enjoy the second quarter of 2008 by having one new and fulfilling experience in April, May, and June. Woo Hoo!

here’s what happened.

round 3 of the competition was at the river room, a restaurant with large windows as see-through walls and a ceiling that changed colors constantly like an indecisive kaleidoscope. it was located at the top of riverbank state park, perched on the edge of the hudson – a few blocks from my apartment, conveniently enough. there was the washington bridge all strung up in lights and the shimmering blue water and the craggy hillside that was so beautiful, you had to be reminded that you were looking at jersey. my mother thought it looked like san diego – san francisco, even. harlem can always surprise you.

aside from taking time to talk to God and warming up my throat with some vocal excercises and a pot of lapsang souchong tea, i don’t remember what i did to prepare for the competition that day. i remember thinking that there was nothing that i could do to get ready, that in a way there is no “getting ready” at all. me in that moment was the summation of every voice lesson, every music learning situation, every gig that i ever did anywhere. and because everything compounds everything else, all those lessons i learned elsewhere – from waiting tables to that crummy soul-destroying day job – got me ready for this moment, too.

still and all, i wasn’t taking anything for granted. i needed some objectivity and a lot of feedback so i took a voice lesson the day before, from nancy marano, one of the judges from the first 2 rounds. i have to say that i love her voice – and as a vocalist, i honestly can’t remember the last time i heard someone sing and something sparked in me and i thought, wow. her voice is so warm and so full of feeling, it almost hurts to listen to her. she is so for real – there’s just no other way to put it. as finalists, the organizers of jazzmobile offered us a free voice lesson with a select group of teachers so i called her but her daughter was getting married. after the 2nd round, she gave me her card.

taking a lesson from her was the thing that made me refocus and change things up in my approach. i got rid of the songs that i had chosen and went with 2 songs that she and i picked out of her numerous fake books. most importantly, i got into the swing of things – inside the swing of the song, with phrasing choices, rhythm variations and other harmonic ideas. as nancy herself so eloquently put it: she didn’t teach me anything new. she reminded me of what i’d already known. i know what that’s like, when you’re cleaning out your closet and you find a dress you thought you gave away. and you put it on and it looks amazing on you and that whole other part of you that lights up whenever you wear it is suddenly in bloom in this abrubt surreal way that is so compelling and visceral, it makes babies and small children wave at you in the street like they know you. yeah, that’s what its like.

that’s what i brought into the 3rd round with me when i showed up on my friend’s arm, wearing my favorite silk DVF wrap dress and heels that caused enough pain to slightly distract me.

the place was packed. thankfully, there were 2 videographers and 3 photographers – though who knows who was “official” and who wasn’t. i was relieved that there was documentation. as luck would have it, i was dead last. not an especially long wait, but i didn’t have the luxury of getting it overwith and then lounging on the patio afterwards – though i did have a chance to tell naisha that my friend said that nancy was basically yoda and i was luke skywalker, and that the force was strong in me and she basically showed me how to use it. he’s quite the star wars geek. he can draw those george lucas comparisons to any situation. yoda, it seems, is everywhere.

my performance was a total blur. i can tell you that i was somewhat surprised that no one else mentioned that it was juneteenth. so i did. and i said my songs were about the south, sort of. and then i sang “willow weep for me” and “gone with the wind”. (heh.) i remember feeling that i did my best as i sank into my chair, and that filled me with sweet relief and a blissful kind of glee. i don’t think i could have lived with myself if i crapped out or something.

the judges disappeared, we did a little jam session, and then alyson the mistress of ceremonies sang and then they came back out and someone passed a slip of paper to her and she called the first name. emilio cruz, who makes beautiful horn lines out of nowhere. out came that gigantic check. he had a whole table cheering for him. it was lovely.

and then there was this weighty pause. and suddenly i realized that my stomach was flip-flopping all over the place – not because i was nervous but because i was starving. besides that pot of tea, i hadn’t eaten anything all day long. as that thought dawned on me, alyson called my name but before she did, she blurted: it’s my baby girl! that’s how it clicked in my head that i’d won.

i went up to the stage amid a flurry of cameras and flash. i felt my legs shake and want to give way. as we took pictures with the officials, the judges and anyone else, i couldn’t stop saying thank you. (i still can’t.)

i feel justified and vindicated and validated and released, all at once. i suppose i could say that i’m happy but that’s what i am, anyway. it was more than that. it’s a beautiful thing, to feel so much love from so many people, all at once. it was pure joy.

yesterday was the 125th birthday/anniversary of the brooklyn bridge. when i woke up and saw a picture-perfect sunshiny blue sky day, i thought it would be cool to be a part of that somehow, so my fiance and i took a train downtown and walked across to the brooklyn side and had lunch in an irish bar. and then we went next door and got some pretty amazing hot chocolate. the bridge was densely crowded, to say the least. of course i forgot my camera but everyone around us seemed to have one. they would stop abrubtly to snap an impromptu group shot, as though there was absolutely no one behind them or around them, and that – along with the bicycles, the baby strollers, and running children – created these sudden massive snarls that almost undid my patience.

