The newspaper business has been the greatest part of my working life. So it is difficult for me to work without deadlines and the stress. When I tell people that "stress " is my friend---they look at me and think that I am a crazy woman. (That last part may be true.)
I am sure that I must have come from my mother's womb with a pencil, pad and a watch.
I received a phone call from my brother in Wisconsin. He loves to start on me about retiring. When I told him that I was managing a team of women starting a new magazine project for my publisher. He had a giant fit on the phone!!! It went like this:
"Sis, don't you know that more stress is bad for you?"
"Of course, if I don't have my required amount of stress I go into stress withdrawal. Now we can't have that can we?"
On and on we went for 30 minutes. For me it was such fun and I'm sure that when my brother got off the phone he probably had to take a tranquilizer. He doesn't handle stress too well.
That it is a one of the gifts of life for me ,Mondays and Fridays are so chaotic at the newspaper and they are my favorite days of the week.
I did a lot of writing at home, so my workweek was down to about 55 hours a week. No stress in that!!
The secret, folks, is doing what you absolutely love. That way you can never tell what is work and what is play. For me it was great to laugh and play everyday and get paid for doing it.
The lessons about doing what you love were taught to me by a paraplegic friend. His legs had been twisted by polio and as I watched him each day drag his lifeless legs through the door, I was constantly amazed at his joy and hearty laughter. It cheered us all.
One day I told him how much I admired him as I watched him come into work. His reply was this: "Oh, Jean, I love my work. This is play. I lived in an iron lung for 18 months.
Now, honey that's work! " Right on, John, right on.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
RABBIT!RABBIT!RABBIT!
(RABBIT! RABBIT !RABBIT was an old mid western radio station greeting my brother Bob and I used to have for each other when we would all or write on the first of the month. It meant that if you told someone" rabbit, rabbit,rabbit" on the first of the month---you would not have a fight with them the rest of the month. We always joked about saying it,but we both always said it. Of course, this tongue in cheek greeting did not work this time!)
When they found a lump on my breast and I needed a biopsy,my knee-jerk reaction was that if I had cancer I was not going though chemotherapy and all that stuff! And when I called my brother in Wisconsin the week before I said that just before I hung up. I told them I would call when I found out anything.
I called brother Bob and Jo this a.m. to tell them that my breast biopsy was benign.
Only after I spoke with him did I realize how worried he was. I said I had no idea how worried he had been---he called me a "presumptuous bitch!" For not thinking how upset he would be.
" God Damn it! Next time you got something wrong don't tell me if you are not going to do any thing about it. Did I tell you about my heart surgery before I had it?"
I replied laughingly," No damn it but, I wanted to know and that pissed me off! I want to know when something is wrong with you whether you are going to do something about it or not. I still want to know." I was laughing so hard by this time I had disarmed his anger.
He tried hard to be angry and continued on with his very serious scolding. He couldn't quite make it and when he realized he had been over taken by my laughter he said," Well, moving right along, how are you, otherwise?" and we chatted on until and I apologized for not thinking he would be concerned.
Later that evening I wrote him this note:
February 1,1997
Dear Brother,
"Presumptuous Bitch” really. Mother always said I would be the one to have
the "potty mouth "!!!!
I really like my new moniker so much I'm thinking of having a desk nameplate made. Of course it would have to read PB J and we would all know that it would not stand for peanut butter and jelly but rather "Presumptuous Bitch Jean"!
Gee, Brother and Sister, did I ever tell you how great it is to have you love me? Love you, too.
As ever,
PBJ P.S. My Darling, Brother , I shall always thumb my nose at life and it problems. It is my built-in survival kit. Too old to change, Sweetie.
(A few months later I came out of the closet and my dear Brother whom I adored never spoke to me again! I never thought it could happen. He died in June 2002 and I still remember him fondly everyday.)
When they found a lump on my breast and I needed a biopsy,my knee-jerk reaction was that if I had cancer I was not going though chemotherapy and all that stuff! And when I called my brother in Wisconsin the week before I said that just before I hung up. I told them I would call when I found out anything.
I called brother Bob and Jo this a.m. to tell them that my breast biopsy was benign.
Only after I spoke with him did I realize how worried he was. I said I had no idea how worried he had been---he called me a "presumptuous bitch!" For not thinking how upset he would be.
" God Damn it! Next time you got something wrong don't tell me if you are not going to do any thing about it. Did I tell you about my heart surgery before I had it?"
