year of the accordion – Jill Domschot

Las libélulas doradas

The last two evenings while playing my accordion, I witnessed clouds of gold hovering in front of my house, stretching across the street. I rose and stepped up to the large front window so I could see what the clouds of gold were. They were dragonflies, hundreds of them. I’ve never witnessed hundreds of golden dragonflies before; it was as if I’d entered into another realm or a place of spirit or magic, made even more magical by the glinting of sunlight flashing on my accordion. If only I were a visual artist I might capture my golden accordion flashing with lights surrounded by these dragonflies, and it would be a powerful image of something intangible. Sadly, I’m not.

Please believe me; I’m not an occultist. I’m a Christian, which means I firmly believe in the realm of the spirit, and I also believe God communicates to us through both natural and supernatural means. That is, dragonflies are part of the natural world, just as butterflies are. If you’ve been following me for long enough, you already know white butterflies have been an important symbol to me. When I’m being silly, I call them angels, but I truly believe God has used white butterflies as a means of encouragement and confirmation in my life numerous times, whether they are angels or not. Did I mention there was a dearth of white butterflies during the pandemic? I can’t explain it, but that was the reality. They’ve all but disappeared now, as well, when they are usually numerous at the start of August. Of course, the heat has been record breaking this year, and I don’t expect the usual to occur under such extremes.

Perhaps preparing to work on my delivery driver book, last night I dreamed I was working alongside my character. We were in the warehouse loading the delivery truck together; we drove around in his sweet personal truck together (yes, I gave him a 1978 Silverado because I’m benevolent to my characters); we went to the gym together later in the evening. At the gym, a few golden dragonflies flew around us, and the voiceover that’s been prominent in my dreams lately said, “The time of butterflies is past. Now is the time of dragonflies.” Laugh if you want, but that’s what my dream narrator said. And surprise — I just glanced up from my screen and a lone golden dragonfly flitted through the front yard.

I love to consider such ideas of the natural and supernatural meeting — of a God who created beauty and gave us a spiritual life as well as an intellectual one. I can’t imagine what it would be like to dwell only in the intellectual. Even though that is a human tendency, I’ve tried to push myself to discover the world that exists outside my head, not to mention the one that dwells in the places normal eyes can’t see. In Ephesians 1:18, the epistle writer says, “Open the eyes of their hearts, and let the light of Your truth flood in. Shine Your light on the hope You are calling them to embrace. Reveal to them the glorious riches You are preparing as their inheritance.” I want the eyes of my heart to be open to all the riches, all the wonders God has prepared for me. It’s a different seeing; it’s not superstitious, and the riches are not of this world. But what is the truth of dragonflies? I don’t know. Butterflies brought and still bring, as far as I’m concerned, a sense of hope for the future. Perhaps dragonflies are a different kind of hope — a more mature one. I don’t want to overthink it. Finis. May God bless your week.

Una página más

When I was out walking the other day, this song began to play on the list Spotify had created for me. It’s not a new song, but music is a living, breathing art form that affects the soul, and I suddenly heard the lyrics for the first time. Or, I should say, they impacted me for the first time. It is, I guess, my current theme song. I will post the lyrics and a video below. Yes, of course I’m now learning to play it on the accordion. It’s by Los Cadetes de Linares. I don’t have the energy to translate it for you. I don’t do that when I listen to songs, anyway. Head translation is a difficult hurdle to leap over when conversing in a second language. I can happily say on some level I understand song lyrics I’m familiar with and don’t have to go through the tedious process of translation. Anyway, most people know at least a little Spanish these days. The English-only movement in this nation seems to be dying with the boomers and silents. It was always a stifling stance, albeit one that colonizing nations use to defeat other nations — any language suppression, that is, not just English-only. The Spaniards obviously used this tactic, too, or Latin America wouldn’t speak Spanish. This is because language is an essential part of culture.

