being kissed, and thus contracting lip rot.
Had I not been so mortified at the thought of wearing headgear to school, I would have had fun with my situation. I'd have stuck magnets on its rim and hung charms around my mouth. I was too young to see the humor in it and too selfish to thank my parents for fixing my teeth. Age can wait. Wisdom can hurry. It took too long for me to be thankful.
Years passed, and my stubborn teeth refused to conform. My orthodontist remained undaunted and my trips to his office continued well into high school. Finally, not even braces, headgear, or fear would stop me from puckering up my lips and kissing the kid with the sandy brown hair. I puckered and puckered and puckered. When I was assured no germs would meet my tongue, we kissed. It should come as no surprise to you, that the kid with the sandy brown hair told everyone at school about our first kiss. I think the exact words were, "She kisses like a fish." I wish I would have made fun of those bullies and that kid with the sandy brown hair. I would have jabbed my finger in their chests and yelled, "Fish Kisser!" Because they'd obviously all had experience kissing fish. You can't run from bullies. They have lip rot. You have to square your jaw, and run at bullies and squirt their lips with truth, piss, and vinegar. These days, I suppose you also have to pray they don't have a gun.
When I was young, I was so busy running away or chasing after unrequited love, that I didn't see I was surrounded by true unconditional love. I've been unable to write a song about that type of love. The love that accepts you for who you are - where you are. The love that lets you be yourself - unedited. Warts and all. The love that makes you reach beyond yourself and be a little less selfish and a little more giving. A love that's compassionate. A love that listens. A love that lives each day to the fullest and expects you to do the same. A love that won't settle for doldrums and depression. A love that does not want to swallow you, hover around like a mosquito, or pull you under the waves. A love that strengthens. A love that has its own life. A love that knows not of jealousy - only of trust. A love without lies. A love without cages, fences, walls, or borders. A love that embraces faith. A love that sees God. Loves God. But does not fear God or speak for God. A love that does not judge, exile, kill, draw blood, or throw stones.
Perhaps I don't write love songs, because the music has already been written. It perches in my heart and sings its own tune and dances to its own drum. I love to live. I live to love.
My mom said, "Always be who you are. Then you don't have to worry about remembering who it was you pretended to be." She had it right. Perhaps she was a little "off" with her motherly advise in my youth, but for the most part, she had it right. There is such a thing as lip rot. It's the opposite of love. It's hate. And when I see it, I do run from it. A bully is usually just insecure and harmless. But folks who hate, they are a worrisome lot. I don't run because I'm scared of hate. I run because haters usually can't be reasoned with at all. Regardless, Cupid's got my back.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Terri Hendrix
(C)(P) THM Music February 2011
Dates are shows with Lloyd Maines.Given that February is the month of love, I feel I must address the fact that I don't write too many love songs. I suppose one reason, is that I'm not exactly the romantic type. If potential suitors were to crawl up after me on a vine, I'd mace them. I suppose I learned these survival techniques from my mom. When I was a kid, she'd say stuff like, "If you get kissed, your lips will rot." She'd follow this warning with, "Danger, danger everyone's a stranger - run!" As a kid, I lived in fear of catching "something" or someone catching me. Sex Education did not make my fears subside one bit. If anything, I now had pictures to accompany what could potentially happen to me if I kissed anyone.
I was too young to realize that my mom was trying to protect me from the dangers young girls can find themselves. I was so clueless, that I'd even wonder why the lips didn't rot off the faces of my favorite TV stars. They got lots of kisses. Especially on the series, "The Love Boat." I'd perch in front of our black and white television and catch every episode and kiss I could. Our old TV sported rabbit ears and a channel dial as big as a dinner plate. It had a booty on it that rivaled J.Lo's. This was of course, before flat screens, cable, DVDs, or a remote control.
Back then, it seemed like every time I'd catch an episode of "The Love Boat," it would coincide with the exact day that my braces were tightened. My mouth would hurt so bad that my eyes would water. To ease the pain, I'd sit there, with an icepack stuck to my face and silently curse the captain of "The Love Boat." I was envious that he was so well versed on all things love. He was wise. And I felt like a dumb-dumb.
