Submitted Date 09/07/2020

Life stopped when I crossed over, all I have are memories and even bad ones warm my heart. Disagreements with band members and club owners, contracts, and traveling from one city to the next, all a mix of good and bad.

My fondest memory is when I stayed in my Maine cottage for one week, all alone. Notebook papers filled with music strewn all over the place. All embryos of my future work. I had no idea if I'd get something worthwhile or not. I was lost in crescendos, notes, bars, and the sweet whisper of the better part of me that was creating the music. On the last morning I awoke, my masterpiece finished. It was 1965 and "Ask me Now!" was born.

I was all over the map: New York City, Paris, Berlin, but it was Marciac, a village in the Pyrenees where the husk of my life cracked open way before 1965. A muse entered my ears, voice, and entire body one night as the sun was setting over the mountains. And in a flash, it was sealed - I was guided from that point on. I always said my gift was born in the Pyrenees.
All I have are memories from this side. I'm invisible and can float through the stratosphere and sometimes there's an opening and I slip through to experience life in the moment. All the houses I've been in contain jazz mementoes hidden in pages or stuck in record jackets. I've become a footnote, yet my voice was so loud – from New York City to Berlin, no one else sounded like me. And even in 2009 the Wall Street journal declared that. I saw the headline on a dining room table once.

I'm out for an invisible ride tonight I feel like something's in the air. Notes are climbing from the earth in the distance, is it me playing? I fly over and peer down into your living room and you are writing and "Out of Nowhere" is playing. I remember the night I played at Nick's in Greenwich Village and I met the love of my life. Easing my way in I'm sitting on your couch wondering how you came across me. You look delighted. I can see the words you're writing--they're about me. Promise me you'll bring me to life and I won't be left to being a footnote in a book or a record jacket stuck in a closet. From New York City to Paris and Marciac, where it all started my life was amazing. I wonder if you found me out of nowhere. I hope you'll keep me everywhere and never forget me. Every time you listen to me, I'm alive on this side – your side.

Elizabeth C. Millar


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