I bought the year's first holiday gift in July, at art fair for my brother's wife.  It was perfect for her, stylish and fantastic at the same time, made with love and skill and not a little gold paint (and even though I know she doesn't read my blog, I won't spoil the surprise). I like shopping for her because she challenges me look for both the unusual and the beautiful.  Next on the list is my nephew, who's already shaving and taking driver's ed.  But he still likes the same things - dragons, skulls and Gothic-like arcana.  Now that he's older, I can find more sophisticated things for him, not just keychains and carvings and t-shirts.  Last year's gift was a table lamp, sculpted as a black dragon leaning against a castle wall.

It's the holidays once again, and the beginning of my yearly quest for perfect gifts.  My list is short this year, a result of cutbacks.  What consititutes the perfect gift, in these economically strained times?  Is it the diamonds that cost two months' salary at a time when you worked?  Is it the small bundle of cash so you don't have to guess?  Is it the stray kitten destined to be cuddled in the arms of someone who needs unconditional love?

The perfect gift is all of these things.  A good gifter will only use a wish list as a guideline; I know my nephew is a dragon lover because that's what he always asks for.  The dragon I select is up to me, however.  Whatever I choose will be the end result of careful searching, meticulous planning and money well placed.  The gift is not just the object, but the time.

What do I get my brother this year?  He's one of my very favorite people ever, with a ironic, edgy sense of humor and a taste for all things black.  He's also intelligent and an avid reader.  Books are a natural choice, and for the past two years we've given each other some of our favorite more recent books.  But because we've had a lot of history together, and some very interesting recollections spread through the years, choosing gifts for him is both an act of love and a game of wits.  Last year's gifts:  A pair of black leather gauntlets; The Ghost in Love by Jonathan Carroll (I drew a new cover for it); a graphic novel he requested; a year's supply of his favorite hot chocolate (Cocoa Amore, which can be hard to find) and a demitasse cup with matching saucer.

His instant favorite?  The demitasse cup.  When he was a child, he collected shotglasses and miniature novelty mugs; the one I remember best was made of brown glass with a wooden handle, and said "I'm only a little drinker".  I'd already given him a small Japanese tea bowl by Kotoburi, and it was used daily until his stepson broke it by accident one day.  I heard about the adventures of the demitasse cup for weeks after he received it.  This year, I should follow it up with a sake set; the tiny cups that go with it will be greatly appreciated.

Gift giving, then, is not a matter of simple pursuit of the year's hottest trend.  It is a thoughtful selection process, which in my case can require hours of handling small objects.  I reflect on the person I plan on giving to - anything new happening in his/her life that would broaden my gift choices?  What in our shared past would be good to represent?  What would s/he really want if I could give anything in the world?  Does s/he have a daily ritual that I could contribute to?  Last year, I gave a hive of bees in a friend's name; the friend in question had converted to a nature-based religion after years of consideration. I chose the bees as a gift of new life, for herself and the community who would receive the hive. 

This year, I am giving another friend a bat.  The Organization for Bat Conservation (OBC) allows individuals to sponsor bats; the proceeds from the sponsorship go to care of the bat in question.  Since American bats are currently under threat from a dangerous illness known as White Nose Syndrome, I am considering sponsoring a Large Brown Bat for him.  But when I went to the OBC for a bat presentation, I saw these wonderful dogfaced bats.  They took up two large cages and flew gracefully throughout my visit.  They also had a Flying Fox, whose wingspan ranges from 4-6 feet.  It was incredible to look at - large and furry and not a bit menacing, with large eyes.  What to choose?  My friend loves bats and believes in their value to humankind, so the gift itself is wholly appropriate, but which bat will I choose for him?  Which one looks like it should belong to him, even if only in spirit?

And what to select for my beautiful partner?  He is difficult to shop for, partly because he doesn't value things as much as experiences, partly because he already has too many things and whatever I get must be meaningful enough to justify its place.  I can't afford a trip to someplace new, and I have already given him gifts of my own works.  He isn't into sweets, so my personal selection of the year's best chocolate would be a poor choice.  He doesn't do sports, so tickets to a hockey game would definitely be more for my benefit than his.  He's allergic to cats, so a surprise bundle of joyful kitty love would have to be turned away.  We're both proudly snobbish towards art and culture, but nothing good's coming to town.  I will have to listen to him closely for the next month.

