I knew blog posts were completely outdated by then, so I only posted rarely, but I kept the section live on my website as a kind of history—mainly for myself. But as I geared up for various album releases, I was told that not having a continuous stream of current information on my website made me look unprofessional, so I finally took down the “Blog” post section of my website some time in late 2021. But I didn’t delete it. It was my history.

I’m reactivating my blog because I have a story to tell about my song “Edge of a Hurricane,” that involves lots of background detail and references to many of my old blog posts and videos. I want to tell that story in my own way. I don’t have the slightest interest in “going viral” (isn’t that an illness?!), but I do hope these stories reach some people who want and need to hear these stories. So I will activate this page again knowing that it is somewhat akin to putting a handwritten note in a bottle and throwing it in the ocean. I hope these stories eventually find a shore—and a reader.

Back in 2016 Josh Copus (talented artist and potter) told my husband and me about an old jail he planned to renovate into a boutique hotel. Josh’s wife, Emily Copus, had opened a flower business (a business her great-grandfather had once been in), Carolina Flowers and they were living in historic Marshall, NC (20 minutes north of Asheville).

Closed in 2012, the jail was the longest operating jail in NC (116 years). Josh and Emily knew that a building that old in such a tiny town (population of less than 1,000 at the last census) would have a deep and long history for his neighbors, so, as a newcomer, he knew the most important first step in his planned renovation was to first get to know his neighbors and the history of the town and the jail. So he did what a potter knew how to do. He made bricks out of clay—right there at the busiest intersection in town—and invited anyone and everyone to stop by, meet him and stamp a message on a brick that Josh would then fire in a kiln and use in renovating and repairing the jail. He did this for months (if not years!) The day Dan and I made our bricks (see my Instagram post in October 2017), a Marshall native (and former deputy at the jail) finally succumbed to curiosity and stopped by the jail. Josh took all of us on a tour (pre-renovation), telling us of his plans and listening to the man’s stories of the jail.

For 5 years Dan and I have followed Josh’s work as he has painstakingly renovated the hotel doing most of the renovation work himself—to save money but also so that he could uncover and preserve as much history as he could. Old bed frames became roof tiles, iron jail mechanisms now hide the kitchen pantries. I had never thought about how much a jail could reveal about a community—what it valued, how the community did and did not look after each other—but, clearly, Josh had.

Meanwhile Emily Copus had also been investing in and learning about the community. She expanded her flower business into events and delivery and began planning a storefront (Carolina Flowers Mercantile). When the grand opening was disrupted by the pandemic she morphed her flower delivery service into a grocery delivery for local farmers and producers.

And now, finally—in the middle of a pandemic—the renovation is complete and Josh and Emily have opened the hotel, a bar, a deli and restaurant in the historic space. Emily has opened “Zadie’s Market and Deli” in the hotel and has collaborated with John Fleer, James Beard awarded Asheville chef, to also open a restaurant.

I greatly admire these two talented, tenacious young people and want to help them succeed by telling as many people as I can about their businesses, so I have rented out the entire hotel for the last Friday night in August (27th from 5-7pm) and have invited my fans to join me on the patio of the new hotel for a fun evening of music and food. If you can’t attend the gig, please make plans to stay at the hotel (or at least stop by for food and drink) at another time.

The patio Parker and I will be performing on (and you will be dining on) is partially made up of the bricks that Josh and the community made over the past 5 years (more bricks in the walls and front sidewalk…you can help us look for the bricks Dan and I made in 2017!). Pretty cool.

Very grateful to the djs who gave an unknown artist a chance and listened to my album—they even started airing songs before the release date (January 26)! The djs also played a wide selection of the 14 songs on the album, so no one song has emerged—yet—as a favorite (and none appeared on the most played song chart). It’s a thrill to see my name listed with so many artists I admire. Many thanks to Art Menius and Si Kahn for their hard work and support.

The new cd is now available on all streaming services!! Feel free to contact me directly (info@katieoatesmusic.com) for a copy of the physical cd. Video release event is scheduled for Sunday, February 21st at 5:00 pm live on my YouTube site!

“Here in Gastonia” by Si Kahn

Where are the bobbins/ Where are the cards
Where are the boys/ Telling jokes in the yard
Where are the spindles/ Where are the looms
The white cotton bales/ In the opening room

            Here in Gastonia/ Here in Gastonia/ Here in Gastonia/ Here in Gastonia

No one walks to their shift/ From a house on Mill Hill
There’s condos for sale/ At the Old Loray Mill
Listen hard as you can/ By the brick weave room wall
Where the din made you deaf/ Now there’s sound at all

But on a warm September night/ If you stop on the street
You can feel the ground shake/ From their proud marching feet
Hear those young women’s voices/ So scared and so bold
Who risked all they had/ In that strike long ago

Do you spin for your children/ Those tales of pure gold
How they stood up so strong/ Like your grandmother told
Do you give thanks/ For the price that they paid
To leave us the good lives/ We lead today

© Joe Hill Music LLC (ASCAP)  All rights reserved

If you want to understand someone, walk in their shoes. This past fall Tom Hanchett, Parker Foley and I walked the halls of the historic Loray Mill—a one million square foot textile mill in Gastonia, NC. We taped a video on site that premieres November 23, 2020 on “The Bluegrass Situation”. The video includes historical as well as present day photographs of the mill where in 1929 the textile workers went on strike, holding protests meetings and marches in Gastonia, NC.

