It was a cold November night when I entered The Grey Eagle as Deborah Crooks performed her songs for The Traveling Bonfires benefit concert. After taking some photos of her for The Indie, I found a corner spot opposite the bar where I could see half the stage.
I opened my notebook and listened to Deborah finish one of her original songs. She introduced her last song by celebrating that she is a lapsed Catholic, Hindu, Buddhist. Her confession received modest applause from a growing crowd. Deborah closed her set with a prayer for the world.
One of the lines from her last song caught my attention: “Walked alone with all my doubt…” I thought of how heavy doubt can be. The weight of not knowing or not wanting to know or questioning what you already know.
Deborah Crooks finished her prayer for the world and the next act began setting up their musical equipment. More people joined a small gathering in the music hall as others bought drinks at the bar. Over the house speakers a bluegrass number played the lyrics: “bare me away on your snow white wings to my immortal home.”
I noticed Deborah at the bar. She wore a dark brown coat which matched her dark wavy hair and deep brown eyes. She waited for a bit before the bar staff warmed her mug with hot coffee. Slowly she walked back to the “green room” off stage right, retrieved her guitar and again slowly, maybe even meditatively, walked to the back of the music hall and found a seat.
I invited Deborah back to my table and asked her to tell me about the last song she sang. It has quite a history, she told me. It includes the death of her father, a World War II vet, and witnessing the World Trade Centers collapse.
In exploring her roots, Deborah discovered a parallel path between her father’s liberation efforts during W.W.II and her own personal liberation through ashtanga yoga. “Writing and singing is where I find my direction” she told me as she discussed finding faith through the conflicting messages of being in New York City for a yoga event and witnessing the tragedy of 9-11.
Like many fathers and daughters, there were struggles between her and her father which she sought to reconcile before his death. Without out going into personal details she summarized, “The same things that get between people get between countries.”
The next musical act had assembled on stage and begun to belt out their first song. We realized that our discussion about liberation would have to be continued later. She quickly concluded, “We’re all looking for the same thing—a haven, a home.”
(c) Matthew Mulder. All rights reserved.
Originally published in The Indie, December 2005
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