I replied laughingly," No damn it but, I wanted to know and that pissed me off! I want to know when something is wrong with you whether you are going to do something about it or not. I still want to know." I was laughing so hard by this time I had disarmed his anger.
He tried hard to be angry and continued on with his very serious scolding. He couldn't quite make it and when he realized he had been over taken by my laughter he said," Well, moving right along, how are you, otherwise?" and we chatted on until and I apologized for not thinking he would be concerned.
Later that evening I wrote him this note:
February 1,1997
Dear Brother,
"Presumptuous Bitch” really. Mother always said I would be the one to have
the "potty mouth "!!!!
I really like my new moniker so much I'm thinking of having a desk nameplate made. Of course it would have to read PB J and we would all know that it would not stand for peanut butter and jelly but rather "Presumptuous Bitch Jean"!
Gee, Brother and Sister, did I ever tell you how great it is to have you love me? Love you, too.
As ever,
PBJ P.S. My Darling, Brother , I shall always thumb my nose at life and it problems. It is my built-in survival kit. Too old to change, Sweetie.
(A few months later I came out of the closet and my dear Brother whom I adored never spoke to me again! I never thought it could happen. He died in June 2002 and I still remember him fondly everyday.)
Friday, November 21, 2008
MY HAWK
It was June 29,1996 the first time I saw my Hawk. I then continued to refer to as"my" hawk. He was huge. I first saw him with three birds flying about his head in some kind of a bird war. I looked up thru my windshield and said "Hello Hawk, you are beautiful."
Almost everyday since then I have seen him sitting high on the same telephone pole vantage point waiting with anticipation for some creature to become his entree. Of course , I was sure he was waiting for me to say "Good morning ,Hawk" or "Good evening ,Hawk."
As I traveled back and forth on road 52 I have had occasion to see him as many as 5 times in a day. Always sure that he was making his presence known only to me. My Hawk.
On Friday July 26,1996, my brother Bob,his wife Jo , my niece Sally and her daughter, Natalie were coming for a much anticipated visit.
The Thursday before they were to arrive I was driving home, totally preoccupied with the happenings of the day and not looking for my Hawk when he flew across my windshield so closely that I could see the feathers of his underbelly. I ducked inside my car startled by his huge wingspan covering my windshield. Whew ! That was a close one! "What are you trying to do Hawk? Ok,Ok , I promise I will look for you everyday and tell you ,Hello. Next time let's not be so dramatic. You could have gotten us both killed!" I often think out loud as I drive.
I relayed the incident to my friend. He quipped,"The Hawk probably has a "thing" for little red cars." Yeah ,right." I "m sure Dodge Chargers are high on the seduction list of a hawk.
Friday,my brother and the merry group of travelers arrived.We hugged , kissed and giggled like we always do when we are together. During dinner I began to talk about "my Hawk". I told them it was the biggest ,most beautiful bird and that I encountered him daily.
My Grandniece,Natalie was thrilled at the sight of the mountains and like the rest of us is a nature lover. I was looking forward to again see the mountains thru the eyes of someone that does not take them for granted. I told her I would take her out to where I see my Hawk and see if I could show him to her. Then we would turn around and drive right into the foothills. After dinner, we "girls" went for a ride.
My little red car is just that. Sally and Natty were in the back seat. Sally 's head was touching the roof of the car. Sally is a nervous passenger under the best of conditions---these were not the best of conditions. She chided me jokingly about my driving while commenting that with her head touching the roof , she would serve as a roll bar and save us all! Our Mother was perhaps the most nervous passenger I have ever seen; Sally is the second. However ,I was sure Mother was sitting on Sally's lap. The three of us laughed the entire time at Sally's mother- like backseat driving. Jo and I exchanged knowing grins and glances ---- we had heard this somewhere before!
I drove to the place where I saw my Hawk daily and of course, he was no where to be seen. It was a mild disappointment--another day perhaps. I made a "U" turn in the middle of the highway -- Sally screamed much to all our delight.( It was another comment on my driving!) We headed toward the foothills. Natalie saw the mountains, I pointed out Twin Sister Peaks and she recognized them each day after that.
On Tuesday, July 30th my story on the Rocky Mountain Wildlife Center was to appear on the front page of the Brighton Standard Blade with a full color picture of Pat and Shelley Craig and their Bengal Tiger, "Tygger". This was a very exciting day for me. I wanted my Brother to come to my office, meet my "newspaper" family that mean so much to me, God has blessed me so much by putting me in the center of these grins, giggles, and love.