Many labor strikes in the early 20th century were met with fear, community division, and violence—especially if Black workers were involved (see history of the Elaine Massacre in 1919). Gastonia was no exception. Mother of ten, textile worker, balladeer, and union organizer, Ella May Wiggins (who advocated for including Black textile workers in the union) was shot and murdered at the age of 29 while in a pickup truck on the way to a union meeting. The strike ended in failure soon after her death. Ella May’s fight for better wages was only spoken of in hushed whispers for decades until her great-great granddaughter, Kristina Horton, began researching her history and wrote a book: "Martyr of Loray Mill" about her.

Si Kahn’s song about the striking laborers, “Here in Gastonia” is being released as a single ahead of my 2021 cd release: “We Go On: Si Kahn’s Songs of Hope in Hard Times”. The music video is dedicated to Ella May. Her fight for better wages and living conditions for laborers continues today.

Several years ago David Childers asked local musicians to help him create a cd to raise money for a statue of Ella May. Si and I both wrote and recorded songs for the limited release cd project. Still no statue (turns out no one buys cds anymore!) but the effort goes on. You can view my past blog posts about the project here: announcing the cd project April 5, 2015. The song I wrote for the cd project (“Dark Clouds”). The Cd release party on August 10, 2015. Gaston Gazette article August 21, 2015. The opening of the history museum at Loray Mill on April 17, 2016.

This video (shot by Charlotte Star Room) is a single from the upcoming January 29, 2021 cd release: “We Go On: Si Kahn’s Songs of Hope in Hard Times” . Both the cd and video remind us of the sacrifices people make in the fight for justice—past, present and future. We will continue their struggle. We Go On.

We give lip service to “essential workers” during a pandemic, and are about to celebrate a holiday for those who “labor”, but these recognitions often don’t help the most vulnerable of workers.  We buy and eat berries but don’t give much thought to who grew those berries, picked them by hand, and delivered them to the marketplace. We buy a piece of clothing online and don’t give a thought to how it was made or who made it (and who delivers it to our door). Teachers, health care and nursing home workers, janitors, service and tourist industry workers: the list goes on and on of people we deeply depend upon, but who are often not compensated fairly or have limited control over their work lives. I’ve read many good articles recently about some of these people (migrant farm workers), a transit worker in New York, and a woman returning home to the South and overcoming a fraught relationship with the people and the land.

Thousands of movies and stories remember wars (and those who have died) in epic tales of valor and heroism, horror and tragedy. Wars have started for many reasons throughout human history—sometimes to protect home and family but so often, unfortunately, in service to power and money. But for all of wars’ scope and impacts—often altering the course of human history—wars are fought and experienced in deeply personal ways. So it is fitting that Ed Williams begins his reflections not with grandiose homages to honor, duty and courage but with the deeply personal—a family scrapbook his Mother kept.

Among the pictures and remembrances is a letter from Ed’s father written in October 1944 from the USS St Lo during WWII. Historians (such as my mother) recognize this ship’s name and infamous date from the Battle of Leyte Gulf. But I did not know the history (until hearing Ed’s essay) and was lulled by the sweet banality of Ed’s father’s letter: the boredom, the confusion (his father got the date wrong), and the hints of his longing for home (wondering what 3-year-old Ed might want for Christmas) and family (he speculates his brother is on a nearby ship). (If you aren’t a historian—and even if you are—watch the video to find out about the historic event.)

I suspect part of why Ed wanted to include my performance of “Dear Sister” (I have a previously recorded video of it that is a favorite of Ed’s) is because the song begins with a letter from a soldier to family during another momentous war. And that soldier also misses and longs for home.

“Home” has a different resonance for all of us during this current pandemic—the closest to a cataclysmic war-like event most of us have ever experienced. Home has become a place for work, school and confinement. It has been the only way that most of us can participate in sacrifice on behalf of others—by simply staying home. But the meaning still resonates. We have become even more painfully aware during this pandemic of the injustice and suffering and capriciousness of life in this world of ours. We all long for a place where “all is bright and fair” and all of humankind can find a place of safety, justice, happiness and belonging.

Today as we honor those who have died in service of others, may we resolve to work toward a world with no need for war and where all of humankind can live together in peace—home, sweet home.

