These are the Pinksterdagen of our lives...

Within the first few months of living in Amsterdam, we had abandoned our original intention of turning our lives into a Dutch Submersion Project...the idea that we would only make Dutch friends, only watch Dutch tv, only eat Dutch food, etc.

But one thought did remain...we wanted to get to know someone who lived on the canals and owned a boat. Because spring and summer are all about cruising around on a boat with friends and beer, blasting Jan Smit at obscene volumes, giving drunken waves to the folks on the bridges.

Fantastic. Sign us up.

Boat ownership has a slightly different flavor here than back home. Parking places aren't secured. Your boat is subjected to passersby, every day of the year. The canals aren't so very big, so boats don't reflect wealth in size or speed, but in beauty. In other words, no open-bow massive Bayliners around here.

And the practical matter of where the boat goes during the winter (not to mention how it would get there) is enough of a concern to inspire many to buy simple fiber-glass models built to withstand Amsterdam winters. (And for those with the grave misfortune of owning a less-than-water-tight vessel, there is always room at the bottom. There is a website dedicated to the sunken boats in Amsterdam: click here)

Yes, being in the boat scene would indicate a certain level of assimilation, and we're all about it.

Since our original attempt at blanketing local vessels with our request ("American couple desperately seeks adoption by boat-owning friend") not only didn't pan out but also wasted a lot of paper and masking tape, we changed our tune and decided to wait for Fate to intervene.

And if it rains, it pours!

All in one day, after three years of waiting, we began not one, but TWO maritime relationships!

Friends Daan and Rodrigo (Piraat's parents, the neighborhood Jack Russell who had a litter last summer) took us (Five included) out for a morning cruise on Pinksterdag (Pentecost).

And after a fortuitous run-in with Ashley and Gero at our friends' daughter's birthday party later that same day, we were invited for a nighttime sunset ride (which ended up with a stop at a local watering hole, resulting in some entertaining interactions with intoxicated Frenchmen...A story for another day.).

It was a fabulous weekend. The sun was shining. The boats were cruising. And everybody's happy.

Corporate Wii...

Dave and I hosted a dozen suits for gourmet hospitality and epicurean amounts of beautifully-presented burgers and fries. And no gathering of highly-powerful conference-goers would be complete without an artificial tennis game.

(Oh yes, we did.)

We handed these seasoned business professionals a new weapon...a Wii control...and let them battle it out. Not caring whether their Mii was a little blonde girl in a pink dress or an electronic Mel Gibson look-alike, these guys played like pros.

And to help wash it all down, good friend and Heineken executive John Ricketts hooked us up with a tap for the evening.

These guys are accustomed to corporate dinners that begin with raw meat, continue with assorted fish accompanied by salsify or something to do with foam, and is ended by cheese platters and cappuccinos served in fine china.

But Dave wanted to give them some in-house comfort. A place to shed your tie and leave your business cards in your pocket for a night.

And we had a great time.

Meeting the Ghosts

A few months ago, Dave and I discovered that the house we live in was a place of resistance activity during the War. So moved by this connection, I decided to investigate further the history of Amsterdam during the occupation.

After many weeks of research, interviews, writing, editing and composing, what resulted was a 30-minute documentary with live original music, titled "Meeting the Ghosts."

We presented the film to an audience of about 40 people on 4 May...Dodendherdenking Dag ("Remembering the Dead Day"). It is the day before Liberation Day, the day which commemorates the official end of the Nazi occupation in Holland.

Needless to say, the project was a heavy but worthy effort.

An excerpt from the program:

"Amsterdam’s history branches out over eight centuries. She has known kings and queens of all shapes and sizes...been a model for city planners the world over...and was at one point the leading financial center of the world.

But it’s her history from only sixty years ago that brings us together tonight.

My quest to know more about Amsterdam during the war began with the discovery that our home – this home - was, at one point, a place of resistance activity. Several Jewish people were hidden in the attic four floors above the living room. And for a time, resistance weapons were stored in what is now our basement.

