Author Archives: sherry

About sherry

After a long and happy career in Corporate Executive Recruiting, I retired and became the owner of a small country store in Marshfield Hills MA, which I sold to the actor Steve Carell at the end of 2008. Freed from the work-a-day world, I began to travel and then, of course, had to write about all that! After a while, I moved to Florida for what I thought was going to be 3 months of the year, but turned out to be 8 months. Still maintaining a house of the South Shore of Boston, summers are lovely. I have become a certified Yoga Teacher and continue to write. In the Summer of 2013, I published the book My Life at the Marshfield Hills General Store. When asked 'what's next?', I can honestly say I don't know. We'll see where the stars lead me.

Devil’s Tower

Back in 1977, we went on a wild and crazy ride with Roy Neary to track down the source of the subliminal messages he was receiving about a mystery place, which turned out to be a landing place for extraterrestrials at Devil’s Tower, Wyoming.  I’ve seen Close Encounters of a Third Kind a lot.  I mean, A LOT.  And that place has called to me – not as dramatically as with Roy Neary certainly – for all these years.

So, when we were headed to South Dakota for our western jaunt this summer, I knew that a little jog northwest was definitely going to happen.  Like so many destinations in that part of the country, the massive space is nothing short of awesome.  You drive and drive – through mountains, canyons, along rivers, with very little what we would call ‘civilization’ marring the scenery.  Sometimes, the vista is wide open and you can see mountains looming in the hazy distance.  So, in this case, I was searching for a glimpse of the iconic mountain that looks like a gigantic ancient tree stump.  And then, almost suddenly, there it was.

 

 

 

 
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It was almost sad to find the KOA at the foot of the mountain – however, this particular space appeared in the film as the base for the covert government operation going on at the top of the mountain.  And, when speaking to the owner of the campground, we learned that a couple of the buildings in the film are still there.  It was wonderful to be able to stay so close – and the mountain was the first thing I saw, waking up in the morning.

There is a 3 mile drive to the Visitor’s Center at the base – and a mile long hike along the perimeter.  With the exception of the people noise, it is quiet up there.  Going back at the end of the day rewarded us with very few tourists hanging around and a glorious view of Devil’s Tower being painted with the Sunset.

Motorcycles

Before I go much further about our journey, let’s turn attention to the topic of motorcycles.  Yes, that’s me – way back in Sweetwater, Tennessee at the Caverns.  It was in the parking lot and I thought it would be funny to send a photo along to Adam, telling him I’d just bought it.  He believed me.  Bless his little heart – he gives me a lot more credit for chutzpah than I actually deserve.  I will say, though, that there is a part of me that WISHES I could drive that beauty.

Little did I know that this flirtation with a motorcycle would be a foretelling of a theme in our trip.  Not long after entering South Dakota – early in August, we started to notice a lot of motorcycles on the road.  The further West we got, the more there were.  Bob mentioned that there was a BIG RALLY coming up in a town called Sturgis – and that maybe we’d drive up through the town and check it out. HAHAHAHAHA.

By the time we arrived in the Badlands, they were EVERYWHERE.  Hundreds became thousands.  When we arrived at the funky town of Wall (known to everyone in the world, apparently, as the home of Wall Drug Store), the entire Main Street was blocked off from all traffic other than MOTORCYCLES. That became the rule in every little town we visited. And along the scenic routes were churches with open doors, huge tents with BBQs, every restaurant, every bar, all with welcoming open arms the throng of bikers.

 

 

 

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At first, I thought ‘this is kind of cool’ – fun, I said.  Then, as we headed to the Black Hills, there were even more.  I learned that this Rally attracts about 1/2 million bikers.  Seriously.  So, Mount Rushmore and the scenic routes – and every campground – were packed with folks decked out in boots, leather, studs, Sturgis tees, sometimes their dogs riding in the back.  Our fanciful idea of checking out the Rally in Sturgis was soon tossed aside and we made tracks for Wyoming.

 

As we arrived in Hulett for a much anticipated visit to Devil’s Tower, we looked down into the parking lot and said, in unison, “They’re here”.  After our close encounters with them at Devil’s Tower, we pretty much left them behind as we headed for Yellowstone.