My beloved and I are planning to do house concerts for some of our nearest and dearest.  It should be interesting, considering none of the usual Christmas fare will be considered, let alone performed.  If it's good, we'll record it.  If it's bad, we'll know not to do that again.  I hope it'll turn out well; I don't feel like screwing up in front of people who know me.  Moreover, I hope it's a good gift.  I hope they like it.

Links:
Organization for Bat Conservation
Heifer International, where I got the bees
JefReynolds.com

The concept of the list applies to no generation better than mine.  From Facebook quizzes like "30 Things You'd Never Admit To" to books like "100 Things to Do Before You Die", the list is the modern meterstick, the standard by which all things are measured and all lives are led.  Guitar players, cat species, even museum collections (mine included) can be ranked and presented in list order. 

Today's list? 20 Things Every Woman Should Do Before She's Married.  Since I have no plans to ever marry, I've always thought of this as an artificial standard to apply to myself.  I like this list anyway because it's got a lot of meat in it.  Most of the suggestions make sense (Live by yourself for at least a year, find reliable birth control, pay off as much debt as possible), while others are just capricious (Spend way too much on something frivolous, have at least one one night stand you can't remember).  Overall, it's not bad, and I'd say that some of the issues I find fault with are real occurrences in many women's lives.  I even find it admirable in that it allows the list's readers to forgive themselves for their occasional stupid actions that didn't really hurt them in the end.

I have no issue with lists in general, especially ones that may lead to positive action or forward movement.  I like the idea of organizing a life on paper, as long as the list doesn't become the end-all be-all of life plans.  After a while, some list functions don't make sense.  I think a list of Post-It notes would be genius, because they can be rearranged or removed when the plan no longer works.

When I was 19, I drew a pretty hideous picture of myself at 29, and I achieved almost all of the goals in that picture by my targeted age (I never did grow hair to my ankles, but only because I physically can't).  I still can't draw well, but I seem to be able to write okay.  So here's my new list, at the age of 32.  Target age: 42

Twenty Things I Need To Do Because I Ought To Do Them

1: Publish a book (a holdover from my 19-year-old drawing)
2: Travel to a real foreign country and not just Canada even though it's beautiful and I agree with much of their current human rights actions
3: Take up a sport that makes me feel like a champion in my own mind
4: Do something very cool to commemorate my relationship with my loveliest - seal the deal, so to speak
5: Get a cat
6: Keep in mind that I love museum work, specifically educational or curatorial work, and use that as my barometer for finding a real job (and refuse to settle for less unless I'm starving)
7: Meet more famous people that I admire
8: Continue to try one new food per year, even if I start running out of immediately appetizing options
9: Either be an atheist or an agnostic with very individual views, and stop fence-sitting.
10: Find new and better reasons to make an idiot of myself in front of thousands of people I've never met and never will (Start a band?  Become a celebrity? Renounce the world so completely that they keep calling me back to be a guest on Oprah?)
11: Get a good camera and take photos of myself every six months
12: Set up my living will and final directives
13: Because I'm not very good with investments (I know nothing about them and am simply not interested enough to learn), find someone who is and develop a retirement portfolio
14: Buy a work of art that I love and admire.  Actually, buy two so I can rotate them out.
15: Find a nonpolitical charity whose work I believe in wholeheartedly and donate yearly
16: Take a chocolate tour.  France is the most impressive option; San Francisco and Chicago are good domestic picks.
17: Decorate my living quarters so they actually reflect my tastes. I have never done this, and every year I say I will but never do.
18: Take classes in some handicraft skill.  Not knitting.  Probably pottery or woodworking, something with a very tangible result suitable for giftgiving at Christmas.
19: Buy more books before they stop printing them.  Hell, maybe I should make my own books.
20: Pay off all my student debt.  There's something in the latest education bill that may make this easier if I volunteer for Teach for America or the Peace Corps.

stuff that got left off the list?  Body modification, which I've contemplated for years but have never taken any steps toward fulfilling; going to Kenya, which isn't safe at this time; developing a sense of style, because it may never happen even if I try; going on an archaeological dig, because I feel I might get in the way even though I'd love to touch someone else's old crap that hasn't seen the light of day in centuries; becoming a better gardener, because I have enough on my plate; seeking enlightenment, because I may have already found it and simply refuse to recognize it.  They might be rotated in later, or they may fade away as I outgrow these goals. 