and foreigners, foreigners everywhere! i mean, sure—in nyc, everyone is from someplace else. if you spend any time at all in the city, you get used to being surrounded by people who aren’t necessarily native speakers but this was borderline wacky. oh, well. it’s the nature of the beast. as the dollar weakens, there will be less of an incentive to skip town for a vacation and more european tourists on the scene in the most mundane moments of my nyc life.

on the way, i called my 92 year old father to tell him all about it. he told me about the waterfall in the east river. (hm. something else to check out.) at the top of the bridge, they gave away fake old timey looking certificates that declared your loyalty and love to the brooklyn bridge – i thought it would be cute to send that to my father, that he’d get a kick out of it.

there was also a brass band that played new orleans style jazz, and so inside of all the aforementioned stop and start confusion, there was a spirit of revelry and merriment, and an audience for the music – people formed a fairly thick half circle around the musicians to enjoy them and automatically created a dance floor, though only one couple actually took the bait. they were dancing like they were drunk. or high. or both. i remember the woman wore a little purple pointy “happy birthday to me” looking hat that was strapped to her head, laced with purple fringe. it was pretty obvious that they were as much a part of the show as the band was. ew. we kept it moving.

later, after pointedly deciding to take the train home, we impulsively walked back across the bridge to manhattan and found the #2 on william street.

my reward? i ran into some people i hadn’t seen in ages: ola, this really lovely african woman that everyone mistakes me for, as well as her husband and her little girl, whom i held in my arms when she was about 2 weeks old. she’s 6 now! (that kind of freaked me out…) and aisha, a harlemite/grad student who’s phone number i keep losing.

all in all, i’m glad that in some small slight way, i was a part of history. and yes, i wish i’d taken a picture of the bridge—although it was ultracool that ola’s husband took a picture of the two of us.

yesterday i went to have dim sum at grand harmony palace in the heart of chinatown with two friends who happen to be chinese and native new yorkers—miona is from the bronx and evan was born and raised on mott street. they both speak chinese as well, which isn’t always the case with the children of immigrants. usually, the push is to make their children and themselves as american as possible. by the time they realize that what they are is american enough, it’s usually too late. but that’s not the case with miona’s parents, who still don’t speak english. as i walked to our table in the restaurant, i could fully understand why.

the room was awash in red fabric on the walls, with chandeliers and gold touches all over the place and bright yellow seat covers and tablecloths that made everything look elegant and drab all at once. everywhere was a flurry of activity: babies crying, children laughing, old people chatting, everyone eating, and starchly uniformed servers with these huge layered trays on sturdy wheels moving slowly through the room like metal oxen, pausing for a moment at the hint of a signal that anyone wants anything at all. it was easy to make them stop where we were because miona loves food and evan was starving.

i followed their lead, pointing at things, then asking them to tell me the names of the things that i liked, then pronouncing them badly until they stopped cringing and i won their tentative approval. white teapots filled with crysanthemum tea were constantly refilled. if i wanted my tiny cup refilled, i tapped my finger next to the cup and kept tapping until it was full enough for me.

dim sum is the asian equivalent of english high tea but much, much tastier. it’s like a heavy snack (yes, i know—that’s oxymoronic, but it’s true). i love dim sum and i’ve certainly had it before but not in a place where that’s all they served at that time of day. and the experience of being the only black person in a gigantic roomful of chinese people was more than a notion.

one of the things that miona and evan couldn’t stop talking about was my impending nuptials in charleston, south carolina that are happening approximately a year from now. interesting but true: they have never lived outside of new york city. they both went to college in the area. miona travelled to southeast asia recently for some months and had great adventures but before that, she’d never really left home. so the south is this great mystery and they’re both wondering about the asian presence there.

what i’m trying to show them is that there has been a strong chinese presence in the south since reconstruction but they don’t seem to know a lot about chinese-american history in general. so i’ve promised them a reading list, documentaries, and welcome packages filled with maps and things to do when they get there. clearly, they want and need to be primed.

we’re already planning to have lunch in harlem somewhere soon. maybe the new italian restaurant up the street from me. i’m not sure. next weekend is already earmarked for english cuisine at my favorite anglo spot: tea and sympathy on greenwich.

all in all, a new and exciting experience. next month: i’m getting my learner’s permit!

when you live in new york city, it’s so easy to fall into a daily grind that blots out the world. and that’s kind of bizarre, because compared to other parts of the country, everything is here. it’s kind of like going to a lavish exotic smorgasbord every night for dinner and walking away with a tuna sandwich on your plate.

some time ago, i promised myself that i wouldn’t live that way, that i would make the best of my time in the city. i got a membership to the Met and set aside one day a week to visit museums. i figured that since there was at least 100 of them in the city, i’d stay busy. and i was right. it got the ball rolling in the right direction. my fun day expanded to include apontaneous day trips, exotic foods, long winding walks exploring the city and of course, cool friends. like beauty day, when fun day isn’t there, i feel it in the rest of my life eventually.

that was an important lesson to learn: that if you don’t set the time aside for whatever it is that you want to do, it just won’t happen.

being a part of this group is one of those tools i have in my secret arsenal that guarantees me a certain amount of equilibrium in my world. i’m elated that this ball is still going to roll. count me in. it’s going to be a great year.