“I’m an outcast, a stranger, the children would be in danger, if there were teachers like me in the school…”
SANDY HOOK — On Oct. 6, veteran folk artist Deborah Romeyn will host a CD release party at the West End Cultural Centre in support of her new album We Are Made of Stars.
One of the more powerful tracks on the disc, which will also be available as a digital download, is Teacher’s Song, an introspective tune its author regrettably feels is as relevant in 2024 as the day it was written, 43 years ago.
Ruth Bonneville / Free Press
Singer-songwriter Deborah Romeyn’s new album includes the tune Teacher’s Song which she wrote four decades ago. Its theme — sadly — is as relevant today as it was when first penned.
Romeyn was a high school physical education teacher in 1981 when a story about her then-partner, a prominent female singer-songwriter, was published in a Winnipeg tabloid. Only instead of focusing on her partner’s career, the reporter devoted more ink to the pair’s relationship, which Romeyn had largely kept under wraps at her workplace.
“I was very uneasy about the whole thing, but became even more so when a custodian at my school taped the article to a bulletin board, for all to see. Suddenly, the other staff members were going, ‘Have you heard about Deb? Did you know she’s gay?’” she says, seated in the Sandy Hook abode she shares with Judy, her wife of 35 years, and their pooch Caddy, so-named for a golf course the couple lives alongside.
The week after the story came out, Romeyn was summoned to the principal’s office, where it was strongly suggested she take an extended leave of absence for her — here she pauses to roll her eyes — mental well-being. Thanks, but no thanks, came her reply.
“What made the proposal even more ridiculous was that the woman they intended to replace me with was, unbeknownst to them, also a lesbian,” says Romeyn, who eventually transferred to Kelvin High School, her alma mater, where she taught until her retirement from the profession in 2011.
She penned Teacher’s Song shortly after the incident but never chose to include it on her six previous albums, mainly because she preferred to sing it live, when she could let audiences in on the story behind the lyrics.
“Sadly, with all that’s going on in the 2SLGBTQ+ community, it’s sorely needed again.”
Romeyn was four years old when her family moved to Winnipeg from Fort Qu’Appelle, Sask., and eight years old when her mother Agnes died in 1964 at age 53.
She studied piano as a child and enjoyed it immensely, especially on those occasions when her instructor allowed her to sit on her lap while she played, which, to a young girl who had just lost her mom, was tremendously soothing, she says.
As for early musical influences, sure she dug the Beatles, but she distinctly recalls singing Elvis Presley’s 1969 smash In the Ghetto for her sister and stepmother, doing her utmost to mimic Presley’s deep baritone.
By the time she entered high school she had taught herself to play guitar. It would also have been around then when her late friend Ann Hoogstraten began encouraging her to convert dozens of poems, which she had been entering into personal journals for years, into full-fledged songs.
“Probably the first time I sang in public was in front of my volleyball team, in Grade 11. I was shaking — just terrified — but they were all ‘Deb, your songs are so great, you have to keep it up.’”
Romeyn received her education degree from the University of Manitoba. She was teaching at Kelvin in 1986 when she was invited to be part of a recording project called Prairie Spirits, which was being orchestrated by a women’s group dedicated to shining a light on lesser-known artists.
Ruth Bonneville / Free Press
Singer-songwriter Deborah Romeyn will be hosting a CD-release party for her new album this weekend at the West End Cultural Centre.
She ended up contributing three original compositions to the ensuing album. A year later, one of those tracks, Nothing Like the Freedom, was chosen as the international song of the year by the Girl Guides of Canada. Equally impressive, when Roberta Bondar, Canada’s first female astronaut, flew aboard the NASA Space Shuttle Discovery in January 1992, she added Nothing Like the Freedom to a mixed cassette tape she brought along for the ride, which she slipped into a player as the shuttle passed over the Prairies.
Although teaching was her main vocation — on occasion, she also taught in the anatomy department at the U of M — Romeyn continued to write songs. From time to time she performed live with Nancy Reinhold, later of the Wyrd Sisters, but that was about the extent of her musical endeavours. At least it was until she had what she describes as a near-death experience in the summer of 1995, while she was riding her bike in the Wolseley neighbourhood, close to where she and Judy were then living.
She was pedalling along at full speed when the bike’s brake cable snapped, causing her to be thrown over the handlebars. She suffered numerous broken bones but what she recalls most about the incident was seemingly leaving her body while she lay crumpled on the pavement, and watching everything unfold from above.
