Spanish Guitar and more

I was going to add this to my response to Patrick's thread, but I didn't want to hijack his thread of wonderful music. I have been working on putting together a concert of classical and Spanish guitar music for the benefit of the oldest church in Colorado, Our Lady of Guadalupe, which is located in the tiny town of Conejos, Colorado, right on the New Mexico state line.

I got in touch with the church, sold them on the idea, designed a flier which I have distributed all over southern Colorado, contacted radio stations to make public service announcements and newspapers to place the event in their entertainment section. Michael has never had a chance to have his music showcased in quite this manner before. He's very professional and often plays for events at the extremely upscale Broadmore Hotel in Colorado Springs where George Bush stays when he comes to town. Still, I can sense Michael's feeling a bit of anxiety about the upcoming gig - or maybe I'm projecting my anxiety onto him. I'm not clever enough to figure out how to download a bit of Michael's playing for you all to hear, but he's almost as good as Patrick!

This is the first time in a long time, I have ever attempted something so ambitous. It would be wonderful for all concerned if we get a good turn out. If it's a success, I can't tell you what that would do for my self confidence. I feel it would be a big step forward in my effort toward rehabilitation, it would be great for Michael's career, and it would help a worthwhile cause all at the same time. Below is my news release about the event. I know there are a couple of other cellurites in Colorado, so guys come on down! Wish us luck!


News Release:

If you have ever traveled in southern Colorado, chances are you will have passed by Conejos, the town where the oldest church in Colorado, Our Lady of Guadalupe, is still holding services and has an active parish. Should you turn off the main highway and drive the half mile or so into Conejos to see the church, your eye will be caught at once by the beautiful stained glass windows which adorn the interior of the church. These windows were payed for by members of a very humble farming community around the turn of the last century when the old church had burned down and was rebuilt on the same site. I can only imagine the sacrifices those Hispanic farmers and their families must have made to put each window in place. Every window has the picture of a Saint and underneath the name of the person in whose memory the money for the window was contributed. It is a humble little church of simple and dignified beauty. I am always awed by the faith of the people who helped build it.

I have formed the habit of stopping by that church every time I am in the area and it never fails to awe me all over again. Some years back, I was going through a time of great personal difficulty. I was raised in the Christian church, but as an adult, I had set that faith aside as being irrelevent in the modern world. At the time of which I speak, I wanted to find something to believe in again, maybe not the God of Christ, but at the very least, a higher intelligence which motivated the universe. I felt as though my spirit had a giant tear in it and all my courage was flowing out of me. I tried praying, but my prayers were blank, meaningless words sent out in morse code to the indifferent stars. It was in this state of mind that I walked into that little church on a beautiful autumn day at the end of one September. I was the only person in the church at the time, so I sat down in the pew next to the window dedicated to Santo Nino. I crossed my arms on the pew in front of me and leaned down my head and began to whisper a prayer. I told God of my grief, my quest for some spiritual path in my life, my deep remorse for the mistakes I had made in my life, and I begged for forgiveness. Tears began to flow from my eyes as I prayed. When I looked up at last, bright sunlight was streaming in through the window of Santo Nino. To my surprise about 5 or 6 people had entered the church and sat in pews at a respectful distance from where I had been knelt in prayer. One person was praying herself; another had tears in her eyes as well. These people all looked at me with compassion and kindness. I was filled with the sudden realization that I was not alone; that other people just like me were seeking the guidance of whatever God they might understand, and I realized that God IS, and that God's existance was being reflected back to me in the eyes of those people around me. I felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and my courage came back to me, and I knew I could step back out into that September day and go forward with my life - whatever it held in store.

As I left the church, I picked up a copy of a little misselette from a stack near the door. On the cover was a picture of St. Michael, the archangel, slaying a dragon. I discovered that this was Michaelmas Day, as celebrated by the Catholic Church. Shortly there after I met a man who was named Michael Galvin. He had been raised Catholic (as I was not), and had been named for that very same St. Michael on the cover of the misselette. Michael literally saved my life by alerting me to the fact that there was something wrong with my home furnace and calling public utilities in Colorado Springs to come to my home and check it. The utilities worker told me the carbon monoxide levels from the furnace were so high in my home that I could have died in my sleep that very night. But for Michael, I would not be typing this letter to you today. I had been very adversely effected by the prolonged exposure to CO that I had unknowingly undergone. In the months that followed, Michael stood my firm friend, and when no one else was there, he would always come.

Michael is an extremely gifted musician. He plays classical and Spanish guitar. It is difficult for a classical guitar player to find a venue where people will actually listen - all too often, players of the classical guitar are consigned to gigs at restaurants where they play background accompaniement to the clatter of dishes and loud conversations.

I owe the Church of the Lady of Guadalupe and its parishoners a profound debt. Had that church not been there that day, I might have given into despair and been lost for good. I owe Michael a profound debt as well. He saved my life. It seems to me to be a perfect completion of the circle to hire Michael to give a benefit concert at our Lady of Guadalupe. The acoustics in that old church are wonderful. People can come and listen to him play for no admission fee. At the conclusion of the concert they may make make a good will offering for our Lady of Guadalupe if they wish to do so. All proceeds will go to the church and its parish.

The concert will take place on September 24 (almost 6 years to the day of my experience there) at our Lady of Guadalupe in Conejos, Colorado at 7:00 pm. Conejos is probably about a 2 and a half hour drive from Santa Fe. The Aspen will be near their peak by then, and the drive over highway 17 from Chama, New Mexico to Antonito, Colorado and the neighboring town of Conejos should be spectacular. I think your readers would enjoy the drive, the church and the beautiful music. I invite them all to share this event with me. I very much hope you will see fit to publish notice of it in your paper. I have attached an informational flier.

[Elspode]

How exciting, Mari! Good for you and Michael! The flier is very nice, and it is a touching tale you tell about your love of this historic edifice. All of my best wishes go to you both in this endeavor. May it be successful beyond everyone's wildest dreams.

The experience you describe is a succinct and elevating tale of what true spirituality and religious revelation is all about. The uplifting of the human soul, the gaining of the realization that you are a part of larger whole, and that none of us walk alone is a tremendous gift...and that gift is not the specific province of any one religion or any particular deity.

As for Michael being "almost as good" as me, well, if he plays classical and Spanish guitar, I assure you in no uncertain terms that he is by far the better artiste. I'm a hack, I know I'm a hack, and I'm okay with that. The skill and discipline required to play what he plays is beyond anything I ever dared attempt, and I hope I get to hear his work some day soon.

Thank you, Patrick, for your gracious reply, and here's hoping for good luck to us both in our musical endeavors. September 25th rocks!