Dixie and Lullabies

I had a night fit for a child; I had stories told to me and lullabies sung to me. I should sleep very well tonight.

This evening, Secretly Y'All, Tell Me a Story was presenting another extravaganza of righteous storytelling at Balliceaux and the theme was "Down with Dixie."

After attending their last event, I knew to expect half a dozen pre-chosen storytellers to start followed by intermission and then volunteer storytellers from the audience.

Tonight's stories ranged from the picaresque to the socially significant. One was about a southern Sunday dinner and moonshine subbbing for vinegar on collards. Another was about Union spy and Church Hill resident Elizabeth van Lew.

One told of her realization in ninth grade that her parents were racists because of their intensely negative reaction to her being asked to homecoming by a black football player.

One story told by a self-described "New York Jew" was about counter-intelligence work he did in RVA during the 1960s, infiltrating the White Citizens' Council, a group he described as "the KKK in business suits" who met in Hanover County. He remembered how he'd been lulled into thinking that the leader was just a regular guy with entirely different viewpoints.

Another told a tale of making a difference; she and her husband volunteered at the local library two nights a month. When the library board decided to ban blacks from checking out books, the couple met with an emissary from the local black community and let him know that on the nights they were there, everyone could check out books.

One of the most dramatic was by a woman who dated the nephew of the man who bombed the Birmingham church that killed four little girls in the 60s. After the bombing, his mother heard the man say incriminating things and saw the dynamite; she eventually testified against him, resulting in years of death threats. But she had spoken up because she couldn't not do so.

This month's stories were far more dramatic than November's and time and again, I was struck by how powerful it was to be hearing these strangers' stories that I would have otherwise never known.

I was so engrossed that it took me the better part of the evening to finish my glass of (another excellent) Chilean cab and a stellar chai-infused chocolate pate with blackberries and whipped cream. And that's saying something.

Seated on the couch next to me was an African-American guy and during intermission, I asked him how the stories were affecting him; he wanted to know the same from me.

He was struck by how much of the attitudes mentioned still exist and, like me, by how relatively recently things had been so very different in terms of race.

After such a compelling event, I'd have thought that not much could have held a candle to it, but I'd have been wrong.

I'd been invited to an evening of songs, carols and stories in a log cabin just across the river. The Music Tapes is a group who travels around the east coast playing at people's houses at bedtime singing soothing songs. And at this time of year, they add in a holiday element.

The hostess had e-mailed me last week saying she was considering wearing her pajamas to the show and asking my opinion on that. I told her that if it were at my house and people were coming to sing me lullabies, I'd wear my pj's. (Okay, I don't have pj's, but if I did, I would).

So she had on pajamas and her husband had on his slippers and there was mulled wine and baked goods. The two dozen of us were ready for whatever the Music Tapes were bringing us.

And it was quite the holiday lullaby show. The Tapes had three multi-talented members playing musical saw, tuba, toy piano, keyboard, trumpet and more. They'd created a mechanized organ-playing tower with wooden hands that stroked the keys.

They had a bubble machine that showered us with bubbles; I was close enough that they were breaking on my face. There was a circular bird cage holder decorated with Christmas lights with a bell hanging in it where the cage would go.

The banjos were usually played with a bow. We saw a movie of a performing elephant shown onto a pillow the hostess was holding. The plastic snowman and sheep figures sang to us.

"Let It Snow" merited a double musical saw performance. "Night and Day" was introduced as a love song to day and nighttime. There were jokes about genies and Sylvester Stallone. There were stories about Romanian circuses and the song that was used to put out fires before water was invented.

And at the end, we were all given blindfolds (mine was black and white polka dotted) and told a soothing story about the dark, what it does to us and what a friend it can be.

By the time we took the blindfolds off, I'm sure I wasn't the only one in the dark room who wished my bed was in the next room.

Wonder what I'll dream about tonight...

Lend Me Your Layers

Sadly, tonight was probably one of the last nights suitable for a performance on the deck (at least for us thin-blooded types), so I had no intention of missing the potluck and music at the log cabin by the bamboo forest, even if it meant crossing the river.

The last such invitation had resulted in a perfect summer evening, here, ending in a thunderstorm that drowned out our applause. Tonight's show required extra layers, a fire pit and a quilt, but was no less impressive for the musical talent showcased.

We started by eating (chili, homemade pizza, artichoke squares, hot pepper pasta, deviled eggs, bread and Nutella, hummus and pita, mashed sweet potatoes, and pomelo, which we were told is meant to be shared by friends...and was) Mulled wine, hot cider and beer aided the mingling and prepared us for the outside.

The show began out back with most of us on the deck and the rest gathered in the yard just below to enjoy the crackling fire. Our hostess had made homemade marshmallows for toasting; if you knew her, this wouldn't surprise you in the least. When she serves s'mores, she also makes the graham crackers. As far as we know, she hasn't started making her own chocolate yet.

Low Branches gave another of their hushed and pretty performances, with Christina telling us it was only the second time she'd played electric guitar on stage (no one would have guessed had she not said that).

Their set ended with a Jonathan Vassar cover in tribute to his birthday tomorrow. Singer Christina called it "goofy" but the audience loved the rendition, very different from Jonathan's but just as spectacular.

Kentucky's Englishman were next and had added a drummer since I last saw them. Lead singer Andrew has a voice made for folk (sample lyric: "Sometimes I cope with absence with absinthe") and very reminiscent of 70s-era singer-songwriters. The group's harmonies were just beautiful and the addition of percussion to guitar and keys made a nice difference.

Watching the band play was enhanced by the drummer's movements which caused a nearby 5' plant's branches and flowers to move with his every stroke. It made for a lovely visual against the trail of smoke on a crisp fall night.

Their last song contained my favorite lyric, "I'm classically trained to find you in the end." (Hopeful sigh) After finishing, Andrew announced, "Let's drink...until our hosts want to go to bed!"

Driving home later was more successful than driving there; despite multiple previous visits I had gotten turned around in the dark on my way over, although I did finally get to see the river a few streets away. (Ooh, scenic! Boy, am I lost in the dark!)

I fully intended to call it a night, but driving home up Lombardy, I was enticed by the thought of Fight the Big Bull playing at Balliceaux, so I made one last stop. I haven't seen them since they'd played at Duke University with Justin Vernon (aka Bon Iver) and now that they'd played with indie royalty, I couldn't resist seeing if they looked different.

The room was packed with lots of familiar faces and it wasn't long before one of my favorite cabin cohorts showed up, too. There were the usual jazz lovers, intently bopping their heads to every note, as well as the see-and-be-seen-crowd. My favorite bartender Austin had just gotten off so we discussed the show we're both eagerly anticipating next week.

FTBB played an intense set, as usual, and I was glad I'd stopped by to hear all that brass set off so well by upright bass, drums and jazz guitar. The music couldn't have been any more different than the cabin show and that was kind of the appeal. Two very different musical experiences back to back.

Okay, Jameson, it's not a port city, but where are you going to find all that Richmond has to offer?

Take your time. You can get back with me on that.