Finish up your coffee, love

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There was a time when I appeared in nearly all of the press about my favorite coffee shop, Urban Standard. I’ve spent a lot of time there since its 2007 opening, and it serves as my second home, second office and second kitchen. It wasn’t surprising when I was pictured in the original IN guide, or when a friend and I were photographed for a story in a local paper.

But Urban has received a lot of press over the years, and I really do leave the shop for my office and house. As amusing as I found my press cameos, the run couldn’t last.

This weekend it resumed. CNN’s Headline News came to town recently to highlight three of my friend Deontee Gordon’s favorite spots in a “My City, My Secret” segment, and Urban was one of his recommended spots. And of course, I was there all morning the day of filming, meeting with freelance writers. I make a two-second appearance at about 0:54. It’s nothing much, but it IS something to write home about! With 500 miles between us, my parents don’t see me often. This weekend, national television bridged the gap. More importantly, it shows off the lesser-known side of this city.

Today’s subject line is from Jennifer Knapp’s “In Two.”

Makes me tired, and I want to go to bed

I woke at 5:50 this morning, with little agenda for the day and few responsibilities beyond the care of two very playful cats. It’s a refreshing pace after several days in New York, where I spent nearly all my time talking–with friends, with friends of friends, with my sister, with her friends, with the occasional stranger on the street (because I’m Southern, and that’s how we do things). Being a visitor means staying in motion. It was exhilarating, as New York always is.

But I’m an introvert. I crave quiet moments in coffee shops (and I enjoyed a few of those in the City!), and my perfect Saturday morning involves waking too early, drinking multiple cups of coffee, finishing a book and talking only to my feline companions.

Later today I’ll head downtown for a picnic with friends, then perhaps I’ll pop by a used bookstore to sell some of my collection, then the library to shelve books in advance of next week’s sale. But for now, I’m grateful for this peaceful morning.

This morning’s subject line is from Ryan Adams’ “These Girls.”

Here’s to questions that meet their answers

I love Nora Ephron’s work. Nearly everyone who knows me knows how much I adore her movies–or if they don’t know, they surely wouldn’t be surprised by it. I love her work so much, in fact, that I spent last night cooking and mentally singing the soundtrack to You’ve Got Mail. (OK, she didn’t write the soundtrack. But Nora Ephron’s movies are the sort that have soundtracks that stick with me. So there’s that.)

Even so, I can certainly manage a giggle when a writer I admire makes a gaffe in a column. That’s one of the dangers of columns, isn’t it? Your words are intended for what’s hot that day or that week. They may not hold up over time.

The general sentiment of “How to Write a Newsmagazine Cover Story” (Esquire, October 1975, reprinted in Scribble Scribble: Notes on the Media) passes that test. It’s a snarky instructional guide on how to become a writer. (“Reporters have to learn how to uncover FACTS. This is very difficult to learn in your spare time. There are also serious journalists. But serious journalists have TALENT. …”)

Ephron mercilessly pokes at Time and Newsweek writers, listing example after example of how to do as they do. (“Find a subject too much has already been written about.”) “Try, insofar as it is possible, to imitate the style of press releases.”) And the column is very funny.

But it’s also funny to watch one of my heroes, whose screenplays so accurately depict relationships, step so far afield. Rule No. 2 in this how-to guide is “exaggerate the significance of the cover subject.” As with each rule, Ephron includes examples from news magazine cover stories. In this case, those include Liza Minnelli, Francis Ford Coppola and Lauren Hutton.

You know what they say about hindsight. I only hope seeing a great writer like Ephron’s mis-predictions will someday help me take my own in stride.

I also love Esquire so much that I recently forced a copy, featuring a half-naked Brooklyn Decker on the cover, into the hands of a date. “Read this,” I told him. “It’s brilliant.” That may qualify me for “best date ever” status, don’t you think? He emailed two days later, after reading it cover to cover, and affirmed my taste in magazines.

