All proceeds from the sales of the single will jointly benefit Excelencia in Education, a national organization that aims to accelerate higher education success for Latino students through promoting education policies and institutional practices that support their academic development, and the National Hispanic Professional Organization (NHPO)’s La Sangre Llama and Future Latino Leaders Scholarships.

Marcela’s goal is to raise $250,000 by Christmas. It may seem an ambitious figure to some, but not to the Colombian singer. “There are 50 million Latinos in this country,” she said. “And all I’m asking for is $250,000. For 250,000 to give just one dollar for education.”

She wrote the initial draft of the song in May, but when the idea evolved to include a premiere at Festival Latino in October, Marcela contacted Carmen Reyes from Radio Ambiente, the presenter of the festival. “I told her about my idea, told her about having kids singing with me and the intention for the proceeds to go to improve Latinos’ education,” Marcela said. “Her having the big heart she has, she told me she loved it and gave me the check to get started.”

She gathered a team of talented musicians – led by Tim Goodwin – and nine talented young Latino singers. “I wanted to have children who could sing, but more than anything I wanted to have the essence of childhood represented, just have them sing and dance the way they are,” Marcela said. “So we have some children who sing all the time, some who like to sing but don’t do it often and even children who don’t normally sing, who were very shy. But at the end they found that voice inside and let it out!”

“It was a long day but probably one of the happiest moments in my career,” Marcela said. “Looking at them I thought, this is definitely what can change things around, people getting together to do what they do best and make a difference. We all can do our part. For us, our thing is music – so music is what we did.”

The song is available for download at UnMundoBueno.com and through iTunes.

About Marcela Pinilla

Discovered at the ripe age of 5 in her native Colombia, Marcela’s began singing professionally at the age of 14, when she performed regularly with a band base out of her home town Bogota. She was on the road 2 years later exploring Southeast Asia, and that began a life filled with music and adventure that hasn’t stop since then. She had done music and lived in several different countries, fascinated with the similarities she found in people from different corners of the world. “We are all the same and that is why we need to treat each other with compassion and respect,” she said.

On May 22, Memphis resident and Chinese citizen Wei Chen will embark on his journey to become the first Chinese citizen to fly a single-engine airplane around the world. He’ll visit 21 countries, more than 40 cities and log more than 25,000 nautical miles. We need you to write a theme song for Wei’s journey. Wei wants to bring Memphis music on his trip, and he is looking for a Memphis artist to create a theme song that will be played in every city in all 21 countries along the course of his flight. The winner will also receive roundtrip airfare and accommodations to play the winning song at a kick-off press event in Washington, D.C. and will perform at the Greater Memphis Chamber Wei Around the World Send-Off Gala benefiting St. Jude. And if all that isn’t enough, there’s a $250 cash prize in it for you, as well. The top 12 songs will also be featured on a compilation CD.

All genres of music will be accepted for this contest. Each song will be judged on its artistic merit, originality and creativity. Profanity and suggestive language of any kind are prohibited in lyrical content of any entry.

Additional contest details and submission guidelines can be found here on the Memphis Music Foundation’s website. Good luck!

“Isn’t it refreshing?”

But really, this is nothing new: People from Memphis tend to be the ones most down on the city. Transplants tend to be the ones most ready to extol its virtues. And I think I finally understand why.

Transplants have chosen to be here. They’ve picked Memphis as their home. They feel ownership over that choice and thus, over the city. Natives, however, were born here. We were raised here. I was raised here, and I wasn’t always wild on the idea of staying in Memphis. In fact the very idea seemed completely out of the question.

It’s a little like assigned reading in high school. It didn’t matter that I loved to read, that I could consume novel after novel at a voracious pace, when it came to the books I was told I had to read I could hardly force myself to turn the first page. It was such a CHORE. I was being forced to do it. Like eating brussel sprouts or reading assigned books or living in the city you were born in, it’s just not as easy to be delighted about something when you feel like it wasn’t your choice.

So when I had the choice, I got up and out. I moved away for school and again further away for yet more school and then to New York City, the land of dreams and all that, to find a job. That had always been my plan: to move to New York and write. And when I did, I realized it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

New York’s a wonderful city and I’ll happily visit again. But around March of last year I started coming to terms with the fact that this dream I’d always envisioned for myself maybe wasn’t just right for me, after all. And after that? I had to really come to terms with the idea that I might just like Memphis. I might actually WANT to live there. It took me months to be comfortable with the phrase because it just didn’t seem plausible. How could someone born and raised in Memphis, so intimately aware of all its ills, actually want to live there?

