tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33424734986284851052024-03-08T15:09:17.615-05:00Viqui Dillstuff about ViquiWorld and DillWorldAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.comBlogger38125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-79867160133833308872014-07-24T20:34:00.001-04:002014-07-24T20:34:31.768-04:00Hot Flash: Rock n Roll Mama<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/Fq9Zu5KiJ8A" width="480"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-18045749161637210552012-06-13T22:43:00.000-04:002012-06-13T22:43:09.719-04:00If the Leader Ain't Happy, Nobody Sings<div style="text-align: center;"><font style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Warning: </font>What you're about to read is considered a heresy in schools that teach worship leadership. It is based on my personal experiences, both as a worshiper and as a worship leader, and is offered as a cautionary tale.<br />
</div><br />
<h2>One size does not fit all</h2>
What they teach about arranging a song for the mean (average) vocal range doesn't work if the leader's range isn't average. Maybe like me, your range isn't average either. That means that when you're singing in the prescribed vocal range, like you might if singing melody from a hymn book, you're pretty much in pain the whole time. Not really conducive for a worshipful singing experience.<br />
<br />
Anybody watching you, like the folks who are trying to follow your leadership and worship with you, will sense your pain, feel your pain, and they won't be able to sing either. Which pretty much defeats the purpose of leaving the song in the group's singable range. Even though they can sing the song, they won't sing the song. And all because you're not comfortable.<br />
<br />
From time to time I doubt myself and try to lead worship in the hymnbook key. It always ends in an unfulfilling worship experience. The last time was a few weeks ago when I was leading worship at a small group Bible study in Berryville. I was running late so I decided to just play the songs as written, in the songbook keys. These folks are singers so I thought it would be alright. <br />
<br />
It wasn't and I felt bad about cheating the group out of some great Godtime.<br />
<br />
I mean the whole idea of leading worship is for folks to sing along, curl up in Jesus lap, put their head on His shoulder, give Him a high five, and worship. But they can't because what you mean to be a sacrifice is causing them pain. Silly you.<br />
<h2>A Change Will Do Me Good</h2>
One of the first things I do when I'm setting up a worship set is choose the song keys, which is to say that I change the song keys. Since I have a low vocal range, I usually lower the key about a half an octave. The highest note in most song arrangements for group singing is usually a <font style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">C</font> or a <font style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">D</font>, about an octave above <font style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">middle C</font>. But the top of my lead range is only a <font style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">G</font>, so I change the song key pretty much every time. For example, if the song is published in <font style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">C</font>, I feel most comfortable when I move the song to <font style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">F</font> or <font style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">G</font>.<br />
<br />
If I don't change the key, I can still sing the song but it sounds awful. I either sing it quietly in falsetto or I belt it out like Janis Joplin in the screaming range. Neither of these is very inspiring or inviting to those who might want to sing along.<br />
<br />
Usually in a small group setting, I'll choose the highest key possible for me, with the highest note in the song capped at <font style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">G</font>. Since I do a lot of worshiping in small groups for women, this key is comfortable for them, too.<br />
<br />
<h2>If the Worship Leader ain't happy, nobody sings</h2><br />
If the Worship Leader is comfortable, everyone feels safe. You gotta feel safe to worship. I blogged about some of this in my posts <a href="http://viquidill.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-kiss-with-my-eyes-closed.html">I Kiss with my Eyes Closed</a>, <a href="http://viquidill.blogspot.com/2010/06/hey-who-turned-off-water-worshipshower.html">Hey, Who Turned off the Water?</a>, and <a href="http://viquidill.blogspot.com/2010/04/4-musical-languages-of-worship.html">4 Musical Languages of Worship</a> last year.<br />
<br />
So be comfortable as the leader. Change the song key to match your vocal sweet spot. Get that out of the way so you can throw your head back, close your eyes, play your instrument and sing.<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com2151 Jackson Dr, Winchester, VA 22602, USA39.099177 -78.11680639.0976365 -78.119273499999991 39.100717499999995 -78.1143385tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-72980076894543927492012-06-13T12:47:00.003-04:002012-06-13T12:47:59.643-04:00#STC12 Day Five - The Road Back HomeOur last day of <b>#STC12</b> was Wednesday, May 23rd. We are tired, our brains are overloaded, but still we are not ready for the Summit to end. Irony.<br />
<br />
My suitcases stand ready. Took a little bit of wrestling, but I got everything in.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5znJ2mDr14A/T9i9bAqzLeI/AAAAAAAABBk/XtM35oRoKsc/s1600/IMG_2901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5znJ2mDr14A/T9i9bAqzLeI/AAAAAAAABBk/XtM35oRoKsc/s320/IMG_2901.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Score: Viqui 2 - Luggage 0. I win the wrestling match! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The closing luncheon gives us all one last chance to hang out with the STC folks.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I2LTPeuhfCU/T9i9dCM1mEI/AAAAAAAABBs/ooWEBzUOY2w/s1600/IMG_2902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-I2LTPeuhfCU/T9i9dCM1mEI/AAAAAAAABBs/ooWEBzUOY2w/s400/IMG_2902.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alan Hauser, Carolyn Klinger, Mary Saunders, and me</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />The <b>Strangest Thing at the Summit</b> award goes to the television screens built in to the bathroom mirrors at the Hyatt. So very strange, I just had to grab a photo.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VbiRforRUD0/T9i9fmjMOWI/AAAAAAAABB0/XN_XXr0wZSc/s1600/IMG_2903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VbiRforRUD0/T9i9fmjMOWI/AAAAAAAABB0/XN_XXr0wZSc/s320/IMG_2903.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Televisions over the sinks in the Women's Room at the Hyatt Regency O'Hare. Seriously. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The <b>Take-One-For-The-Team</b> award goes to Lorie Meyer, pictured here with the <i>über </i>talented Rich Maggiani. Lorie will have to tell the story herself, but as I understand it, she sustained a bone break during the <a href="http://viquidill.blogspot.com/2012/06/stc12-day-four-honors-banquet.html">Honors Banquet</a> without leaving the field of battle. Go Lorie! <span style="background-color: #eeeecc; color: #333333; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', Verdana, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10px; line-height: 18px; text-align: center;"> </span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gGho2ynEzwY/T9i9ifD9p7I/AAAAAAAABB8/Lfh1Nc-pXKw/s1600/IMG_2904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gGho2ynEzwY/T9i9ifD9p7I/AAAAAAAABB8/Lfh1Nc-pXKw/s320/IMG_2904.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lorie Meyer and Rich Maggiani. Lorie is the one with her arm in a sling. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Love these mobile boarding passes. Very convenient. And good for the environment, too. Kudos, United! <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eeDtcDYGHHM/T9i9kREefGI/AAAAAAAABCE/UYGVoaxs6vk/s1600/IMG_2907.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eeDtcDYGHHM/T9i9kREefGI/AAAAAAAABCE/UYGVoaxs6vk/s320/IMG_2907.PNG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mobile Boarding Pass screenshot from my iPhone. Looks like I need a charge, too. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />This is the photo I texted home to let the DillMen know I had boarded. We like photos at my house more than reading. My new friend in the seat beside me took this picture. Thanks, Mr. Stranger, man. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MoRJrT-9Ns0/T9i9nQZJ5xI/AAAAAAAABCQ/uWuzkGFvluA/s1600/IMG_2908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MoRJrT-9Ns0/T9i9nQZJ5xI/AAAAAAAABCQ/uWuzkGFvluA/s320/IMG_2908.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I got a window seat. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Here we are at the gate, waiting to take off from O'Hare. I am sitting close to the tail.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0Izdrqamf4k/T9i9sqcBntI/AAAAAAAABCY/RZqBsgJbk90/s1600/IMG_2909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0Izdrqamf4k/T9i9sqcBntI/AAAAAAAABCY/RZqBsgJbk90/s320/IMG_2909.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tarmac at O'Hare </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Very soon, we were underway. This is a shot out the window (I got a window seat, see above) of the <b>John Hancock building</b> and <b>Lake Michigan</b>.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6N_8jfr4wjc/T9i9x_RGN9I/AAAAAAAABCg/ANvIXJly-Ls/s1600/IMG_2910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6N_8jfr4wjc/T9i9x_RGN9I/AAAAAAAABCg/ANvIXJly-Ls/s320/IMG_2910.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">John Hancock Building, as seen from Seat 32A</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />So as my excellent <b>#STC12 Adventure</b> draws to a close, I look forward to expense reports, jet lag, photo uploading, and being hideously behind at work. It has been all worth it. <div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I learned so much. I saw so much. I shared so much. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And now I look forward to <b>#STC13</b>!<br /><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0Chicago O'Hare International Airport, 10000 Bessie Coleman Dr, Chicago, IL 60666, USA41.9766397 -87.905161441.9530307 -87.9446434 42.0002487 -87.865679399999991tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-35533070437977032062012-06-13T12:07:00.000-04:002012-06-13T12:07:15.442-04:00#STC12 Day Four - The Honors BanquetOn Tuesday night of the <a href="http://summit.stc.org/">STC Summit</a>, we have a costume change. We shed our nerdy writer duds and transform ourselves into elegant red carpet stars. The <b>Honors Banquet </b>is a dress up affair and we shine.
