HOSPITAL-ity?

I hate hospitals. Who doesn’t? But lately I have had to be in a few, too often. It was an education. What you are about to read could save your life…maybe. Bottom line, always bring someone in with you to be your advocate. (Preferably someone who can bust balls and ask questions.)

The world of cancer is one that was foreign to me until my mother was diagnosed with “Thymoma”. They found a tumor the size of a friggin’ grapefruit behind her heart. It certainly changes everyone’s lives when this monster is introduced to a family unit. (and friends). It’s like it has it’s own culture, and you don’t really know it until you are in it.

We found out back in December. I didn’t write about it. But the day mom was about to get her results to see if radiation did the trick (well, that and a huge open heart type surgery where they had to crack open her chest to get the alien out), I mentioned it on social media. The outcry of support was overwhelming in a good way. And then, we found out that she beat the mother fucker! Gone. 6 weeks of radiation. No Chemo! One of the happiest days of our lives.

Now back to the hospital -ity.  The food sucks. I don’t get it. People spend a FORTUNE to be in a hospital. They need to eat healthily, if they have any appetite at all. After surgery, the slop looked worse than you would imagine prison food. We smuggled in some good stuff for Mom to eat. Shouldn’t putting healthy food in one’s body be a priority?!!!

In the middle of mom’s radiation treatments, she got pneumonia. She had to go back to the hospital. Same slop. She spent 5 days in, then they gave her steroids, and she got better.

After radiation was over, she came down with pneumonia again. Back to the slammer.

COME AND GET IT!

After 6 days, they took a cat scan because she was not improving. 6 days of getting stuck with IV’s and crap food again.

I went down with her for the scan. They didn’t even know down there that she had a tumor removed. They knew nothing of her recent history.

Then I called the doctor’s office who was to examine her results. I called and punched the option for doctors. I was able to speak with a human to pinpoint when the doc would see mom. Waiting sucks, right?

He showed up in the room, and said she had a worse pneumonia then last time. And he said “We should have a bioblablablascopy” done asap.

Me – “What’s that” I ask.

Doc – “Well, we go in and take a piece of tissue from the lung to figure out what kind of pneumonia it is.”

Me – “Does that require surgery?!”

Doc – “Yes.”

Me -”You mean, you put her under and cut her?”

Doc – “Just a small piece of tissue. She is out the same day”.

Me – “My mom has just gone through a huge surgery, 6 weeks of radiation, and two pneumonia episodes. Don’t you think her body has taken enough? Isn’t there a plan B?”

Doc – “Well, because we are not sure what kind of pneumonia she has, we don’t know what the right treatment would be until we determine what kind”.

Me – “Well, what kind could it be, and if so, what are the treatments?”

Doc – “Well, there’s a kind you can get from radiation damage”

Me – “And what is the treatment for that?”

Doc – “Steroids”

Me – “And the others?”

He names of a couple I can’t pronounce, but with the exception of a couple of types, the cure was steroids!

Me – “So, why wouldn’t we try the steroids first, and if that doesn’t work, then do this surgery?”

Doc – “We could do that.”

I sat there with my jaw dropped open. Me. Speechless….but not for long.

Me – “Well, why didn’t you suggest doing that in the first place?”

Doc – “Well, we could do either or, ummm, it’s not like I would suggest something that wasn’t the right thing to do.”

(Besides being defensive, he also seemed annoyed by my questions.)

I beg to differ. That’s what I thought. Sounds like a way to generate income. It actually blew my mind that he didn’t even mention it until I pushed. Why would that not have been the first thing he suggested?!!

Mom jumped in and opted for Plan B.

And even if I were not there, she would have done the same – questioning like I did.

But imagine if a patient was weaker, or less assertive, or less inquisitive?!

Mom started the steroids that day. She was home the next. And the steroids did the trick to the undetermined type of pneumonia she had.

And of course, the best news was that 2 weeks later, we found out she had beaten the cancer with radiation.

But again, what if….?

