Friday, February 27, I’ll be performing at Bayou Cajun Restaurant and lounge. Here are the details …

Friday, February 27th @ 7 p.m.

Bayou Cajun Restaurant & Grill

2060 N. Humboldt Blvd.

Milwaukee, WI 53212

(414) 431-1511

www.bayoumilwaukee.com

Featuring Sam Steffke on Keys!

This past Saturday, February 21, I performed at Centennial Bar & Grille for the first time and it went great. It was such a pleasure performing with Hal Miller (Bass) and John Hefter (Keys). For that night we decided that we would all go by the last name “Miller” and I would introduce Hal and John as my cousins. Just to give you a slight visual, here’s a pic of John. Hal’s coloring is of a similar nature so the audience had a lot of fun with us … and trust me, we milked the whole cousin thing for laughs the entire night!

Many cities around the world have gone “smoke-free,” however, Milwaukee has not fully jumped on the band wagon with this concept so I am including a link where you can take action for smoke-free workplaces in Wisconsin. I urge you to take action and spread the word!

Click on the link below: https://secure3.convio.net/ctfk/site/Advocacy?_oo=kHJYhRPz_EhwNz6dXyAyqw..&id=325

A couple times a month I am blessed to get the opportunity to sing for the elderly and on Friday, February 20, I performed at Aurora Adult Day Center. For this center I’m usually the birthday act and we sing, dance and generally have a fabulous time. Here’s me with a couple of the birthday girls. I’ve been singing at Aurora since last summer so we have a growing list of favorites that I have to do every time I’m there. Of course, I have to do the Birthday song, and there’s no way I can leave that place without singing “Amazing Grace.” Every one in the place joins in on this one, including the staff!

On Sunday morning I went to my sister and bro-in-law’s new church, International House of Faith, where they serve as pastors. Admittedly, it had been a while since I’ve been to church and I really have no excuse. The service was so beautiful and I cried through most of it. I don’t know if that’s because I’m a heathen … LOL … or if I was just caught up in the Spirit! I choose to believe the latter. So, if you’re looking for a place of worship in the Milwaukee area, check out their website: http://www.heavensgateministries.net/.

In today’s economy there are just a few things that you can buy for under a buck. Music is one of them. Did you know that my music is available on I-Tunes? For just $0.99 you can download one of my songs. Visit: www.gloriamillermusic.com/music to download!

If you haven’t already done so, please join my Facebook Musician page: www.facebook.com/pages/Gloria-Miller-Music/9486129890. My goal is to grow this page to 1,000 fans. So far the count in 89. You can help me reach 100 fans by next week.

Well, that's it for this week.

I welcome your comments, thoughts and/or rants. Or, if you just want to give a "shout out" I'd love to hear from you.

It’s always around this time of year that being single is magnified in the light of Valentine’s Day. As I was contemplating my singleness a question flooded my thoughts… Do I feel embarrassed or empowered as a single person?

Most days I would say I feel empowered. Why? Because I’m taking care of myself, I create my own happiness, and I love the fact that I am solely responsible for how I spend my time. Admittedly, I do spend a lot of time by myself, but I rarely feel lonely. There always seems to be so much to do with working fulltime, running my music business and trying to stay connected with friends and family, that when I do have down time, I’m usually too tired to feel lonely.

Not that I never have moments of loneliness, because I do. It usually sneaks up on me and I’m always surprised at how palpable it can feel. I am very thankful that the lonely times are few and far between.

So, I ask you … Does (or did) being single make you feel embarrassed or empowered?

I welcome your comments, thoughts, and/or vents and invite you to subscribe to my weekly blog and join in the conversation!

Can you imagine going one day without wanting anything?  I wonder if it's even possible.

Recently my sister made the remark that she's done everything that she has wanted to do in her life.  My first reaction was disbelief.  Then I asked her to clarify, and she said she's completely satisfied with her life.  My second reaction, more disbelief!

