Terri Hendrix

NEWSLETTERS

January Newsletter
©2002 Terri Hendrix

Happy New Year everyone!
I've had some wonderful time off. I repainted the music room in my house. That may not sound thrilling, but it sure gave me an unexpected thrill. See, a few years back I bought a 1500-CD holder that's as tall as God....a wooden structure that I painted yellow and blue. I hoard my CD's in there like a dragon with his gold, with every CD properly alphabetized and categorized. Anyway, to paint the room I had to move the dang thing, and since I'm stubbornly self-sufficient, I decided I'd do it myself. Well....as you might imagine....I moved it all right--and it turned over! Yes, 1500 CD's plus a toy collection that sits on top came crashing down on me. My dogs, Jessie and Carolynn, took off, and there I was....gasping for breath. Every move and a CD would crack. Steve Earle crunched underneath my arse. I know, 'cause I eventually removed shards of his debut CD from the seat of my pants. A year ago, this would have ticked me off; this year, I laughed it off. Whew! No broken bones!

A one-hour project turned into a weekend-long ordeal, but I listened to many old CDs that I'd forgotten I even owned: Joni Mitchell, Rickie Lee Jones, Warren Zevon, Mary-Chapin Carpenter, and my favorite of all time, Ella Fitzgerald. The CD holder fell with such force that yesterday I found my old friend Tom Lehrer perched by my bookcase in the living room! I even found a CD out by my backyard fence, but I quickly surmised that Jessie had helped himself to some music, which he then took outside to chew on. As you might imagine, I now see my CD collection in a whole new light. I hope I can appreciate everything in 2002 without dropping it on myself.

For Christmas this year, I was given a crock pot, so I've been a queso-makin' fool since. Every family function, I've brought the queso. My mother politely asked me to leave the spinach, corn, black beans, and tofu out of the batch I made for my father's b-day. She met me at the fence and promptly proceeded to inspect under the lid to see if any of the banned substances had been included—thus having not been crocked to Hendrix standards. Perhaps I've been using my creativity in the wrong department. Most of my time off has been spent working on new music in my music room. Not to brag....but my dogs like everything but the harmonica parts. I'm excited, because this week we start recording in the studio for the new CD. I'll keep you posted on how things go. I'm not sure when it will be released, but we're shootin' for June. I can't wait to start playing out again so I can test the new material "live."

Happy New 2002! May this be the year of the palindrome! To wit:

Do geese see God? Go hang a salami, I'm a lasagna hog. Are we not drawn onward, we few? Drawn onward to new era? May your yin meet your yang and your dogma ... well, you get the point! And if you have a CD holder to move....good luck!
Warm regards,
Terri

Terlingua Surprise
Journal Entry - 1997
©1997 Terri Hendrix

One of my favorite places to visit is the Starlight Theatre in Terlingua, TX, a quaint oasis just outside of Big Bend National Park. They serve the coldest Shiner Bock on tap, along with some great food. One year, just before Halloween, I took Lloyd Maines to the Starlight for a Terlingua experience. We’d arrived early for the show so we could set up, and as we began to unpack all of our instruments, cords, etc., I noticed we were short a microphone cable. Tony (singer-songwriter and local barmaster) told me to check for one in the back, so I left Lloyd to change my guitar strings, clean my mandolin, and tune my instruments (hee hee … just jokin’), and off I went on my cable quest.

The closet was very dark – and spooky. And because it was Halloween season, there were cardboard witches and pumpkins too, and … best of all … a fake tarantula on top of one of the boxes.

Let me backtrack here.

Lloyd is scared of bugs. No, really! They bug him. No buzzing around the issue. Well, spying the tarantula, I had an idea (yes, this happens sometimes). Wickedly, I decided I’d scare Lloyd with the faux tarantula. Ha! But first, I had to reeeeeaaaach it with my hands. No luck. So I grabbed a cardboard pumpkin and used it to flick the scary-looking furry thing toward me.

But something funny happened when I tried to flick it. IT MOVED!!! I swear, I screamed a pitch that could have topped any Mariah Carey note off any album -- I mean, watch out, VHA Divas!

I bolted out of that closet yelling. Lloyd’s head, peering down at my mandolin, jerked up, and Tony ran out from behind the bar. I did my stuttering best to explain what had happened, then proceeded to introduce them to my furry little friend.

Lloyd paled as Tony said, “Oh, no big deal. We get ’em in here all the time. Welcome to Terlingua.”