We left early. I was hoping we would see my Hawk. As we drove down road 52 in my little red car, (my Brother is a very calm passenger,Sally) I was about to express my dismay at not seeing him,when Bob said, "There he is! He is a big fella." Bob had seen him first.The Hawk turn his head as we went by. It gave me pleasure to share my Hawk, my newspaper family, and my front page story in full color, with my brother. This was a special day.
Following their visit I wrote this letter:
Dear Family,
There is more to my Hawk story and I shall continue to write about it. I had another encounter where the Hawk flew across the hood of my car as I was driving down old route 85. This was on Friday the 13th. My mouth flew open.I again said out loud--"What in Hell are you trying to tell me?"
Robin insists it is a message that I should continue writing. Perhaps,but it sure is eerie..
Well, dears, thank you for your wonderful visit.
Sister Jo,for your gentleness,your soft heart,but your strength of steel
that holds your family tightly together. And for listening to me.
Dear Sally,for humor beyond compare! Never let go of it!
Sweet "Natty", it was so much fun looking through your eyes to see the wonders of the mountains. You'll be back-- I know it.
Brother Dear, for being here. It meant a great deal to me. I told someone one time as she spoke of her heritage including something of fifth generations, "Oh that is nothing ,we are from six generations of clowns." She didn't laugh . I'm so grateful that our family was given the ability to laugh. Love, Sis
Almost everyday since then I have seen him sitting high on the same telephone pole vantage point waiting with anticipation for some creature to become his entree. Of course , I was sure he was waiting for me to say "Good morning ,Hawk" or "Good evening ,Hawk."
As I traveled back and forth on road 52 I have had occasion to see him as many as 5 times in a day. Always sure that he was making his presence known only to me. My Hawk.
On Friday July 26,1996, my brother Bob,his wife Jo , my niece Sally and her daughter, Natalie were coming for a much anticipated visit.
The Thursday before they were to arrive I was driving home, totally preoccupied with the happenings of the day and not looking for my Hawk when he flew across my windshield so closely that I could see the feathers of his underbelly. I ducked inside my car startled by his huge wingspan covering my windshield. Whew ! That was a close one! "What are you trying to do Hawk? Ok,Ok , I promise I will look for you everyday and tell you ,Hello. Next time let's not be so dramatic. You could have gotten us both killed!" I often think out loud as I drive.
I relayed the incident to my friend. He quipped,"The Hawk probably has a "thing" for little red cars." Yeah ,right." I "m sure Dodge Chargers are high on the seduction list of a hawk.
Friday,my brother and the merry group of travelers arrived.We hugged , kissed and giggled like we always do when we are together. During dinner I began to talk about "my Hawk". I told them it was the biggest ,most beautiful bird and that I encountered him daily.
My Grandniece,Natalie was thrilled at the sight of the mountains and like the rest of us is a nature lover. I was looking forward to again see the mountains thru the eyes of someone that does not take them for granted. I told her I would take her out to where I see my Hawk and see if I could show him to her. Then we would turn around and drive right into the foothills. After dinner, we "girls" went for a ride.
My little red car is just that. Sally and Natty were in the back seat. Sally 's head was touching the roof of the car. Sally is a nervous passenger under the best of conditions---these were not the best of conditions. She chided me jokingly about my driving while commenting that with her head touching the roof , she would serve as a roll bar and save us all! Our Mother was perhaps the most nervous passenger I have ever seen; Sally is the second. However ,I was sure Mother was sitting on Sally's lap. The three of us laughed the entire time at Sally's mother- like backseat driving. Jo and I exchanged knowing grins and glances ---- we had heard this somewhere before!
I drove to the place where I saw my Hawk daily and of course, he was no where to be seen. It was a mild disappointment--another day perhaps. I made a "U" turn in the middle of the highway -- Sally screamed much to all our delight.( It was another comment on my driving!) We headed toward the foothills. Natalie saw the mountains, I pointed out Twin Sister Peaks and she recognized them each day after that.
On Tuesday, July 30th my story on the Rocky Mountain Wildlife Center was to appear on the front page of the Brighton Standard Blade with a full color picture of Pat and Shelley Craig and their Bengal Tiger, "Tygger". This was a very exciting day for me. I wanted my Brother to come to my office, meet my "newspaper" family that mean so much to me, God has blessed me so much by putting me in the center of these grins, giggles, and love.