It seems in my own life not a second goes by without me wanting, wishing, hoping or striving for something.  The idea of not functioning from that place is intriguing.  Is it possible to just be and to be satisfied with just being exactly who I am and where I am?  According to Eckhart Tolle's "The Power of Now," yes it is.  It seems that one of the keys to achieving this state of "being" is to not allow ourselves to be defined by what we do, who we know, where we live, what we drive, the color of our skin.  None of these truly define who we are.

I don't think who a person is can be defined.  I think if we could exist without labeling ourselves and thereby boxing ourselves into a prescribed behavior, we'd be a lot happier, calmer.  It's hard to keep others from labeling us, be we have the power to not label ourselves … to not get caught up in the "wanting" that either keeps us stuck in the past (I wish that hadn't happened …) or stuck in the future (I wonder what's gonna happen…).  Without the labels we free ourselves to live in the NOW … "there is therefore, NOW!"

I'm trying to be more in the "now" and it's hard.  Those moments when I achieve presence are awesome … those glimpses of the real me stripped of ego and wanting.  I know I'll experience more of those moments, and that those moments will grow into minutes, hours, days …

Let's live moment by moment and not just let them go by without having immersed ourselves in them!!!

What a great night.  I performed last night at The Grove with The Glo Trio "+ 1."  My plus one was Lyn Lewondowski who lended her sassy tenor sax to the evening adding mucho spice to the mix.  My regular trio, Scott Currier-Keys, Jon Matelski-Bass, and Bill Sargent-Drums, were in top form as we played through Jazz standards, Blues and more.
 

My brother, Art, was there with his wife Rachel and my niece Dianca offering encouraging smiles throughout the night … with my brother occasionally breaking out in a dance whenever the spirit hit!
 

There was also a couple there, Bill & Karen, who had been sweethearts 30 years ago, but life had eventually taken them in different directions.  Their paths crossed again after 30 years and now they're getting married in August!  Their story was so "When Harry Met Sally" … my favorite movie and I'm so glad they shared it with me.
 

Chris & Brenda Skibinski, the owners of The Grove, run a classy establishment and I'm so proud to have had the opportunity to perform there.  They have a fantastic staff, Sharon and Zachery at the bar as well as their wait staff.  Plus, this time I was able to have dinner and the Cesar salad was wonderful.  So there's great food, great music and a great atmosphere … all the ingredients necessary to have a wonderful evening. 
 

Last night was my second time performing there and I look forward to the next time.   I'll keep you posted on my schedule and hope to see you soon!

What's in a name?  Imagine, you've gone through your entire life thinking your name was one thing and it turns out that the name you've been called to this point is a sham … not your name at all … in fact shouldn't be anyone's name because can you really call "Perky" a name.  I believe its more accurate description would be an adjective … which in fact is used to describe people, places or things … go Schoolhouse Rock!!

Perky.  Yep.  That's what I was called for the first five years of my life and beyond 'til I finally put a stop to it upon graduating from High School in 1984.  The realization that Perky wasn't in fact my real name happened the day before my first day of kindergarten.  In my typical fashion of wanting to be ahead of the game … a natural born planner I was and still am … I wanted to know how to spell my first name … Perky.  Then my mother makes this revelation that Perky isn't my real name, but the nickname they gave me because of my propensity to do everything ahead of time.  With a trembling voice I ask, "so, what's my real name."   She simply says "Gloria."  "Gloria" I repeat as I stand there completely perplexed having never heard this name directed at me in my entire life.  "Gloria."  I liked the sound of it … kind of melodious and much more feminine than Perky could ever be, and I'm pretty sure that's the day the tom boy in me began to die. 

Not one to lose sight of my goals, I ask my mother how to spell this Gloria name.  She tells me and then I'm off to bed to dream about this new persona … "Gloria" and my first day of school.

If you are able to remember your first day of school, you know how scary it is.  Now compound that with not knowing your own name.  That's right, roll is being called, they call Gloria Miller, and I sit there looking straight ahead thinking someone else in the class has the same last name as me.  Then I raise my hand after all the names are called and say, "You didn't call my name."  "And your name is?" I'm asked, and as I'm saying Perky … realization is setting in, the color is draining from my face (though you'd be hard pressed to prove it), and the wind is going out of my sails of being ahead of the pack by knowing how to spell my name.  Not only could I not spell my name, but it had become painfully obvious to the teacher and each kid that I didn't even know my name.