<br />
<br />
See our glamorous photos by <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rhoughton/sets/72157629884857834/">Rachel </a>and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rjl6955/sets/72157629923537590/">Rick </a>and a host or others on flickr. We look great when we really try. <br />
<br />
And the food looked good, too. I was so taken with the salad and entree, I forgot to photograph them. Here's a picture of the dessert sculpture.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BeuCr27kyOQ/T7x6lZbWnxI/AAAAAAAAA9M/Dl1ANtGg1w0/s1600/IMG_2889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BeuCr27kyOQ/T7x6lZbWnxI/AAAAAAAAA9M/Dl1ANtGg1w0/s320/IMG_2889.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dessert at the #STC12 Honors Banquet was an assortment of heavenly chocolate somethings. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Congratulations to the <b>Chicago Chapter</b> for their award. They were the #STC12 event hosts, among other things. I love each and every one of them. Read about our <a href="http://viquidill.blogspot.com/2012/05/stc12-takes-field-trip-to-second-city.html">field trip to <b>Second City</b></a> and you'll know why.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X7gIhN-vGcw/T7x6vt7JH7I/AAAAAAAAA9c/PKrM8t9mJPU/s1600/IMG_2891.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-X7gIhN-vGcw/T7x6vt7JH7I/AAAAAAAAA9c/PKrM8t9mJPU/s320/IMG_2891.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Chicago STC Chapter receives their award. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And congratulations to the <b><a href="http://www.stcwdc.org/wdcblog/">Washington, DC - Metro Baltimore Chapter</a></b> on our award. We are a <b><i>Chapter of Distinction</i></b>!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5zxjk-M-5d8/T9i6SQssi4I/AAAAAAAABBY/sP8JkJ2LMcw/s1600/stcwdcmbaward.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="323" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5zxjk-M-5d8/T9i6SQssi4I/AAAAAAAABBY/sP8JkJ2LMcw/s400/stcwdcmbaward.png" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Washington, DC - Metro Baltimore Chapter receives our award for Chapter of Distinction. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There are kind words about us in the program: <i>For your successful merger of the Washington, DC and Metro Baltimore chapters, your inaugural James Madison University event, and continuing a desades-long tradition of hosting an STC Summit Technical Communicaiton Competition</i>. See?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8HCBdX5YDgA/T7x6zFMQKFI/AAAAAAAAA9s/gdcCgwUZCfU/s1600/IMG_2898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8HCBdX5YDgA/T7x6zFMQKFI/AAAAAAAAA9s/gdcCgwUZCfU/s640/IMG_2898.JPG" width="478" /></a></div>
<br />
After the ceremonies, we have time to congratulate the winners. Here we are with Anne Grove, who received her Associate Fellowship tonight.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w-Ax7dztyv4/T7x63-jS89I/AAAAAAAAA90/jNZLlwmt5ms/s1600/IMG_2899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-w-Ax7dztyv4/T7x63-jS89I/AAAAAAAAA90/jNZLlwmt5ms/s320/IMG_2899.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: Anne Grove, Carolyn Klinger, Viqui Dill, and Mary Sanders. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A splendid evening with splendid people, smack in the middle of a splendid event.<br />
<br />
Congratulations to all our #STC12 winners and honorees!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-11827318907579243462012-06-08T22:56:00.001-04:002012-06-13T06:37:36.047-04:00#STC12 Day Two - Keynote and Opening<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Sunday evening at the Hyatt Regency O'Hare and all the Technical Communicators for miles around gather for the <a href="http://summit.stc.org/program-info/keynote/">Keynote address from Scott Berkun</a>. <br />
<br />
STC President Hillary Hart gives some introductory remarks, welcoming us to Chicago for the #STC12 Summit. We are so excited to be here, the sound of 1600 hands clapping fills the huge ballroom. <br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PjVe-hR4gX8/T7wR3ZH8M5I/AAAAAAAAA5E/HYeG0nRlv_s/s1600/IMG_2856.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PjVe-hR4gX8/T7wR3ZH8M5I/AAAAAAAAA5E/HYeG0nRlv_s/s320/IMG_2856.JPG" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
</div>Steven Jong takes the stage next. We will hear Steve sing on Monday night at the <a href="http://viquidill.blogspot.com/2012/05/stc12-rough-drafts-music-jam.html">Rough Drafts open jam</a>. He is upbeat because this has been a banner year at the Society. We are psyched. Maybe a little antsy, ready for a great Summit and a great year. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cc1OMRcUkCI/T7wR8ekkw-I/AAAAAAAAA5M/CN3CicLyqa4/s1600/IMG_2858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cc1OMRcUkCI/T7wR8ekkw-I/AAAAAAAAA5M/CN3CicLyqa4/s320/IMG_2858.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
Scott Berkun takes the podium. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Uwy0Yr2X3o/T7wSGfAXRAI/AAAAAAAAA5c/oGLJ9NANzNg/s1600/IMG_2860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2Uwy0Yr2X3o/T7wSGfAXRAI/AAAAAAAAA5c/oGLJ9NANzNg/s320/IMG_2860.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Scott is famous for his book <b><i>The Myths of Innovation </i></b>. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J6uzAYFO2lc/T7wSBKqxKqI/AAAAAAAAA5U/2m0zuWix614/s1600/IMG_2859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-J6uzAYFO2lc/T7wSBKqxKqI/AAAAAAAAA5U/2m0zuWix614/s320/IMG_2859.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
These are my favorite slides from the evening. Scott is engaging and relevant. He seems accessable, like he thinks he's one of us and doesn't know he's a techno rockstar. I love him immediately. <br />
<br />
You should be poked in the eye for saying "Ideation" according to Scott. Also according to Viqui.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zli2xCzPtEE/T7wSLh2XSvI/AAAAAAAAA5k/NBfQ9onHW68/s1600/STC+Keynote1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-zli2xCzPtEE/T7wSLh2XSvI/AAAAAAAAA5k/NBfQ9onHW68/s320/STC+Keynote1.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
Give a small team authority. <br />
<br />
Choose people who resist the status quo. <br />
<br />
Preach it, my brother! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mZuSvQbmQ_g/T7wSRjAiXII/AAAAAAAAA5s/0cMDb4ypz5M/s1600/STC+Keynote2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mZuSvQbmQ_g/T7wSRjAiXII/AAAAAAAAA5s/0cMDb4ypz5M/s320/STC+Keynote2.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><br />
<br />
Yes, I love me some Scott Berkun. I will love him even more on Monday when he hangs around to participate in one of the Lightening Talks. You gotta love a guy who hangs around to be with the fellow geekstas. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And on a parallel track, the Rough Drafts were gearing up for Monday night's jam. Here's a photo of Betsy Maaks arriving at the Hyatt with a load of guitars for tonight's rehearsal. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2UfZ3J1--JA/T7wSbVGlGuI/AAAAAAAAA6E/Jco2dq_JQBk/s1600/STC+Rough+Drafts+guitars+arrive.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2UfZ3J1--JA/T7wSbVGlGuI/AAAAAAAAA6E/Jco2dq_JQBk/s320/STC+Rough+Drafts+guitars+arrive.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Betsy Maaks, Viqui, and Rich Maggiani with Betsy's guitar laden Jeep Rubicon</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Before rehearsal, we drop into the Red Bar at the Hyatt for some dinner. I have sushi for the second night in a row. This is called a "green dragon" and it was really good. Sushi twice in two days? How lucky am I!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4LcVkWIJDCE/T7wSg-191mI/AAAAAAAAA6M/V9DM4UqiINg/s1600/STC+Rough+Drafts+sushi.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-4LcVkWIJDCE/T7wSg-191mI/AAAAAAAAA6M/V9DM4UqiINg/s320/STC+Rough+Drafts+sushi.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green dragon sushi at the Red Bar at the Hyatt </td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">At rehearsal, I met my date for the evening. It was love at first sight. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hdRLSTKcGSM/T7wSUL5LMmI/AAAAAAAAA50/lfc07jX69Uk/s1600/STC+Rough+Drafts+Bass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="171" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hdRLSTKcGSM/T7wSUL5LMmI/AAAAAAAAA50/lfc07jX69Uk/s320/STC+Rough+Drafts+Bass.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This beautiful Fender P-Bass was what was in Betsy's jeep </td></tr></tbody></table>We rehearsed from the set list.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
Rough Drafts jam sets are on slideshare at <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/rough-drafts-stc-2012-jam-sets">http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/rough-drafts-stc-2012-jam-sets</a><br />
<br />
<div id="__ss_12957293" style="width: 425px;"><strong style="display: block; margin: 12px 0 4px;"><a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/rough-drafts-stc-2012-jam-sets" target="_blank" title="Rough drafts stc 2012 jam sets">Rough drafts stc 2012 jam sets</a></strong> <iframe frameborder="0" height="355" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.slideshare.net/slideshow/embed_code/12957293" width="425"></iframe> <br />
<div style="padding: 5px 0 12px;">View more <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/thecroaker/death-by-powerpoint" target="_blank">PowerPoint</a> from <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill" target="_blank">Viqui Dill</a> </div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-1655772130737312422012-05-28T19:19:00.000-04:002012-05-28T19:19:59.492-04:00#STC12 The Rough Drafts Music Jam<br />
This is a story best told in pictures.
<br />
<br />
Before the gig . . .<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tqZ-QXSVbaQ/T7wWnFzTg5I/AAAAAAAAA7w/RlNxHaX3KNs/s1600/STC+Rough+Drafts+bracelets.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tqZ-QXSVbaQ/T7wWnFzTg5I/AAAAAAAAA7w/RlNxHaX3KNs/s320/STC+Rough+Drafts+bracelets.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wrist bands for everyone to publicize and remember the event </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V1OWffi-fGY/T8POFYdQ68I/AAAAAAAAA_M/pxJqTYtHWLA/s1600/STC+Rough+Drafts+Bass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="171" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V1OWffi-fGY/T8POFYdQ68I/AAAAAAAAA_M/pxJqTYtHWLA/s320/STC+Rough+Drafts+Bass.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This sexy Fender P-Bass was mine for 2 whole nights </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1AXoggPhdZU/T8PObpbg7cI/AAAAAAAAA_U/uRDDjvg2EYU/s1600/STC+Rough+Drafts+with+Ann+Grove.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1AXoggPhdZU/T8PObpbg7cI/AAAAAAAAA_U/uRDDjvg2EYU/s320/STC+Rough+Drafts+with+Ann+Grove.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Rough Drafts with our amazing sponsor and host Chapter rep, Left to right: Dr. Thomas Barker - lead and rhythm guitar, vocals, set lists and charts; Viqui Dill - bass and vocals; Rich Maggiani - drums and more; Ann Grove - president at Logical Writing Solutions, Inc., our sponsor; Betsy Maaks - vocals, linedancing instructor, STC Chicago Chapter rep, equipment coordinator, jam participant juggler, table program developer; Robert is not pictured </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
First set kicked off with the core band warming up the crowd and getting a soundcheck on the fly.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bLH-_K1QY-A/T8P0Hi-o24I/AAAAAAAABA4/GnwGtQQzP7A/s1600/flickrrjl6955_6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bLH-_K1QY-A/T8P0Hi-o24I/AAAAAAAABA4/GnwGtQQzP7A/s320/flickrrjl6955_6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: Rich Maggiani on drums, Robert Hershenow on guitar and vocals, Viqui Dill on bass and vocals, and Tommy Barker on guitar and vocals </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The dance floor filled up fast, thanks to Tommy's great set list. We open with Elvis' "Good Rockin' Tonight" to get the party started.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JEoPNtnJe4g/T8Pz6jNMJWI/AAAAAAAABAY/19UbylOamgg/s1600/flickrrjl6955_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JEoPNtnJe4g/T8Pz6jNMJWI/AAAAAAAABAY/19UbylOamgg/s320/flickrrjl6955_2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Well I heard the news, there's good rockin' tonight </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Lucky me, I'm on bass.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fPSisuGkBOI/T8Pz95VKVWI/AAAAAAAABAg/On4PrcN2wCw/s1600/flickrrjl6955_3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fPSisuGkBOI/T8Pz95VKVWI/AAAAAAAABAg/On4PrcN2wCw/s320/flickrrjl6955_3.jpg" width="214" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The bass babe </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
First jammers out of the box are Tristan Bishop on keys and vocals and Steven Jong singing lead. Was it "Honky Tonk Woman"?<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-80ajALJyvKs/T8P0LaiIoJI/AAAAAAAABBA/Cfl5_scBWPg/s1600/flickrrjl6955_7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-80ajALJyvKs/T8P0LaiIoJI/AAAAAAAABBA/Cfl5_scBWPg/s320/flickrrjl6955_7.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: Robert Hershenow on guitar, Tristan Bishop on keys and vocals, the bass babe, Steven Jong on vocals, and Tommy Barker on guitar </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<span style="text-align: left;">The Weight features Kai Weber and Elizabeth Barteau on vocals with Ryan Williams on bass. </span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zruggRTh7uY/T8Pzsx0XpbI/AAAAAAAAA_4/calswWPQo3Y/s1600/FlickrRhoughtonWeight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zruggRTh7uY/T8Pzsx0XpbI/AAAAAAAAA_4/calswWPQo3Y/s320/FlickrRhoughtonWeight.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;">Such a fun song and they sing it/play it so well </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Love Me Like a Man - I get to sing my favorite song, thanks to Bruce Poropat on bass. Also featured is Stephen Adler on guitar. "Darlin' I know you can."<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RxVUloa5x4o/T8PzgbLvVzI/AAAAAAAAA_g/IqfvrVONFkg/s1600/FlickrRhoughtonLMLaM1.jpg"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RxVUloa5x4o/T8PzgbLvVzI/AAAAAAAAA_g/IqfvrVONFkg/s320/FlickrRhoughtonLMLaM1.jpg" width="320" /></a>