Where's My Purse?
Journal Entry - 1997
©1997 Terri Hendrix

Here’s my top road story from 1996. I have loads more, but this one really warms the heart. Bill (upright bass), Lori (road crew) and I (local lunatic) crammed into my small Toyota pickup and headed toward West Texas. We had the entire back of the truck loaded all the way to the top of the camper shell with sleeping bags, food, clothes, guitars, P.A. equipment, and Bill’s upright bass, “Bertha.” We planned on camping in Terlingua after our gig in San Angelo.

On our way out of town, we stopped off at the house of Cathy (friend and fellow local lunatic) and convinced her and Tommy (ditto) to meet us in Terlingua. Mission accomplished, Bill, Lori and I jumped in the truck and drove and drove. We stopped to get gas, figuring we had an hour to go before arriving in San Angelo. When I went to pay for the gas, though, I couldn’t find my wallet, ’cause I couldn’t find my purse. Then it dawned on me: I couldn’t find my purse ’cause IT WASN’T IN THE TRUCK!

Now, friends, let’s pause here a second. I’m not a woman who carries a small purse. I carry a purse only slightly smaller than a compact convertible. Everything’s in there. In fact, if you’re ever having trouble locating your children at one of my gigs, check the purse: chances are, they’re happily playing in one of the pockets. Okay. Now, on top of the fact that the purse was missing, I also had money from CD sales in the wallet -- $900 worth! The checks and cash had been shoved in there until I could make it to the bank. So Bill insisted that we drive all the way back to Canyon Lake and check the roads for the purse.

No purse.
No purse.
No purse.

“Hey, have you seen a purse walking around?” No purse.

At this point, I figured if we sped, we could still make the gig in San Angelo. Chris Tuck at Raphael Tuck & Sons’ Old English Pub (now called the Steel Penny) would be mighty sad if we cancelled. So we drove and drove, and made it to the gig. We had a blast, the crowd loved us, and we got a huge tip.

Ha! Fooled you (about the huge tip). The crowd was beautiful though, and we did have a blast. I love good people. These folks want music from the heart, and we want an audience with a heart, so we left San Angelo with smiles on our faces. Although I was still sad from my missing purse and wallet, I remember thinking, “This is why I do this. This is why I play.”

The next day we were up with the dawn, and … you guessed it … we drove and drove to get to Terlingua. The sun was just peeping her head over the mountains. We pulled up to the campsite, and one of our friends said, “Hey Terri, Cathy and Tommy have your purse.”

What? The purse had been discovered in the road by a Canyon Lake resident. She’d rummaged around until she found my driver’s license, and when she saw I was a resident, she took it to a nearby gas station. The girl at the station knew that a woman named Beth knew me. Beth worked at a local business called The Summit, so the station attendant called Beth at The Summit and brought her my purse. Beth knew that I used to live with Cathy, so she called Cathy at work. Someone at Cathy’s work told Beth that Cathy was on her way to Terlingua with Tommy. So someone took the purse to Tommy’s house and got there just as he was walking out the door. Then Cathy and Tommy brought the purse to me in Terlingua. Phew!

Think of all the people who handled my purse that day. And guess what? Not a single dollar was missing!

I first met Jason Best at a San Antonio restaurant called Biga, where I used to play regularly. We hit it off and soon became friends. One Thursday, Jason said to me, “You need a Web site.” I said, “Webwhat?” I had no idea what he was talking about, and frankly, I thought he had maybe had a lil’ too much vino or poppy seed dressing on his salad. Well … one night after Biga, Jason introduced me to something he called … THE INTERNET. I spent two hours with him and still had no idea what the Internet was. The night wasn’t a total loss, however, as Jason did show me how to make a smiley face on the screen :). But I left feeling like the Internet was never gonna make it. I chuckled to myself, thinking,“That poor dude.”

A few weeks passed, then Jason said, “Hey, I have that Web site for you to look at.” I just paused and said, “Okay … thanks.” Later though, I decided to view the Webwhat over at the home of my friend Jana (mailing list/email list keeperupperwither). Jana and I looked it up and … WOW … pretty cool! This Webwhat was kind of neat. About a week passed, then a couple approached me at a gig and said, “We want to see you play again. How do we find you?” Hmmm … I cleared my throat like Mickey Mouse and declared, “I have a Web site.” They were impressed.

Suddenly, it felt really cool to have a Webwhat, even if I had no clue what it did or how it worked. Now, of course, I do most of my business over the Internet, and all of us email each other. And somehow, as you read this, we’re meeting, though we may never see each other in person,. The world turns pretty fast. Welcome to our Webwhat, and thanks to Jason Best for pulling me into the 20th century! :)

back