Perhaps because I’m also intimately aware of all its strengths, its history, the things that make it magical. The things that have always, no matter how far away from home I’ve traveled, made me proud to tell people I was from Memphis. Proud to get into vicious arguments about barbecue and even prouder to school people on the history of blues and soul.

So I moved back in August, became some sort of native-transplant hybrid. I never planned for this. But whereas in New York, a little Charlie Brown rain cloud floated over my head, in Memphis I am followed by a ray of sunshine bursting through the clouds and warming my skin at every moment. I hope I never forget how lucky I feel to be in the Bluff City at this very moment, that I carry it with me for the rest of my years as a Memphian and use that energy to make this city a better place. It was a feeling I felt radiating from the rafters at the Memphis Connect one-year anniversary party this week — all these people with the same goal and the same passion for our city in one spot. The energy was palpable.

My challenge to every native Memphian would be to think about the reasons you choose to live here. Because it is, in fact, a choice, even for those of us in the born-and-raised category. So find your reason — or reasons — and when you’ve done that, you’ve found your reason to celebrate Memphis.

I’d estimate this was my fifth trip to the museum. Every time I go there I learn something new, every time I go there I dance to “Soul Finger” on the dance floor and every time I go there I get choked up as the first notes of “Try a Little Tenderness” start in the introduction video and the scenes of the city from across the Mississippi glide across the screen. It just doesn’t get old.

If you’ve never been, please clear your calendar for this weekend because frankly, you can’t get there soon enough. Not only is this an incredible and monumental part of Memphis history, let alone Memphis music history, it’s also just a stunning museum. The exhibits, the artifacts, the photography and particularly the recreation of the details of the STAX recording facility — it’s a fascinating visual experience. Oh, and you get to see Isaac Hayes’ Cadillac, which let’s be real, is totally worth the price of admission all by itself.

It’s only $12 for adults, with discounts for senior citizens, AAA, students and the usual suspects. But here’s what surprised me. A year-long membership to the museum is only $50. That will get you in whenever you want — any time you feel like getting a little misty-eyed to Rufus Thomas doing a great impression of the Memphis groove — and a few guest passes, plus 15 percent off anything in the gift store.

It surprised me how affordable it was, and perhaps I’m the only one who wasn’t in the know on that. But now that I do know, I can’t imagine why anyone wouldn’t join. It is absolutely a place I would visit again and again, and absolutely a cause I would want to support in that way.

And that 15 percent off in the gift shop would really come in handy. If you’re looking for me these days, I’ll probably be driving down to McLemore Avenue; you’ll know it’s me by the Soulsville U.S.A. bumper sticker that says “I’m a Soul Woman.”

But even with the dreary weather, I had managed to forget it — at least temporarily — as I sat inside King’s Palace Cafe on Beale listening to the musicians of the Memphis Farmers Market at the MFM benefit jam. The market opens up again April 17, and the event Sunday brought together some of its regular players to raise a few bucks for the cause.

I heard some good music, for sure — including one of my favorite versions of “My Baby Wrote Me a Letter” — but mostly the jam inspired me to be a farmers market regular come the spring. I love supporting local merchants, and being able to do that and catch some good local music is about as good as it gets.

I love the idea that local musicians are supporting local initiatives, and vice versa. That Memphis has so many symbiotic relationships like this one between hometown institutions (music and food, hello) is one of the things that makes our city rich and ever richer. Plus, I love discovering new artists. And if I can pick up fresh produce and meats and cheeses (definitely the cheese) and hear some new musicians at the same time? Shut the front door.

You can find out more about the market here, and more about the musicians who support it here. Will I see you out on April 17?

V-Day is a global movement to end violence against girls and women, which you might know better by the name of the play at the heart of this movement and the woman who started it all: Eve Ensler’s The Vagina Monologues.

Every year during V-Day season (January through March), benefit productions of The Vagina Monologues happen in hundreds of cities across the country. It’s a hysterical, touching, heart-wrenching, gut-wrenching, side-clenching show that aims to remind us of the common experiences we all share as women and of the atrocities we should all be fighting to end, as humans.

If you’ve seen the show, if you haven’t, if you’ve heard of it, if you haven’t, if the title scares you a little bit or you wouldn’t mind shouting it from the rooftops — whoever you are, whatever your background and no matter your gender, this production is for you. Opening Thursday night at TheatreSouth, this play is full of real stories and real issues, told by real Memphis women. We’re not actresses, just passionate people who have something to say and want to be the megaphone for those who can’t speak themselves.