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V4kwxxUoylw/T8PzkbPFP9I/AAAAAAAAA_o/mBCG_yXwSTg/s1600/FlickrRhoughtonLMLaM2.jpg"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-V4kwxxUoylw/T8PzkbPFP9I/AAAAAAAAA_o/mBCG_yXwSTg/s320/FlickrRhoughtonLMLaM2.jpg" width="320" /></a>
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qsq6EkGvQQc/T8PzpLgyfqI/AAAAAAAAA_w/G7Ml8PMlT58/s1600/FlickrRhoughtonLMLaM3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qsq6EkGvQQc/T8PzpLgyfqI/AAAAAAAAA_w/G7Ml8PMlT58/s320/FlickrRhoughtonLMLaM3.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I love it when folks dance to our music </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
Bruce Poropat also plays a mean electric guitar as we soon found out. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NktjxKbaTK0/T8Pzz7kHDPI/AAAAAAAABAI/dycZWW7UUqs/s1600/flickrrjl6955.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NktjxKbaTK0/T8Pzz7kHDPI/AAAAAAAABAI/dycZWW7UUqs/s320/flickrrjl6955.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Left to right: Bruce Poropat on guitar, Robert Hershenow on guitar, drums behind, Viqui on bass, and Tommy Barker on guitar and vocals </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
Second set kicked it up a notch with a tribute to our host Chapter and Summit location. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bpq8QLqDmq0/T7wWlMiTIyI/AAAAAAAAA7g/XevqFyIb98E/s1600/STC+Rough+Drafts+Sweet+Home+Chicago.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bpq8QLqDmq0/T7wWlMiTIyI/AAAAAAAAA7g/XevqFyIb98E/s320/STC+Rough+Drafts+Sweet+Home+Chicago.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The second set kicked off with "Sweet Home Chicago" featuring the STC Chicago Chapter as Jake and Elwood Blues </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qd-ZRKWt0QQ/T8P0Aeur2EI/AAAAAAAABAo/CUzPaT8G2QU/s1600/flickrrjl6955_4.jpg"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qd-ZRKWt0QQ/T8P0Aeur2EI/AAAAAAAABAo/CUzPaT8G2QU/s320/flickrrjl6955_4.jpg" width="320" /></a> <a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nJGfjSmqUTc/T8QDR6aYvFI/AAAAAAAABBM/_ba64WoxX5k/s1600/flickrrjl6955_5.jpg"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nJGfjSmqUTc/T8QDR6aYvFI/AAAAAAAABBM/_ba64WoxX5k/s320/flickrrjl6955_5.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Finale set welcomed everybody back to the stage.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pcei5-tRdJw/T7wWoz3PNgI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/j1Knt7YMP0w/s1600/STC+Rough+Drafts+jam4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pcei5-tRdJw/T7wWoz3PNgI/AAAAAAAAA8Q/j1Knt7YMP0w/s320/STC+Rough+Drafts+jam4.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mustang Sally featured many vocal talents, among them Ben Woelk and Marilyn Woelk of the Rochester Chapter </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
And the award for <span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: 22px; line-height: 28px;"><i>Educator, and badass sexiest tech comm musician ever!</i> </span>goes to our own Dr. Tommy Barker.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kq3b2kV-mh0/T8PzwVSh1pI/AAAAAAAABAA/p7bP8nOgGy8/s1600/TweetDrTBarkerBadAss.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kq3b2kV-mh0/T8PzwVSh1pI/AAAAAAAABAA/p7bP8nOgGy8/s320/TweetDrTBarkerBadAss.png" width="254" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 13px;"><a href="https://twitter.com/phylisebanner/status/204744840364294144/photo/1">https://twitter.com/phylisebanner/status/204744840364294144/photo/1</a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: -webkit-auto;">
At the after party we just could not let the evening stop. To quote Chris Kristofferson, Janis Joplin, and Betsy Maaks, "We sang every song that driver knew."</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RRt0RMJSgq0/T7wWltqwIII/AAAAAAAAA7o/WsuXThnrLbo/s1600/STC+Rough+Drafts+after+party.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-RRt0RMJSgq0/T7wWltqwIII/AAAAAAAAA7o/WsuXThnrLbo/s320/STC+Rough+Drafts+after+party.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Philadelphia Chapter president Stephen Adler treats us to "Wild Horses" and even a little singing at the after party </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cJckDMbEPs8/T8A7hu0JQVI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/uR2Wdj-bMXE/s1600/176133035397033091_nf3sbBoa_c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cJckDMbEPs8/T8A7hu0JQVI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/uR2Wdj-bMXE/s320/176133035397033091_nf3sbBoa_c.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We just can't stop singing, so the party goes on well into the next morning , featuring Tommy Barker on that great big beautiful Taylor acoustic guitar </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
More photos on flickr at <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rjl6955/sets/72157629920159352/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/rjl6955/sets/72157629920159352/</a>
thanks to Richard Lippincott and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rhoughton/sets/72157629884857834/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/rhoughton/sets/72157629884857834/</a> thanks to Rachel Houghton.<br />
<br />
A thousand thanks to our generous hosts and sponsors, especially Ann Grove and <a href="http://www.logicalwriters.com/">http://www.logicalwriters.com/</a> Love the shirts, love the party, and LOVE YOU!!!<br />
<br />
Rough Drafts jam sets are on slideshare at <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/rough-drafts-stc-2012-jam-sets">http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/rough-drafts-stc-2012-jam-sets</a><br />
<br />
<div id="__ss_12957293" style="width: 425px;">
<strong style="display: block; margin: 12px 0px 4px;"><a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/rough-drafts-stc-2012-jam-sets" target="_blank" title="Rough drafts stc 2012 jam sets">Rough drafts stc 2012 jam sets</a></strong><iframe frameborder="0" height="355" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.slideshare.net/slideshow/embed_code/12957293" width="425"></iframe><br />
<div style="padding: 5px 0px 12px;">
View more <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/thecroaker/death-by-powerpoint" target="_blank">PowerPoint</a> from <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill" target="_blank">Viqui Dill</a></div>
</div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-65919815751253823842012-05-25T21:03:00.000-04:002012-05-25T21:03:18.598-04:00#STC12 Day Three - Chicago Pizza for Lunch<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Midday on Monday and we've worked up an appetite. My friends back home told me to be sure I try some pizza while in Chicago so when Helen from our <a href="http://www.stcwdc.org/">DC Chapter</a> invited me to join a group for lunch at the <a href="http://www.chicagofireoven.com/">Chicago Fire Oven</a> a short walk from the Hyatt. Most of the folks we lunched with are from the <a href="http://www.neostc.org/">Northeast Ohio Chapter</a> and they sure are photogenic. See? </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1owzeUC2WLs/T7wWORYpdnI/AAAAAAAAA7I/kpVkALT9eng/s1600/STC+Chicago+Fire+lunch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1owzeUC2WLs/T7wWORYpdnI/AAAAAAAAA7I/kpVkALT9eng/s320/STC+Chicago+Fire+lunch.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch with the NorthEast Ohio Chapter of STC at the Chicago Fire Oven Restaurant </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Of course, I had pizza.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZglI99eukTM/T7wWPxB-W0I/AAAAAAAAA7Q/IK4QFUCHYLc/s1600/STC+Chicago+Fire+pizza.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZglI99eukTM/T7wWPxB-W0I/AAAAAAAAA7Q/IK4QFUCHYLc/s320/STC+Chicago+Fire+pizza.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pizza from the Chicago Fire Over Restaurant in Rosemont IL </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
On of the guests at lunch was traveling Monty the Monkey. He has been to 8 STC Summits and over 30 countries. So of course, I took his picture.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8maHbj3_QJw/T7wWIfD8rDI/AAAAAAAAA7A/aHcB-alp_uA/s1600/STC+Chicago+Fire+Monty.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8maHbj3_QJw/T7wWIfD8rDI/AAAAAAAAA7A/aHcB-alp_uA/s320/STC+Chicago+Fire+Monty.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Monty the Monkey has been to 8 STC Summits </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So after lunch with my fellow Tech Comm folks and checking off "pizza" from my Chicago Summit bucket list, we return to the Summit refreshed and revived.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0Rosemont, IL, USA41.9891 -87.87147441.9654955 -87.910956000000013 42.0127045 -87.831992tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-12434795708105164202012-05-24T23:07:00.000-04:002012-05-25T21:08:26.753-04:00#STC12 Day Three - Tutorial Pacing Session<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Yikes! It's Monday and Monday is THE BIG DAY! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I told my boss if he would pay expenses, I would wear my American Woodmark gear at the Summit. So I pull out my shirt and it's wrinkly. Not so wrinkly that I would just wear it as-is if this were any regular day but it's Monday and Monday is THE BIG DAY! Therefore, I show off some of my crazy good domestic skillz, as shown below. </div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4K4fHtq_uW8/T7wVaMonGKI/AAAAAAAAA6o/UrUgCyg4r9w/s1600/STC+Tutorial+Pacing+iron.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4K4fHtq_uW8/T7wVaMonGKI/AAAAAAAAA6o/UrUgCyg4r9w/s320/STC+Tutorial+Pacing+iron.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; line-height: 18px; text-align: left;">This an iron. I still remember how to use it.</span>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The presentation (my presentation as part of the Education Progression) is in the same room where we had the Leadership Program yesterday. And just in case I might need reassurance, STC has posted signs outside each door. Looks like I found the right place.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2YzKawlpixc/T7wVmNtORdI/AAAAAAAAA64/X-3j99CS0A4/s1600/STC+Tutorial+Pacing+sign.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2YzKawlpixc/T7wVmNtORdI/AAAAAAAAA64/X-3j99CS0A4/s320/STC+Tutorial+Pacing+sign.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Education Progression, we have found our spot. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Yesterday at the Education Progression, I ran my battery low and had to plug in. So today, I arrived early to snag a table beside one of the few available outlets in the room.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ytYIqFwJwg/T7wVgWQqddI/AAAAAAAAA6w/hGT9a0TuJyk/s1600/STC+Tutorial+Pacing+power.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0ytYIqFwJwg/T7wVgWQqddI/AAAAAAAAA6w/hGT9a0TuJyk/s320/STC+Tutorial+Pacing+power.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Power outlet and my handy white extension cord, ready for duty. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Just as an aside, I have to say that power was a bit of an issue at #STC12. Seems like lots of folks were scouting out a source for electric juice during this Summit. Being an early bird, I had good luck with finding power when I needed it.<br />
<br />
The presentation went well for a first timer. Many things I would have done differently but nothing I was ashamed of. Don't forget to submit your Summit Speaker Evaluation. I'm Viqui Dill and the session is called "Tutorial Pacing". <a href="http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/STC12sessions">http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/STC12sessions</a><br />
<br />
Proceedings on the STC Summit website at <a href="http://www.stc.org/images/proceedings/Documents/tutorialpacing.htm">http://www.stc.org/images/proceedings/Documents/tutorialpacing.htm</a>
<br />
<br />
Slides on slideshare at <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/tutorial-pacing">http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/tutorial-pacing</a><br />
<div id="__ss_12928451" style="width: 425px;">
<strong style="display: block; margin: 12px 0 4px;"><a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/tutorial-pacing" target="_blank" title="Tutorial Pacing">Tutorial Pacing</a></strong> <iframe frameborder="0" height="355" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.slideshare.net/slideshow/embed_code/12928451" width="425"></iframe> <br />
<div style="padding: 5px 0 12px;">
View more <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/thecroaker/death-by-powerpoint" target="_blank">PowerPoint</a> from <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill" target="_blank">Viqui Dill</a> </div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com29200-9258 W Bryn Mawr Ave, Rosemont, IL 60018, USA41.98115507767352 -87.85766601562541.978204077673517 -87.862601515625 41.984106077673523 -87.852730515625tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-8562063607840526362012-05-23T03:20:00.002-04:002012-05-28T14:10:06.920-04:00#STC12 Day Two - Leadership Program<br />
