Ghosts From the Past, Do You Believe?

A_young_Lindsay_in_the_Gatineau_River_w_Mutti

Many many moons ago, I used to live on Queen's Road in St. John's, Newfoundland. My two room-mates and I shared an awesome home with high ceilings, a fire place, bay windows and a back porch, all within seconds to work. We all worked in the service industry and there were aprons, black clothes and change scattered all over. It wasn't in our interest to be clean freaks, but rather to have fun. And fun we had. All of us in our twenties, we were experiencing life on our own with no parental help and all the freedom, hope and aspirations we could bear. When we moved into our three story 100 year old house with majestic staircases, beautiful moldings and bright windows, we were all wide eyed and bushy tailed. Three single women interested in boys, music, wine and take out, we had nothing to lose.

My_old_house_in_St._John's

Strange things used to happen in this house. We would be sitting on the couch talking about all things interesting within the circles of our small world and both candles on either end of the mantle piece would spontaneously go out at the same time. One morning I awoke to find the flowery gold framed mirror, which I had purchased for pennies at a garage sale, turned upside down at the end of the stair well. All of us were in awe of the little and unusual happenings within the walls of our quaint home. Soon thereafter one of us found out that the home had been lived in for more than fifty five years by the same family and that the maternal head of the family had passed away while enjoying a bath, only six months after the death of her husband. Turns out she died of a broken heart A story of true Love at its finest. One of the girls lived in her room and would wake to the sounds of keys jingling in her bedroom door and then the sound of footsteps walking on the wooden floor beside her bed.  

Through_the_keyhole

Most things could be explained... wind, imagination, dreams, etc etc. It wasn't until one afternoon, a few hours before I was to start my late night shift down on George Street at one of the finest, dirtiest, coziest, pubs in town, that I decided it was time to face my fear and take a bath. Showers were easy enough, I could get in and out as fast as can be, lights on, music blaring, no problem. On this day, however, I had the place to myself and was craving the hot comfort of a soothing bath. So, I got the water to temperature, put the plug in and walked away. When I came back to swirl the suds around, I noticed the water was tepid, almost cold. I never thought much of it, maybe I had the cold water tap turned too far on??? I took out the plug and released the water down to it's home under the streets and tried again. Turning the hot water tap on and sure that the cold water tap wasn't turned too far to the right, I found the perfect temperature and plugged 'er up again. I walked away. When I came back to check, the water was cold again. I was feeling a little uncomfortable at this point. So I drained the water once more and this time, barely added any cold water, the water was so hot coming out of the tap, I could barely touch it. When I reached down to insert the plug in, I actually felt the water turn from hot to cool. There would be no bath for me. Showering was fine. I had a shower and left.

Vintage_clawfoot_tub_w_shower

I was freaked out.  To be able to have a shower, no problem. One hot water heater in the house. Plumbers have scratched their heads in trying to explain this one. The next day I told the girls that I tried to have a bath. In unison, the colour drained from their faces and together they said "But you couldn't!" They too had, unbeknownst to each other, also tried drawing a bath on different occasions and were also unsuccessful. A week went by and my friend, the one living in the same bedroom as the couple who had passed, went to have her Tarot cards read. After the reading, the "seer" told her that she could see an elderly woman's energy around her with the name of Jo. She said that Jo was lost and needed to find her way. Relaying that the elderly woman who had died in the house that we were  presently living in (and less than a year before,) the Medium instructed all three of us to tell Jo, who's actual name was Joan (!!) that she could leave. She could go home now. I was a little more freaked out that the other two girls, so I could only talk to Joan when I was exiting the house myself... "Okay Joan, you can go home now! This is not your home anymore!" I would say, as the door behind me closed....

A few months went by and we all left that house to leave for an epic  Spring adventure to Ireland. But not before, around Christmas time, I was sitting in the living room, counting my float and I heard people walking up the stairs. I leaned over the banister and saw the look of awe in the eyes of who I assumed to be the family of one of my Newfoundlander room mates.... I went upstairs to interrupt the 'getting ready for work' rituals of one of the girls, who hadn't been expecting anyone. We went down to greet the guests but they were consumed by the house, talking about where "Mum had the Christmas tree on the other side of the room" and "Oh! This clothes closet used to be the pantry" and so on... turns out Joan's children weren't ready to spend their first Christmas away from the house they grew up in......