I wish I could tell you that that situation was the last of my name faux pas.  But I can't.   I did manage to make it to 10th grade before the name game reared it's ugly head again … but not without the stigma of being the only child in my family out of 6 who didn't have a middle name.   Arthur David … James Arvin … Steven Archer … Ruth Ann … Christine Ann … and finally, Gloria.  Just plain ole Gloria, which didn't officially become my name in my mind 'til I was five years old.  What's up with that?  To add insult to injury, my brother Arthur (who we called David) and my sister Christine (who we called Chris) were named after my parents … and Ruth insisted that Chris have her same middle name, thus the two Anns.  Did my parents run out of ideas?  Were they simply too tired to care?  Did they think I wouldn't notice that I was the only one without a middle name?  Well I noticed … so much so that I made up a middle name and had lied about it in school to the point where the lie had become a part of my permanent record.  I desperately wanted a middle name. 

Now here I am age 16 and I need to get a copy of my birth certificate because I had set my sights on working at McDonald's for the summer.  We had to request a copy of my birth certificate from the state and when it came, it was blank.  Can you believe that?  Not only had I grown up thinking my parents hadn't cared enough to give me the sacred middle name like they had given my other siblings, it turns out I didn't have a first name either.  The certificate didn't even say "baby" Miller … just a blank line then Miller.  I was traumatized.  How do you bounce back from something like this? 

My two sisters and I are sitting around the dining room table and they are desperately trying to console me, but I'm sobbing uncontrollably and trying to understand what went wrong on July 6, 1966 at Cook County hospital.  Why don't I have a name?  My mother comes into the dining room from the kitchen and blurts out a confession that was heard around the Miller household.  Apparently, my parents had been arguing about what to name me … my father wanted me to be called Janet and my mother wanted Gloria so by the time my mother in typical fashion won that argument, my birth certificate had already been sent in to the state with no name filled in.   The name that I hadn't even known 'til I was five years old now turns out to not be my name at all.  In fact, I had no name.


"Why don't you pick you own name," my mother finally says and those words stopped my sorrow in its tracks.  Here's my chance to right a 16 year wrong … to give myself that coveted middle name.  It was like the heaven's had opened to Gabrielle and the boys singing "Hallelujah!" 


Ruth, Chris and I sat at the dining room table and went to work on my "new" name.  Now the thought of adjusting to another first name was completely unappealing to me 'cause I'd been there done that.  So, Gloria was the easy choice for first name.  The middle name was the tricky part … Ruth pipes in that I should have her middle name like Chris does … Gloria Ann … I don't think so.   Then there was Annette, but still no go … the double "a" thing just sounded weird.  Then I remember the fake middle name I had already given myself to pacify my discontent of not having a middle name … Lynette.  I yell out "Lynette!"  There's a hushed pause in the room for what seemed like an eternity and then ever so slowly, nods of acceptance first from Chris who has proven to be the bravest woman on the planet (more on that later) and finally Ruth (the epidemy of stability … lived in the same house for over 20 years, worked the same job for over 20 years and slightly opposed to change).

Gloria Lynette it is.  Now in the process of getting the no name birth certificate and sending in for the corrected birth certificate with my new name, I miss out on the chance to ever say "Do you want fries with that?"  That's right, I never worked at McDonald's.  But, I did one better.  My corrected birth certificate arrived just in time for me to apply for a summer intern job at AT&T and I got it!

So today, I proudly wear the name Gloria Lynette Miller … and why shouldn't I?  I worked hard enough to get it!

Imagine waking up, going to your front door to head out and water your lawn only to discover that your front porch is covered with feathers!  Well, this is how my sister started her day one lovely, sunny morning in Chicago.

Feathers.  Slowly my sister’s eyes followed the feather trail, and much to her dismay landed on the headless bird who had been the feather’s proud owner.  This early morning massacre was courtesy of the family of stray cats who have lived on my sister’s porch for as long as she’s lived in the house and the caring mom cat was simply providing a meal for her latest litter.