Oh, and the entry title comes from Tara Leigh Cobble’s “Here to Hindsight.”

I am only a caged bird singing

My final assignment as a journalism grad student was to write a series of articles of some length on some topic. At the time, that was an overwhelming charge: What can I write about? Anything? Really, anything? How many stories should I write? How long should they run? I had lots of questions. But in retrospect, I understand why the guidelines for the master’s project were so open ended. Those are the types of questions I answer every day. Reporting and the publication itself determine the answers. I just start with the topic.

My master’s project was a series of three articles about independent musicians. I was fascinated by these people who built careers apart from the music industry marketing machines, and some of my sources had experience both on major labels and off.

Six years after I walked across the stage at Coleman Coliseum, I’m still able to explore music and its industry changes, sometimes through reviewing new albums (self-released, indie releases, major label releases–there’s a lot of great stuff coming from all directions), sometimes through interviewing national and local musicians. On Friday, a couple of Birmingham musicians promoted their evening gig with surprise lunchtime performances at local restaurants. I was there with video camera in hand, and it was such an adrenaline rush to see music performed in an unexpected context. That master’s project was more than a semester-long assignment necessary for my degree; it was the first step toward writing about an art form and business that continues to move me every day.

Gum Creek Killers make two surprise appearances at Birmingham eateries, Birmingham Box Set

(The subject line comes from “The Glass Ceiling” by another Birmingham-based musician, Jon Black.)

Flying biscuits are not the way to a man’s heart.

As part of Food Summit 2010, held in November, FoodBlogSouth and Desert Island Supply Co. hosted a Food Stories storytelling event. Based on the Moth radio program, the event brought storytellers together to share food-oriented tales, told in an open-mic type setting. Since the inaugural FoodBlogSouth was held this weekend, I thought it time to share the tale I told during Birmingham’s first Food Stories event.

Though I don’t fit neatly as part of Gen X (I’m barely too young) or the Millennials (I’m too–well, too lots of things!), I’m comfortable as part of the instant generation. I grew up on instant oatmeal and mashed potatoes. I thought I hated grits until I was in my 20s, when I discovered that they’re excellent when cooked on a stove top instead of being served from a packet. My mom’s a great cook, but when you come home from work and have four kids and a husband to feed, you’ve just got to get food on the table.

And so I began college with little kitchen know-how. That translated into many meals of Pasta Roni, cooked in my dorm room microwave, and the occasional splurge on George Foreman Grill-cooked steak. We didn’t even have a kitchen on our floor, so cooking on a stove top was nearly unheard of.

But I’d heard that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. And so, when my crush and his roommate came to visit, I decided it was a good excuse to venture down to the basement’s kitchen. I rushed to pretty myself up, leaving little time to bake Pillsbury biscuits (which I thought were surely the way to impress an 18-year-old boy. I don’t know what got into me). So I prematurely pulled the biscuits from the oven, then rushed to the dorm’s lobby to meet my friends. “No one will notice if they’re not quite ready,” I thought.

I thought wrong.

Teenage boys aren’t the most gracious people, and the undercooked biscuits became a game instead of a snack. The dorm’s elevator doors opened every time the elevator returned to the first floor, as though a phantom Dorman Hall resident were waiting for a ride to her room. The guys decided to take aim as the doors opened, and my undercooked biscuits became flying biscuits as they sailed into the waiting elevator.

We joked about elevator food for years, but as college progressed my culinary skills improved. My roommates and I hosted many dinner parties where we tested out recipes we found in Southern Living and Better Homes and Gardens, sometimes inviting the same two guys to taste how far our cooking had come. I baked, decorated and hand-delivered Christmas cookies to everyone I knew (leading me to swear off making 300-plus cookies in a single night ever again). I exchanged food for labor every time I moved, and I was still determined that my cooking would eventually snag the attention of whichever boy I was currently interested in. (Because teenage and 20-something boys are just out to date their moms, right?)