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
A beautiful day in Chicago begins at the Hyatt Regency O'Hare in Rosemont. To start the day right, I take time to stop and smell the roses.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r3PsJy8LSV0/T7wO4tHnYcI/AAAAAAAAA3w/HADCqtsROFw/s1600/IMG_2841.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-r3PsJy8LSV0/T7wO4tHnYcI/AAAAAAAAA3w/HADCqtsROFw/s320/IMG_2841.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roses in Rosemont </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
The Leadership Program is way down in the basement of the Hyatt. Luckily, I ran into my fellow Rough Drafts band mates in the hotel lobby. All I had to do to find the right meeting room was act casual and follow the Leaders.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6mW3WhQ5opc/T7wPb7f3jjI/AAAAAAAAA4w/M3o_9rlyELE/s1600/Rough+Drafts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6mW3WhQ5opc/T7wPb7f3jjI/AAAAAAAAA4w/M3o_9rlyELE/s320/Rough+Drafts.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Rough Drafts at the Leadership Program </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The first thing we did was take over a table. See in the photo how we made our own reserved sign for the table. I'm pretty sure it fooled the authorities because they did not kick us out. Even if they did, we could just say "I'm with the band".<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TITKn-z22AU/T7wPK81wuoI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/CWVyKI2sWXE/s1600/IMG_2849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TITKn-z22AU/T7wPK81wuoI/AAAAAAAAA4Q/CWVyKI2sWXE/s320/IMG_2849.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Rough Draft table, see the sign? </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
The opening remarks were given by our outgoing president, Hillary Hart. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GSIgbqY2MoA/T7wO-dJCF7I/AAAAAAAAA34/NvkEFXwjUmo/s1600/IMG_2844.JPG"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GSIgbqY2MoA/T7wO-dJCF7I/AAAAAAAAA34/NvkEFXwjUmo/s320/IMG_2844.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hillary Hart addresses the group </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
followed by energizing words from Nicky Bleiel.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gEWrOUW71aw/T7wPDXYlZ8I/AAAAAAAAA4A/t0n9Hgs3ewA/s1600/IMG_2846.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gEWrOUW71aw/T7wPDXYlZ8I/AAAAAAAAA4A/t0n9Hgs3ewA/s320/IMG_2846.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nicky Bleiel gives a peptalk </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Chapter Honors were announced. We got a sheets full of special stickers for the badges of the members</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_sndJCDBtfA/T7wPcfc8MPI/AAAAAAAAA44/GQtiedHtlrA/s1600/STC+Chapter+of+Distinction+stickers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_sndJCDBtfA/T7wPcfc8MPI/AAAAAAAAA44/GQtiedHtlrA/s320/STC+Chapter+of+Distinction+stickers.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">STC Community of Distinction stickers </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My presentation is entitled "Do You want that Tweeted, Posted, or eMailed?" We begin by taking the Survey. Takes a while but it's a good way to introduce the scope of the Survey.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ftR3IGyhp8Q/T8O8Sv13TII/AAAAAAAAA_A/F4fZqe1MXaM/s1600/flickrrjl6955Leadership.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ftR3IGyhp8Q/T8O8Sv13TII/AAAAAAAAA_A/F4fZqe1MXaM/s320/flickrrjl6955Leadership.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marilyn Woelk, Cherie Woodward, and others at our enriching discussion about social media</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mw1mm_o37nw/T8O8PdFl68I/AAAAAAAAA-4/vJTT0Pb99yo/s1600/FlickrRhoughtonLeadership.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-mw1mm_o37nw/T8O8PdFl68I/AAAAAAAAA-4/vJTT0Pb99yo/s320/FlickrRhoughtonLeadership.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ed Marshall adds his experience to the discussion </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Many thanks to the attendees for reading and responding to each and every question.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hJvsA4FDVt8/T7wPQnuvEcI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/5f_ttpA2hU0/s1600/IMG_2850.JPG" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hJvsA4FDVt8/T7wPQnuvEcI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/5f_ttpA2hU0/s320/IMG_2850.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This nice group of Technical Communicators takes the Survey </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FfD1-LKdtNc/T7wPV6TWI_I/AAAAAAAAA4g/Gdg3_id--2s/s1600/IMG_2851.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FfD1-LKdtNc/T7wPV6TWI_I/AAAAAAAAA4g/Gdg3_id--2s/s320/IMG_2851.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks to everyone for your responses </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
After the presentation, we give ourselves a thumbs up. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C7hltxjcB9c/T7wPbtc0qaI/AAAAAAAAA4o/BqiR4grtHVo/s1600/IMG_2852.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C7hltxjcB9c/T7wPbtc0qaI/AAAAAAAAA4o/BqiR4grtHVo/s320/IMG_2852.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Leadership progression was a success, thanks to the great attendees like Marilyn Woelk and Cherie Woodward and STC planners</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Take the survey for yourself at <a href="http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/BF59KNK">http://www.surveymonkey.com/s/BF59KNK</a><br />
We would love to hear from you.
<br />
<br />
Slides on slideshare at <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/stc-social-mediasurvey">http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/stc-social-mediasurvey</a><br />
<br />
More photos at <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rjl6955/sets/72157629908903056/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/rjl6955/sets/72157629908903056/</a> thanks to Richard Lippincott
and <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/rhoughton/sets/72157629884857834/">http://www.flickr.com/photos/rhoughton/sets/72157629884857834/</a> thanks to Rachel Houghton. <br />
<div id="__ss_12928276" style="width: 425px;">
<strong style="display: block; margin: 12px 0 4px;"><a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill/stc-social-mediasurvey" target="_blank" title="STC DC Baltimore Social Media Survey 2011">STC DC Baltimore Social Media Survey 2011</a></strong> <iframe frameborder="0" height="355" marginheight="0" marginwidth="0" scrolling="no" src="http://www.slideshare.net/slideshow/embed_code/12928276" width="425"></iframe> <br />
<div style="padding: 5px 0 12px;">
View more <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/thecroaker/death-by-powerpoint" target="_blank">PowerPoint</a> from <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill" target="_blank">Viqui Dill</a> </div>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com2Chicago O'Hare International Airport, 10000 Bessie Coleman Dr, Chicago, IL 60666, USA41.9766397 -87.905161441.9530307 -87.9446434 42.0002487 -87.865679399999991tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-85805307159355925222012-05-20T01:08:00.000-04:002012-05-25T21:10:30.907-04:00#STC12 Takes a Field Trip to Second City in ChicagoTonight, a bunch of us Technical Communications types gathered for an evening of networking, connection, food, and fun. Here's a little bit of how it went.<br />
<br />
First we got a ride on the bus. Good time to check out the surrounding area and the beautiful Chicago skyline.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l1NXPfuUvFU/T7h1JXSzMvI/AAAAAAAAA2E/hHUSD7IlDbg/s1600/IMG_2817.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-l1NXPfuUvFU/T7h1JXSzMvI/AAAAAAAAA2E/hHUSD7IlDbg/s320/IMG_2817.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From the bus, we could see the Chicago skyline </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WS_KUUQwxGU/T7h1Pj9crWI/AAAAAAAAA2M/FU-wzPETrs4/s1600/IMG_2827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WS_KUUQwxGU/T7h1Pj9crWI/AAAAAAAAA2M/FU-wzPETrs4/s320/IMG_2827.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: -webkit-auto;">I will call it "The Sears Tower" forever. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Before we knew it, we were there. The bus driver let us off at the door. Thanks, man.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yLCyH7Xa7CU/T7h1U7wPNqI/AAAAAAAAA2U/uHkEPt6mMdQ/s1600/IMG_2828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yLCyH7Xa7CU/T7h1U7wPNqI/AAAAAAAAA2U/uHkEPt6mMdQ/s320/IMG_2828.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Second City location </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Then we split up into groups for dinner. My group went to <a href="http://www.kamehachi.com/">Kamehachi</a>. What a great place. Best sushi I can remember.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-06wSCvTPrwI/T7h1WqYV_qI/AAAAAAAAA2c/jugYPrhAStc/s1600/IMG_2829.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="173" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-06wSCvTPrwI/T7h1WqYV_qI/AAAAAAAAA2c/jugYPrhAStc/s320/IMG_2829.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The STC crew at Kamehachi Japanese restaurant </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And the food is beautiful, as well as photogenic. See? <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aobuoZdIH2A/T7h1awF2U1I/AAAAAAAAA2k/FKmOoKWXNdM/s1600/IMG_2831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-aobuoZdIH2A/T7h1awF2U1I/AAAAAAAAA2k/FKmOoKWXNdM/s320/IMG_2831.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miso starts the meal </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xrUKpmLy2sE/T7h1hfNRW6I/AAAAAAAAA2s/_yhurhgJGLs/s1600/IMG_2832.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-xrUKpmLy2sE/T7h1hfNRW6I/AAAAAAAAA2s/_yhurhgJGLs/s320/IMG_2832.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Unbelievably delicious sushi </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_48R29U1bFY/T7h1sCxP0tI/AAAAAAAAA28/uX1dVqFZYk4/s1600/IMG_2834.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_48R29U1bFY/T7h1sCxP0tI/AAAAAAAAA28/uX1dVqFZYk4/s320/IMG_2834.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Delicious and photogenic sushi </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aFAUdkbUCL4/T7h1xTfSevI/AAAAAAAAA3E/5CNI7Xy6dBQ/s1600/IMG_2835.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aFAUdkbUCL4/T7h1xTfSevI/AAAAAAAAA3E/5CNI7Xy6dBQ/s320/IMG_2835.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The mackerel sashimi comes in its own little house </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bqNh0QsfMYY/T7h12tbq2oI/AAAAAAAAA3M/AjhmLc9Fh70/s1600/IMG_2836.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bqNh0QsfMYY/T7h12tbq2oI/AAAAAAAAA3M/AjhmLc9Fh70/s320/IMG_2836.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Some of us had room for dessert </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After dinner, it was a short walk to the theatre. Here's a group shot of us.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g5I-Qd3ReOE/T7h19jmMXKI/AAAAAAAAA3U/pCSja-vtu6w/s1600/IMG_2838.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g5I-Qd3ReOE/T7h19jmMXKI/AAAAAAAAA3U/pCSja-vtu6w/s320/IMG_2838.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The STC Crew at the Second City show </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
And a shot of their menu. More drinks. More food. More fun.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ljS8dwdb20g/T7h2DkmwjEI/AAAAAAAAA3c/Xi4ESkOkMrM/s1600/IMG_2839.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ljS8dwdb20g/T7h2DkmwjEI/AAAAAAAAA3c/Xi4ESkOkMrM/s320/IMG_2839.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Even the menu was funny </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A few words about Second City: the show is the best of its kind. It is no wonder that this organization is so famous for cradling and nurturing the finest comedians on the planet. The material was funny, topical, fresh. The players were engaging, funny, and cute as buttons. The whole thing was fabulous.<br />
<br />
In fact the whole evening was fabulous, made all the more wonderful by the fact that I got to hang out with my Tech Comm colleagues.<br />
<br />
Thanks so much to Linda Kelley, Paula Ludmann @pludmann , and Linda Jansak @ljansak for putting the thing together.<br />
<br />
And a shout out to Betsy Maaks for being just as great in person as she is online. <br />
<br />
Now it's late and I'm "on" tomorrow morning at the Leadership event. Come see me if you can.<br />
<br />
AND BRING COFFEE!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-78490465780315979152012-05-19T15:48:00.002-04:002012-05-19T15:55:50.144-04:00#STC12 Day One - The ArrivalDay one begins dark and early, leaving our house at 6:30 am. Big thanks to my son, the fabulous Jim Dill, for chauffeuring the car back home after dropping me off at the Dulles Departures area.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-alupHtV6lSA/T7fycFDY6jI/AAAAAAAAA1E/YGLQA6ueJmo/s1600/STC12+my+chauffer.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-alupHtV6lSA/T7fycFDY6jI/AAAAAAAAA1E/YGLQA6ueJmo/s320/STC12+my+chauffer.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Jim and me at the Dulles Departures area </span>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Boarding was easy. I didn't get the bodyscan nor a patdown because TSA was getting backed up and they needed to play catch up. It is bad to let you know I'm a little disappointed? Anyway, I got a nice window seat next to two nice, quiet traveling companions on the flight from Dulles to O'Hare.