As I’m standing at the door cheerleading the clean-up efforts … because that’s all the assistance I was able to muster without actually looking at or touching the unfortunate meal …In my mind’s eye the dead bird was me 8 months earlier.  Let me explain.  Eight months earlier I received the devastating news from the man I had been dating for over 2 years that he didn’t want to go where our relationship was inevitably headed … to the altar … so he was ending our relationship.  Take a moment to savor that … he’s ending our relationship.  I can’t say for sure what the pain was like for that bird on my sister’s porch when he lost his head, but I’m pretty sure it runs a close second to what I felt when I lost mine.  That November morning I was lying headless on my bed waiting for someone to clean-up my remains.  A huge part of me died when the man that I had loved with every ounce of my DNA threw me away like yesterday’s garbage.  Everything that made me me had been the ingredients of the love I served him happily for 2 plus years and he spit that love up in my face and had the nerve to say "It’s not you, but me."  Can you believe that?  Oh, and to add insult to injury, he says "you’re perfect, you’re everything I could possibly want in a woman and I’ll always love you, but I can’t continue our relationship."  What?  Are you kidding me?

What I desperately needed in the months that followed the breakup was someone to remove my headless remains from the black hole that had become my world in the same fashion that I had encouraged my sister to remove the bird buffet from her porch.  If it were possible to exist without a head, my life would have made an excellent case study because everyday I lived without breathing, I sobbed without tears, I screamed without sound, I ate without tasting, I heard without listening, I looked without seeing and I rationalized with no understanding.

This went on for weeks … months!  Somehow, I found the strength to resurrect my lifeless remains as the realization set in that it wasn’t my head that I lost that breakup morning, I had simply sustained a wound to my heart that was slowly healing. The breakup hadn’t killed me … I was down for the count for a while … I was somehow breathing while drowning … but I was still alive.  Then I discovered with the help of Susan Jeffers in her book "Feel the Fear & Do It Anyway," that I can handle whatever comes my way.  Yeah, I can handle putting my heart out there to love again.  Yeah, I can handle another breakup if it comes to that!  Yeah, I can handle letting go and letting God in terms of excepting that he (the ex) has moved on.  And, yeah, I can even handle the realization that he doesn’t want me in his life.  And guess what?  I don’t want anybody who don’t want me!!  

That sounds brave and tough doesn’t it?  The truth is, a full year later I still cry myself to sleep.  I still run slideshows of every picture we ever took.  And I still beg God to send him back to me.

I’ve tried to move on but my judgment seems to have definitely taken a hit during the breakup.  I’ve allowed myself to be treated in ways I wouldn’t have tolerated for a minute prior to the breakup.  Desperately wanting to feel what I once felt, and terrified that I can’t feel that or anything again with someone new.  I’m afraid I’m ruined … I can’t do casual anymore.  My ex once told me when we first starting seeing each other that he thought we could have something substantial together … and we did.  And now for me it’s substantial or nothing at all.  Where does that leave me?  I guess I’m better off demanding more from a relationship, but sometimes the loneliness is stifling. Before the breakup I used to pride myself on my ability to be alone without feeling lonely.  I’m often alone, and almost as often lonely.  But you see, I don’t want to be alone anymore and I feel quite helpless to remedy my plight.  I’m 40 years old now, and I’ve accomplished most of things that I wanted to in my life.  My biggest dream now is to be a wife and mother.  My biological clock, which during my 20’s and 30’s appeared to be broken, is now gonging in my ear and with each strike I feel more and more powerless in the race to procreate while my body is still able.

There is therefore now … that’s all I have.  Yesterday is gone, can’t do anything about it … tomorrow is not promised, so that leaves the moment.  I must live in it … no matter how afraid I am of what the future holds.  Daily, I remind myself that in the moment, which is the only piece of time we truly own, I know that I have everything I need to be whole … enough love, joy, money, food, shelter … amazingly that belief gets me through to the next moment, and just keeps sustaining me moment by moment.  So, is there love after a breakup?  Yes, any moment now!

Originally written February, 2006.