When Sex and the City creator Candace Bushnell visited my college campus, a friend was responsible for showing Bushnell around. Talk inevitably turned to relationships, and mine in particular. Bushnell’s advice: Tell her to stop cooking for men. She’s never going to get one that way. I laughed off that advice, but I did become more sensitive about my maternal instincts.

Nearly a decade later, I’m still single and still cooking. My kitchen is no longer filled with jarred pasta sauces and frozen meals, but instead canned tomatoes and loads of vegetables. And though I’m reluctant to cook for a man besides my best guy friend, I’m confident about one thing: Despite Candace Bushnell’s advice, my friends and I surely are eating well.

2011 concerts

    1. 30A Songwriters Festival, including Katie Rogers, Roy Schneider, Mike Whitty, Jon Black, Dannica Lowery, Melanie Hammet, Carmel Mikol, Erick Baker, Keegan Dewitt, Lauren Lucas, Rachel Loy, Jeremy Lister, Callaghan, Dar Williams, Angel Snow and Shawn Mullins, Scenic Highway 30A, Fla., Jan. 14-16
    2. Sanders Bohlke, Gum Creek Killers and the Great Book of John, Bottletree Cafe, Feb. 4
    3. Josh Ritter, Terminal Five, New York City, Feb. 12
    4. Rain: A Tribute to the Beatles, Birmingham-Jefferson Convention Center, March 2
    5. Colin Hay, WorkPlay, March 5
    6. The Civil Wars with the Gum Creek Killers, Standard Deluxe, Waverly, March 25
    7. The Avett Brothers with Band of Horses, Tuscaloosa Amphitheater, Tuscaloosa, April 1
    8. The Great Book of John and K. Taylor and the Twerps, Bottletree, April 2
    9. Guster, WorkPlay, April 4
    10. Jason Isbell with Doc Dailey, Shoals Theater, Florence, April 8
    11. Jason Isbell with Maria Taylor, Zydeco, April 9
    12. Jonny Lang, Alys Stephens Center, April 23
    13. New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival: The Avett Brothers, Mumford & Sons, Jon Cleary, George Porter Jr. and Runnin’ Pardners, New Orleans Fairgrounds, April 29
    14. Dead Confederate plays Neil Young’s Tonight’s the Night, with Lee Bains III and the Glory Fires, Bottletree, May 7
    15. Secret Stages: The Sunshine Factory, Howlies, The Bear, Model Citizen, 13ghosts, Noot d’Noot, Vulture Whale, Dylan LeBlanc, Kovacs & The Polar Bear, The Great Book of John and The Green Seed, downtown Birmingham, May 14
    16. Hangout Music Festival: Umphrey’s McGee, Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, My Morning Jacket, Widespread Panic (one song), Dead Confederate, Foo Fighters cover set, Primus, Avett Brothers, Flaming Lips (a few songs), Motorhead, Foo Fighters (three songs), Old Crow Medicine Show, Drive-By Truckers, Girl Talk, The Black Keys (a few songs), Justin Townes Earle (a few songs), Paul Simon, Gulf Shores, May 20-22
    17. Pine Hill Haints, Bottletree, May 27
    18. Black Jacket Symphony and Alabama Symphony Orchestra present Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, Alabama Theatre, June 3
    19. Joe Purdy with the Milk Carton Kids, WorkPlay, June 9
    20. Mumford & Sons with Matthew and the Atlas and the Low Anthem, Fox Theatre, Atlanta, June 12
    21. Bama Rising, including Alabama, Blind Boys of Alabama, Rodney Atkins, Luke Bryan, Sheryl Crow, Bo Bice, Taylor Hicks, Kellie Pickler, Dierks Bentley, Sara Evans, Little Big Town, Montgomery Gentry, Martina McBride, David Nail, Jake Owen, Brad Paisley, Darius Rucker and Ashton Shepherd, BJCC, June 14
    22. David Mayfield Parade with Joel Madison Blount, WorkPlay, June 22
    23. David Gray with Lisa O’Neill, Fox Theatre, Atlanta, June 28
    24. U2, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn., July 2
    25. O.A.R., Soja and Kelley James, Sloss Furnaces, July 17
    26. Josh Ritter, Mountain Session at Boutwell Studio, July 24
    27. Josh Ritter with Yellowbirds, Alys Stephens Center, July 24
    28. Beth Wood, Jesse Terry, James Casto and Matt Blanchard, Eddie’s Attic, Atlanta, Aug. 5
    29. Justin Townes Earle, Alys Stephens Center, Aug. 11
    30. Gillian Welch and Dave Rawlings, WorkPlay, Aug. 12
    31. Tonal Vision, Birmingham Arts and Music Festival, Stillwater Pub, Aug. 13
    32. Ben Folds, Alys Stephens Center, Aug. 20
    33. Patty Griffin, Alys Stephens Center, Oct. 7
    34. Stranded: A Day of Desert Island Music, Bottletree, Nov. 17
    35. Maria Taylor with Dead Fingers, Bottletree, Nov. 24
    36. Cedric Burnside, Gip’s Place, Dec. 17
    37. Dead Fingers, Monarchs, The Great Book of John and The Magic Math, Avondale Villa, Dec. 23
    38. Black Jacket Symphony presents U2’s The Joshua Tree, WorkPlay, Dec. 30