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wDGe3HXPAXY/T7fzSetndWI/AAAAAAAAA1M/Zii7lFy_ieg/s1600/STC12+Dulles+gate.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="149" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wDGe3HXPAXY/T7fzSetndWI/AAAAAAAAA1M/Zii7lFy_ieg/s200/STC12+Dulles+gate.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View out the window of the plane to O'Hare. I have a window seat.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
O'Hare is gorgeous. I loved this artwork over the moving walkway.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JyUvG9A2LZg/T7f0fyPQwLI/AAAAAAAAA1U/JvMxaAA350g/s1600/STC12+OHare.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JyUvG9A2LZg/T7f0fyPQwLI/AAAAAAAAA1U/JvMxaAA350g/s320/STC12+OHare.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Artwork over the moving walkway at O'Hare </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I am always so glad to see my suitcase when it arrives. So of course, I took a picture. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ni5n65CbpM0/T7f06vaNuBI/AAAAAAAAA1c/Ttd4ECMiwuw/s1600/STC12+suitcase.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ni5n65CbpM0/T7f06vaNuBI/AAAAAAAAA1c/Ttd4ECMiwuw/s320/STC12+suitcase.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reunited with my suitcase. I have missed you so. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Finding the shuttle bus to the Hyatt Regency O'Hare was a little tricky. Next time, I'm told to go downstairs. I followed the directions from the luggage carousel area and went for quite a hike, just like Scott Prentice. Now he tells me.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wk5VuvtrLJ4/T7f2hYzpgCI/AAAAAAAAA1k/a9W-AVNrBtM/s1600/Bus+Shuttle+Center+tweet.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-wk5VuvtrLJ4/T7f2hYzpgCI/AAAAAAAAA1k/a9W-AVNrBtM/s320/Bus+Shuttle+Center+tweet.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The tweet stream about finding the shuttle would have been handy. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
So now, I am safely checked in at the Hyatt.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EOu3cxb3akI/T7f3lIry0wI/AAAAAAAAA1s/6MNOuKgq_sE/s1600/STC12+Hyatt+room.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-EOu3cxb3akI/T7f3lIry0wI/AAAAAAAAA1s/6MNOuKgq_sE/s320/STC12+Hyatt+room.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am safely checked in to this nice room at the Hyatt. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gCYMqi-MxIY/T7f3oUqQsYI/AAAAAAAAA10/TWwTxue0gkU/s1600/STC12+map.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gCYMqi-MxIY/T7f3oUqQsYI/AAAAAAAAA10/TWwTxue0gkU/s320/STC12+map.PNG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Here's what I look like from space. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
And I'm rested. And I've blogged (I set a personal goal to blog the conference).
<br />
<br />
Follow the Society for Communications 2012 Summit on twitter using the hashtag #stc12.<br />
<br />
Now let the festivities begin!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com09300 W Bryn Mawr Ave, Chicago, IL, USA41.9829282 -87.783470941.981452700000006 -87.785938399999992 41.9844037 -87.7810034tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-53552006388593171972012-05-18T12:28:00.000-04:002012-05-18T12:29:44.256-04:00The Rough DraftsHere's a little more about that jam.<br />
<a href="http://summit.stc.org/announcing-the-return-of-the-summit-music-jam/">http://summit.stc.org/announcing-the-return-of-the-summit-music-jam/</a><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DUkZq-nE9Fw/T7Z3BVHZxfI/AAAAAAAAA0w/78Zewv-xa5Y/s1600/Intercom+2012+05.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DUkZq-nE9Fw/T7Z3BVHZxfI/AAAAAAAAA0w/78Zewv-xa5Y/s640/Intercom+2012+05.png" width="491" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The article in our Tech Comm trade magazine, <b><i>intercom </i></b><a href="http://intercom.stc.org/2012/05/off-hoursthe-rough-drafts/">http:\\intercom.stc.org/2012/05/off-hoursthe-rough-drafts/</a> . <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wioex1XfnTc/T7Z3RUtPbuI/AAAAAAAAA04/JznSm67nF6c/s1600/Rough+Drafts+T.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="247" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Wioex1XfnTc/T7Z3RUtPbuI/AAAAAAAAA04/JznSm67nF6c/s320/Rough+Drafts+T.png" width="320" /></a></div>
The commemorative t-shirt, thanks to the generous sponsorship of Ann Grove (<a href="http://www.logicalwriters.com/">Logical Writing Solutions</a>).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Can you tell I'm excited?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-17437545235038082192012-05-18T11:49:00.004-04:002012-05-18T11:49:54.967-04:00Going to #STC12Tomorrow morning before the rooster crows I will be on my way to the Society for Technical Communications Summit 2012 in Chicago. <a href="http://summit.stc.org/">http://summit.stc.org/</a><br />
<br />
Today, I'm getting ready. As you can see, I've got my boarding pass and a pile of business cards.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YfTmxwe5Rs0/T7ZrQwEylCI/AAAAAAAAA0k/9GbkOZ5C-X4/s1600/cards+and+boarding+pass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="163" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-YfTmxwe5Rs0/T7ZrQwEylCI/AAAAAAAAA0k/9GbkOZ5C-X4/s320/cards+and+boarding+pass.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I plan to blog my experiences at the Summit.<br />
<br />
I will be presenting twice, once as part of the Leadership Program, <a href="http://summit.stc.org/program-info/leadership-day/">http://summit.stc.org/program-info/leadership-day/</a><br />
<br />
and once as part of an Education progression <a href="http://www.softconference.com/stc/sessionDetail.asp?SID=274045">http://www.softconference.com/stc/sessionDetail.asp?SID=274045</a> <br />
<br />
I'm also participating in an evening Jam with other technical communicators. Our band name is the "Rough Drafts" which I think is so cool. <a href="http://summit.stc.org/announcing-the-return-of-the-summit-music-jam/">http://summit.stc.org/announcing-the-return-of-the-summit-music-jam/</a><br />
<br />
I have posted the content for these on SlideShare <a href="http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill">http://www.slideshare.net/viqui_dill</a><br />
<br />
We have a big fancy Honors Banquet on Tuesday night. I have a new dress that is super cute.<br />
<br />
The rest of the time, I'll be enjoying the company and wisdom of the other leaders and presenters. Should be a great few days.<br />
<br />
Wish me luck! <br /><br />Viqui would love to connect with you. <div>
Email her at <a href="mailto:social_media@stcwdc.org">social_media@stcwdc.org</a>, </div>
<div>
follow her on twitter @viqui_dill <a href="https://twitter.com/viqui_dill">https://twitter.com/viqui_dill</a>, </div>
<div>
connect with her on Linked In<a href="http://www.linkedin.com/pub/viqui-dill/15/79/7a5">http://www.linkedin.com/pub/viqui-dill/15/79/7a5</a>, </div>
<div>
or make her your friend on Facebook <a href="https://www.facebook.com/viqui.dill">https://www.facebook.com/viqui.dill</a>. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com1131 Dawson Dr, Winchester, VA 22602, USA39.1301479 -78.201976939.1286084 -78.2044444 39.1316874 -78.199509400000011tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-36987689613080519712011-12-11T10:05:00.001-05:002011-12-11T11:07:58.366-05:00<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">A
Tale of Two Little Girls</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iKfIP8Odrik/TuTIM7o6iyI/AAAAAAAAAMk/bIsxInDHUm4/s1600/DebbyVickyBrick.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iKfIP8Odrik/TuTIM7o6iyI/AAAAAAAAAMk/bIsxInDHUm4/s320/DebbyVickyBrick.png" width="230" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">my sister in blue on the left, me on the right in pink</span> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
This is a first person story I have needed to tell for some
time. It’s a story of two little girls: me and my younger sister. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We were two little girls who grew up in the South in the 1960s
and 70s; two little girls raised by the same family, playing with the same
toys, sharing the same friends, attending the same schools, worshipping at the
same churches, and growing into two remarkably different women. This story is
written to share my personal experience and is for you, regardless of whether
you think that sexual orientation is influenced by nature or nurture. </div>
<h2>
Boy-Crazy from Birth</h2>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p4QHyPL0qZU/TuTKMMMfxSI/AAAAAAAAAMs/CFhROTAWcSE/s1600/VickyEddieDebbyWatoga.png" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="175" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-p4QHyPL0qZU/TuTKMMMfxSI/AAAAAAAAAMs/CFhROTAWcSE/s200/VickyEddieDebbyWatoga.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">family vacation at Watoga State Park in WV</span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I
can’t remember the first time I was aware that I am heterosexual. I remember
being crazy about boys from the very beginning. Boys were such a mystery and so
fascinating to me. When I was around a boy I liked (and I think I liked all of
them), my heart would race and my sense of reason would fly out the window. I
remember wishing that my Barbie doll had a Ken so she could be happy. I
remember putting my scratchy crinoline slip on my head and pretending to be a
bride with a big veil.<br />
<br />
My first crush was on a boy named “Chris” who was from
England just like Davey Jones, and when I was around him I could not think
straight. When I was not around him, I thought about him constantly. Chris had
a younger brother my sister’s age and their play together was so different, not
awkward the way I felt. When I look back on it, my interactions with boys were
different than my sister’s because the way we each felt about boys was
different from the beginning. My sister amazed me by the way she could be so
cool headed and rational about boys when I was absolutely inept.
<br />
<h2>
Our Favorite Christmas Present </h2>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wPpheyOhicw/TuTRMcLKgXI/AAAAAAAAANE/88AT6Efc5HQ/s1600/DebbyVickyPool.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="185" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wPpheyOhicw/TuTRMcLKgXI/AAAAAAAAANE/88AT6Efc5HQ/s200/DebbyVickyPool.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">in Gretna, LA, sister on the left, <br />me on the right, playing teacher </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Christmas of 1967, we were living in Gretna,
LA, a suburb of New Orleans. Santa Clause brought the most amazing doll/action
figure play sets of <a href="http://www.marxcollector.com/Jane/Jane.htm">Jane</a>
and <a href="http://www.marxcollector.com/Josie/Josie.htm">Josie West</a>. I
got the Jane doll because I was older. The dolls came with everything a cowgirl
would need for riding or making a home on the range. So we both dug in and
loved them. When you removed the gear and plastic leather clothing, the dolls
were dressed in denim and boots, not naked and busty like that Barbie. And they
could be whoever they wanted to be, outdoorsy or homie, glamorous or athletic,
or both. And that was exactly what these two little girls needed because we
were both outdoorsy and homie, glamorous and athletic, just like the West
girls. </div>
<h2>
Coming Out, 1981 </h2>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ik789dZS8aY/TuTONHwuhAI/AAAAAAAAAM0/CUGdhEW3CUo/s1600/VickyDebbyCowboyHats.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="153" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ik789dZS8aY/TuTONHwuhAI/AAAAAAAAAM0/CUGdhEW3CUo/s200/VickyDebbyCowboyHats.png" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">sisters in cowboy hats, <br />just like Jane and Josie West <br />years before </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I got to be the first family member to
whom my sister announced her special secret. I remember she phrased it
carefully, as a question not a statement: “What if I told you that I was gay?”<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My response was kind of neutral. I said “Well that would be
all right. Are you gay?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember that what I was really thinking
is that I wouldn’t be able to be her maid of honor or Aunt Viqui to her kids.
Looking back on my response, what a narcissistic princess I am, thinking about
how someone else’s situation would impact me before I thought about the reality
of how hard life must be for my sister and how hard it must have been to share
the secret out loud with me. I don’t remember if I hugged her, but I hope I did.