This isn't the final list, or even the final version of this list.  Some of the goals may yet fall onto the list I make when I'm 42.  That's okay. 

"It's all one big Detroit," my friend Warren said.  At the time, I believed him.  I hadn't traveled very much at the time - we never went on vacation and I'd never made enough money to leave the house, let alone the state.  He'd spent part of his 20s in Spain, and had extensively toured the US and most of Europe, with a few stops in Australia.  If he said it's all one big Detroit, I had no reason to doubt him.

Looking back seven years later, however, I beg to differ.  My first major city outside of Detroit was San Francisco.  It's a city that the US opened to the world, the best of culture, natural beauty and chocolate (yes, there's incredible chocolate; it's the home base of Scharffen Berger, Joseph Schmidt and E. Guittard, not to mention Ghirardelli).  I've had cheap sushi, luxuriant bubble baths, my first ever look at the ocean, snake soup, daylong walking trips through the center of town, fine Asian art, book wanderlust, the opportunity to look at a museum-quality tattooed skull... everything I ever wanted is within seven square miles.

My next major city was Toronto, one of those places that I had only understood in personal assumptions.  It's hard to remember that Detroit is a border town, and probably harder to keep in mind that Canada really and truly is a foreign country.  Before I went, I knew that Toronto was the home of the Hockey Hall of Fame and the stage for Kevin Quain and the Mad Bastards, and nothing else.  Turns out their chocolate is terrific (go to Soma in the Distillery), the traffic north of the Annex is terrible and the city is rich in history and fantastic Chinese food.  the beaches are just lovely, too, not only for the view of Lake Ontario, but also for the people.  I think I heard 14 different languages, each with their own pitches and utterances.  I remember thinking the varied ethnic makeup was strikingly like that of San Francisco.

I've been to New York as well, but not long enough to really absorb the place.  Not that anyone could - the second largest metropolitan area in the US in terms of population, the marquee city of the nation and one of the world's most revered places, a hotbed of art, entertainment, sports, medicine, finance and life itself.  Being in New York is unlike being anywhere else.  Meals were inexpensive and top-notch; parking was expensive and hellish.  The buildings are tall but with a sense of human scale - I was always aware that people made this place happen, and the idea of Providence making it great was laughable.  Moreover, it was strikingly beautiful, in an austere Greek-column-and-Classical-Roman kind of way. 

So what's wrong with Detroit?  I've lived here all my life - or rather, I've lived nearby all my life.  No one with any money whatsoever lives in Detroit unless they're trying to make a fashion statement.  Detroit used to be a great city - 2 million people, a thriving manufacturing economy, well-heeled citizens who contributed by means of buildings and works of art.  Underlying all of this, however, was a very angry black population whose rights had been reduced to bare basics and whose communities were frequently gutted in the name of "progress".  The Detroit Police Department was founded in 1863 in response to a race riot; another race riot happened in 1943. The Hastings Street neighborhood was demolished for a freeway (as was Chinatown; all ethnic minorities have been historically dismissed with equal indifference), and black churches were intimidated into frustration.  The riots of 1967 were the most visible sign of a century of tension.  That tension still exists, but not as a struggle within the city. Today, the city v. suburbs battle plays out in grand manner during every county commissioner meeting.  We don't label it "race relations" anymore, but the truth is Detroit is 88% black and the suburbs are over 90% white, and that this population shift has been continuous for the past 50 years.

So much for everyone getting along.  The shame that Detroit possesses, however, shouldn't get in the way of fixing the beauty or securing the positive history that still pokes through.  Detroit is the oldest American city outside of the original 13 colonies, founded in 1701.  We have Fort Wayne, which is open to the public, the Detroit Institute of Arts, the newly revamped Detroit Science Center, a renovated Campus Martius (named after the other Campus Martius in Rome, a city center reserved for military parades and monuments), international music festivals and Eastern Market, one of the world's largest open-air markets.  We are one of only four US cities with teams in every major professional sport, and three of those teams actually play within Detroit's borders.  Our public art includes the famous Joe Louis fist, an Alexander Calder sculpture by the courthouse, monuments to Antoine de la Mothe Cadillac (the city's founder) and Johannes Gutenberg and the Heidelberg Project.