The sails of memory rip open in silence

Songbook, Nick Hornby’s collection of essays about music, is one of my favorite books. But I disagree with him on one thing: I don’t think associating favorite songs with a specific memory weakens the song’s power. “Life is Beautiful” takes me to fall 2008 (even though, yes, it came out years earlier) and the months I spent listening to little besides Ryan Adams’ Cold Roses. It still elicits a certain emotional response that’s difficult to describe, or explain, because I think it’s far from Ryan’s best work but it still gets me every time. “Raining at Sunset” reminds me most strongly of the day I decided not to go on staff with Campus Crusade for Christ, but it is also a song I turn to when I need to calm down. “The End” now takes me back to seeing Paul McCartney play in Nashville earlier this year, but it’s also my favorite song from my favorite album, and it captures my attention to the point that I can’t accomplish much when it’s playing. It demands my everything.

Maybe age is a factor; Hornby mentions songs that carry you through different stages of life, and he’s experienced more of those than I have. (As I near 30, I think I can look back and reflect on all I’ve learned during my adulthood. But I’m not so naive that I don’t realize there’s so much left to experience.)

For now, at least, songs take me back to the time when I initially heard them, and the events for which they served as soundtrack. Because my work allows me to spend so much time acquiring and listening to new music, each year develops a soundtrack of its own. Check back with me in 10 years and we’ll see if these songs have endured. My guess is that even as these songs become associated with different events, they’ll still bring me back to 2010.

Five from 10: Carla Jean Whitley (from Birmingham Box Set, the Birmingham magazine music blog)

And when I thought about why this should be so, why so few of the songs that are important to me come burdened with associative feelings or sensations, it occurred to me that the answer was obvious: If you love a song, love it enough for it to accompany you throughout the different stages of your life, then any specific memory is rubbed away by use. … One can only presume that the people who say that their very favorite record of all time reminds them of their honeymoon in Corsica, or of their family Chihuahua, don’t actually like music very much. –Nick Hornby, Songbook, “Your Love is the Place Where I Come From”

I closed my eyes, I kept on swimming

My reading habits are a reflection of my interior life. An average year sees 80-plus books pass through it. But the past few years have been busier, more exhausting than usual. Where I normally begin reading as soon as I get home, and spend an hour or so with a book before sleep, I’ve found myself returning home later and too often so exhausted that I need someone to tell me a story rather than engaging it myself. (Thank God for This American Life and The Moth.)