I do remember laughing and feeling happy to have another secret to share with
my sister. After we laughed together that day, I felt good, like we had
survived yet another family drama and come out on the other side together and
stronger. </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c41fk8dDO20/TuTP2pi02LI/AAAAAAAAAM8/slz58DfZSO0/s1600/DebbyEddieVickyBigBoy.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-c41fk8dDO20/TuTP2pi02LI/AAAAAAAAAM8/slz58DfZSO0/s200/DebbyEddieVickyBigBoy.png" width="149" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">sister, brother, and me, <br />posing on a family vacation<br />beside the Big Boy </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<h2>
I Was Born This Way </h2>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So there’s a piece of my personal story. How I grew up to be
a flaming heterosexual, despite growing up in a house where the same
environment produced different outcomes. I never made a conscious choice to be
straight. I was boy-crazy from birth. My sister was different from me from
birth, too. <br /><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was born this way. </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-29611455007657433752011-02-05T12:02:00.002-05:002011-02-05T12:57:13.269-05:00Witnesses, not Judges<span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:100%;">It's the last thing Jesus said to us, before he flew back home.<br /><br /></span>Acts 1:8<br /></span>"But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth."<br /><br />I like what he said, and I've been doing a lot of thinking about how to carry it out. He's asking us to be witnesses. Notice how he doesn't ask us to be judges. For some reason, we like to get those two mixed up. Time to focus on being a witness - in my neighborhood, and beyond.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">What is a witness?<br /></span>So what does it mean to be a witness? A witness does more than just observe. A witness also testifies. A witness sits in the witness box, waiting for the right time to tell her story.<br /><br />A witness has to get his story together, sort things out, get them in order, and be ready to share. A witness has to tell his own story, anything else is hearsay. It's OK to talk about yourself, to tell your own story.<br /><br />I have many stories to tell and I love to tell them, when the time is right.<br /><br />I am the mother of a brilliant college student. My story had a tough beginning, including the time when doctors told us our child wouldn't learn to talk or return our love. This story has such a happy ending now that I love to tell the story. It's a story of hard work, desperate searching, a mom's blind faith, and a boy's courage.<br /><br />I am the wife for 23 years of a talented musician and entrepreneur. Our story has many tough chapters. We have been through things that have lead other couples to divorce court, even to commit murder. Yet our story has a happy ending now and I love to tell the story. Our story is about commitment, forgiveness, loving and letting God do the loving for me when I had no love of my own to give.<br /><br />I am a worship leader to whom God gave a vision long before he gave me a job. The journey takes me on a path straight through churches that had issues with women in leadership, issues with musicians who also performed in the secular world, and issues about doctrinal uniformity. Still, this is a happy story and I love to tell it as it twists and turns. My spiritual odyssey takes me down interesting paths, into strange and wonderful places, and introduces me to the most amazing traveling companions. <br /><br />So what is your story? Jesus asks us to tell our stories and to be witnesses. Tell the tough stories. Tell the happy stories. Tell all the stories when the time is right.<br /><br />Be a witness, not a judge. Don't tear down the stories of other witnesses by judging them. Share your own story, your experience, strength and hope. Listen to others as they tell their own stories. Compare notes, laugh and dream. Tell your story.<br /><br />So, what's your story?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-47773831474488541972010-07-26T22:19:00.027-04:002010-07-30T21:53:33.637-04:00Man in the Middle, Mom on the Sidelines<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g5TP7zEq0AA/TFI4D5_MtrI/AAAAAAAAAGU/cGSH64OPZU8/s1600/DSC01204400x300.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5499519734729455282" style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; width: 320px; cursor: pointer; height: 240px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_g5TP7zEq0AA/TFI4D5_MtrI/AAAAAAAAAGU/cGSH64OPZU8/s320/DSC01204400x300.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />It is July 24th and I've been looking forward to this moment since the blizzard back in February. I've just sung two of my favorite songs, played bass like a man, and my husband, two microphones away, is about to sing a big crowd pleaser, "The Man in the Middle." The band is hot (I'm so lucky to be playing with these guys), the summer breeze is cool, the sound crew is skilled, the folks at <a href="http://macicehouse.org/concert.html">Morgan Arts Council</a> are wonderful. This is a terrific day and a terrific moment to be here and now.<br /><br />And then in a flash of chance and gravity, things go horribly wrong.<br /><br />I look up from the stage and see my son, Jim Dill, in horrible pain, and bleeding profusely from a gash in his shin.<br /><br />A million thoughts and impulses fly through my head like a freight train. My heart leaps out of my chest, across the canal, and into the gaping wound. How did things go so bad so fast?<br /><br /><br /><h2>OK, let's go back in time.</h2>It's February 2010. I'm snowed-in in what will be known as the Snowpocalypse. The phone rings and it's Gordon Macleod from the <a href="http://macicehouse.org/concert.html">Morgan Arts Council</a>. He says they want the <a href="http://www.dillpickers.com/">Dill Pickers</a> to play in their summer concert series. My friend Lynn Greer has helped us get this gig by hand carrying our press kit and I'm so happy for her support. Now, they say they like our sound and we discuss the business end (I'm terrible at this) and schedules and money and such. I grab my laptop and email the other pickers, who are as excited as I am. This is gonna be a great summer.<br /><br />Fast forward a month or two and add the much prayed for springtime thaw. I'm cyber-chatting with my good buddy Ron Furgerson. Ron has been a Dill Picker supporter from the beginning and has even used our music in some of his <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0-dQ84TrhU">youTube videos</a>. Ron would really really really like to have a video of us performing "The Man in the Middle." I would, too, and I think that maybe this summer's<a href="http://macicehouse.org/concert.html"> gig in Berkeley Springs </a>will be a great time to film it.<br /><br /><br /><h2>And that's how it happened.</h2>At the gig, Jim was hired to be videographer and photographer. He was using my camera to take some stills and some video. I had asked him to be sure to get "The Man in the Middle" on video. Jim was not expecting to have to be filming so early in the set and was nowhere close to the stage when I asked him publicly and into the mic to start the video. Jim's a good photographer and he takes his job seriously so he rushed back to the stage to catch the song from the beginning. And he almost got it, too.<br /><br />But on the way, he had to cross the stone waterway. One leg makes it, the other leg slams shin first into the edge of the stone retaining wall. *Expletive*<br /><br />And we got the aftermath on video, because even badly hurt, Jim does what he says he will do. So as the camera runs, you can hear Jim react to the fall, the blood, the wound, and the feeling that his leg may be broken. The video is very hard to watch. For the first 10 seconds, Jim is breathing heavily and groaning in pain. And yet, somehow he continues to hold the camera and continue with the video. At 0:55, he says calmly "That was a mistake." At 1:38, someone off camera comes to help and offers to bring some ice. At 2:14, the folks getting ice alert the wonderful Dr. Matt. Yes, there's a doctor in the house. Hallelujah. The ice arrives at 2:24 and Jim asks for medical attention, initially asking for an ambulance, but getting a better solution with Dr. Matt just a few feet away. Dr. Matt and my friend Kathryn Rack arrive at 3:00, one to check out the situation and then retrieve his black bag, and the other to check out the situation and offer help with the video camera. At 3:30, Jim utters the understatement "I tried to jump the gap."<br /><br />From 3:30 on, the video looks normal. Kat frames the band, even getting happy footage of the dancing girl on the front row.<br /><br />Looks normal from the outside, but I know what's happening on the inside. My child is in terrible pain, maybe even terrible danger, and my heart is breaking with worry and guilt. But on the tape, I look fine, sing fine, play fine. You can't tell what's going on inside me. I suppose that's a good thing.<br /><br />At 4:40, before the song is over, I turn to Frank and ask him to talk for 30 seconds so I can run off stage and check it out. I drop my bass and scurry off to see about Jim. By that time, Dr. Matt is in motion, Jim has shown that he can walk on the leg, and I'm a little bit calmer. Frank is wonderful, chatting happily with the crowd about anything and everything. I'm back on stage a few seconds after that and the show must go on.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/RQmzdvv3_20&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/RQmzdvv3_20&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><h2>Now that it's over, a few words of heart-felt thanks.</h2>Now that it's over and the gig still went well, now that we know that Jim's leg is not broken and he didn't need stitches or an ambulance ride or a tetanus shot, now that we got that Berkeley Springs crowd to dance a little in the 99 degree heat, now is the time for me to express my gratitude to the folks who were so fabulous.<br /><br />Thanks to my fellow band members, Keith Dill and Jamie Leonard, and especially to Frank Nanna, for holding it together and covering for me while I freaked out inside. I definitely lost my mojo that day and these guys made it all fine with their amazing musical skills and supportive attitudes. Frank's banter while I ran off stage is just another example of what a great entertainer and improvisor he is. I am so lucky to be playing with you all.<br /><br />Thanks to my friend Kat Rack, who was wearing a <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">MOMS ROCK</span> piece of flair, for stepping in to quietly fill in the mama role. You rock, indeed my friend. I don't think you had to do much, but seeing you there and knowing that you had your eye and your love on things is so greatly appreciated.<br /><br />Thanks to the Morgan Arts Council for their support, in particular to Dr. Matt Hahn for answering "yes" to "Is there a doctor in the house?"<br /><br />And thanks to all the kind folks who came out to the gig. We had so much fun and you guys make our work all play. You rock our worlds and we love you like nothing else. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Hope to see you again, maybe next year.<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-71467775148189737112010-07-03T20:38:00.010-04:002010-07-03T21:49:59.937-04:00Flying in a BGV Formation - I love harmony vocals!This blog post is for all of you who love singing backup vocal, which we in the biz call BGV for <span style="font-weight: bold;">B</span>ack<span style="font-weight: bold;">G</span>round <span style="font-weight: bold;">V</span>ocals.<br /><br />I love singing with you guys. We fit together in a tightly controlled and yet totally organic formation, like a flock of geese flying in a V. Our lead vocalist goes up, we go up. Our lead vocalist goes down, we go down. Our lead vocalist crescendos (that's fancy music talk for getting louder), we crescendo. Our lead vocalist decrescendos, we back off slightly, too, staying just a hair behind so that the lead is still out in front, in the point position of the V formation. It's magic and yet it's reproducible, both an art and a science.<br /><br />So let's teach the others how to fly along with us. Feel free to add comments if I miss anything. I'd love to grow our numbers because well-sung harmonies are so rare and so wonderful.<br /><br /><h2>Flying in your zone, it's like soccer or basketball</h2>So if you don't like the flying geese analogy, let's look at the zone analogy.<br /><br />In soccer and basketball, each player has a zone. You get in your zone and you stay in your zone. If you go into another player's zone two bad things happen: nobody is now in your zone (say, right forward) and your team now has 2 players in another zone.<br /><br />In singing harmony, finding and staying in your zone is also important. For example, if your job is to sing just a little higher than the melody or lead (we call this position the "tenor" position) then you should find your position and stay there. Don't venture lower, either into the melody/lead position or farther down into the "baritone" position. Don't venture higher, up into the "high baritone" position a full 5th above the melody. There are already players in those positions, so you'll color that position too darkly and worse, nobody is singing tenor now.<br /><br />Find your zone. Embrace your zone. We need you there. We sound full and warm with all of us in our zones.<br /><br /><br /><h2>Flying slightly behind the leader</h2>This concept is easy to explain. We need the melody to be prominent, easy to pick out and recognize. So we BGVs stay just a little behind, both in volume and in timing.<br /><br />As far as volume goes, much of this is up to our sound techs. Pray for them, that God will guide their fingers and open their ears. I mean, we gotta all hear each other or this thing doesn't work. So we <span style="font-style: italic;">all </span>need to be strong in the monitors, if we're going electric. And never underestimate the power of a good compressor to balance and shape the vocals. If we're going acoustic, we need to stand close together, so everyone is within earshot, even if the banjo is banjo-loud.<br /><br />Now timing is an art, almost a psychic connection. We all need to make our attacks (fancy musical term that means how we start the note) and decays in formation. Us BGVs need to be just a nanosecond behind the lead on the attack, and just a smidgen ahead in the decay. This way, the melody/lead is the first and last thing heard in the vocal blend. This letting go of the note in submission to the leader's lead is hard for us diva types. We love to embrace that note and hold it for all it's worth. Resist this impulse, it's of the devil.<br /><br /><br /><h2>Flying with the leader</h2> Here's the last little instruction: follow the leader. If the leader goes up a <span style="font-style: italic;">small </span>interval (fancy musical term for the number of pitches between notes in a passage), then we go up a <span style="font-style: italic;">small</span> interval, staying within the chord and holding our positions. If the leader goes up a <span style="font-style: italic;">large </span>interval, then we also go up a <span style="font-style: italic;">large </span>interval, not a small one, not holding the same note we just embraced.