Posts with tag: "Hayes Photography"
Saturday, March 28, 2020
By Hayes Photography
“The mountains are calling” is more than a cliché. For me, it’s a reality.
In the warm summer breeze across the lake, the wind atop a mountain, or the crunch of pines below my feet, I hear a voice say, “Isn’t this beautiful? We are so lucky!” It is the voice of my mother.
Since 1941, my mother’s family has spent every summer camping in the Adirondack Mountains. I was nine months old when my mother first took me, along with her four other children, camping. We stayed in a big, green army tent, down the way from our grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. For weeks, we would share in the simple pleasures of the wilderness: climbing mountains, hiking trails, sliding down waterfalls, and swimming in clear, cool lakes. We played Scrabble on the beach (Grandma always won), built sand castles, picked blueberries and (begrudgingly) did chores. At night, we sat around campfires, singing tunes from the 1920s. Four generations of my family marveled at the beauty of every setting sun, every shooting star, and every glorious moonrise. Before her early death at the age of 53, my ever grateful mother would say, “Isn’t this beautiful? We are so lucky!” And lucky we are!
Today, my cousins, siblings and I still bring our children to the mountains, where we share the joys of a simple life, under a thousand slumbering pines. There is a profound sense of peace that flows along a babbling brook as the words of my mother reverberate through mountain cols. At the summit of every mountain, the wind gently kisses my face as it whispers to me. My mother’s words prevail. And the mountains are calling.
Patty Cooke
Guidance Counselor
Webster Schroeder High School
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Thursday, March 26, 2020
By Hayes Photography
I thought I knew which kind of musician I was, which also meant I knew which kind of musician I wasn’t. I was an orchestra teacher, classically trained, but not really performing anymore because (insert excuse here), hard stop. As a kid, I had a Beatles shirt for every day of the week. I loved the harmonies, the symphonic nature of it all. I loved to sing, but would get so nervous singing in front of people that what came out was a choked, breathy mess. I wanted to be a classical violist and the 5th Beatle the way that kids want to be both an astronaut and a mermaid.
My husband, Josh, navigated the transition from aspiring classical pianist to real world teacher/performer better than I did. He was even in a band! He worked on songs and I would add harmonies, suggest lyrics. Pop music was my love, but this was his thing, until, just like my Beatles, his band disbanded. With a collection of songs that he and I had worked on together and deposit already down at a studio we needed to do something.
Josh suggested, in 90’s rom-com fashion, that I “was the bandmate he was missing all along.” I wasn’t convinced. Being in a band was literally a dream come true, but I didn’t write music and I certainly didn’t sing it. He saw my musicianship as something more comprehensive than I did. He also recorded me singing into his phone. It wasn’t bad. If it wasn’t me, I would listen to it. We reworked the songs in our image, adding vocal harmony and viola. We named the band after my grandma, Stella Hill. We wrote string parts (because orchestra rules) and, for our album release performance, my Webster colleagues played with us.
We didn’t have to be whatever we thought we were.
Elizabeth Ristow
Music Teacher
Klem South Elementary
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