Life grew even more interesting for me, after my orthodontist introduced my "Brace-Face" to headgear. He beamed and quacked, "No one will notice at school." I'm not sure what planet he was on. I guess my mother was happy, because me wearing headgear would definitely prevent me from being kissed, and thus contracting lip rot.
Had I not been so mortified at the thought of wearing headgear to school, I would have had fun with my situation. I'd have stuck magnets on its rim and hung charms around my mouth. I was too young to see the humor in it and too selfish to thank my parents for fixing my teeth. Age can wait. Wisdom can hurry. It took too long for me to be thankful.
Years passed, and my stubborn teeth refused to conform. My orthodontist remained undaunted and my trips to his office continued well into high school. Finally, not even braces, headgear, or fear would stop me from puckering up my lips and kissing the kid with the sandy brown hair. I puckered and puckered and puckered. When I was assured no germs would meet my tongue, we kissed. It should come as no surprise to you, that the kid with the sandy brown hair told everyone at school about our first kiss. I think the exact words were, "She kisses like a fish." I wish I would have made fun of those bullies and that kid with the sandy brown hair. I would have jabbed my finger in their chests and yelled, "Fish Kisser!" Because they'd obviously all had experience kissing fish. You can't run from bullies. They have lip rot. You have to square your jaw, and run at bullies and squirt their lips with truth, piss, and vinegar. These days, I suppose you also have to pray they don't have a gun.
When I was young, I was so busy running away or chasing after unrequited love, that I didn't see I was surrounded by true unconditional love. I've been unable to write a song about that type of love. The love that accepts you for who you are - where you are. The love that lets you be yourself - unedited. Warts and all. The love that makes you reach beyond yourself and be a little less selfish and a little more giving. A love that's compassionate. A love that listens. A love that lives each day to the fullest and expects you to do the same. A love that won't settle for doldrums and depression. A love that does not want to swallow you, hover around like a mosquito, or pull you under the waves. A love that strengthens. A love that has its own life. A love that knows not of jealousy - only of trust. A love without lies. A love without cages, fences, walls, or borders. A love that embraces faith. A love that sees God. Loves God. But does not fear God or speak for God. A love that does not judge, exile, kill, draw blood, or throw stones.
Perhaps I don't write love songs, because the music has already been written. It perches in my heart and sings its own tune and dances to its own drum. I love to live. I live to love.
My mom said, "Always be who you are. Then you don't have to worry about remembering who it was you pretended to be." She had it right. Perhaps she was a little "off" with her motherly advise in my youth, but for the most part, she had it right. There is such a thing as lip rot. It's the opposite of love. It's hate. And when I see it, I do run from it. A bully is usually just insecure and harmless. But folks who hate, they are a worrisome lot. I don't run because I'm scared of hate. I run because haters usually can't be reasoned with at all. Regardless, Cupid's got my back.
Happy Valentine's Day!
Terri Hendrix
(C)(P) THM Music February 2011
Sat. 2/1/11
Street Date Release: Book (Companion to "Cry Till You Laugh" CD)
"Cry Till You Laugh - The Part That Ain't Art"
Available at my store and Amazon.com
Book signings will be posted shortly.
Sat. 2/5/11 @ 8:00
Port Aransas, TX
Third Coast Music Theater
502 East Avenue G
361-749-4294
http://www.thirdcoastmusic.biz
We'll return to annual Austin and Houston shows Valentines 2012. This came up, and it conflicted with the annual dates. Thanks for understanding.
Fri. 2/11/11
Abilene, TX
Hardin Simmons University
Distinguished Alumni Awards Banquet
2200 Hickory
325-670-1000
Sat. 2/12/11 @ 7:15
Lubbock, TX
Rockin' Box 33 Concerts
SOLD OUT
Fri. 2/25/11 @ 8:00 PM
Dallas, TX
AllGood Cafe
2934 Main Street
214-742-5362
Sat. 2/26/11 @ 8:00 PM
La Grange, TX
The Bugle Boy
1051 North Jefferson Street (Hwy 77)
979-968-9944
http://www.thebugleboy.org
January AZ dates were rescheduled to this March 10th, 11th, and 12th. Please come see us.
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