I didn’t start this meaning to be so long-winded. I have no moralistic attitude towards colonizing nations; this is simply the history of the world. I have rather more an educative attitude towards it. Speaking multiple languages is a valuable skill; why be so snooty about speaking only one? My own grandparents were like this, despite being otherwise lovely, generous Christian people. I sorely wish I could be a better conversationalist in Spanish, but I often remind myself I’m awkward at having conversations in English, too. That’s all I have to say. The song says everything else. Well, almost everything else. Like so many norteño songs, it’s a lost-love song from the masculine perspective. Ultimately, what matters is the concept of new beginnings, turning over a new leaf — which is the English idiom matching the title and sentiment of the song. Life gives us crossroads at critical junctures — do we remain on the same path, even if it’s grown dark and weedy and impossible to traverse, or do we turn down a new one? In the context of the song, he chooses the new path. I have been so tired lately, and I have found myself halted at the crossroads. That’s the reason I haven’t written anything here. Also, I discovered I hadn’t worked on my book about the delivery-driver detective for over a month, even though he is currently my favorite protagonist, and his face haunts my mind. My life is an empty book. Yours? Is it empty, too? I used to listen to bedtime stories made for insomniacs. Maybe life is closer to these stories than to an empty book: meandering, turning, never ending until death with no heightened climactic moments. I prefer to see life as a library with many completed stories, and fresh, bright empty ones waiting to be filled.

Es inútil que vuelvas
Lo que fue ya no es
Es inútil que quieras
Comenzar otra vez

No interrumpas mi vida
Ya no te puedo amar
Solo sé que tu boca
No la vuelvo a besar

Tengo un libro vacío
Y lo voy a empezar
Tengo sed de caricias
Tengo ganas de amar

Hoy comienza mi vida
Una página más
Hoy me enseña la vida
Que me quiera ella más

Es la historia de siempre
Un amor que se fue
Y yo espero mañana
Comenzar otra vez

Sin rencor ni temores
Quiero vivir en paz
Quiero encontrar mi suerte
Y no dejarla jamás

Es la historia de siempre
Un amor que se fue
Y yo espero mañana
Comenzar otra vez

Sin rencor ni temores
Quiero vivir en paz
Quiero encontrar mi suerte
Y no dejarla jamás

La decisión más importante…

…es, ¿cuál marca de acordeón debería comprar? When I first started playing, the decision seemed obvious. The most common student accordion is the Hohner Panther, and its sound is surprisingly nice for a cheaper instrument. Hohner is a trusty brand of German-made accordions, though I’m guessing the Panther is cheaper because it’s made in China.

As a self-taught musician, I’m no expert on brands. I can only listen and follow what sounds magical to my ears. That was why I chose a Gabbanelli to replace my Hohner. I realized that most of the musicians I enjoy play Gabbanellis. I also listened to numerous videos of people demonstrating the various brands of accordions, and I tended to prefer the Gabbanelli sound.

But now I’m considering buying another accordion, and I’m wondering if I should buy a different brand. I could return to the Hohner brand with an upgrade from the Panther. The Hohner Corona was originally designed with Flaco Jimenez in mind, and as far as I know, he’s always played Hohners. So did Celso Piña when he was alive; they’ve now developed an accordion called the Rebelde after him. The band Los Tigres del Norte also prefer Hohners. Again, the company has an accordion in honor of this legendary band. For the record, I find Los Tigres a little too whiny and brassy for my taste, but I have still loved a good many of their songs over the years. Their repertoire is enormous, and I can’t judge an accordion brand over their whininess.

Then, to confuse me further, the Cantabella is the brand I’ve seen my latest favorite band, Los Dos Carnales, playing. Their songs have a wonderful sound. I would love to hear that sound when I play. Not that it ever works that way precisely. I never sound exactly like other musicians. Some people are good imitators. I’m not. I’m not proud of this because it means I’m deficient at hearing and replicating. By the way, Ramón Ayala also plays Cantabellas. He’s a poster boy for that brand. But he also plays Gabbanellis. His iconic Mexican flag accordion bearing his name is a Gabbanelli. One of them is, anyway. The other is a Cantabella. The Gabbanelli has little fish on it. I will always recognize those iconic little fishes. My Gabbanelli has the little fishes on either side of the brand name. See below this post OR below this paragraph. His little fish are surrounding his name.

The acordeonista for another favorite band, Calibre Cincuenta, plays a Dino Baffetti. Speaking of sound quality, it’s hard to beat this accordion. The creator of the Acordeonísticos site I subscribe to for tutorials plays a Dino Baffetti in recent years and might even be a sales rep for the brand. I’m pretty sure I read that on one of his social media sites. Not being on social media sites (except this one), I don’t pay regular attention to anyone. When I was looking into subscribing, however, I read his other sites. I’m guessing this brand is in the same price range as the Gabbanelli accordions, but it’s hard to tell, as they don’t post prices on their site.