My mind is overwhelmed with so many what ifs. For every patient! I’m not insinuating all doctors are ass clowns at all. But how often do people go in for surgery when they don’t need it? It’s kind of like how we build tanks we don’t need, just because someone is making money.

It’s a war out there wherever you are! Just stand your ground, ask questions, and eat healthy!

LOVE, LINDA!

P.S. My heart goes out to anyone suffering from cancer, and for those who loves someone who does.

FOR NON-MOTHERS & MOTHERS

If you don’t have any kids, and it’s Mother’s Day, things can get weird.

No flowers. Eventually I thought I’d get a bouquet.

Of course celebrating the due respect and love to my Mom is wonderful every year! Showing my appreciation for her raising me, and giving me unconditional love my entire life.

Of course, it’s lovely to celebrate mothers, period. It is the most important role of the world, in my opinion.

Women are the stronger of the two sexes, no doubt about it. But somehow we fail to pass on the peaceful gene to men. Not all men, just the ones who resort to violence. I read this poem this morning.

Written by ~Julia Ward Howe, 1870

“Arise, then, women of this day! Arise all women who have hearts, whether our baptism be that of water or of tears!… We women of one country will be too tender of those of another country to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs. From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own. It says “Disarm, Disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.“

The poem goes on, and just goes into detail of how senseless war is.

Mother’s Day was originally made for the purpose to call upon women to unite in their strength, compassion, wisdom, and non-violent ways, to influence men…(boys) to stop fighting!

WTF? Nothing changes.

Which bring me back to our exclusive, minority group of non-mothers. That would be me…and maybe you.

I guess there are 3 reasons why we don’t have kids.

1) We can’t for physical reasons

2) We don’t want them

3) We wanted them, but it just never happened. We did not have the balls to take the big step. Or find the right man attached to the balls.

I’d like to elaborate on number three. It was a tough call for me, starting at age twenty, when I first got married. I felt like I was still a kid…let me wait a couple of years. Then those couple of years past….let me wait a couple more years before I get tied down to that responsibility…then a couple more years…let me travel a little bit first….then a couple more years…I’m not sure I’m going to spend the rest of my life with this man….let me wait a couple more years….no, not that guy…let me wait a couple more years…hmmm, I better hurry if I want to have kids…then a few more years…aw, fuck it.

But did I really want them? YES! I wanted to be a mother. I still do! I would be a loving mother. Children are so precious! I want one!  I talked myself out of it for the following reasons…starting with THE number one reason.

1) The future does not look too good. (Refer to poem written by Julia, who had no idea what new toys men would invent for more efficient killing machines.)   (This is also a very convenient excuse for not having the balls to take the big step.)

2) Boy would that change my life style! I have hung around children having tantrums, and say to myself,

“HOLY SHIT. I DON’T WANT TO DEAL WITH THAT!”  While at the same time wondering if I had to deal with that, how would I handle it? Sometimes I think Mother’s are too understanding, and give in when their kid is demanding their way. But many display an extraordinary amount of patients and love. They are fucking superstars! I don’t know how you do it, but my compliments. You are incredible. I was told that I was a bit of a brat, too. Sorry Mom. (This is why you should go all out on Mother’s day for your Mom!)

But I know for sure I would never resort to violence….hitting my kid. I’m sure it is difficult to not lose it. I watch Mom’s struggle when they can’t control their child. But I also want to take a kid away from a Mom I see at a store, for example, squeezing or yanking their kid’s arm inappropriately. (Some women should consider birth control more often.)

3) Although having a child with your DNA is amazing; creating a “mini-me,” if I did actually have the balls to grow up and take on the responsibility of a child, I would have also considered adopting. Too many kids out there that need the love of a mother already.

4) Vanity

5) Scared it would hurt too much! (What a pussy I am!) If I did have one, knock me out, and wake me when it’s over

6) My work. Singing in bars, (with smoke back then) I could not imagine myself on stage with a big belly, with my guitar slung over my shoulder, sucking in second-hand smoke. (I can’t believe it took so fucking long for that law to pass!) BTW – SHAME ON YOU MOTHER”S WHO SMOKE PREGNANT, or around your kids.  I’m one of those people who says something. (I am such a judgmental biatch.)