We left early. I was hoping we would see my Hawk. As we drove down road 52 in my little red car, (my Brother is a very calm passenger,Sally) I was about to express my dismay at not seeing him,when Bob said, "There he is! He is a big fella." Bob had seen him first.The Hawk turn his head as we went by. It gave me pleasure to share my Hawk, my newspaper family, and my front page story in full color, with my brother. This was a special day.
Following their visit I wrote this letter:
Dear Family,
There is more to my Hawk story and I shall continue to write about it. I had another encounter where the Hawk flew across the hood of my car as I was driving down old route 85. This was on Friday the 13th. My mouth flew open.I again said out loud--"What in Hell are you trying to tell me?"
Robin insists it is a message that I should continue writing. Perhaps,but it sure is eerie..
Well, dears, thank you for your wonderful visit.
Sister Jo,for your gentleness,your soft heart,but your strength of steel
that holds your family tightly together. And for listening to me.
Dear Sally,for humor beyond compare! Never let go of it!
Sweet "Natty", it was so much fun looking through your eyes to see the wonders of the mountains. You'll be back-- I know it.
Brother Dear, for being here. It meant a great deal to me. I told someone one time as she spoke of her heritage including something of fifth generations, "Oh that is nothing ,we are from six generations of clowns." She didn't laugh . I'm so grateful that our family was given the ability to laugh. Love, Sis
Monday, November 17, 2008
THE MUSIC BOX SANG,SANG,AND SANG
One day an elderly woman came into the gift shop to buy a music box. She was very particular about what she had in mind. We had over a hundred music boxes in a price range from $20 to $450 dollars. Some were animated,some were in water globes,some had sweet tinkly voices and other of the German and Swiss made were beautifully finished with perfectly tuned voices.
I had shown her just about every music box in the store. She said ,"No,not that one,No, not,that one is too expensive,that one doesn't sound right."
Finally, she narrowed it down to three music boxes all in the $25 price range. One played ,"What the World needs Now", the second played "You are the wind beneath my wings", the third played "Whatever will be, will be".
In trying to make her decision the woman seemed to be listen intently to each one. She said,
"I just can't hear it, I can't recognize that tune. Can you sing it for me?" I looked around to see if this was a joke.....it apparently wasn't. So I began singing with the music box with it being a soprano and me being a alto.
The other clerks seeing or listening to my plight came over and they joined in the singing as we played the different music boxes or they hummed a little bit. We sounded like a group of wounded bumble bees.
People are coming and going,the cash register is making its noise. We were still humming and singing. Other clerks were leaving to help customers. I was now left alone humming from one tune to another.
The woman said,"I think I want to move to the front of the store, I will choose one of those over there." We moved to the front of the store and she Still can't make up her mind.
A good customer was in the store shopping and she was smiling broadly and was about to leave and the woman touched her on the sleeve and said,"Can you sing, I can't seem to hear these tunes to well, I think her voice is too low."
The customer being the good sport that she is said,"Well my husband doesn't think I can sing at all and if she buys it because of my singing I'm going right home and tell him!"
She sang, "What the world needs now is love sweet love,la,de, da,hum,hum,and then "You are the wind Beneath Wings. I thanked the customer and she left the store still smiling.
After an hour and a half in our store she settled on the sweet little tinkly voice that played "You are the Wind Beneath My Wings." End of story? Not quite!
The next morning the same woman returned and said: "Well, I could lie to you but I won't. I went to the Mall and I found a music box I like better and I bought it."
I playfully said, to her,"You mean after all of us sang and hummed to for an hour, you bought one with a different song and you bought it at the Mall?"
"Well,yes,yes, I did--it plays Amazing Grace" and I recognized the tune the first time because
I think it is the only song I really know!!!"
My boss negotiated the woman refund. I was with my back to the music box customer. I could feel her presence behind me and I heard a monotone: "Hum,hum,hum,hum,la, de, da, da," I turned around. She was responding to my playfulness with her. She smiled and said, "I didn't want you to think I didn't appreciate your humming, and singing to me." And she walked out of the store humming that monotone hum, that was only recognizable to her.
I guess if you are tone deaf---maybe "Amazing Grace" is a good song to know.
I had shown her just about every music box in the store. She said ,"No,not that one,No, not,that one is too expensive,that one doesn't sound right."
Finally, she narrowed it down to three music boxes all in the $25 price range. One played ,"What the World needs Now", the second played "You are the wind beneath my wings", the third played "Whatever will be, will be".