Yes, this post was mostly an excuse to write about accordions, despite that I don’t have an audience that cares or is in the market for one. All of that is immaterial, she said with a snooty wave of her deft, accordion-playing fingers. I want to buy one; I’ve been pinching my pennies to afford another. However, what I thought would be an easy decision is not. I plan to visit the Gabbanelli store this summer (yes, there is only one store in the entire world that sells them). Maybe I will be so overwhelmed by the bling that I will never buy another brand.

Los mejores de los mejores

It’s long past time that I make a list of my favorite acordeonistas. I mean, it’s really not, but I won’t let that stop me. Obviously, I’m coming at this from a different perspective than most. I didn’t grow up with the music I love. I tuned in one day to the Mexican channels because all the other music playing on the radio in Albuquerque bored me to tears. But when I paused on the Mexican channels, it was like magic to my ears. The accordion. The brass. The vocals.

In the early days, I did a lot of exploring, looking up the bands I’d hear on Radio Lobo (the other Mexican channels never lasted long, but Radio Lobo has remained) and buying the CDs. Seriously. I have a giant collection of Norteño CDs somewhere. Out in a box in the garage, probably. I also did what I used to do with my life: research. It’s hard to believe that approach to the world was appealing to me at one time. I wrote essays in both Spanish and English about the history of Tejano and Norteño. I did presentations on the music for my classes at UNM–Southwest History 120 or Spanish 400 or whatever it was. The response to my obsession from professors and students was general bewilderment. That’s nice Jill; you do you. What a dumb way to be. Never again.

I’ve decided recently that I want to be completely braindead. Like, if I were the Scarecrow in Wizard of Oz, I would sing I would while away the hours, talking to the flowers, singing in the rain, if I didn’t have a brain. That is my fantasy right now. Never analyzing anything. Just writing in fragment sentences and having natural reactions to life. How amazing! I WANT TO BE BRAINLESS! I expressed this to my husband the other day, and he said, Good for you! as if I’d managed a major life breakthrough. At least I get support.

All that nonsense about research and being brainless was really meant to give you an idea of why I have experienced many of the classic accordion players that are not played on the current Mexican channels, such as Tony de la Rosa or Narciso Martinez. My mix of greats has a range from different eras, up through young millennial musicians (there’s actually just one millennial on my list, Eden Muñoz of Calibre Cincuenta [who has recently left that band]; the other Muñoz is a gen-Xer). Speaking of the classics, I’m not ever going to forget seeing Flaco Jimenez play live. Because of that–watching him as an old man dance with his Hohner–he’s on the list. Your list might differ. You might not have a list. You might write a top-ten reasons I don’t make lists list. The top reason on my list of why I don’t write lists is owing to my newfound braindead state.

In no particular order, here are my favorite acordeonistas:

Flaco Jimenez
Ricky Muñoz
Paulino Bernal
Ramon Ayala
Lupe Tijerina
Reynaldo Gonzales
Eden Muñoz
Celso Piña
Jesus “Chuy” Garcia

I’m leaving the last spot empty because I can’t decide. The others fit neatly into my braindead state, as they were no-brainer picks. They are the people I can’t stop listening to for style or innovation or general magic, but I could not decide who else should be on the list. If I decide, I’ll fill in the spot. There were a few Tejanos I was considering… I might need to do a binge listen to old CDs.

A few on the list have passed away–Lupe Tijerina, Celso Piña, Paulino Bernal–may God rest their souls; I’ve also seen quite a few of them live. Others I regularly miss (such as Ricky Muñoz of Intocable) because I’m broke when they come round these parts. Or working. Or hugely pregnant. I actually saw Ramon Ayala live when I was two weeks from giving birth. I was sooooo exhausted, my brain wishing it were dead. I had just finished a dissertation in which I translated Sor Juana’s poetry into English. I hadn’t yet bought my first accordion, so I longed instead to write brainless odes to accordion players in my terrible Spanish, which I did right after graduating. I guess you could say Señor Ayala inspired that.

If I ever start studying again, just shoot me. Or give me a lobotomy and wipe up my drool so it doesn’t spill on my accordion.

Sueño en español

(English translation below, as much for the English speakers as the Spanish speakers who can’t understand my bad Spanish.)