Mr. Bontekoe, the owner of the house, was interrogated by the Nazi police several times. He denied accusations and was able to avoid fatal penalty.

Soon after hearing about this, there were moments when I could hear the sound of Gestapo boots pounding through our hallway. I would put my hand on the doorknob and feel my heartbeat quicken, as though I were afraid to walk outside and betray my secrets.

And as I continued to dig into the past, I would find myself standing in front of buildings and landmarks, transplanted to another time. I’ve now seen many pictures and films from the war years, and aside from the clothing and hairstyles, everything looks the same. It isn’t difficult for my imagination to place me there, in the middle of fear and confusion.

It is my sincere desire to honor the victims of the war by re-telling their stories.

Holland’s conflict during the war was not just with the Germans, it was also with each other. At first, Germany’s tactics in Holland were not thoroughly evil, so there was confusion over who to believe, who to side with, and how to respond. Should I collaborate? Or should I resist?

So, when I say “honor the victims,” I don’t just mean those murdered, or those who starved to death in the five years of occupation. I also honor the survivors and the generation that followed. It is easier to count dead bodies than to accurately identify the amount of hurt, fear, and distrust that resided in Dutch families and communities in the years that followed.

My second desire is to be able to participate in the act of remembering. To put faces and names and context into the observance of Dodenherdenking Dag.

Amsterdam is a city that inherently recognizes the value of the past within the context of living in the now. Significant historic landmarks are the places we live, shop, and visit on a daily basis. History isn’t contained to one section of town. It IS the town.

Countless acts of bravery – big and small - took place in Amsterdam during the war. On the way to the market, you could unknowingly pass a place where a Jewish family was hidden, an underground newpaper was printed, or fake id’s were forged.
Local people committing acts of bravery.

There were also countless numbers of victims. People targeted for their religious beliefs or heritage, who had no safe place to go. People executed for attempting to stop the persecutors. People brainwashed and manipulated into committing acts of hate against their neighbors.

And there were villains. People who knowingly chose to create or follow evil.

These are the ghosts of this city.

To attempt an unabridged account in one evening of what happened in Amsterdam during World War 2 would be an exercise in futility. But I offer now an introduction to some of the key events and players, so that you may also get to know her better.

The live music you will hear is what I have written along this journey of discovery. The notes and phrases accompany the patterns of my reflection."

Queen's Day once again...

It's hard to believe, but this was our FOURTH Queen's Day here in Amsterdam. Unreal. Time has flown.

We kept it to a dull roar this year, going out for an hour or so in the morning, but then returning to the house and going into full lock-down for the rest of the day, so we could work on our WW2 documentary

...as I'm sure so many other Heineken-laden Queen's Day go-ers did...

Portugal...

By some magical twist of fate, Dave and I were able to get away and enjoy a few nights in a boutique hotel on the ocean shores of Caiscais, a small town 30 miles west of Lisbon.

We ate well, drank well, and reacquainted ourselves with this foreign object called "the sun." Hallelujah for the unseasonably warm and sunny days that met us in Portugal. Amsterdam had been hiding under a wet wool blanket for the previous four weeks and we couldn't wait to dry out and take in some Vitamin D.

And Dave was able to add Guincho - his first Euro surf - to his wave log.

A beautiful part of the world, this place. And the people were as warm to us as the sun.

We'll go back, for sure.

Our not-so-"new" address...

I few of you have recently inquired about our current address. This is a year late in coming, but here it is:

Lynn Hutchinson and David Sheldon
Herengracht 75 huis
1015BD Amsterdam
The Netherlands

The number at our house has stayed the same:
+31 (0)20 774 2504.....Which means, if you are dialing from the US, you would dial: 011 31 20 7742504.

My mobile number (also the same):
+31 (0)6 2808 3328...011 31 6 2808 3328

Thanks for calls and cards and packages and all the lovely sentiments that float our direction.