“A figure in blue robes and surrounded by light appeared next to me and though I am not a religious person, I would say it was Christ-like,” she says, leaning forward in her chair. “He asked if that was me on the road and I said it couldn’t be, as I looked so scrawny. He laughed, then I felt intense pressure on my neck and was forcefully pushed back into my body. I woke as the white light became smaller and smaller.”
During her recovery, Romeyn asked herself what she would have lamented most, had she died that afternoon. Her answer: failing to record the reams of songs she had spent more than half of her life composing. As soon as she was physically able to, she limped into the bank to apply for a $25,000 loan, to make what turned out to be her first record, she says, holding up a CD titled Distance in Her Eyes: A Gift from the Prairies.
Since Distance in Her Eyes’ release in 1997, which led to an appearance at the 1998 Winnipeg Folk Festival, Romeyn has averaged six years between new albums. Those lulls aren’t because she was ever short of material, but rather because she has chosen to self-finance her musical career, versus shopping herself out to record labels. (Besides teaching, she is also a registered massage therapist who presently devotes a good chunk of time to working with palliative-care patients, as well as those living with cancer. Additionally, she regularly offers mental-health workshops through St. John’s Ambulance.)
“Also, most of my albums have been precipitated by major life events. For the new one, my dear friend Ann, the one who persuaded me to write songs in high school, was the same age as me two years ago when she got this horrible, terminal diagnosis,” she goes on. “Again, I asked myself what I’d do if I was in her shoes and again my reply was more music. I worked my ass off the last two years to raise the necessary funds — just over $20,000 — to produce We Are Made of Stars.”
Dan Donahue has produced or engineered in the neighbourhood of 400 albums for a who’s who of Canadian artists, including Fred Penner, Connie Kaldor and Valdy. Donahue has also had a hand in all seven of Romeyn’s albums, and will be accompanying her on guitar and percussion on Oct. 6, for what is expected to be a two-hour performance, with intermission.
“The thing I love best about Deb is that she’s the absolute salt of the earth. We’ve been close for many years, but that could have something to do with the two of us being Scorpios,” Donahue says, when reached at home.
Donahue says he is continually “blown away” by Romeyn’s prolificacy as a songwriter. Many has been the time when they have been preparing for a show ahead of a CD launch, rehearsing the newly recorded tunes, when the discussion turns to what they might trot out in the event Romeyn gets summoned back for an encore.
“That’s when she’ll play me six or seven outstanding songs I’ve never heard before, and I’ll be like, where the hell were these when we were in the studio?” he says with a chuckle.
Ruth Bonneville / Free Press
Singer/Songwriter Deborah Romeyn has recorded seven albums since the late 1980s but remains largely unknown as an artist.
“I’ve done concerts with her when she’s sold $1,500 worth of CDs afterwards, which is almost unheard of in this day and age,” he continues. “What’s particularly fascinating about her is that music is only one facet of what is a busy, busy life. She found her niche and, in my opinion, has grown to be very comfortable in this wonderful world of Deb Romeyn music.”
Back in Sandy Hook, Romeyn mentions the new album is probably her most diverse yet. Besides traditional folk tunes, there is a country-tinged number called Pickin’ Daisies, and another, Corner of Nowhere and Forever, that comes across as a honky-tonk shuffle.
“The plan is to do two sets, and for me to mingle a bit during the break,” she says, noting she can’t stick around too long after the show, as she will be receiving an award of merit at a Massage Therapy Association of Manitoba function at St. Boniface Golf Club, scheduled to kick off at 5:30 p.m. the same afternoon.
One more thing; if you’re among the fans who have reached out to Romeyn from as far away as Taiwan and Australia after being exposed to her music on the online streaming service Jango, you’re probably best served to make the trip to Manitoba if you ever want to catch her live on stage.
“I used to think about doing the folk festival circuit during the summer when I wasn’t teaching, but it never seemed to pan out,” she says. “Then about a month ago I got a call from Leonard Podolak of Home Routes, which books house concerts and such across the country.
“He said ‘Deb, I want to hire you,’ to which I said ‘fantastic.’ Then he told me I’d be doing 13 shows in 15 days, driving my own car through northern B.C. I said, ‘Leonard, I’m going to be 68 at the end of October, so you’re a little late, sweetie. But thanks for the vote of confidence.’”
For more information, go to deborahromeyn.com.
david.sanderson@freepress.mb.ca
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