Cody, Wyoming

Well onto the other side of Big Horn – we are in a vast (seems to me, anyway!) Prairie.  LOTS of Sage Brush.  undulating hills with some cattle, goats, horses, occasional oil wells, grass.  Space – with images of mountains ahead.  We decided to stop in Cody before heading into Yellowstone.  No expectations – but then a dear friend mentioned there is this museum.  Why not? So, turns out it is a fabulous museum – the Buffalo Bill Center of the West.   It really consists of several museums under one gorgeous roof – one of the most beautiful museums I’ve ever seen. The Natural History Museum is structured in a gently rising circuitous design – with each level dedicated to the seven ecoregions found in Wyoming.

Sounds of native birds, wolves, fabulous exhibits of underground structures created by Prairie Dogs, Eagle nests, a tutorial on wildlife in this part of the world – all in an exquisitely designed structure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Art Museum boasts the great sculptors and painters of Western art, including extraordinary Native American subjects and heroes and lots of American Cowboy art.


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There is a special exhibit of the great sculptor Remington which is based on the actual studio from New Rochelle New York, where he did so much of his  best work.

We were fortunate to be here to see a visiting exhibit of Albert Bierstadt and many of his best works featuring Western themes.

There is a wing dedicated to Buffalo Bill, the Plains Indian, and Firearms.  The exhibits are glorious – but truly, the setting of this magnificent building is the master frame for the art.  Worth a day.

 

 

 

 

And after indulging in the musem, a nice walk in the beautiful city park was  in order- a lush carpet of soft green grass, a fantastic amphitheater, miniature golf, picnic tables and pavilions, all among spectacular spruce and cottonwood trees.  The City has this feeling of being loved, well tended and maintained.  Alkali and Beck  Lakes run next to the main road, one of which is a breeding ground for many birds, some migrating – including the White Pelican and Loon.  Lovely City buildings and charming homes, beautiful schools, nice restaurants, and a rodeo every night!  What a great City.

Time passes…..and now it’s August!

I had forgotten that I’d started to write about this trip – way back at Cape Canaveral at the end of June.  Here it is August 10.  So much has happened that I am hoping I can remember most of it – at least the highlights.  It might help me to go backwards!

So, here we are in a little town called Moreland, Wyoming.  We’re in a small campground for the night, on our way to Cody.  The drive from Devil’s Tower today was through Big Horn National Forest.  We climbed to 9,666 feet before the road began its steep twists and turns, plummeting to a mere 4,000 feet.  Gorgeous.  Scary.

But let’s go back to Devil’s Tower.  This was on my ‘list’. Introduced to the iconic national monument via the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind, I have felt drawn to the place ever since – over 40 years ago.  As you drive toward the location – through fields and hills – from South Dakota, you start looking for it.  And then, suddenly, there it is.

 

Alone in its magnificence.  Not an awful lot on the way – a couple of small (REALLY SMALL) towns, that’s about it.  The campground is literally at Devil’s Tower, on the sight where (in the movie) the military was stationed to protect the covert operation at the top of the Tower.  A couple of the buildings are there still – the Post Office and a long, tan building that is now the Devil’s Tower Trading Post.  We drove up the mountain – about 3 miles – to the Visitor’s Center.  It was packed with ‘tourists’, primarily motorcyclists from the annual Sturgis Motorcycle Rally.  More about that later.

For those able, there is a walking path around the base of the Tower – about a mile.  I was happy just to take photos and drink in the energy of that remarkable edifice.  There are several stories about how it was formed – but I like the one about the huge bear that was trying to get to the people on the top – hence the claw-like marks all around the sides.  Why not?
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On the road up, there is a large field which is home to who knows how many Prairie Dogs.  I wasn’t content to watch them from the road; I walked down one of the paths into the field and they didn’t seem to mind.  In fact, I sat down on the ground and several of them came around to check me out.  Adorable little creatures, crafty enough to build their underground homes, replete with flood shelters – air trapped spaces where they can go in case their homes fill with water.  Smart.  They like to make their chattering little sounds and they kiss a lot.  I was smitten.