Voy a escribir una canción — tal vez más de una! — en español para cantar mientras toco mi acordeón. Será como la de Los Alacranes, el grupo de Alemania (no el grupo mexicano, Alacranes Musical), quien cantaban sus canciones en inglés. Sus letras eran un poco extrañas; que es decir, eran obvias de una manera un hablante nativo no las habría escrito. Creo que podré traer una perspectiva diferente, como “The Scorpions”, aunque no escribiré de perras que tienen hambre de pecados en la turbulencia de un huracán.

Mis canciones serán de pajarillos y amor porque estos son los temas que yo prefiero. Tal vez, escribiré una canción de mariposas, tambien. Las mariposas, los pajarillos, y el amor. Tengo romance en el alma, incluso cuando no existe en la vida actual…y casi nunca existe (ser honesta). Es como una fantasma que se siente pero pocas veces se ve. Y ahora, estoy triste y llena de melancolía por tantos pensamientos.

Hace muchos años yo escribí muchos poemas en español. En esos días, estudiaba la literatura tradicional española, y estaba aprendiendo a reconocer las formas de la poesía tradicional. Por eso, escribí unos romances y sonetos y unas decimas, letrillas, etcetera. Estas formas no se pierden en la niebla de la vida diaria, claramente no. ¡Mentirosa! Por el contrario, se pierden, pero puedo encontrarlas de nuevo. ¡Ahora, es el año del acordeón y de encontrar la poesía y de escribir español muy malo!

I’m going to write a song — perhaps more than one! — in Spanish to sing while I play my accordion. It will be like that of The Scorpions, the group from Germany (not the Mexican group, Alacranes Musical), who sang their songs in English. Their lyrics were a little strange; that is to say, they were obvious in way a native speaker wouldn’t have written them. I believe that I’ll be able to bring a different perspective, like The Scorpions, even though I won’t write about bitches that are hungry for sin in the turbulence of a hurricane.

My songs will be about little birds and love because these are the subjects I prefer. Perhaps, I will write about butterflies, too. Butterflies, little birds, and love. I have romance in my soul, even when it doesn’t exist in real life…and it almost never exists (to be honest). It is like a ghost that is felt but rarely seen. And now, I’m sad and full of melancholy because of such thoughts.

Years ago, I wrote numerous Spanish poems. In those days, I was studying traditional Spanish literature, and I was learning to recognize the traditional Spanish forms of poetry. Because of that, I wrote some decimas, sonetos, letrillas, etcetera. These forms aren’t lost in the fog of daily life, clearly not. Liar! On the contrary, they are lost, but I can find them again. Now, it’s the year of the accordion and of finding poetry and writing really awful Spanish!

Organization!

If it seems that I’m trying to write more on my blog, yes, I have been. I get overwhelmingly busy, and this is the first to go. I no longer wish that to be the case. As today is a day off, and I’m being lazy more than I am productive, I thought I would write a simple note here on productivity. It happens through A. hard work and B. organization.

I’ve long been organized with my exercise routine. I walk for 30 minutes every evening, and do a focused exercise for 30 minutes in the morning. I follow a routine: cardio, strength, stability, repeat. That makes 6 workouts a week, with Sunday reserved for one long, relaxing walk only. This combination, which has some overlap — e.g., some stability workouts are combinations of cardio plus balance and standing abs — works. I’m only exercising an hour a day, but my organization keeps me fit.

As I’m staring at my laptop from the office shed I rarely have time to use, I’m wondering why I can’t apply this kind of organization to finishing my current novel or playing the accordion. To be fair, I subscribed to the Acordeonisticos website to try to create a more focused approach than playing an hour a day of whatever I feel like playing. But I’m still prone to playing whatever I feel like playing, even after subscribing. I need a focused plan! An example might be: music theory, practice old songs, learn a new song, repeat, with Sunday my anything-goes day.

Re writing, my organization amounts to writing 1000 words a day. This is an extremely disorganized plan. I need those 1000 words to be focused. I need to do more mapping and editing. My mapping exists, but it is very slapdash. I will provide a pic, so you can see how slapdash it is. I will also provide a pic of my beloved office that awaits me, a dusty place shut up most days because I have an office at the parish I use 45 hours a week. But I can’t use that office to write; my only shot at that is to sit in the office kitchen on my lunch hour and slam out a few words.

I’m not one for outlining. It gives me the horrors and bad memories from failing at English class in my childhood. I probably should have paid more attention to it. I need to start outlining. Following an outline is the only way to write a book, unlike the pattern of threes that could work for music, as it does for exercise.