In trying to make her decision the woman seemed to be listen intently to each one. She said,
"I just can't hear it, I can't recognize that tune. Can you sing it for me?" I looked around to see if this was a joke.....it apparently wasn't. So I began singing with the music box with it being a soprano and me being a alto.
The other clerks seeing or listening to my plight came over and they joined in the singing as we played the different music boxes or they hummed a little bit. We sounded like a group of wounded bumble bees.
People are coming and going,the cash register is making its noise. We were still humming and singing. Other clerks were leaving to help customers. I was now left alone humming from one tune to another.
The woman said,"I think I want to move to the front of the store, I will choose one of those over there." We moved to the front of the store and she Still can't make up her mind.
A good customer was in the store shopping and she was smiling broadly and was about to leave and the woman touched her on the sleeve and said,"Can you sing, I can't seem to hear these tunes to well, I think her voice is too low."
The customer being the good sport that she is said,"Well my husband doesn't think I can sing at all and if she buys it because of my singing I'm going right home and tell him!"
She sang, "What the world needs now is love sweet love,la,de, da,hum,hum,and then "You are the wind Beneath Wings. I thanked the customer and she left the store still smiling.
After an hour and a half in our store she settled on the sweet little tinkly voice that played "You are the Wind Beneath My Wings." End of story? Not quite!
The next morning the same woman returned and said: "Well, I could lie to you but I won't. I went to the Mall and I found a music box I like better and I bought it."
I playfully said, to her,"You mean after all of us sang and hummed to for an hour, you bought one with a different song and you bought it at the Mall?"
"Well,yes,yes, I did--it plays Amazing Grace" and I recognized the tune the first time because
I think it is the only song I really know!!!"
My boss negotiated the woman refund. I was with my back to the music box customer. I could feel her presence behind me and I heard a monotone: "Hum,hum,hum,hum,la, de, da, da," I turned around. She was responding to my playfulness with her. She smiled and said, "I didn't want you to think I didn't appreciate your humming, and singing to me." And she walked out of the store humming that monotone hum, that was only recognizable to her.
I guess if you are tone deaf---maybe "Amazing Grace" is a good song to know.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
A TRIBUTE TO ALICE September 21,2001
First my son, Jeff and then my daughter, Robin called me in Michigan to tell that their Gramma Alice died. As I worked through the day I thought about her continuously. The fact that she would have been 93 on her next birthday was mind boggling to me. She was such an amazing woman. I loved and admired her very much.
Her grandchildren would be the first to tell you she was the epitome of a Gramma! She had an enormous capacity for love. All of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren knew about her love. She taught them how to cook,crochet,do laundry but even more, how one should live.
Alice told her grandchildren wonderful Irish superstitions. I sometime thought she must know them all; they were wonderfully wild and entertaining. She had such a sweet humor about her.
Alice talked to children not down to them.
She shared wonderful things with Jeff and Robin. For Jeff , she knew that he had a sweet tooth that adored chocolate chip cookies(when he took a handful out of the freezer on his way to his bedroom at night--she would just smile and see that the cookie cache was replenished.)
Alice taught Robin how to peel an apple by starting at the stem and peeling to the bottom while the skin in one piece. I remember hearing the laughter when Robin succeed in doing it by herself the first time. Robin will never peel an apple without thinking of her gramma
Alice.
Alice had great lessons to teach us all. It the mid 60's she was pulled from a car accident.
The only bone in her body that was not broken was her right leg (but those tendons were
nearly all ripped apart.) The Dr.'s prognosis: "she will never live." (she was 62 at the time.)
Alice did. The next prognosis "she will never walk." Alice did.
Alice was in a coma for 21 days. Her children,grandchildren, brothers and sisters, whispered words of encouragement and love and she survived.
She spent 4 months in the hospital. She had to heal first but she also had to grieve for Roy,(her husband of 40 years) who had been killed in the accident. The tears would flow from her eyes in great streams and she could not wipe them away. Both arms were broken. She never gave up.
I spoon fed her lunch each day for two months and she was like a baby bird, hungry and eager for the next bite. She was going to get better; she fought with amazing tenacity for things that were going to make her well.
Alice had to have eye surgery to straighten her eyes because they were so injured. She had to learn to walk all over again and she did. She lived with a scar that ran from her nose to the middle of her cheek(she never had it repaired because it never bothered her.) Alice was a beautiful woman but she was not vain.