And so, recent years have been down years for reading. In 2009, I read 62 books. With seven days to go, I’m only at 50 books for this year.

As we enter the last week of 2010, I’m reflecting on the 12 months that are drawing to an end and dreaming about what I hope to accomplish in the 12 ahead. Invariably, that look back includes a variety of lists: the concerts I attended, the funniest things people said, the books I’ve read, my favorite albums of the year. And though earlier this week I spent two hours on a blog entry about those albums (to be posted Dec. 31 on Birmingham Box Set), I’ve never made a list of the books I most enjoyed.

I read fewer books this year, but I revisited some great ones. Songbook by Nick Hornby, Here is New York by E.B. White, Looking for Alaska by John Green, When Harry Met Sally by Nora Ephron and See You in a Hundred Years by Logan Ward kept me company this fall. (I can’t tell you why–because I don’t know–but I particularly craved the company of familiar pages during the autumn.)

Three of the best books I read for the first time in 2010 came with similarly strong recommendations, at the hands of friends and family. I deliberated over which Billy Collins collection to purchase when he read at Hoover Library’s Southern Voices conference in February. I’d just finished Ballistics and The Trouble with Poetry, both of which I’d borrowed from the library, but felt I needed to own one of his books as a memento of the reading. (If you don’t think a poetry reading can bring you near to tears and make you laugh, you haven’t heard Collins.) My friend and book columnist Susan Swagler recommended Sailing Alone Around the Room. Collins’ carefully worded observations on everyday life kept me company for the better part of the year. Several of my favorite poems filled the final pages, which made this especially satisfying to complete.

The problem with slim books is sometimes they’re finished all too quickly, and that was the case with How Reading Changed My Life by Anna Quindlen. I read this essay collection during the day after my birthday party, where I received it as a gift from the Donlon family. It immediately found a place on the shelf among my favorite, most-trusted books. It will be a book I turn to time and again, and I loved it so much that I gave my mother a copy for Christmas.

My sister gave me a copy of The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner’s Semester at America’s Holiest University by Kevin Roose, because she wanted to know what I thought of it. Roose left Brown University for a semester to attend Liberty University, one of America’s most conservative Christian colleges. Though my college experience was in many ways different from what Roose experienced at Liberty–I attended Florida State, after all–some of his encounters reminded me of my own campus ministry experiences. Roose’s conclusions weren’t revolutionary. He learned that Liberty kids struggle with many of the same challenges as his friends back at Brown, and Roose found himself enjoying prayer so much that he continued the ritual when he returned to Brown. But those lessons were revolutionary to him. I’ve often wished I could tell my college-age self to take a more complete view of herself (primarily) and those around her. It seems that’s exactly what Roose’s experiment taught him.

William Zinsser’s account of his writing life was a simple pleasure. But it affected me so strongly that as soon as I completed Writing Places: The Life Journey of a Writer and Teacher, I took out pen and paper and wrote him a thank-you note. (Perhaps because I hope to have so many stories to tell after a long career doing the same?) I was delighted, though not surprised, when a reply arrived in my mailbox weeks later.

I am surprised, however, to realize only one novel found its way to the books I most enjoyed in 2010. An Object of Beauty by Steve Martin is a compelling depiction of New York’s art world, as seen through the experiences of a young art dealer and her art writer friend. Martin writes beautifully of the paintings and art objects that populate the story, and the plot itself was so engrossing that it made me late to work the morning I finished. I only had 20 pages to go, and I just had to complete them. It had been a long time since a book made me tardy.

Although the powers-that-be may prefer that I arrive at the office promptly at 8 a.m., I hope 2011 brings many more books that make me struggle to leave the house. I hope 2011 brings many more books, period. My to-read list grows and grows.

The title of this post is a lyric from “Change of Time” by Josh Ritter.