This is the whole live stream: my song is at @48:02!

What a world of change since my last blog post. From intimate house concert to singing on a Zoom call with 300 other people (and others watching on youtube). (The picture above was taken before the call officially started. And yes, that is Mark Peres’ book of his writing from his podcast “On Life and Meaning” that my computer is propped up on. Dan’s episode of the podcast here; mine here.) Given that all gigs have disappeared for a couple of months—at a minimum—I was delighted to be asked by the local chapter of Creative Mornings to be one of the musicians on their first virtual event. What a learning experience! I’m fairly new to Zoom but have been using it a lot recently for family calls, yoga sessions, and board meetings. But music—that’s another whole thing. Getting the sound right for performances is always hard but when it is squeezed through an app and directed onto people’s personal computers?? Ugh. Really not the medium.

My first try at getting the sound right was to sing through a mic, plug in my guitar to the speaker and let my computer pick up that sound. It worked OK in the run-through (as we all learned about how to use the “raise your hand” feature so the moderator can feature you on the feed). Then I tried plugging my vocal and guitar directly into the computer (which involved a lot of old equipment I hadn’t used since I first started doing youtube videos). I did solo Zoom calls, recorded it and then watched it offline. I sounded like I was singing under water. So I spent an afternoon tweaking computer software and drivers and inputs. Good grief. Not my strength.

Finally Steve from Skookum did a Zoom call with me. Best result? Plugging my guitar into the sound system and singing without a mic. That’s a first. Something about the way the sound was being picked up, it kept cutting out the guitar! So I sang to a computer with my guitar booming in my ear. In the end it’s all about the connections we make, not a perfect sounding performance, right? Anway, enjoy the video. My portion is a little over 45 minutes in (at @-48:01). As John Prine would say, it’s a “big old goofy world” isnt’ it?

Such a delightful evening with many thoughtful, engaged Charlotte folks. Delighted to have made my mentor, Si Kahn, and my parents proud! Folks had such kind things to say about my interpretations of Si’s songs as well as my own: one minute tapping their feet, the next teary eyed, the next on their feet cheering. What an amazing evening. Thank you to Tracy Watts and Jack Oates for the pictures, all who came out and Parker, Tom, and Lou for sharing their talents.

My friend and mentor, Si Kahn, pondered this question in an article for The Progressive Magazine (Dec 2019/Jan 2020):

 “A lot of people say, oh, music can change the world,” [but Si counters] “only if it’s accompanied by direct action organizing. People say, ‘Well, look at the civil rights movement. All those songs, didn’t they make a difference?’ I say, yes, of course they did. They sustained the people who made the movement. The songs were important. But songs alone, poetry alone, any of the arts alone, they don’t change the world. That takes organizing and direct action.”

As I contemplate my next cd project, I have decided I want to feature some of Si Kahn’s (as well as some of my own) songs that speak up for those who are disempowered, that advocate for justice and compassion and that encourage us all to act on behalf of a better world for us all. I hope to make a cd that will be thought-provoking, compassionate, hopeful, encouraging, and perhaps a little discomfiting, but I am under no misconception that singing about justice will be enough.

I recently attended a lecture by Bryan Stevenson, founder of the Equal Justice Initiative and best selling author of Just Mercy (recently made into a movie starring Jamie Foxx). Mr. Stevenson, a lawyer, is doing the hard work of societal change by representing people sentenced to death row and bringing attention to the history of racism and lynching in our country (through his writing and speaking and building monuments and museums). He encouraged the audience that even though our societal problems seem at times too big to change, individuals can make a difference by becoming proximate to injustice (ie, befriending and bearing witness with people who are disenfranchised), changing the narrative, remaining hopeful, and being willing to put ourselves in situations that might be uncomfortable. Mr. Stevenson’s primary motivation is not retribution but reconciliation. We are all broken—only through caring for each other and making amends for past wrongs—can we all become whole.

I want to follow Mr. Stevenson’s and Si Kahn’s advice and example through the music I make and the actions I take. I hope my music, words and actions will inspire others to do the same.

Most of us if asked “Who is my neighbor?” would reply that neighbors are the people who live in the houses or apartments near us—the people we might call if we need a cup of rice or someone to watch for packages being delivered while we are out of town. We help our neighbors, and our neighbors help us. But, given a bit more time to consider, we might also note a sense of larger interconnectedness (eg, “neighboring cities, counties, states and countries”); after all, “neighbors” who live farther away can also impact our lives. And not taking care of our neighbors can put us in economic, religious, and political peril.