7) Finding the man I could commit to – to be the Daddy.

Well, that’s about it. And after all of that, no kids. I was hoping one day Mother’s day would not just be for my Mom. So it’s a little weird.

HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY!

Please pass this on to any woman you know without a kid.

I’m sending you a bouquet for just being a loving woman!  (Knowing we will never know the love of our own child is hard, but we’ll get over it.)

Happy Weird Day Sister

P.S. I have given birth to 6 albums and a book. They are my kids.

TO BE SAD…OR NOT TO BE

That is the question that torments me.

I realize there is so much good in this world. And for those of us lucky enough to experience these wonderful things, sure life is great.

But there are SO many people who get the short end of the stick, and that is putting it mildly.

There will be no humor in this blog.

What I struggle with daily is knowing how many people suffer on this planet. How much injustice there is and has been. How many souls have been tortured. How many innocent people have been killed. And how many people get away with so much. It blows my mind.

The dilemma is, will being miserable help? No.

Will being happy help? No.

Does being happy while people are being murdered, raped, beaten, screwed over by the 01%, humiliated by power, starving, suffering, sick….etc -

make me feel guilty about being happy? Yes. Sometimes.

Does this happen to you?

I watched a TED presentation this week. It was about statistics of how many females are murdered every year. “It’s A Girl”. Evan Grae Davis’ film.

It broke my heart to hear a woman confess on film that she murdered 8 of her newborns. Strangled and buried in India…because they were female.

Here is the trailer.

And what else is really fucked up is that there are 49 people that hit “unlike”. Sure it’s been seen almost a half of a million times, and liked by 1,600 and change.  Of course we all have to live with sickos. And most are good. I know that. I know that. But still….

I want to do something about it. I want to help at least one girl! Fortunately, Evan lives right here in Tucson, and we actually met during my show at the Folk Festival. So I am hoping my words can be more than words.

Then I go on facebook and see this beautiful child playing the violin in tears. And it was an uplifting story of music, sort of.

(He dies.)  And music is powerful. It is, but it’s not the answer to everything. Our hearts are in the right place when a musician writes a song.

Regardless, it really is difficult to be conscious of these atrocities and not be sad. Many of us are very lucky to be happy…to have the luxury of being happy. I think I might be envious of those who can skip around through life and be happy. What is your secret? Please share it…but even if you do, I will feel guilty for even asking. How sad is that? I’m going to do my best to make a difference.

Diego

YOU CAN CARRY A GUN – BUT YOU CAN’T CARRY A BEER

On Cinco de Mayo, I made my debut in Tucson. I had never performed here before!? My folks retired here eighteen years ago, and we just moved here full time…so it was about time.

Well, actually, Friday was my premier. I sang for the Sunrise Drive Elementary School 5th grade class. I love kids. (Most of them, anyway.) I told them about singing the National Anthem at Fenway, and we all sang it for Boston. And the kids sent good wishes from Tucson. They were very sweet.

Then I taught a songwriting segment. The great thing about songwriting is there are no wrong answers. You can write what you want. Some people may not like it, (and it may suck), but you are the ruler of your universe on paper. You are free as a bird to express yourself.

I think the kids enjoyed not having the pressure of risking doing something incorrectly.

They were adorable and willing.

Now as an adult singer-songwriter, I take risks. I write what I believe. And not everyone will agree with my views. It’s one thing to have it on paper, but then to sing it in front of a group of strangers….who may or may not be armed? That ain’t the classroom anymore. (At least for now. Heaven help the future.)

SO, last weekend was the “Tucson Folk Festival”. I performed on Sunday. Saturday, Scott and I went to check out the scene. We were sitting in this very cool venue at “The Old Town Artisans.”