Back to the mountain.  I couldn’t make just one trip up there, so returned at sunset – and was rewarded with quiet and the colors painted on the Tower by the setting sun.  No, I did not have any encounters with kindly creatures from another galaxy.  But, I felt the energy of the space.  The spirituality of it.

It is a sacred place to local Indian Tribes and you can feel why. Perhaps endowed with some mystical qualities of its own.  Perhaps simply reflecting the adoration bestowed on it for centuries.

Either way, it is a very special place.

Road Trip

OKAY.  So,here I am – on our first day of the 2018 adventure into unchartered territory. We’re at Cape Canaveral.  It is pouring – some more.  A/C in the RV shut Alberta look at these guys levitra generika ski has spent the preceding three years investigating organic health care options. Males generally generic cialis think that they can have sex almost immediately after the intake. 2) Long-lasting effect. viagra prices The capsule contains vitamins and minerals that energy, and the endurance of the user where sometimes the dose is reduced to 25 mg pill a day. You may ask, why just not let it dry-especially check out for source buy generic viagra on that of salt water? Well, you know, buddy. down and I’m going through the manuals to try and find out ‘why’.  It’s HOT.  Boo is hiding from the thunder.  Tomorrow is a NEW DAY – let’s hope things improve.

 

It’s been a great ride! Sometimes, you just need to sit back and look at all you’ve done!

 

Sherry Campbell 

805 Santa Margerita Lane

Punta Gorda FL 33950                 617 827 0714

 On-stage experience with Boston and NYC area companies including: Company Theatre, North River Theater, Duxbury Bay Players, Curtain Call Theatre, Nick’s Comedy Stop Manhattan Community Opera & Liederkranz Opera in NYC. Roles included:

 

Love Letters                                                 Melissa

The Cemetery Club                                     Ida

Man Who Came to Dinner                        Lorraine Sheldon

Music Man                                                  Marion

The Runner Stumbles                              Mrs. Shandig

Forty Carats                                                Ann Stanley

A Christmas Carol                                     Bess

Into the Woods                                          Cinderella’s Mother & Granny

Steel Magnolias                                         M’Lynn

Sound of Music                                          Baroness

Funny Thing Happened…                         Tintinabula

Evita                                                             Ensemble

Don’t Touch That Dial                             Member of 6 person ensemble, multiple characters

On screen actress for Industrial Videos, Training Films and TV commercials

Co-Founder & Manager of Stetson Underground Theatre, Hingham MA

Produced & Directed for Stetson, North River Players, Cohasset Dramatic Club, Duxbury Bay Players including:

  • What are We Going to Do About Dad? (premier of original work)
  • We Should Live So Long (premier of original work)
  • Where the Wild Things Are – Children’s Theatre
  • Gift of the Magi
  • Alice in Wonderland
  • The Women
  • Crossing Delancey
  • Picnic
  • Inherit the Wind
  • The Hasty Heart
  • A Thousand Clowns
  • Fiddler on the Roof (Music Director)
  • Sweet Charity (Music and Choreography)
  • Don’t Dress for Dinner
  • A Bench in the Sun
  • Rumors

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Founder & Manager of Mixed Company, a jazz singing group

Creator, Producer and on camera host for In The Wings, a weekly cable interview show focusing on the Performing Arts in the Boston Area

Theatre and Music Reviewer for FOLIO Magazine and The PATRIOT LEDGER

Writer and Editor, TEMPO: The Magazine of the Charlotte Symphony Orchestra

Training & Education:

Voice: Sam Sakarian, NYC; Michael Joseph, Weymouth MA

Acting: HB Studios, NYC, and Michael Shurtleff

Commercial Skills: Reed, Sweeney, Reed – Pat Sweeney, NYC

BS, State University of NY, Music and Business

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

John Clayton plays Billy Joel’s “And so it goes”

 

For the only one who knows……

For the only one who knows.......

Central Park

by Sherry Campbell

 

If I dare to look – and sometimes I do –

the first thing I notice are the Daffodils.