If you are a woman, if you love a woman, if you respect a woman — be there. TheatreSouth, Thursday through Saturday at 7:30 p.m. each night, with doors opening at 7. Tickets are $10 in advance ($8 for students) and $12 at the door. You can order by e-mailing VagMoMemphis@gmail.com.

And for all the serious issues this show illuminates, I can guarantee you one thing. If you come, you will laugh. Maybe a little uncomfortably at first, a quiet giggle. Then a chuckle. Then a roar. Because at some point, you will think — as we all did the first time we saw this show — thank GOD someone finally said that out loud.

Come celebrate these stories with us, and give a little love for V-Day.

It’s probably my favorite beer at the moment, and I love that I can go to several bars right in my neighborhood and find it on draft. But as I was sipping the Golden, it occurred to me that I had an adventure a while back that I keep neglecting to tell you about.

I’m a big proponent of buying local, from handmade goods to fruits and veggies. And hometown-brewed beer is like taking buying local to a completely different level. A level made with hops and barley that glistens like the perspiration on a pint glass!

Ahem. Back to the adventure.

Every Saturday, the guys at Ghost River give free brewery tours. Take your taste buds down to South Main and Crump any given Saturday at 1 p.m. for a free poke around the place. There’s no catch, it really is free — all you have to do is give them a shout ahead of time by phone or e-mail to let them know you’re coming. From the second you arrive they’ll make sure you have one of their delicious brews in hand and they won’t let an empty cup stay empty long.

Their facilities are small, but the knowledge these guys have spills outside of the building — having been on a handful of brewery tours in my life (even to mecca, the Guinness brewery in Dublin) this tour was by far my favorite, and it was all down to the time these guys were willing to spend talking to us about the beer. Any question we had about the process, them, their involvement with brewing, you name it, we asked it, and they were happy to hang out, keep our cups filled and keep chatting.

You’ll learn a lot about the beer brewing process from the tour, but the one thing I think you’ll definitely walk away with is that this relationship between Memphis and good beer only makes sense. Because the best beer?

It starts with good water. And where else on earth can you get water like the H20 we’ve got in Memphis? Nowhere. During the tour we had the Golden, the IPA, Black Magic and a new seasonal they’re working on that tasted like a Hershey bar with alcohol content. So smooth, so rich, so tasty.

And if you needed another reason to drink the stuff, Ghost River supports the Wolf River Conservancy. They donate a portion of their proceeds from every single barrel sold to the organization.

I was already a fairly regular Ghost River drinker when out at bars around town, but I’d say now I’m a solid devotee. If Ghost River’s on tap, I really can’t be asked to order anything else. The beer is phenomenal, and I love supporting what they’re doing. I want them to be there on South Main for a long, long time. And if that means I have to single handedly carry the weight of the company, then by god, pass the Ghost River Golden.

(Appendix still present and accounted for, in case you’re wondering, but only because — like a hug from America on Thanksgiving — my insurance hasn’t kicked in yet. I’ll save you the speech on health care reform for another day.)

True to the fairly traditional speed dating format, the eight ladies sat at tables around the restaurant while the eight gentleman rotated through for eight five-minute dates. Each participant was given a pre-printed card prior to the start of the event with the name of each participant so that we could easily tick the box next to the people we’d like to see again.

At the end of the event, I wrote down four names and received an e-mail in my inbox shortly after to let me know I had two mutual matches. Success!

And since in between then and now I’ve mostly been focusing on zen and the art of appendix maintenance, no follow-up has occurred on said matches. Other than, of course, the obligatory Facebook friending. I really hope that SOB hosts another one of these events in the future, because for someone like myself who’s both single and recently transplanted back to the area, it’s just a fantastic way to meet people. While hanging out at the bar prior to the event I met at least five girls who blog and tweet and have similar interests to me who I’m now Facebook friends with, as well. The only thing I’d change about the affair is something that will come with time and publicity, and that’s numbers. It would’ve been great to have twice as many dates as we did, but I think once people get to talking about this it’ll only be a matter of time.

When the next event rolls around you can be sure I’ll let you know here — if you’re single and ready to mingle, I’d better see you there!

After high school, I went far away for college and then even farther away for even more college. After that I chose yet another far-away destination for my first attempts at living and working and other standard adult-type activities. In August – after a lengthy period of self-discovery in which I realized it’s okay to be rapturously in love with your hometown and actually want to live there – I moved back to Memphis, and set about discovering a city I’d only really experienced under the age of 21.