It is located on the site of El Presidio San Augustin del Tucson, the fort built by the Spanish in 1775 to stake claim to the northern frontier of New Spain. And it is wicked groovy! If you visit Tucson, it is a must, with a couple of restaurants, bars and shops inside.  One is called “The Cantina,” which not by coincidence, is the name of my new “risky” song.

We were watching these folk singers. Then a woman came up to the stage, dressed in one of those cool African hippy type shirts, and made an announcement. She said, “Make sure you don’t take your beers outside.” You will have your license taken away if you are caught by the police. It is illegal.

I thought to myself, and then blurted this out in the crowd. “You can carry a gun, but you can’t carry a beer?!!?” And then I got inspired to write el songo.

On our way out, we bumped into a couple of musicians we saw play. They were great! “Puca” A duo with Dave and Claire. I dug their playing so much that I asked if they wanted to sit in on a couple of songs with me. Then I asked them, is it really true that you can carry a gun around the streets, but not a beer?

They started chuckling at this absurd law, and confirmed. Dave then said, “You can shoot the beer, though.”

That night I was all excited to write my new song. I had not been inspired for a while. Once you see the story, it’s easy to write.

Scott was reluctant. He said, you might not want to sing something about guns here. You may lose your crowd. And risk potential popularity.

Fuck that! I’m writing it. It’s what I feel. And I know at least half of Tucson probably feels the same way. I’m gonna do it!

Sunday morning I put my words to music. And there were a lot of words, as usual, and I had to once again, cram them into a blender to fit them in the measures. But if delivered correctly, it works. If I stutter, I’ll trip.

No pressure. It’s just my first show ever in Tucson. On the radio, no less. There was no way I could memorize it with my 53 year old brain.

I had Claire, the awesome Celtic drummer hold my lyrics. And Dave sat in on mandolin. I made my disclaimer announcement, before I began the song…

“I’m going to screw this up for sure, cuz it’s new. But, I’m goin’ for it. I hope you don’t shoot me!  Here goes…

I had a couple of good friends come to video tape with professional equipment. There are 4 stages at this event. I was on the main stage. Unfortunately, they set up on a different one. So I did not have the video and I was bummed. I wanted to watch my new baby being born!

An hour later, I found this posted to my facebook page!!  The quality sucks, right into the sun, but it was better than nothing, and a pleasant surprise. Thank you Heidi Jordan! Unfortunately, my speaking intro was not on tape…but it is on the radio broadcast.

Okay. The word Cockatillo that came out in the bridge – was supposed to be ocotillo, which is a beautiful cactus here. But I tripped over my tongue.

The rare cockatillo plant

This week I went into “Wave Lab Studio,” in Tucson and started cutting the tune for my next album. I am bringing in kick ass Mariachis. It’s going to be FUCKING AWESOME!  YEEEEHAH!

DON’T LEAVE WITH YOUR BEER!

Well, I hope you come visit our new Artisan town!  Maybe you can make the Folk Fest next year. I had a blast, and thank them for having me. It’s a dangerous world. Thank goodness Arizona has taken precautions and those 5th graders won’t get any beer spilled on them if their out on the street.

Peace,

Linda

IT ONLY TAKES ONE TIME

Today I received a letter from a girlfriend of mine, who is doing doctor type humanitarian work in Ethiopia. She is confident, tall, and streetwise.

She told me she got mugged yesterday. She’s okay, but nevertheless it shook her up. And the only casualty was her twenty dollar phone. It happened at about dusk. She noticed someone was following her on the main street, but then she turned on the side street of her route home, and naturally, he followed her.

This is what I wrote back to her.

Ah ma gad!

So sorry this had to happen to you. Jules- it only takes one time.

So often I hear people say, “Well it never happened to me,” sounding unconcerned when I advise them to conceal their money and credit cards in a different place other than a wallet in a back pocket.  (And urging not to carry so much cash.)

I had a similar experience to yours at age 24 in Paris.

Cheapo that I am, I took the subway home at 11pm even though my dinner date had given me 100 francs for a taxi.

That could last a week in 1984 for baguettes, Beaujolais nouveau, (which was my “training red”) crepes, and other cool junk!  It’s only 8 francs for the metro!