So it was for Alice,she not only brought her broken body back to life--she walked,she danced, she even fell in love again. She shared a wonderful 10 years of happiness with her "Jimmy."
He made her laugh like she had never laughed before.
Not long after his 80th birthday ,Jimmy died. Alice alone again struck out on her "new life" in a senior complex. During this time Alice fought colon cancer and she survived again to live to this wonderful age of "almost 93".
Goodbye,My Dear Alice, how very grateful I am that I had the opportunity to know you and love you. You have touched many lives and were living proof that if life hands you a lemon--not only do you make lemonade but you make it the sweetest and the best you have ever had!!
Her grandchildren would be the first to tell you she was the epitome of a Gramma! She had an enormous capacity for love. All of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren knew about her love. She taught them how to cook,crochet,do laundry but even more, how one should live.
Alice told her grandchildren wonderful Irish superstitions. I sometime thought she must know them all; they were wonderfully wild and entertaining. She had such a sweet humor about her.
Alice talked to children not down to them.
She shared wonderful things with Jeff and Robin. For Jeff , she knew that he had a sweet tooth that adored chocolate chip cookies(when he took a handful out of the freezer on his way to his bedroom at night--she would just smile and see that the cookie cache was replenished.)
Alice taught Robin how to peel an apple by starting at the stem and peeling to the bottom while the skin in one piece. I remember hearing the laughter when Robin succeed in doing it by herself the first time. Robin will never peel an apple without thinking of her gramma
Alice.
Alice had great lessons to teach us all. It the mid 60's she was pulled from a car accident.
The only bone in her body that was not broken was her right leg (but those tendons were
nearly all ripped apart.) The Dr.'s prognosis: "she will never live." (she was 62 at the time.)
Alice did. The next prognosis "she will never walk." Alice did.
Alice was in a coma for 21 days. Her children,grandchildren, brothers and sisters, whispered words of encouragement and love and she survived.
She spent 4 months in the hospital. She had to heal first but she also had to grieve for Roy,(her husband of 40 years) who had been killed in the accident. The tears would flow from her eyes in great streams and she could not wipe them away. Both arms were broken. She never gave up.
I spoon fed her lunch each day for two months and she was like a baby bird, hungry and eager for the next bite. She was going to get better; she fought with amazing tenacity for things that were going to make her well.
Alice had to have eye surgery to straighten her eyes because they were so injured. She had to learn to walk all over again and she did. She lived with a scar that ran from her nose to the middle of her cheek(she never had it repaired because it never bothered her.) Alice was a beautiful woman but she was not vain.
So it was for Alice,she not only brought her broken body back to life--she walked,she danced, she even fell in love again. She shared a wonderful 10 years of happiness with her "Jimmy."
He made her laugh like she had never laughed before.
Not long after his 80th birthday ,Jimmy died. Alice alone again struck out on her "new life" in a senior complex. During this time Alice fought colon cancer and she survived again to live to this wonderful age of "almost 93".
Goodbye,My Dear Alice, how very grateful I am that I had the opportunity to know you and love you. You have touched many lives and were living proof that if life hands you a lemon--not only do you make lemonade but you make it the sweetest and the best you have ever had!!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
MUSIC MAKES KIDS MOVE (ME TOO)
I love music and I'm glad I do. Over the years I have passed that love of all sorts of music on to son,Jeff and daughter,Robin. They both were musicians and had fine singing voices and now my granddaughters,Elizabeth and Kayt are following the music road.
My own passion for jazz drove my co-workers a little crazy since they were all country and western fans.
But I also love opera, some rock,folk etc. Truly most all music speaks to me.
Encouragement to listen to all music seemed to be very important to me. I believe it is a true reflection of history and culture and brings beauty to us. And though we have had music in the last years that has frankly disgusted me with the lyrics and the performers. Sadly,it is still a reflection of the turn in our history and our bent toward a more violent society.
I always tried to make it to Greeley to take in Elizabeth and Kayt concerts because it was important to them but it was important to me to be there,too.
Elizabeth and Kayt are now young women but this was a memorable night.
I wrote in my journal:
Last Tuesday night I had the pleasure of listening to (the fifth and sixth grade) "The Star Choir" from Scott School in Greeley my eldest grand-daughter, Elizabeth, sang and had a speaking part in the program. Pretty exciting stuff!!
The teacher did a great job preparing the kids.The selection of music was so much fun that a few of us were swaying with music and obviously having a great time. I thought, "This is the way it should be." No guns , no knives, no hate, no predjudice. A group of children of all colors unified in organized fun.