*My shed, with Jesus as the Good Shepherd and a poster from one of my favorite films.*

It’s a Dog’s Life

I mentioned in another post that I’d watched Alpha, a film fictionalizing the domestication of dogs during the Paleolithic period, as the New Year rolled over. I made much of the song I heard as 2022 turned into 2023, but there wasn’t much song and dance about the wonder that is doggy friendship for humans. I think I even declared this the year of the accordion, as if so many years over the last two decades weren’t. Obviously, before I played the accordion, I was obsessed with listening to it.

But what if this is truly the year of the dog? No, it isn’t according to the Chinese calendar. I don’t mean that. I mean that dogs give me and many other humans great joy, and I have three of them, so three times the joy. Of course, as with the accordion, I’m not sure why this particular year would be declared as such, except that I watched a good movie about a wolf-dog to set the tone.

Dog behavior is fascinating to me; we might learn something from observing it. We can’t get into their heads, but we can watch their repeated patterns of reactions and make some good guesses.

First of all, let’s look at their hierarchical system. While I’ve read articles claiming that the concept of one alpha dog in a pack is false, I see a clear hierarchy among my dogs. Putting aside “alpha” for a moment, we definitely have a “queen bee.” You see, we have an elderly female dog, thirteen years old, who is as spry as they come. She’s a Shiba-Inu mix, and a lovely, loyal, and somewhat neurotic pup. In fact, she tripped me on New Year’s Eve because the neighbors were putting off fireworks, and she was certain it was WWIII, so therefore camped out somewhere I didn’t expect her to be, and down I went, falling on my thumb. I didn’t break one of my accordion-playing digits, thankfully, but she scurried off, now fully convinced of our war-torn world. She is a very anxious dog.

When she was almost eleven, we brought home two boy pups, eight weeks old. She put up with them then and still does now, and she actually enjoys rough-housing with them in the yard. She’s like a child who was an only for too long and is trying to recapture her doggy youth. She grew up with cats, I’m sorry to say. My husband likes cats and used to rescue them all the time. Oh, no, I found this poor stray kitty. I don’t much like cats and didn’t appreciate this, but to be fair to him, he was simply being a good firefighter. Naturally, people used to dump their unwanted kittens in front of the fire station or academy, knowing it was a fireman’s job to rescue cats — they didn’t even have to be up in trees.

But let me be absolutely clear: my elderly female dog (Kindle) is 100% in charge. The other dogs defer to her. She enters the house first, gets the first tidbits of food treats, and if one of the boy dogs annoys her too much, she will have him on the ground in a submissive posture even though she is smaller than both. Kindle is amazing. I half believe she will live forever, though I believed that about our longest-owned pet, a gray tabby cat called Frolic. Frolic weathered so many near-death experiences. She seemed invincible. And then she quite suddenly got old and died. She lived a good life, did Frolic (yes, Frolic and I put up with each other).

After Kindle, there is still a hierarchy among the two boys, and it honestly comes down to size. One of them is large, the other more a mid-sized pup. The large furry beast of a dog is clearly the alpha of the bros. These two came from a litter where the father was Australian shepherd, and the mother was a heeler, border collie mix. The big furry dog looks identical to an Australian shepherd, and the other like a collie. I don’t know where the heeler went. They are both black and adorably furry.

So, when all three dogs are crowding at the back door, Kindle enters first, then S’mores (the large dog), and then poor dear little Ryuk last. If I’m on the couch, S’mores will plop on my lap to show everyone he’s boss (Kindle isn’t much of a lapdog). He will luxuriate in my petting his thick fur and then climb down and growl at his brother. We used to view this as aggressive behavior and try to curb it until we realized he was giving permission to Ryuk to climb on my lap. Ryuk always understood, as he’s a dog, and he would peacefully climb up and take his turn cuddling. It was almost as if the poor would-be alpha (if it weren’t for that pesky Kindle) had to show a measure of strength before allowing his brother to take his place.

Have I learned something from my dogs and their behavior, as in, how might I apply it to my life? Well, I do feel like growling at people sometimes. No, that’s not right! No of course not. Instead, I’ve learned that if we don’t respect our elders, they’ll pin us to the ground until we submit. No, I’m sure that’s not the message either. Dogs are loyal, though, and they love their people unconditionally. Yes, I’m sure that’s the lesson.