There were only 2 guys in my subway car. One African, and one white guy with a really bad complexion and a twitch.

Both of them bothered me on the train. Both got off at my stop. Just my luck.

The person behind the booth was counting money and I hung there for a while, while the African guy loitered in the stairwell.

He finally seemed to leave, and I started my 200 yard brisk walk to the apartment where my friend was staying, and I was crashing.

As I was leaving, white guy starts walking with me.  He said in a thick French accent,

“Don’t worry about the black man. He won’t bother you.”

I said in my big coat I paid 10 francs for in a thrift market, “I’m not worried. I have a gun.”

There was not a soul on the street! Not one.

He continued with me to my door, where there is a code to get into the hallway.  I said, “Well, I’m home. Nice to have met you. Good night.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” He kind of irritably asked.

“Uhhh, no. But thanks for walking me. I appreciate it.” (And from our small talk conversation on route, I had noticed there was something off about him, mentally.)

He said, “I save your life, you American pig, why you don’t ask me in, ungrateful!”

At this point my girlfriend hears us. She is on second floor looking out of the window.

I say to him, good night. But I can’t open the door, because it would be worse to be trapped in the secluded hallway!

He said, “Are you scared?”

I said, no.

He then pulls out a knife. “Are you scared now?”

I shout up to my friend, “Lisa, he’s got a fucking knife! Call the police!”

She leaves for a moment and comes back to the window. “I don’t know how! I just tried, ” as she returns with a frying pan in her hand, like that’s going to do any good up there.

He puts the knife towards my face and I push him away. I say to the guy, “I don’t like using my gun if I don’t have to.”

(And of course I don’t have a gun, duh…I did have a croissant in my pocket that I took from the expensive dinner I was treated to.)

Just then an old man comes towards us. The FIRST person to see on this fairly Main Street.

He says something in French, something like what are you doing?!

I quickly put in the code and slam the door!

The two argued and pushed for a bit. I was worried about the old man, as I unsuccessfully tried to call the police.

They eventually went away, no body of old man hero left. So I thought he was okay.

Scared the shit out of me….and I can’t remember if I cried. Too long ago.  But I was scared.

I felt guilty for not staying out there with the old man, but I was young, dumb, and a bit selfish. Now I’m old, a little less dumb, and would have stayed for the battle with the old man.

Be careful. Next time go into a place BEFORE you turn on secluded street. Use your twenty-dollar phone to call a friend, tough guy….or follow your instincts to say this could be bad, and to even find a stranger who seems normal to walk you the rest of the way.

I did that in Morocco twice, when being followed. And it worked.

That’s my random streetwise lesson for the day.

Bonjour!

Making the Book a Movie!

The Book Business as an Indie requires investing. I was very excited to be in the biggest book fair in the world….L.A. Times Festival of Books. It was my first. And it hurt a bit like “the first time,” but slightly left of center. (In my pocket.) Because my book is 412 pages with pictures, it costs a lot to print it, so there is not much room for “profit” at 20 bucks a book.

This is how a book fair works if you are at all interested. You have to shell out a ridiculous amount of money for your booth. There were over 1,000 authors there with hopes that their story will be read by anyone walking by. (And purchased, of course!)

I, on the other hand, of course shooed away the children. “This book isn’t for you….it’s for Mommy and Daddy!”

Apparently, there is a large children’s section. I kind of cringed when a kid read my title and started giggling.

So, for 1,250 dollars, you can be in your stall, kind of like those prostitutes posing in windows in Amsterdam. I turned about 25 tricks a day. Not bad for a cold call. Unfortunately I would have had to sell a shitload more of books to actually make a profit. (At least I shared the booth with fellow Grammy member, author Jim Berkenstadt, “The Rock and Roll Detective,” who wrote ,“The Beatle Who Vanished”, about the missing one time drummer, Jimmy Nicol.) His book has an Amazon Best Seller sticker. So, I decided to add a sticker to “Who the F$&# Is Linda Chorney!”