No showers yet.

There’s the bench, still there, of course.  And

the same two. They haven’t changed.

Her cashmere cardigan, his favorite color.
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Beaded sweater guard. Warm shoulders.

His suit jacket, perfectly folded on the seat.

Loosened tie. Tassled loafers. 

Brown bags from the corner deli, flattened

into lap placemats. Matching sandwiches.

Look at their faces. They could not be more alone. They

are unaware of clouds surrounding them.

No showers yet.

If I dare to look – and sometimes I do –

the last thing I notice are the daffodils.

 

From  the book “An Old Story” by Sherry Campbell

 

 

The Importance of Music

The Importance of Music

CSO B&W

There is so much written – these days – about the importance of music. Music in our everyday lives, music education in schools, how learning an instrument improves one’s cognitive function.

Music is math. Music improves verbal IQ. Great music can transform the mundane into magic. Music lifts your spirits, improves your mood. Singing brings us together. Music reduces stress and anxiety.

The list of the positive impact that music has on humanity is voluminous. Shelves of books on the subject abide.

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Music is one of the most fundamental expressions of human life. And, often, the more exposure we have, the more eclectic our musical tastes become. We may live for decades, thinking that all we like is Country music, then a friend invites us to a jazz concert and we are thrown into a frenzy over this exciting ‘new’ sound. We may play guitar in a rock and roll band, be in love with gospel music, think there never will be anyone like Frank Sinatra. Then, one day, you find yourself sitting in symphony hall and the orchestra is playing Barber’s Adagio for Strings and you are reduced to a puddle of tears, your life changed forever.

This is the glory of music. It is for everyone, everywhere. It is the universal language that expresses the unexpressible. It is the destroyer of walls between us. It is the ultimate human experience.

To discuss the importance of music is fun and interesting, and science has shown how beneficial music can be in treating all sorts of neurological and emotional issues. But, it is rather like discussing the importance of the sun. Lots of interesting facts, of course, but to really grasp its importance – just imagine where we would be without it.

Written for Regina Buckley, TEMPO, The Magazine of The Charlotte Symphony Orchestra, Fall 2016

An Old Story – Prologue

Clouds

~ Our Little Wishes

Think about the hundreds of people you see and meet, have brief conversations with, maybe work or play with. Every day. Every week. Some become friends, even lovers. But, in time, you or they move on, leaving impressions and memories of all textures.

Each one contributes a sentence, a page, a chapter to the story of you.

The business of everyday life casts you playing out scenes with your fellow actors, changing – ever changing – with entrances and exits. Until suddenly, without intent or warning, you take a seat on a bus, or walk into a room, or stand in line at the grocery. You look up and there is a pair of eyes you instantly recognize as those you’ve been waiting for.

The missing piece of a puzzle you didn’t realize was missing.

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We are romantic by nature. In our culture, we are raised with tales of falling in love, getting married, living happily ever after. At least, in my generation, this was true. We bought the whole package – that we were destined to find the ultimate joy in life with that special someone – that once you have found him/her, we were to ‘never let him/her go’.

By the time we reach a mature adulthood (in years, even if not developmentally) we may suspect this tale of romance has been misrepresented. The eyes of romantic ecstasy never appeared. Or perhaps we found that special someone, reached for the brass ring and came up empty, or worse. We protect our hearts. We become jaded.

Yet. And yet. For most of us, in the quietest of times, if we are not too afraid of honesty, we secretly harbor a little wish for the love of a lifetime.

 

~ from AN OLD STORY, by Sherry Campbell

My Best Friend

I was 18 and very pregnant when I moved into the tiny house on East Street in Suffield CT.  My next door neighbors were a young couple – about 10 years older than I was – with three young children.  Truth is, I remember very little about that time in my life, other than the circumstances that got me where I was!  And, I remember the pink sundress I wore almost constantly because I had very few maternity clothes.  The only other person in my life who remembers that dress is my oldest and best friend in all the world, Josie, who was the young mother living next door.