Years later I often think back to that moment, when complete strangers entered "our" home without knocking. How could they knock on a door they had freely run in and out of for their entire lives? One day, maybe I might find myself in the same situation in a 'what goes around comes around sort of way??? Well. The day finally came. Eight years after my Grandparents left their (our) family home, (death comes to us all) I had the chance to return to it and all of the memories within. It was a soulful experience and I am pretty sure my Mutti (Grandmother) was right there with me, feeling all the feels. Being in that home after all these years, this past Christmas was most definitely a Holiday highlight. The way the front door creaks when it closes, the weight of the wood stove window when you try to shut it, the heaviness of the sliding glass doors out to the balcony over-looking the Gatineau River, the scent of the laundry room (and the original orange wall paper, still there!!) The sticky cutlery drawers... All those memories... Living on.....

Forget_Me_Nots

A Flash of Light

A_beautiful_vase_of_fresh_flowers

Sometimes being a singer pays off! You never really know what you are going to go through before, during and after a performance. Sometimes there are nerves, fretting, worrying etc but most times it feels normal somehow and exciting. You never know. In this case, where I was gifted those flowers, I was singing outside at the Wakefield Market, and there was a down pour! People were huddled under umbrella's and tarps and the rain was a moving sheet between us. It wasn't until someone mentioned they saw sparks coming out of my amp that I decided to call it quits (until the heavy rains subsided.) It's true, I did feel small shocks when my lips touched my microphone! I stepped away, drank some coffee, ate a breakfast sandwich and then returned to the grassy stage. It has always been a favourite place to play. A gift of fresh flowers is always appreciated. Which reminds me of the first time I received flowers after a performance... I was eighteen years old and the lead singer in a musical called "Anything Goes." I remember my eight year old cousin stepping out of the audience and up to the stage to hand me roses... It never gets old, let me tell ya!!!

Sean_Sisk_photo_at_Ottawa_Bluesfest

You know what else doesn't get old? Singing! I Love to sing. Singing has carried me through almost every kind of situation; good, bad and everything in between. Strangely though, I am extremely critical after a performance and have a hard time taking in all the Love... I wish it were different, I am still trying to figure out HOW to let go of the mistakes I make while I am on stage or the frustration of having a bad sound mix. I know there is no way to really hear what it sounds like outside of the stage, no way at all, so I should just be okay with that, but I always wonder! I find it almost impossible to watch a past performance and am mostly dissatisfied with it when I do see it. Darned ego. There are times though, when I am thrilled with and on cloud nine from a show. It doesn't happen all too often but it is in these moments where I gather up the courage and Love to keep going! Profound moments that show me the light and erase all self doubt. Thank goodness for these flashes of light! However, I doubt I could ever stop. The joy from writing a new song (when it's really good!)  is seldom found anywhere else. In my living room (studio) alone is actually where most of the magic happens. But I am here to share it, and I try my best. 

Shawn_and_I_in_funny_mode_at_The_Cadillac_Lounge

One of the best things about playing with other musicians is not having to be alone on stage, so when you screw up you can laugh at each other and share the Love. It's true! When you see two people laughing at each other on stage during a song, you can pretty much bet that a small mistake has been made. In this particular case however (above photo) I am pretty sure we are just having some silly fun. This is also another reason to play with other music makers... there is more joy for sure! Traveling with others can be expensive and the pay out from the gig is MOSTLY not worth it, sadly. This is why I tour mostly on my own, but if I could bring a few band mates, I most definitely would!!!

The_Black_Sheep_sign_on_Water_Street

Sometimes along the way you come across real gems to play in. In this case (above photo) I found another listening room by the name of Black Sheep. To be sure when having the poster made for this particular show, it had to be stated that THIS show was not in Wakefield at our beloved Black Sheep Inn but rather in the streets of St. John's. Let it be said that there is NO better room than a listening room. A rowdy bar is no place for a singer and songwriter! (Took me long enough to figure THAT one out.) I guess after a few years of writing, recording and touring, little tidbits of wisdom STICK! Also, I highly recommend that if you are in this line of work, buy your own SURE 58 -universal- microphone. You would NOT believe how stinky some of those mics are out there... Not to mention the colds you get! Since I have been using my own mic, I have reduced sickness ten fold. Truth. You may look like a diva of sorts, but forget about it!

Me_and_my_big_fat_mouth

Whenever I get back home (wherever home is, I have a few, and am ever SO grateful!) People often say "How was your vacation?" Instead of "How did the tour go?" I find it funny that so many people think that when I travel, it is a vacation that I am on. It is very rare that I go somewhere without a gig booked (or a guitar.) It takes me months to get ready for atour, what with booking, rehearsing, promoting, practicing, and more. This a a real job for me, actually MANY jobs all in one. Yes, I have fun and the places I go to are most definitely seen as travel destinations but let it be known that my job actually never ends. There are songs to write, lyrics to perfect, emails to answer and more! I am forever grateful that I get to see so many spectacular spots and share my music with an amazing amount of Music Lovers! As awesome as it is, it's hard work and most of it I don't even get paid for. Thank goodness for those flashes of light!