Jesus is asked this same question by a Jewish expert in law (in the New Testament of the Bible, Luke 10:25-37). He has just praised the lawyer’s summary of what one must do to inherit eternal life (to love God with all one’s heart, soul, mind and strength and love one’s neighbor as oneself), but the lawyer wants to absolve himself of too much responsibility, so he seeks to get Jesus to define “Who is my neighbor?” as only Jews—people like the lawyer. Jesus responds with the Parable of the Good Samaritan—after which the lawyer is forced to admit that a man who is his sworn enemy (a Samaritan) acted as the neighbor rather than the priest and scribe (whom the lawyer would have defined as his neighbor).

Like the lawyer in the gospel of Luke, many of us seem to spend our time trying to define “neighbor” on a narrow basis: the people who live on my street (ie, people who, in most neighborhoods in the world, are of the same economic class, race, and often even religious tradition). But, as Jesus reminds us, defining “neighbor” too narrowly might put us in peril—religious or otherwise.

A neighbor of mine, Manuel Manolo Betancur, owns a store specializing in sweet & savory Latin-American baked goods (Manolo’s Bakery). Originally from Colombia (South America), Manolo attended college in East Tennessee and has lived in the US for 17 years (where both of his children were born). I have rarely met someone who has a bigger heart for his neighbors. Manolo sponsors a local program (Raise You Up Ministries) that serves people experiencing homelessness. Charlotte Agenda recently profiled the work he does driving many miles throughout NC to deliver bread to workers on Christmas tree farms and elsewhere. I am looking forward to sharing some music at his bakery on January 16 and having a chance for fellowship with many of my neighbors here in Charlotte.

Manolo’s love for his neighbors inspires me to want to do more for my neighbors as well. We have had conversations about how our country’s individualistic mindset has been hard for him to understand since he comes from a culture that values the community—one’s neighbors. I have been reflecting on this question and decided to research what other religions and cultural traditions say about neighbors.

The ancient middle East had strong codes of hospitality for both the foreigner who has taken up permanent residence and the traveler passing through. Hospitality dictated that the stranger be welcomed with food, water and shelter. It was a grave offense for a stranger to either reject the proffered hospitality or betray the host after sharing a meal. Indeed, a “hospitality code” seems to be present in almost every religion or cultural tradition. It is a deep instinct to be kind to a neighbor—as that neighbor might at some point become important to survival. So it’s an important question to ask ourselves: “Who are our neighbors?” and, implicitly, what do we owe to our neighbors?

Almost every major religion has strict commandments regarding the treatment of one’s neighbor. Both Judaism (Torah) and Christianity (Old Testament) share the book of Leviticus which contains this edict: “Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.” (Leviticus 19:18). In Hinduism the Mahabharata says “A man obtains a proper rule of action by looking on his neighbor as himself.” Buddhism teaches “Full of love for all things in the world, practicing virtue in order to benefit others, this man alone is happy.” (Dhammapada) Confucianism commands: “Seek to be in harmony with all your neighbors; live in amity with your brethren.” (Shu King 5.17.2) And Islam in the Quran (4: 36) says: “Worship Allah and associate nothing with Him, and to parents do good, and to relatives, orphans, the needy, the near neighbor, the neighbor farther away, the companion at your side, the traveler, and those whom your right hands possess.”

 Perhaps we would all benefit if we sought to “love our neighbor as ourself.”

Yeah, right. Even as a rather dreamy-eyed child I thought this Bible verse was pretty absurd. Everyone knows how the world works: strong people get what they want; people who seem weak or powerless get taken advantage of (or worse). You can’t let a bully get away with hitting you; you have to hit them back. And I do think there are plenty of circumstances where fighting back is the right choice. I don’t think even the greatest of our teachers about nonviolence would have advocated for nonviolence in all circumstances.

But there have been times when humans have faced unspeakable evil and the most effective deterrent was nonviolence. By refusing to return violence or hatred, the evil was exposed for what it was. And things changed. Sometimes shame forces change. Sometimes it’s the loss of an enemy to rail against. Sometimes it’s finally breaking the cycle of violence, hate and retribution.

At some level we all know that you can’t get love if you don’t give it. You reap what you sow. If violence, pride, anger, and hatred is what you bring to the world, then that is what will be returned to you. But it’s a hard thing to remember when facing down someone or something that threatens to obliterate everything you hold dear. I wrote this song to remind myself—and others—that if we want peace in our lives, we must find a way to bring more and hope and love into the world through our actions and the people we encounter every day. I can’t quite bring myself to echo the “turn the other cheek” exhortation, but I can try to love more, and hate and fear less. So here’s my little contribution: I wish you peace. I wish you hope. I wish you love. Pass it on….

Nothing better than a barbeque on a warm spring night singing music for a good cause. (Care Ring provides health service for the uninsured or underinsured.) Lou and I were background music for the event but got so many nice comments from people who were enjoying the music. One gentleman came up toward the end of the evening and said I had given him new enthusiasm for learning the guitar (his first guitar lesson was in a few days). How great is that?!