I found that I was moving with the kids and I couldn't stop smiling because of their joy. I looked around and saw only a few people caught up in this music and I felt sorry for the others that weren't. For this brief 30 minutes they could not participate with the same joy as the children?? How sad.
As I was moving with the music, my grand daughter saw me and continued to make eye contact and smile. We were on one of those precious wave lengths that occur when you love music. She knew that I was appreciating the job they were doing.
The last four songs they sang were from "The Lion King." The music is so beautiful and poignant it is imperative that you let the child in you become free.
So parents and grand parents the next time you go to one of those kids concerts--show 'em you love it. Act your shoe size instead of your waist size and you'll have real fun!!
Kuma ma ta ta!
My own passion for jazz drove my co-workers a little crazy since they were all country and western fans.
But I also love opera, some rock,folk etc. Truly most all music speaks to me.
Encouragement to listen to all music seemed to be very important to me. I believe it is a true reflection of history and culture and brings beauty to us. And though we have had music in the last years that has frankly disgusted me with the lyrics and the performers. Sadly,it is still a reflection of the turn in our history and our bent toward a more violent society.
I always tried to make it to Greeley to take in Elizabeth and Kayt concerts because it was important to them but it was important to me to be there,too.
Elizabeth and Kayt are now young women but this was a memorable night.
I wrote in my journal:
Last Tuesday night I had the pleasure of listening to (the fifth and sixth grade) "The Star Choir" from Scott School in Greeley my eldest grand-daughter, Elizabeth, sang and had a speaking part in the program. Pretty exciting stuff!!
The teacher did a great job preparing the kids.The selection of music was so much fun that a few of us were swaying with music and obviously having a great time. I thought, "This is the way it should be." No guns , no knives, no hate, no predjudice. A group of children of all colors unified in organized fun.
I found that I was moving with the kids and I couldn't stop smiling because of their joy. I looked around and saw only a few people caught up in this music and I felt sorry for the others that weren't. For this brief 30 minutes they could not participate with the same joy as the children?? How sad.
As I was moving with the music, my grand daughter saw me and continued to make eye contact and smile. We were on one of those precious wave lengths that occur when you love music. She knew that I was appreciating the job they were doing.
The last four songs they sang were from "The Lion King." The music is so beautiful and poignant it is imperative that you let the child in you become free.
So parents and grand parents the next time you go to one of those kids concerts--show 'em you love it. Act your shoe size instead of your waist size and you'll have real fun!!
Kuma ma ta ta!
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
FAVORITE DAD'S STORY
Dad's need to be remembered for all of the wonderful things they do in our lives. In most all cases,Dad,the other half of Mom gives us "gifts" in a different way. It was so in our home.
My mother sweet studious, quiet and our Dad ,sweet, rowdy and so full of laughter that he would drive our Mother wild with his nonsense. Yet, this was probably what she loved most about him.
This is my favorite Dad story.
It was May and my mother was anxious for Dad to help her with spring cleaning. Spring cleaning in those days was an event. Mother went through the house like a woman on a mission. The windows were washed the curtains cleaned and re-hung and the house was cleaned from top to bottom. No corner was sacred or could possibly escape a broom,vacuum, or dust cloth. There was odor of soap,wax and vinegar everywhere.
In our old farm home there was a more than ample stairwell closet that had a way of accumulating more items than it really needed. It was a giant "catch-all." Our Mother insisted that everything be pulled out and those things not needed were to be thrown out and burned. This was always my Dad and brother Bob's job. They both hated cleaning that closet.
Specific instructions from mother, " Take everything out of the closet ,check every bag and box and if hasn't been used since last year, take it out and throw it in the burn barrel."
Well, there was one metal bread box in the closet, it was a treasure box as far as my brother,Bob and uncle Pogue were concerned. They used to hoard fire crackers in it.
Money and fireworks were not easy to come by so if they thought we had shot off enough fireworks on the Fourth of July they would carefully wrap the balance in brown paper bags and put them in the metal box to save some for the following year. Probably a very dangerous practice,but they didn't think too much about it, except they always wanted to make sure we had plenty of fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Dad didn't know about. At least, he said he didn't.
He called my brother and they began cleaning. My Dad was supposedly looking in each bag and box and putting the throwaway stuff in another box for my brother to run to the burn barrel.