With love,
LD5

Canvas presents: 4tet...

Friends Jenn and Donna before the show.

Friends Novella, her husband Jan Willem and Andre.

Before the show (note the kleenexes under the piano. I was still sick as a dog that night.)

Me waxing philosophical about some musical thing or another during the performance.

After the performance, debriefing with Andre.

L to R: Andre, Benjamin Konrad (Hungary), Inger van Vliet (Holland), Maria Ballesteros (Spain), Bernat Teruel (Spain), and me.

A few weeks ago, we hosted our fifth muziekavond (now called "Canvas")...a night of string quartet music.

This account is coming more from memory than from that burst of afterglow from which I usually write, as the evening was the crest in a wave of happenings - including a trip to Seattle to work with Jenn Alexander on a recording project, and enjoying the company of Brenda and Norm in Amsterdam (they came to see the performance).

I had to wait until I was happily washed onto shore before I could stand up and speak.

There are a few musical milestones I've passed in my life that stand out in my memories: Making a huge leap of confidence on that Sunday morning in 1985 when I realized I had improvisation skills. In high school, performing for the first time as a singer/pianist and realizing that experiencing this combination was to be one of the great loves of my life. Launching a dozen new arrangements for a gospel choir...comprised mostly of Korean singers, no less...and liking what I heard.

And now, a new one.

I had the great joy of sitting back in my chair and listening to the realization of my new single-movement piece for string quartet, The Journey Forward.

It felt like giving birth. To have nurtured this child for many months - pouring over every gesture, note and articulation - to hand it over to capable hands to present it to the audience.

It was a profoundly happy moment for me.

The conception of this experience began with the friendship made with Dutch composer Andre Douw. He mentioned to me in September of last year that he was planning to premiere in March of '08 a string quartet he wrote, and would I be interested in writing something for quartet as well?

I decided to expand an 8-bar motive I had played around with when living in Los Angeles and see what I came up with. After countless hours of writing, re-writing, sculpting, hemming and hawing, the end result was this piece.

When hearing it, it's hard not to notice the influence of the French composers from a century ago. Especially Ravel, when it comes to string quartet writing. Both as a listener and performer, the harmonic colors from this chapter in musical history make my favorite kind of palette: One that is both classical and modern. Dramatic and non-emotional. Sitting comfortably within the realm of tonal expectations but at the same time, happy to challenge the ears here and there.

In this piece, these notions of push and pull were my guides. And the steady stream of information that pushes it forward (thanks in great part to Inger - the first violinist in the quartet- who helped put it into words) is what gave me the name.

Andre's piece, Against That Time, he wrote in dedication to his parents who have died in recent years. He wrote the 3-movement piece as a style study from the years surrounding his parent's births, emulating the serialism of Arnold Schoenberg and his students Alban Berg and Anton Webern from the '30s. The structure and "language" of the piece is influenced by Shakespeare's sonnet No. 49, which begins with the same words of the title.

The evening was full of variety...from a short film score-esque piece that I wrote to begin the night, to a few arrangements I wrote for quartet, piano and voice (including a Grieg piece I prepared in honor of a special Norwegian guest who flew in for the performance). Then, Andre's piece, which is challenging both for the quartet to play and the audience to hear, with a non-tonal approach and relatively extreme techniques on the instruments. And ending with my little epic.

As ever, the audience displayed champion amounts of flexibility (I have developed the luxury of expecting it from them), and it was another beautiful night of music, eating, drinking, and friendship on the Herengracht.

Andre's encouragement and my commitment to work on a "serious" piece opened up a new world of musical experience for me. And I couldn't be more grateful.

Here's a little slice. There are a few unwanted squeaks and pitch discrepancies here and there. But given the time they had to pull it together, the quartet did a great job capturing the essence.

I'll post more on my upcoming website when I launch it this summer.