Detroit, however, isn't San Francisco, or Toronto, or New York, or like many other major cities in that it is rather unmanageable to visit.  Detroit sprawls for over 135 square miles, smaller than Toronto (which also boasts 2.7 million people), but much larger than San Francisco (808,000 people, 46.1 sq. miles) with similar population.  Also unlike all of the above mentioned cities, there is no green space, mass transit is a joke or a slur depending on the day and the crime rate is high for a population of this size.  If you want to leave a bad area of a large city, you usually hop a bus, or hail a cab, or sometimes walk very fast.  In Detroit, the concept of neighborhoods is illusory in most cases, and cabs aren't available unless you call ahead.  Much of what makes a city worth seeing is outside of Detroit as well - the Henry Ford Museum and Greenfield Village are in Dearborn; the zoo is in Royal Oak; the modern art museum that everyone respects is in Bloomfield and the state parks are in Clarkston, Rochester, Romeo, Grosse Ile... everywhere but Detroit.  The city's very visible blight issues are nothing to be dismissed, either, nor is the "regreening", the subtle takeover of abandoned property and vacant lots by scrub trees and overgrowth. 

I want to believe my friend when he said that all cities were different in the same way.  I want to believe that Detroit can be reclaimed.  I want to see the city's flaming jewel that resides somewhere here waiting to be found.  But I don't know what this will take.  I don't know what makes Detroit unique because I only see it in tatters. My friend knew that every city has the same potential to slide into Detroithood and abandon its own people, but I know now that some cities are just different.  Is different better?  Or is different only different?  Detroit may someday get the chance to find out.

Statler Blvd. Studios has much to crow about!  Jef Reynolds, the CBG ("Chief Big Guy") and I have just completed work on a second album with Eastlawn Records label head RJ Spangler.  You Know I Can't Refuse: The Bill Heid Sessions features some of Detroit's finest musicians, including Keith Kaminski of the Motor City Horns (who helped with the mixing) and Johnnie Bassett, and was recorded at Aashrum Studio in Ortonville and our homebase in St. Clair Shores.

My job, one I hope to perform more in the future, was to design the cover.  This is my third album cover for people other than myself, and my second for Eastlawn Records.  I must admit to a love affair with Photoshop CS3, and eventually I will get CS4 and love it just as much if not more.  The final product was placed in my hands on Sunday, and it looks as good as I'd anticipated.  I'd received some positive feedback earlier in the week, so I was looking forward to seeing it for myself.  There's still nothing like the finished product to prove that you've arrived.

Jef's always been meticulous about sound.  As an engineer for 30 years, he has developed an incredible sense of aural perfection, and it shows in his process.  He works like an alchemist, mixing levels with filters and plates, augmenting this, changing that, all in the quest to produce audio gold.  Countless mixes were tested in as many environments as possible to make sure that it always sounded the way it should: full, vibrant, balanced and resonant.  He even asked to borrow my phone - to download a mix onto my SD card and play it through my phone's speakers!

This is our third album together, and we're pretty happy with the results.  Like so much of our lives, however, it was a collaborative effort.  Jef and I share a lot of the creative process wherever possible, bouncing ideas off each other and testing throughout.  Does this text color look good?  Does this compression scheme work with the guitar?  He let me tear through his record collection for ideas (a common habit of mine), and I loaned him my ears.

For legacy projects of this type, we like to invoke as much of a "classic" feel as we can.  When I'm hunting for ideas, I go to enormous coffee table books with very large illustrations and many examples of period art and advertising. If you're looking for Christmas presents for me, you can't go wrong with those.  For this album, I looked at mostly mid 1950's album covers, as much of the music featured on the Bill Heid Sessions was originally recorded during this time.  Jef listened to period recordings and researched some of the recording techniques used during the original sessions. Together, we tried to present the warmth and brightness of a 1950's album as recorded and released at Chess or Blue Note.

Want to see and hear the results for yourself?  The CD release party will be held at the Cadieux Café in Detroit on Sunday, September 27th at 9:30 PM.  Bring an empty stomach and a lot of friends for this not-to-be-missed event.

Albums that Jef and I worked on together:

KT Lowe, The Basics (2006)
Alberta Adams, Detroit is My Home (2008)
Faruq Z. Bey, Rev. Robert Jones and ML Liebler, Gasoline: The Legacy Sessions (2009)
Black Hat, Phases of the Sun (2009)
RJ Spangler's Blue Four, You Know I Can't Refuse: The Bill Heid Sessions (2009)