On one of his trips back to the closet he told Dad that he needed to go to the bathroom. He pitched the box in the door with , "I'll be right back."
This must have been when Dad dumped the contents from the metal bread box into the waiting trash box.
When my brother returned he took a now loaded trash box out to the burn barrel. He dumped the contents and ran toward the house when all of a sudden snap!,pop! boom!---rockets,firecrackers, paper caps were going off in every direction.
My dad and mother and the entire neighborhood ran from their houses all wondering what was going on. It was a great display.
My brother asked ,"Dad, did you dump that stuff out of the old green bread box?"
Our Dad grinned his best "rascal"grin
."Yes, there was nothing in there but a bunch of crumpled old brown bags."
"Dad, Poge and I were saving those for the Fourth of July! Those were all our fireworks. My brother was heartbroken.
Our Dad put his arm around my brothers shoulder and said, "Aw, don't feel bad. I'll buy you and Poge some new fireworks for The Fourth. You know they shouldn't be kept in that closet anyway. He winked, "Wasn't it fun to have fire works in May?"
As the ladies of the neighborhood "oohed and aahhed" about the dangerous way those fireworks shot out of the barrel, my dad walked quietly toward the house talking about taking a nap. Today's closet cleaning was at an end.
We will never know whether or not he knew about the "boys" hiding those fireworks but they never did it again.
Our dad always taught lessons with laughter and that "gift "has always been carried in our hearts.
My mother sweet studious, quiet and our Dad ,sweet, rowdy and so full of laughter that he would drive our Mother wild with his nonsense. Yet, this was probably what she loved most about him.
This is my favorite Dad story.
It was May and my mother was anxious for Dad to help her with spring cleaning. Spring cleaning in those days was an event. Mother went through the house like a woman on a mission. The windows were washed the curtains cleaned and re-hung and the house was cleaned from top to bottom. No corner was sacred or could possibly escape a broom,vacuum, or dust cloth. There was odor of soap,wax and vinegar everywhere.
In our old farm home there was a more than ample stairwell closet that had a way of accumulating more items than it really needed. It was a giant "catch-all." Our Mother insisted that everything be pulled out and those things not needed were to be thrown out and burned. This was always my Dad and brother Bob's job. They both hated cleaning that closet.
Specific instructions from mother, " Take everything out of the closet ,check every bag and box and if hasn't been used since last year, take it out and throw it in the burn barrel."
Well, there was one metal bread box in the closet, it was a treasure box as far as my brother,Bob and uncle Pogue were concerned. They used to hoard fire crackers in it.
Money and fireworks were not easy to come by so if they thought we had shot off enough fireworks on the Fourth of July they would carefully wrap the balance in brown paper bags and put them in the metal box to save some for the following year. Probably a very dangerous practice,but they didn't think too much about it, except they always wanted to make sure we had plenty of fireworks on the Fourth of July.
Dad didn't know about. At least, he said he didn't.
He called my brother and they began cleaning. My Dad was supposedly looking in each bag and box and putting the throwaway stuff in another box for my brother to run to the burn barrel.
On one of his trips back to the closet he told Dad that he needed to go to the bathroom. He pitched the box in the door with , "I'll be right back."
This must have been when Dad dumped the contents from the metal bread box into the waiting trash box.
When my brother returned he took a now loaded trash box out to the burn barrel. He dumped the contents and ran toward the house when all of a sudden snap!,pop! boom!---rockets,firecrackers, paper caps were going off in every direction.
My dad and mother and the entire neighborhood ran from their houses all wondering what was going on. It was a great display.
My brother asked ,"Dad, did you dump that stuff out of the old green bread box?"
Our Dad grinned his best "rascal"grin
."Yes, there was nothing in there but a bunch of crumpled old brown bags."
"Dad, Poge and I were saving those for the Fourth of July! Those were all our fireworks. My brother was heartbroken.
Our Dad put his arm around my brothers shoulder and said, "Aw, don't feel bad. I'll buy you and Poge some new fireworks for The Fourth. You know they shouldn't be kept in that closet anyway. He winked, "Wasn't it fun to have fire works in May?"
As the ladies of the neighborhood "oohed and aahhed" about the dangerous way those fireworks shot out of the barrel, my dad walked quietly toward the house talking about taking a nap. Today's closet cleaning was at an end.
We will never know whether or not he knew about the "boys" hiding those fireworks but they never did it again.
Our dad always taught lessons with laughter and that "gift "has always been carried in our hearts.
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