NEWSLETTERS

September 2002
©2002 Terri Hendrix


Happy Labor Day!
Labor Day was first celebrated by the Central Labor Union in New York City on September 5th, 1882. By 1884 the first Monday in September had been designated as a "workingmen's holiday" to honor those contributing to the strength of our nation, as well as to its social and economic well-being. The idea caught on, and in 1894, with over half of the states having adopted festivities, Congress passed an act making the tribute a legal holiday. In honor of Labor Day, I thought I'd revisit bits and pieces of past newsletters and pay tribute to the influential women in my life who've enlightened my path in the workplace and have contributed to my strength and well-being.

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"One day you finally knew what you had to do . . . and began."-Mary Olson
During my twelve years in the music business, I've enjoyed my share of happy trails, but I've also endured equally tumultuous terrain on this journey. Looking back, I know that had it not been for the influential women my life, I never would've begun - much less survived - and still be doing what I had to do.

As a performer and songwriter - and most importantly as a person - I began with little if any belief in my abilities. Thankfully, my friends had a more encouraging point of view - and I learned to see myself through their eyes. They taught me that armed with self-worth, individuality, integrity, passion, and dignity, I could enjoy the journey despite life's unpredictable twists and turns.

These friends continue to serve as my compass. They enable me not just to find my footing when it's dark, but to fearlessly embrace the light as well.

After her home recently flooded, my friend Cathy Frederickson discovered a lone vine growing out of the concrete in a bathroom stall. "See that?" she said. "There's always a way to grow even in the worst circumstances." I remember this optimistic outlook when flights are canceled; when the confirmation numbers for the band's hotel rooms are encrypted codes rendered useless the day of intended occupation; when the sound and/or monitor folks at a gig seem like they're from Neptune and the promoter is their backwoods moonshine low rent relative; when my name's spelled "Teppi Hendpix" on the marquis because the R's have been stolen; when the lack of R's renders me with short-term memory loss as I struggle to remember my lyrics during that evening's performance; when I break a string or two on my instrument in mid-song; and when my allergies create backwash in the reeds of my harmonica.

One time, I played a festival where a rooster was solo but struttin' around the audience. These chicks in the front row egged the rooster on, and soon enough, my performance was a big yoke. I still gave it my all, though, because my guitar teacher, Marion Williamson, taught me that those who come to see a show deserve no less. Not only that, but in the worst possible performance situation, the one person I'd like to impress most will likely be in the audience. On another occasion, during lunch, a fellow songwriter sauntered up to our table and told me, "One day, you'll get bigger. You just need exposure and to do more songs that people like." Marion immediately responded, "And one day you'll make more money, put weight on your skinny bones, get a lil' sun, and hire your own band so you can play the type of show you so adamantly advise."

It takes courage to stand up for yourself and insist upon being treated with respect. After years of enduring shabby treatment at the hands of their employers, Tammi Hendrix and Kirstie Campbell (both devout loyalists) quit their jobs and opened their own company. Having never been perceived as real assets to their corporation, they flew the coup - and below company radar - and a year later, they bought out their former employers. They keep debt low and office morale high, and they treat others as they wish to be treated. They are a constant reminder for me to never accept being overestimated or underestimated.

Another important influence, Jana Green, has provided me with much wisdom: the virtues of the file cabinet; "he who gossips to you will gossip of you"; what's locked remains a secret; you're only as smart as your input. Be fireproof, balanced, and organized. Have a back-up. Be where you're expected to be. Keep your drawers on. Correspondence is stored to keep the forgetful honest and the liars scared.

Writing and playing music are what's most important to me. It's something I need to do. The business of music, meanwhile, is something I do because I have to pay the mortgage and because it allows me to create with as few obstacles as possible. There are real musicians who have day jobs and real musicians who don't, and real musicians don't have a bumper sticker claiming which category they belong to.

I don't believe in handbooks, secret handshakes, schmoozing, and playing head games to reach higher rungs on life's ladder. I believe in sweat equity. In time, hard work pays off. Sometimes the greatest rewards, seldom seen by others, are found within the folds of the respect we garner for ourselves in the process.

My "divas" encourage me to celebrate what's unique within myself as I continue to seek my own voice within my art. Their collective school of thought is that in the end, it won't matter what level of success I've attained but how I conducted myself in my quest for it. I knew what I had to do, and I began. I'm still beginning. Every day. But not without my heroes every step of the way.

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Speaking of heroes, three thousand and fifty six innocent people lost their lives on September 11. Uncounted thousands more lost a sister, brother, daughter, son, wife, husband, parent, niece, nephew, aunt, uncle, grandparent, cousin, friend, neighbor, employee or employer. Perhaps that's where the attackers made their mistake. One violent hate crime discriminated against us all, and for the first time, we stood united. By standing united we had strength. As we continue to mourn and rebuild together, maybe we'll be like that lone vine crawling out of the concrete and find a way to "grow even in the worst circumstances."

Warm regards, Terri Hendrix
(c) THM Music 2002
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