When I finally delivered my baby, it was obvious I knew close to nothing – no, absolutely nothing – about babies.  This became clear to Josie when I confided that I was worried my baby cried a lot and had lost a little weight.  She asked me what I was feeding him and I said “Similac”, which is what the pediatrician recommended since I had stopped nursing.  My new friend said, without hesitation, “He’s hungry.  He needs some real food.”  She went to the store and bought baby cereal, which he devoured.  To this day, my son swears that he has food issues because I was starving him as an infant.

This was not the first time Josie saved me from myself.  Later, when I was working as a waitress (which I almost always was in those days) and we had spent the afternoon drinking Bolla Valpolicella and I wasn’t in any condition to go anywhere, she got me into a shower, dressed me and delivered me to work.  She was my big sister, the mother I missed, my playmate.  When her fourth child arrived, I was the one who held her, wrapped in a towel with her head hanging over the sink so Jo could wash her hair.  She hated it when her hair was washed.

Neither of us had any money.  Dinner for us was often pancakes with syrup made from sugar water and maple flavoring.  More than one Christmas found us at the Goodwill to get toys for the kids.  What did they know or care that they were used?  We had a ball finding those treasures.  One year, when at the store buying Easter baskets, I wanted her to buy her baby a bonnet.  It was a dollar.  She refused to buy it. “She’s a baby.  She doesn’t need a bonnet.”  We still laugh about that and, over the years, I have bought her several hats – every time saying YOU NEED A BONNET.

I don’t remember feeling deprived.  At all.  There were parties.  Christmas brought cookie making with everyone there.  And, there were always kids at her house, cub scouts, neighbors, cousins’ children.  Josie and her husband Wes had bought this little house when they were first married.  It had 2 bedrooms, which the kids used.   Jo and Wes slept on a pull-out couch in the living room.  He worked hard to support his family, she budgeted every penny like Scrooge himself.  They didn’t have money.  They did have each other.

One Sunday morning, I was awakened by Josie shaking me. “You have to come over – something’s wrong with Wes!”  I remember calling for an ambulance. I don’t know what made me do that – reflex, I guess.  Then, running next door through a couple of feet of snow.  Wes was lying on the couch, barely breathing, Jo at his side, telling him she was ‘here’.  The ambulance came to my house first, I ran outside and flagged them down.  Then they were there, putting him on a stretcher, carrying him out to the ambulance.  Josie had her coat on and was going with them.  I remember saying, “Everything is going to be ok.  I’ll take care of the kids”.  And that was it.

No one should lose their husband at the age of 30.  Leaving her behind with 4 children under the age of 10.  Without a driver’s license, even.  What kind of hell is that, I ask.  What does one do?  Go on.  That’s what.  You have a family to take care of.  You do what you need to do.  And she did.
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Again, this particular time is murky in my memory.  Images of being in Forbes and Wallace, handing her black dresses to try on for the funeral.  Her sobbing her heart out over his coffin.  Let her cry.

The months, years following. Both of us, struggling to make a life of our own – each of us with our personal challenges.  Hers always felt so much more weighty than mine.  Whatever she went through, I was there for her.  Even when I finally moved away.  Coming to see Josie was coming ‘home’.  She, a second mother for my boy.  Me, giving her anything I could.  Being her friend.

All this happened decades ago.  Both of us have been through each other’s marriages, divorces, dogs, cats, birds & ferrets, broken hearts, grandchildren, more bottles of red wine.  Eventually, trips to Mexico and California, a weekend in a haunted hotel in upstate New York. Our childrens’ and grandchildren’s crises.  More Christmas cookies.  Sickness. Loss.  Life.

Now.  it is my best friend’s 79th year.  She’s been dealing with health issues for a few years.  I always ask, “how are you doing?”.  “I’m fine.”  Always “I’m fine”.  A couple of weeks ago, she was taken to the hospital and I called.  “How are you doing?”  pause.  “I’ve been really sick.  Not too good.”  What happened to “I’m fine”?

I don’t want her to be sick.  I don’t want her to be anything but fine.  I want her to be with me forever.  I want to buy her another hat and drink wine.