<br /><br />When the leader makes a big leap, you need to make a big leap, too. If you don't make an equally big leap, you'll be doubling somebody else's part, either your other BGV team mate, or the melody, making that part too dark and leaving a big hole where your part should be in the blend. So make that leap. Whee, it's musical bungee fun!<br /><br />Now, let me take just a moment to rant about counter-melody. Don't do it. Don't even think about it. Counter-melody is similar to harmony because it's something that fits in the chord and is not the melody. But it's not harmony. Counter-melody draws attention to itself. It says "Hey, I'm singing over here. Look at me!" and draws attention away from the melody, messing up the nice warm blend of a tightly flying harmony. If you want to sing out front, sing the melody role for goodness sake. Then you can be the goose out front for all the world to see and admire. I hope I've made my point. Counter-melody, like refusing to decay in time, is of the devil.<br /><br /><br /><h2>Harmony Evangelism </h2>So there you have it. My small bit of musical evangelism. Singing harmony is for anybody who can sing. It's simple but it's not easy. But you can do it. I believe in you.<br /><br />Please join us. We'd love to sing with you!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-73670505388319630162010-06-21T06:00:00.011-04:002010-06-21T06:00:03.751-04:00Tribute to My Parents - Part Four - Mom the Great Audience<h2 style="font-family: verdana;">Mom, the Great Audience</h2> <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Today's post is the fourth in a four part tribute. </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">To read the </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">Tribute </span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">in its entirety, go to </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://home.earthlink.net/%7Eviquidill/landscapetribute.pdf">http://home.earthlink.net/~viquidill/landscapetribute.pdf</a><br /><br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">After dinner, the girls would spend time together in the kitchen. Dad was not expected to do kitchen work at that time. Mom could have escaped with him, and left the clean up to Debby and me. But she didn’t.<br /><br />Mom stayed with us, in the kitchen, listening to our songs, laughing at our jokes, being a great audience. These endless hours were another way of telling us “I care what you think. I’m interested in the things that interest you.”</span> <br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Frequently, our stories recounted funny things that had happened in our family:</span> <ul><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">The time that dad couldn’t ask for directions to the Botanical Gardens in Arizona because his Roanoke lips couldn’t say “Botanical.”</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">Our brother Eddie’s first joke about farts that went “Batman offered to Flatman and said ‘Pew.’”</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">Eddie’s emotional trip to the Hallmark store during one of dad’s many business trip seasons when his little heart cried for the “sad bug.”</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">Our own inability to stop giggling during a serious family dinner, especially if that dinner was preceded by an extended blessing prayer. We frequently had to eat dinner with our napkins covering our faces, so that we didn’t catch eyes again and burst into renewed laughter.</span></li><li><span style="font-family:verdana;">The grinch-like comments of an overnight baby-sitting shrew, “You girls still wear bibs?”</span></li></ul><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Mom was our co-conspirator, our confidant, our encourager, our audience. She taught us songs like “She has freckles on her BUTT she is pretty” and helped us pen the famous “Tongue is on the Floor” ballad which we wrote during an especially lengthy car ride to Watoga State Park in West Virginia.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The song lyrics go something like this:</span> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Drivin’ down the highway</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Doin’ 94</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I looked at my mother,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">She was hanging out the door.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I said “Oh, mother dear</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Why don’t you come back here?”</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">She said “I cannot daughter</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">‘Cause my tongue is on the floor.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Oh, her tongue is on the floor</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Her tongue is on the floor</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">She cannot come back here because</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Her tongue is on the floor</span> </div><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br />Well, maybe you had to have been there. It was really funny.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Mom’s life spoke many important messages. Messages that life is to be enjoyed, family times are good times, loving means sharing, laughing together makes us strong. These were lessons that shape my view of life. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-4878954357132181892010-06-21T06:00:00.009-04:002010-06-21T06:00:02.919-04:00Tribute to My Parents - Epilogue - Looking Back<h2 style="font-family: verdana;">Looking Back</h2><span style="font-family:verdana;">As I write this, I look back on the family of my childhood. Our numbers have grown from the original five members to eight, not counting pets. I have lost a dad, I have gained sisters-in-law, I have substituted one husband for another, I have been blessed with a son. And yet, so much remains the same. The lessons taught us by mom and dad about God, about ourselves, about love and about life will live on. They will live on in the hearts of those remaining and in the lives of people we touch.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Thank you, Mom and Dad for caring enough to carry the message. I love you very much. </span> <span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">Today's post is the epilogue to a four part tribute.</span></span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">To read the </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">Tribute </span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">in its entirety, go to</span> <a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://home.earthlink.net/%7Eviquidill/landscapetribute.pdf">http://home.earthlink.net/~viquidill/landscapetribute.pdf</a></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-20935410429699945492010-06-20T06:00:00.001-04:002010-06-20T06:00:07.015-04:00Tribute to My Parents - Part Three - Mom the Tolerant<h2 style="font-family: verdana;">Mom, the Tolerant</h2> <span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Today's post is the third in a four part tribute. I will be posting the other parts in the coming days.</span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">To read the </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">Tribute </span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">in its entirety, go to</span> <a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://home.earthlink.net/%7Eviquidill/landscapetribute.pdf">http://home.earthlink.net/~viquidill/landscapetribute.pdf</a></span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><br />In order to have an understanding of mom, at least the tolerant mom that I remember, you must first get an understanding of exactly how much there was to tolerate. You have to understand dad to understand mom.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Dad, ever the engineer, had a desire to do things bigger and stronger. This works great if you’re planning to build a wall or hang Christmas lights. This can create problems if you’re trying to plant a vegetable garden.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Dad’s garden plots got larger and larger every year. The idea was to till a larger area but plant the same amount of seedlings, so that the rows would be better spaced, more widely spaced, and easier to work.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />But that big plot of freshly tilled earth was too much for my dad’s engineering brain to resist. After all that talk about not overplanting, my dad could not resist the temptation to plant more, more, more stuff in the garden.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Not only was the garden itself larger and more densely planted every year, but the vegetables themselves got larger and larger. Most of his vegetables looked like they had be grown near Three Mile Island. </span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />The zucchini were as large as those self-lighting logs you can buy at Christmas. The yellow squash were the size of trumpets. The tomatoes busted their own skins and became food for the birds and deer.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Dad would bring the big produce into the kitchen, like the great buffalo hunter, presenting the prize tatonka to his squaw for skinning. Mom would smile, cook it for hours, and serve it to us with a proud statement about how the meal came fresh from dad’s garden.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />During this whole time, mom offered very little criticism about the situation. If asked, mom would say that she wished that our father had picked the zucchini earlier, or that she wished that he had planted less densely. But she’d only say it once. She didn’t pretend, but she didn’t nag either.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Somehow mom was able to keep a balance between saying too much and not saying enough. She was the perfect example of saying what you mean, meaning what you say, but realizing that unity is more important than the size of the produce or the taste of the meal.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />She was wise enough to know the difference between those things that must be accepted because they could not be changed and those things that were worth fighting for. Her words and deeds were completely in line with each other: she displayed integrity.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />Without saying a word, she taught me that people are more important than things, that loving means putting up with something less (or in this case, more) than perfection. These were lessons that shaped my view of family and marriage. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-91935179979384578802010-06-19T18:46:00.002-04:002010-06-19T18:46:00.157-04:00Tribute to My Parents - Part Two - Dad the Man of Vision<span style="font-family:verdana;"><h2>Dad, the Man of Vision</h2> </span><br /><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" >Today's post is the second in a four part tribute. I will be posting the other parts in the coming days. To read the </span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">Tribute </span></span><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" >in its entirety, go to <a href="http://home.earthlink.net/%7Eviquidill/landscapetribute.pdf">http://home.earthlink.net/~viquidill/landscapetribute.pdf</a><br /></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Dad had a way of talking about the future. He had a way of spending time with you, making you feel that you were the most important part of the world at that very moment. His actions and</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">his manner communicated that you had great value. He saw not only your present usefulness, but your future value as well.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I remember dad as always having a bunch of projects going. He liked to build big structures, using stones, brick and concrete. We moved a lot. With every new house, dad saw a fresh opportunity to make a permanent structure. He built stone walls to hold back hills. He built brick walls to define flower beds. We always had the best sand pile in the neighborhood. Sometimes dad’s mortar hardened with plastic dinosaur heads sticking out of the walls.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Once, when he was finishing a wrought iron fence on top of one of his famous walls, dad let me hang around and help him with his work. He told me I had an important job to do. He gave me a</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">small clean paint brush. He gave me an old coffee can filled with clear turpentine and told me it was primer. I had no idea what primer was but dad said the word with a very serious face. He</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">gave me clear instructions to use the brush and “primer” to make the fence ready for the next coat of paint. This was an important job, I could tell just by the look in dad’s eyes. That look said that I was up to the job.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I felt like a skilled craftsman as I concentrated on my solemn duty. My dad trusts me. I can do this. I have value. Somewhere inside me, a sleeping artist/engineer began to awaken. Dad had set the alarm clock.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Dad had a way of talking about the future as though good things were already happening. “If” was not in his vocabulary. Dad always said “when.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">It seemed like at least once a year, we would visit dad’s Alma Mater, Virginia Polytechnic Institute, VPI it was called back then. Dad would walk around the grounds of the school, pointing out the academic buildings, saying “Viqui, here’s McBryde Hall, where you’ll take Math.” As we pass the quads, dad would point to the dormitory buildings, whispering “That’s Eggleston. It was a men’s dorm when I slept there but now it’s a women’s dorm where you’ll sleep.”</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">Again, I found myself believing, sharing the vision. I can do this. I’m already here. These were lessons that shaped my view of myself. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-64677948171933479142010-06-18T18:44:00.013-04:002010-06-18T20:57:26.852-04:00Tribute to My Parents - Part One - Dad the Superhero<h2 style="font-family: verdana;">Dad, the Superhero</h2><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Today's post is the first in a four part tribute. I will be posting the other parts in the coming days. </span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">To read the </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">Tribute </span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">in its entirety, go to </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://home.earthlink.net/%7Eviquidill/landscapetribute.pdf">http://home.earthlink.net/~viquidill/landscapetribute.pdf</a><br /><br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I don’t know who it was that put a chain drive mechanism on a tricycle, but the Patterson family, our neighbors on Longridge Road in Charleston, West Virginia, bought the trike and gave it to their girls to ride. That chain drive enabled the rider to develop unbelievable speed; the rider who could not balance well enough to ride even a bike with training wheels was wheeling up and down the street at high speed on a tricycle. It seemed to me that trike could go faster than a car on that West Virginia road.