Cheers Cocktail Friday Comrades!
One of my kids is having, shall we say, some big feelings lately. And they are finding big words to go with those feelings, words that wound my heart as they know they are meant to do. One night, after an outburst and a slammed door, me feeling helpless but knowing I couldn’t give up, I grabbed the nearest piece of paper and marker I could find, scratched a note “I’m sorry this is hard,” and slipped it under the door. The yelling stopped. They wrote back. Slid it under the door. We continued our conversation like this back and forth, back and forth. With each passing of the note, the words grew smaller, softer. It was as if the things that were hard to say became easier when it was just us and a notebook.
And so that’s what we do now. When we need to move from big emotions to small, I let them take all they want, all they have, and put it down in a diary.
Alicia Keys first came into my life in an uncomfortable spot. I was a sophomore in college, hitching a ride back to school after Christmas, crammed in the front seat of a two door sedan with a cello in my lap and sixteen cans of soup in a box at my feet because the other two people catching a ride back thought that was a good idea. But what made me the most uncomfortable on that ride was the driver, a girl I only vaguely knew from my sorority but knew well enough to know she terrified me. Malone was her name, because all the tough girls go by their last names. She was somewhat of a bad ass rule breaker who was never afraid to speak her mind. She even made me cry once. Partially because I was scared, but also maybe because I didn’t know how to speak my mind like she did. And now there we were stuck flying down I94 from Sheboygan through Chicago and I had no idea what we were going to talk about for three hours.
As it turned out, we didn’t need to. She had just picked up a new CD–Alicia Keys, Songs in A Minor. “This is good stuff,” was all she said as she popped it into her CD player. The cover artist looked as bad ass as Malone. But what came through the speakers surprised me. Beethoven. Along with Alicia’s voice, a voice that was rich and hard but melted into something soft and smooth when paired with that piano. I was stunned into silence the whole ride to school. And from that point on, I saw Malone differently. Maybe she thought the same way about me. I just remember from that point on, when I saw I didn’t think of the time she made me cry. I thought of Alicia Keys.
I found Alicia Keys again the summer of 2004. I was between college and grad school, living with my parents and a little bit scared about what lie ahead. On a random trip to Wal-Mart, I saw Alicia Keys face on the cover of a new album, this time though she was hidden a bit behind the keys. Maybe this was the kind of album you should listen to when you feel like hiding, too.
It was. Once again an opening song–“Harlem’s Nocturne”–drew me all the way in with classical music. The song is as much an invitation as it is an introduction. She is setting you up for an album that is as confessional as it is smooth. She was using the space of classical music, so familiar to her classically trained fingers, to explain the harder parts of her soul. The honesty and the intimacy was what made it so relatable. In a recent interview celebrating 20 years of the album (well now I feel old) Alicia talked about why she thinks putting her personal stories to song resonated so much for people.
“That’s my joy, to be able to take these small moments that we all find ourselves in and make it be something that you felt…like how did you know me in that moment in my life when I was curled in that corner? It’s cause I felt like that, too. That’s why I know.”
That’s the magic in writing down our stories. It takes something big and makes it smaller somehow, in the best kind of way. It’s like using music to fill the space around fear. It’s like a kid writing in a notebook because the words are too hard to say out loud.
And it’s like making a cocktail just right for taking your rough week and smoothing it out just the way you need it to. Similar to last week, we’re using sweet vermouth to flip the measurements of a classic cocktail, The Gin and It. It’s lower in alcohol, but not on flavor. Can you feel it?
✨A Reverse Gin and Drop It✨
2 oz. sweet vermouth (my homemade! Recipe coming soon!)
1 oz. gin
1 bar spoon Allspice Dram (I used homemade from my bro, Sam, of
!)Stir all with ice. Strain into chilled glass. Run orange peel over rim. Cheers!
If you’re new to Story, Sip and Song, maybe start here. If you’re used to seeing these on Instagram, I explained a bit about that here. In short, I’m trying to not be beholden to the constraints of Instagram. I just like this space better. It feels safer, cozier, less…loud. This is not the bar of my twenties. This is where we go to actually have a conversation. Tell stories. I just love the way music can inspire both story, and cocktail art. If you love a reel, I’m still posting on the gram. I like the videos I create. But the words, the stories, the connections, they’ll live here. I hope you’ll pull up a seat, and maybe invite a friend!
The notebook idea is magic, Rachel! Thank you for sharing this story.❤️
This was a great read! I too have very specific memories of those Alicia Keys albums. I love that quote from her that you shared. We think we are all so different, but pain is universal.