People asked me a million questions about the book. After a while I started losing my voice, and said, “Just read the back, and then I’ll answer your questions”. It was exhausting. It was fun, but it was work!

Believe it or not, I kind of thought the point of having a booth at a book fair was to make a profit.

But I learned the point is to get the word out. There were many writers, reviewers, and Hollywood types looking for  new ideas for a movie. Well, here I am! Cameron Crowe did not appear, but I got a few leads on him! And I gave him a shout out on all radio programs I did.

One book purchaser used to write for Rolling Stone Magazine, and knows Cameron…and Chris Carter, host of Breakfast with the Beatles, who also got the book, knows him, too! I hope he likes the idea of Sandra Bullock for me. (Although I have never heard her say, “fuck”.)

I began filming the documentary…”Making the Book a Movie”.  (I am not sold on that title.)

Day one of shooting was at NPR studios! I am so excited to finally have the press hear my story…the real story, including the big ending. (I won’t spoil it for you.)

And if you have read the book, there is also a chapter where Lucinda William’s producer, Eric Liljestrand, shows up at my performance in L.A. before the Grammys. After the show we talked about working together in the future…and the future became the present last week!

We wrote a song together, and recorded it at his studio. It was a blast, and not only is he a Grammy award winning Producer, but also a kick ass songwriter, guitarist, bass player, engineer, and singer! The song is called “Optimistic”. It was inspired by all of the crazy shit going on in the world, and fortunately, Eric and I have a similar view. (My heart goes out to Boston.)

There was a moment where he said he heard similarities of Chrissie Hynde, Anne Murray and Karen Carpenter, in my voice, in the middle of comping my vocals. I turned and said to him, “I’m only going to say this once for the record, even if it is defensive. What really bothered my about taking all of that shit for my nomination is that I can sing.”

He said, “I know you can. Now move forward and make another great record.”

So, that’s also what I did in L.A. I finished three more tracks for the album, while also promoting my book for whoever would listen to my story, while filming my documentary, searching for the missing….Cameron Crowe.

Sure, I’m still open to Scorsese or Sandra Bullock’s own production company. Call me!

The good news…and bad news? I now have a few leftover books, (40) of the First Edition – Limited edition writer’s cut, before I go to print on the corrected, less fucked up version, where the 92 typos have been corrected…such as “taken a back”, referring to cymbals as symbols, calling the FAA the FCC, an aisle an isle, and a few extra apostrophes.  It is the collectors item if you want to snag one, to highlight what a dumb ass I am. But if you do read the book, (my last defense of the careless typos) I had to get the book out ASAP because of the ending! AHHHH!

Click here to purchase, and save a buck!  (The next edition is going to be 21 dollars.)  Hope to see you on my tour! Coming to East Coast!!

HOW ABOUT CAMERON CROWE FOR MY MOVIE?!

I just wrote a letter to Cameron Crowe. I think he would be the perfect director/producer for my movie! Why not? I can dream.

I actually met him with his wife Nancy in Madrid at a little restaurant, when I was on my way to Morocco…alone! This was around eight years ago. I’m sure they don’t remember.

I sang in the streets, even in Morocco, where they were not used to seeing women do that sort of stuff.

I had an awesome shot of me jamming in the square in Marrakesh, next to a guy with a chicken on his head. I can’t find it, damn it!

The only good thing about that biatch, Superstorm Sandy, is that I can always use it as an excuse for my lack of organization.

So I actually wrote to the only email address I found on Cameron’s website.

What do you think the chances are that he will respond?!  And do you think he will let me star in it?

I am seriously going for an Oscar next.  (Maybe not best actress, but certainly best picture and original screenplay!)

This year has aged me. So, I will consider Julia Roberts or Sandra Bullock to play me!

Feel free to have your people call my people. We can do lunch in L.A. next week when I am there to do the Los Angeles Times Book Fair. Booth 833!  April 20 & 21st.

Mwuah, Mwuah, Mwuah!  (That’s the sound of the chic fake three kisses on the cheeks that the French do!)