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">The roads in West Virginia are many things. But no one would describe them as flat, straight, side-walked or wide-shouldered. In short, these were not good roads for kids on wheels. But there we were: my sister, Debby, and I, skating, running, and tricycling up and down the street. Fortunately, these were the days before working moms and two-car families. So we small-wheelers had the roads to ourselves most of the time.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">One Saturday afternoon, Janie Patterson let me ride her chain driven tricycle. Janie was not frequently given to sharing, so I felt supremely honored.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I don’t remember much of the beginning or middle of the ride, but I remember vividly the end. I rode that trike off the road with no shoulder, off the road that was not flat, off the road and over the side and tumbled into the woods. I lay there, face in the dark dirt. Wondering what would happen next.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I did not have to wonder for long. Within the time it took me to realize what had happened and scream my well-practiced, little girl scream, my dad appeared from nowhere. He scooped me up in his arms and carried me back home, where mom worked her</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">boo-boo magic.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">There must have been other events like this one that I’ve long since forgotten, events that taught me that people are good, adults can be trusted, loving means caring. These were lessons that shaped my view of the Father God.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I’ll never know how he knew so well where I was, what I was doing, or how much I needed his rescue. I’ll forever believe that he was a super hero. Coming out of nowhere, at just the right time, just when I needed him most. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-28143656354354173782010-06-18T18:38:00.017-04:002010-06-18T20:56:50.736-04:00Tribute to My Parents - Prologue - To My Mother and Father<h2 style="font-family: verdana;">To my mother and father</h2><span style="font-family:verdana;">Lately I have been wishing that I could remember more about both of you. Memories that used to be so fresh and reliable seem to be slipping away. And I am left with only sketchy recollections, diluted by time. The purpose of this tribute is to record some of my best childhood memories, before these recollections become too pale.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I think about the values that you taught me. You were skilled teachers, using the best teaching methods possible. I think about the lessons you passed on just by being yourselves, leading the lives you had been given.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;">I like to take these memories out and try to revisit them without the burden of teenage rebellion, peer pressure and hormones.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /><br />I remember mom, with her encouragement and humor.</span> <span style="font-family:verdana;">I remember dad, the visionary, the hero.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Today's post is the prologue to a four part tribute. I will be posting the other parts in the coming days. </span> </span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">To read the </span></span><span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" ><span style="font-style: italic;">Tribute </span></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">in its entirety, go to </span><a style="font-family: verdana;" href="http://home.earthlink.net/%7Eviquidill/landscapetribute.pdf">http://home.earthlink.net/~viquidill/landscapetribute.pdf</a></span> <h2 style="font-family: verdana;">Happy Fathers Day! </h2>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-57950358322797711152010-06-14T06:45:00.011-04:002010-06-19T15:58:41.997-04:00Hey! Who Turned off the Water? - The Worship/Shower Analogy<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g5TP7zEq0AA/TBbNxn5sBHI/AAAAAAAAAGM/c2vcEnruqEI/s1600/hair2.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g5TP7zEq0AA/TBbNxn5sBHI/AAAAAAAAAGM/c2vcEnruqEI/s320/hair2.jpg" alt="Here's me and my hair leading worship at Chris and Heather's home. " id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482795848778384498" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:100%;">A great worship experience is like a great shower and shampoo. When it's going great, you can just stand there and let the whole thing wash over and envelop you. Ahhh, that wonderful washed clean feeling. Surrender to it.<br /><br />There are a couple of things that can cause this awesome experience to fail. These are what I'll call my "pet peeves" of worship, which I'm going to rant about in today's post.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">This post is #3 in a series about worship. Also see my previous, kinder, gentler posts,<a href="http://viquidill.blogspot.com/2010/04/4-musical-languages-of-worship.html"> 4 Musical Languages of Worship</a> and <a href="http://viquidill.blogspot.com/2010/05/i-kiss-with-my-eyes-closed.html">I Kiss with my Eyes Closed</a>. </span><br /><br />So for a minute, imagine yourself in the shower, getting ready to wash your hair. You're looking forward to it. You have everything you need in easy reach. Shampoo, creme rinse, soap, towel, hot and cold water controls. The water temperature is perfect. The water pressure is just right, not too hard, and not too soft. Everything is perfect. Grab the shampoo, palm it for a second, then massage it into the top of your head. That fantastic smell is all around you, that wonderful immersion into the bubbles and the water is deep within you. Let's let it happen.<br /><br />Ok, so now for a minute, imagine yourself in the best worship situation possible. The lights are dim but you can still see. The music is perfectly balanced and seems to come from all around. Feel the bass and kick drum gently rock your rib cage. You know the song by heart, the words and tune, you're ready to start belting out your heart to your awesome God who loves you so very very much. Open up your heart, take a deep breath, sing the words of your joy and pain into the ear of the God who gave Himself for you. It's bliss. Let's let it happen.<br /><br />Now, we get to the pet peeve part. The song winds down and the sound stops. The worship leader is talking about the next song. The moment that was, is no more. We've moved on to the next song, but we're not quite there yet. Waiting in between as the worship leader breaks the mood by pausing the worship and talking.<br /><br />This is one of my pet peeves. It's like somebody turned off your water in mid-shampoo. What the heck? Who would do such a thing? What could possibly be so important that we have to stop the worship experience just because we're moving from one song to another? Do I need to be told that this next song is new? Do I need to be told what the song is about? Do I need to hear anything other than the conversation I'm already having with God?<br /><br />Nope, nope, nope. I don't want any of that. What I want is that worship experience turned back on as soon as possible. I want that wonderful water washing over me again, renewing and cleaning me inside and out. That’s what I want and I’m not getting it. My worship is interrupted. It’s going to take me a couple verses of the next song before I can get back in the zone again.<br /><br />Now that it's been said, let me let go of the rant. Let me find forgiveness for the worship leader who's just trying to do his job. Let me return to thoughts of that wonderful worship experience I crave like no other. Let me stop ranting and start to beg.<br /><br />Please, Mr. Worship Leader, I know your heart is in the right place. I know you love the Lord as much as I do and all you want is to lead others into His throne room. But please, sir, once the worship starts happening, just get out of the way and let it happen. Embrace the medley. Embrace the parade of same-sounding familiar, even trite and mindless songs. We love those songs like we love that same shampoo we've bought and used since junior high school. Embrace that familiar warm cocoon of worship that seems to go on forever. Let us lather, rinse and repeat again and again. Let us stand in that warm water long after the last of the creme rinse has gone down the drain. Let us dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen.<br /><br />That wonderful washed clean feeling. Surrender to it.<br /></span></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3342473498628485105.post-25387725613883711702010-05-14T05:47:00.023-04:002010-05-25T06:33:40.096-04:00I Kiss with my Eyes Closed<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g5TP7zEq0AA/S_um_4BGBmI/AAAAAAAAAFs/cS-HiF5mwMs/s1600/closeup+eyes.jpg"><img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 105px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_g5TP7zEq0AA/S_um_4BGBmI/AAAAAAAAAFs/cS-HiF5mwMs/s400/closeup+eyes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5475153388297913954" border="0" /></a><br />I kiss with my eyes closed. I also take a shower with my eyes closed and I worship that way, too.<br /><br /><br /><span style="font-size:78%;">This post is #2 in a series about worship. Also see my previous post,<a href="http://viquidill.blogspot.com/2010/04/4-musical-languages-of-worship.html"> 4 Musical Languages of Worship</a>. </span><br /><br />I think worship is a lot like kissing and showering. Worship is an experiential activity and when it's good, I want to put my whole self into it. I close my eyes and I let go, just like kissing and showering. To do that, I need to be into it, I need to feel safe, and I need to know what I'm doing.<br /><br />Let me explain.<br /><br /><h2>I'm into it.</h2>When I'm into it, I'm connected and engaged. I'm kissing a guy I like, the very one I have a crush on, and to whom I want to say "I love you" in a language without words. Maybe I've been waiting for hours or days for him to kiss me, and now the moment has arrived and I'm so very glad it's finally happening. Nothing feels as good as this moment right here and now. I close my eyes and pretend the world is only me and him. I'm into it.<br /><br />Or perhaps I'm taking a shower to get myself ready for a wonderful day, a big date, or a special event. Maybe I'm showering away the dirt of a day well spent, sweat I poured out persevering through a tough time. Nothing feels so good as that warm water on my skin. I feel my muscles relax as the stress of my day goes down the drain. I close my eyes and relax. I'm into it.<br /><br /><br />In worship, there are times when I arrive badly in need of time with God. I'm battled and bruised from the week behind me, I'm fearful about things that might happen in the week ahead. I want to run into God's throne room, crawl up in His lap, bury my face in His shoulder and disappear into Him. I raise my hands in the air saying "Lift me up, I've fallen down." Or maybe I've had such a great week that I can't wait to thank God about it. I want to kneel at His feet and pour out my gratitude to Him. I raise my hands in the air for a big high five with God. This is an intimate moment and my heart aches for quality time with Jesus. Nothing feels as good as this moment of Just me and Him, that's all there is in the world and that's all I need. I'm into it.<br /><h2>I'm safe.</h2>OK, let's get to a confession. I'm afraid of being judged. Judgment is just a precursor to condemnation and I fear it like nothing else. What if I'm not good enough or smart enough? What if other people stare at me or laugh at me? If I'm kissing or showering or worshiping, I want complete freedom to enjoy myself. I want complete privacy, even invisibility. We know how this plays out with kissing and showering. In worship, it might take some explanation.<br /><h3>I want dark.</h3>I want the room to be as dark as possible. In the dark, I think you can't see me and I'm safe in the dark. I have complete privacy in the dark. I can make faces of joy or I can weep quietly and only God will know if I'm here in the dark. I'm free from any embarrassment about how silly I might look. I'm safe here in the dark to worship.<br /><br /><h3>I want loud.</h3>Loud is to being overheard as dark is to being seen. I want the music to be loud for the same reason I want the room to be dark. I don't want you to be able to hear me because I'm afraid you might judge my singing. Think about a rock concert held in an arena. It's so loud, I can't hear my friend screaming right next to me. It's the perfect environment for total all out top of my lungs singing along. It won't matter if I sing the wrong words, the wrong tune, at the wrong time or during a big solo. Nobody hears me but God. And that's just how I want it. I throw my head back and belt out my heart to God. I'm safe here where the music's loud and I can worship with total abandon.<br /><br />This desire for a really loud worship experience might offend some of my friends who complain when it gets loud in church. I know you want the volume of the music to be close to what it is at your home listening to your stereo. I understand that's a comfortable listening level. But that's the point - you're not supposed to be listening. You're supposed to be worshiping, singing along at the top of your lungs, too. This is a different experience than the experience of listening and the music level has to be different to make it happen. We want to be safe to participate without embarrassment or judgment and that takes really loud music. With loud music, we're safe.<br /><h3>I want lots of other worshipers.</h3>Think "rock concert" for a second. The stadium is packed with lots and lots of us, getting into the music, having an awesome time. The sound and excitement in the air are so thick, you can see them. Nobody is looking around. All the attention is focused elsewhere. In a concert, we are focusing on what's happening on stage: the music, the lights, the performance. In worship, we are reaching for the spirit of God in the room. It's a paradox of worship that the more crowded it is, the more privacy the individual worshipers have. Other folks, in the dark, surrounded by the sounds, raising their hands, raising their voices, closing our eyes, kneeling, dancing, worshiping. It's a picture of heaven.<br /><h2>I know just what to do.</h2>So I'm in my happy place, worshiping with all my heart because I'm totally into it and I'm totally safe. This will go well as long as I know just what to do.<br /><br />Knowing what to do means I'm familiar with the music. I blogged about that in a previous post,<a href="http://viquidill.blogspot.com/2010/04/4-musical-languages-of-worship.html"> 4 Musical Languages of Worship</a>.<br /><br />I know the next word coming up without having to open my eyes and read the slide. Maybe it's a familiar song I've sung a hundred times before. This song comes alive in a new way for me right here, right now because I'm truly immersed in it. Even an old song becomes new when I'm offering it up in a new way. Eyes closed, alone with God and enjoying my time in the throne room, pouring out my broken heart to my loving Father, or singing out my thanks for the great things He has done for me. I don't have to think, I don't have to see, I just open up my heart and let Him fill it up.<br /><br /><br />How about you? Are you like me? Do you kiss and shower and worship with your eyes closed? Be sure to leave a comment at the end of this blog and let me know.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04635891103363505145noreply@blogger.com1