As some of you will recall, I have been playing for brunch at The Black Dog cafe in Snoqualmie on second Sundays this summer. (The last one scheduled is Sept. 8, but I hope to continue on after that. Please Like me on Facebook with the widget on the right to get updates.) It is a wonderfully relaxed atmosphere in which to play, and I enjoy it very much.
The Black Dog is more than a cafe, and more than a music/theater venue. There is always a variety of art, antiques and crafts to peruse and to buy, and always a friendly, talk-to-the-folks-at-the-next-table kind of atmosphere.
Occasionally it gets quiet and slow…
At other times, I wonder if I can be heard above the happy sounds of food and friends.
It is so relaxed and laid back at The Black Dog that I have to force myself to get into proper clothing (not pj’s and tshirts, Cynthia!), and maybe even do my hair. Which, it turns out, is hopeless. The Black Dog is a hip, hap’nin kind of place, but I seem incapable of looking even remotely hip and always seem to end up looking more like Mary Ann from Gilligan’s Island.
But I don’t play the Black Dog to feel like I could look good in leather. Nor do I play the Black Dog for the money, which is minimal. I play there because I love the musical freedom and the warm reception. (And the coffee.) Last week as I looked over at the little tip jar between tunes, I thought, “I don’t need that.” And then I thought about my true reasons for playing there and decided to add one more.
Once upon a time there was an innocent creature, a donkey named Pasado, who was hurt, and hurt, and hurt some more until he died. Do you remember? I cried when it happened and have cried over it many times since. Just writing about it, I am crying now. That unfathomable event summed up the worst of humanity. The sanctuary that was created in response to it sums up the best of humanity.
When I was a little girl, our father died and our mother went to work while we were in school. Working moms were not as common back then. During the day, whenever I was not at school, I remember feeling like there was not a soul on earth who would protect me if I needed it. I remember every danger, every close call, and a few incidents where I did not escape harm. A psychologist might stroke her chin and theorize that my tears for Pasado are tears for my own vulnerable young self. Surely there is some truth to that. But I survived and grew strong whereas Pasado did not.
Starting with my next visit on September 8, 100% of the proceeds from my music at The Black Dog will be sent to Pasado’s Safe Haven animal sanctuary. I really hope you will come to The Black Dog on a second Sunday morning, enjoy the food and some harp music, and leave a few bucks in the jar for animal rescue. Thank you!