Mostly this is a pretty straight-forward process: finding fun places to drink and see live music isn’t exactly difficult, especially living in midtown. But the places I drink and see live music aren’t necessarily the same places I want to look for or expect to find Mr. Right. Dating in college was easy – from the house parties to the campus events to classes, there were a million pre-fab situations forcing me to mingle and meet people of the opposite sex who were around the same age and had at least one thing in common with me already by virtue of sharing an alma mater.

Sadly, those days are long gone, and I’m hoping that I’ll be forced to eat crow on a definitive statement I made years ago: the guy for me doesn’t exist in the South, let alone Memphis. I believed this for years, for a laundry list of reasons. Guys from the South don’t this, people in Memphis are all like that. In theory I know that this broad, umbrella stereotyping of Memphis men is completely off-base, and I’m ready to be convinced of it in reality.

So how does a single girl get by in Memphis? A few months ago, while still living in New York, I tried my hand at speed dating. Mostly I did it for the entertainment of my blog readers, live-tweeting the whole affair and offering several wrap-up posts and play-by-plays of the subsequent dates. But it was a great experience, and I’m thrilled that I’m going to get a second chance at it right here in Memphis. The fine people at South of Beale are having the gastro pub’s inaugural speed dating event next Saturday, Nov. 21 at 3 p.m. It’s only $10 (a SERIOUS steal, believe me on this) and you’ll get to meet eligible bachelors and bachelorettes in a series of five-minute dates. There are still spaces available, so e-mail southofbeale@gmail.com to sign up. (If you sit this round out, I’ll be blogging about my experience here on MemphisConnect and on my own blog.)

And if you’re one of the lucky ones who has already nabbed your Mr. or Ms. Right here in the Bluff City, I want your comments – where and how did you meet? Is online dating a viable option for sifting through the candidates in a metro area this big? What is a single girl to do in a city like Memphis?

The object of my affection? An old brick quadplex on Cooper with hardwood floors, french doors and the most adorable little nooks and crannies and under-the-stairs closets and more closets and oh my god, THE CLOSETS.

I put down the deposit and filled out the application after spending 10 minutes in the house, on a bright, crisp Sunday that felt like something out of Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood. Birds were chirping, the neighbors were smiling and pushing perfect little babies in perfect little baby buggies and I was securing the apartment of my dreams. Somewhere, people were probably even singing randomly in unison in large groups. It was just that kind of day.

Inevitably, though, when I returned to the place one week later with my parents to sign the lease and start the very slow process of moving in all my stuff — which seemed to be mostly books and records, neither of which are particularly handy for sitting on or eating at — there were a few unseemly looking folks drinking tall-boys out of paper bags hanging out on the sidewalk just feet from my front door.

In the grand tradition of Murphy’s Law, I wasn’t at all surprised that any and all unseemliness would wait to present itself until my parents, who are apt to worry about said unseemliness, arrive to see the place for the first time.

My apartment search had been mired by moments like this on more than one occasion. Picture me on Craigslist or flipping through The Flyer, finding a place that sounds just TOO good to be true, reading out all the wonderful specs to my parents, noting the especially amazing parts (dishwashers! washers and dryers!) and then, finally, reading the address. No sooner does the street and house number escape my lips than my dad, a life-long Memphian who knows the city arguably even better than the back of his own hand, says definitively: Nope. Not there.

And I get it. No city is immune from crime — I think some Memphians are under the very misguided impression that we are an anomaly in that department — and it’s important to be wise, take precautions and choose to stay away from certain areas that are less safe than others. But I was frustrated in my search that so many places seemed off-limits to me, and I was frustrated on Nov. 1 when I saw the happy drunks on the street and knew that I’d be hearing about it from my folks.

When I was a kid growing up in the Evergreen District, we were robbed on more than one occasion. And I always remind my parents that they raised me to be a responsible, savvy, safe person — don’t act stupid and it’s likely that bad things won’t happen to you. But the next time I tell someone where I live and get a sidelong glance and a warning to “be careful,” I’m going to go bananas.

No matter where I chose to live, even if it were down the street from my folks in Bartlett, I would be careful. That’s a given. But what I wouldn’t do is choose not to live in Cooper Young because crime happens there. I love my neighborhood, and I’m so in love with being able to call it MY neighborhood. And with this in mind, I have to ask myself — what are we as a community doing to combat crime? What are we doing to make our beloved neighborhoods safer? Complaining about it, being nervous, being scared, those things are not solutions. But what are the solutions?

I want to hear from you — are you involved in neighborhood watch organizations? Do you feel a responsibility to keep your community safe? And if you don’t, whose responsibility IS it?