Phoning Home

“You don’t write, you don’t call.”

I was feeling very neglected-mother last week, wondering what it would take to have a longer than two minute conversation with my daughter. Was she avoiding me?

hazel electronics

Knowing she has two jobs…a new band with their first gig coming up…a boyfriend, I still thought “maybe she just doesn’t like me anymore.”

Then it hit me. She’s busy! She’s happy, doing what she’s been wanting to do. Isn’t that the goal? I relaxed. And then, magically, she called.

It would be the same for me, if my mom were still around. She’d probably wonder why I haven’t been to visit. I talked to my dad the other day, telling him what I’ve been up to:

I’ve worked a few full shifts at the bookstore/bar. My Saturday coworker is a young Japanese guy who used to live in Brooklyn and moved up the Hudson.  It’s fun, pouring good beer and talking books with customers. The time goes fast – I love looking at all the people: weekend visitors from the city, a little older with money; younger artist types stretching one beer; couples with young children who curl up in the corner armchair with some classic while the parents browse.

Last Saturday Eric picked me up after work and we headed to Chatham, a pretty town, more fancy than our side of the river, to see “The Artist” at the local cinema that’s always $5. I felt like crying through the whole thing. Partly because the movie was an absolute wonder, partly because I was so happy to be in a theatre full of people sharing the experience.

orpheum marquee

The next day we went up into the mountains, fifteen or twenty minutes from our house, where there are waterfalls and skiing and odd mountain boarding houses, motels, cafes and bars. There’s always something new to see and do around here – one small town after another, each with its own unique character. I ended up in the Irish Catskills this week, a bizarre enclave of shanty-looking Irish-American summer cottages and pubs and motels with shamrock motifs. Then it was back over to Hudson with the mid-century antiques and vintage clothes.

tannersville bar

At home, Eric and I have been making good progress on a new album. We had our friend Chris Butler up to play drums on some songs, the first outside musician on one of our records. I think we have twelve songs getting close to being finished. There’s a lot to do on the house, and now that spring is here, the garden, but got to get the record done to get some money flowing.

Garden Marker

I explained to my dad that we were looking forward to visiting. But that it’ll have to wait a little while, what with the record and the house and the job. He said he understood completely.

8 thoughts on “Phoning Home

  1. Anonymous

    Reminds me of Eric’s song ‘Telephoning home’
    Looking forward to you both touring the album in the Pacific NW

  2. Anonymous

    doesnt remind me at all of Telephoning Home, but it sounds like youre home Amy. and dont mind Hazel. it sounds like youve done a great job raising a well rounded young woman. i loved seeing you and Eric at Maxwells. hurry back down this way.

    Bob D.

    1. amyrigby

      Glad to see you at Maxwell’s, Bob – it was a fun night. Hazel is a great girl – funny to be working with people her age now but I like that part of my job. Working on coming back to Asbury before long!

  3. daisy

    you’ve just helped me understand my relationship to my mother better.
    yes, this entry has the both-feet-on-the-ground-sense of you being in your place. in your shoes. in your life. Really connected to your self. I like hearing about the cinema experience. I know just what you mean. Your diary entry also has that magical quality of allowing me to imagine all the other lives that you are talking about and I can imagine your dad, put the phone down and thinking, “that’s good. She’s enjoying her life,” which is just what I’m thinking as I click “post” and go and make some coffee. You are talking about love, here, aren’t you. Yeah – a lot of love.

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