January 12, 2021

This song has brought me solace this past week.

Standing in the woods gazing at the Brandywine, it popped into my head. Hadn’t heard or sung it in years. Recorded in one take on my cheap phone. Messed up the second to last line. Don’t feel like re-recording. 

How can I keep from singing (Lowry/Plenn/Seeger)

My life goes on in endless song

Above earth’s lamentations,

I hear the real, though far-off hymn

That hails a new creation.

Through all the tumult and the strife

I hear its music ringing,

It sounds an echo in my soul.

How can I keep from singing?

While though the tempest loudly roars,

I hear the truth, it liveth.

And though the darkness ’round me close,

Songs in the night it giveth.

No storm can shake my inmost calm,

While to that rock I‘m clinging.

Since love is lord of heaven and earth

How can I keep from singing?

When tyrants tremble in their fear

And hear their death knell ringing,

When friends rejoice both far and near

How can I keep from singing?

In prison cell and dungeon vile

Our thoughts to them are winging,

When friends by shame are undefiled

How can I keep from singing?

Throughout history, humankind has been on a journey towards civilization. By “civilization”, I do not mean people in power invading other countries, killing and enslaving indigenous people, subduing the environment, building cities, and forming governments. What I mean is “civility”. Over the centuries, many people have strived to solve problems by discussion rather than violence, and by increasingly including all types of people in the rights that the powerful enjoy. But this journey has not been straightforward.

There have been many obstacles along the way. Some groups of people do not want progress. They want to keep the way of life that has always existed – the power of men over women, the power of white over people of color, the power of rich over poor. They want to “conserve” these traditions; therefore they are “conservatives”. They have hindered progress every time it has been attempted. Those who want to continue the journey of freedom, inclusiveness for all people, and the primacy of human needs, are working for liberty (“liberals”) and progress (“progressives”).

Much progress has been made in the 20th and 21st centuries. The United States began to have multiracial representation in government. Women, people of color, LGBTQ people, and other disenfranchised groups began to enjoy the freedom to live as they wish. But conservatives fought them at every turn. Xenophobic people are uncomfortable with women having positions of power, and seeing brown skin, headscarves on women, turbans on men, and gender fluidity in the hallowed halls of government. Their way of life feels threatened and they want to fight to take our society back to the days when only rich white men ruled.

White supremacists have always existed, of course. But recently they have begun to notice their power waning. People of good will want everyone to have a fair chance in life, be able to live in freedom, and be represented in every facet of our society. But supremacists are fighting this.

After eight years of a Black president with an Arabic name, the rise of the 45th president gave them hope. Now they could rally around someone who would encourage them to come out of the woodwork and disrupt the progressive path that America was forging. They did not mind that he was of the rich ruling class, or that he really did not care about them or their cause. He cared only about preserving his own power and wealth. He just wanted to have a large, noisy mob to support him. They were made for each other and the timing was impeccable.

In modern society, cowboys do not ride into town with guns blazing, like in the Wild West, or climb the ramparts of the castle with torches, or carry IEDs to blow up government buildings. These are the tactics, unfortunately, of third-world terrorists. There are procedures in place to peacefully solve disputes in modern society, but sadly, some overgrown children with false bravado refuse to utilize them.

The march, storming of the Capitol, and attempted coup on January 6, 2021 was white supremacy clawing its way out of the hole where it had been living, just waiting for this opportunity. Clothing themselves in false patriotism, the traitors scrabbled into the hallowed halls, aided by the lack of adequate law enforcement. The coup failed because these would-be terrorists were disorganized and incompetent.

This insurrection, one of the worst events in American history, unfortunately (and possibly purposely) overshadowed one of the best. Two senators were elected in Georgia the same day: the first Black senator from Georgia, and the first Jewish senator from that state as well as the youngest since Joe Biden.

The real and continuing danger lies in the fact that these extremists live among us still. And while we will have a democratically elected, Democratic-majority government, they will continue to try to sabotage it, and with it, the progress towards equality of all people, the healing of the earth and slowing of climate change, the provision of basic needs for all including health care, and the civility and common courtesy that seems to be evading us. Authentic patriots, those who love the ideals of an America of real equality and true justice for all, will need to continue our work fearlessly, and journey on in our endeavor to create a place where everyone can live in peace, health, and prosperity.

In a civilized society, there is such a thing as “public health”. This means that citizens do things that will help the entire society stay healthy and safe. 

Nobody likes stopping at red lights, but we do, not only to avoid paying a fine, but because it prevents running into someone else, or them crashing into us, and people getting injured. 

I remember when smoking was allowed in stores. When it was banned, some people were angry. But after a while, it became normal. Does their right to smoke supersede others’ right to breathe clean air? 

We have freedom of speech, but it’s not total. You can’t yell “fire” in a crowded theater when there’s no fire; it may cause a stampede and injuries. We take care of each other. This is what civility means.

During a pandemic, some folks maintain the right not to wear a mask when in public buildings. Does their right to an uncovered face supersede others’ right to breathe healthier air?

Following public health and safety guidelines is common courtesy, or should be. But this is sadly uncommon in much of society today.

What it really comes down is: “Do unto others what you would have them do unto you.”

Before we met you, I had a dream

about you

We were in the yard

planting flowers

and you were frolicking.

I woke up and wondered

if you could be real.

And then you came to us in a snowstorm

A blur of black on the frozen landscape

“Tank”, they called you

We’d have to do something about that.

It was love at first sight, for me

Your head was soft black velvet

Your bark was fear to an intruder

Your love of Dad’s guitar music was first,

but WRTI’s jazz made you mellow.

You had no tolerance for smaller creatures,

perhaps from your former life,

who knows what you’d experienced?

You gave us 6 years of love and loyalty,

from the blizzard of ’14

where it was all we could do to stay warm

when the power was out for 4 days,

to the pandemic of 2020

when oblivious dogs were thrilled

that their people stayed home.

We loved you long and well

and you rewarded us with smiles and wags

even when you were too lazy to get up.

You lived to the fullest,

frisky to your last day,

chasing the cat and being an overgrown puppy,

until the day when you lay down and

would not get up.

You were only eight

but your clock had wound down.

Holding your incredibly soft head

you drifted away

to where the good dogs go,

which is all of them.

You are in that part of our hearts

reserved for the innocent

Souls in different shaped bodies.

Farewell, fuzzy friend.

Run and play with

our old furry friends.

We will see you there

when our clocks have wound down.

I joined a Facebook group called Corona Haiku on March 28, 2020.                                              Here are some haiku that I submitted.

March 28

Torn between wanting
to know what’s going on and
not wanting to know

March 28

Feeling sick today
Hope it’s not covid 19
Keeping fingers crossed

March 29

stuck on railroad tracks.
train is slowly bearing down.
who can stop it now

March 31

Trying to keep things
“normal” for the kids but I’m
crying inside

April 3

Spring flowering trees
are a riot of color
but inside I’m gray

April 4

When all this is past                                                                                                                                          I will have more gratitude.
Why not start it now?

April 6

Makes me remember
Why I live with this guy, or
makes me *wonder* why

July 20

September 24

It’s been six months now                                                                                                                            Two hundred thousand souls lost                                                                                                            Millions been made ill

When will normal come                                                                                                                             Visit family, hug our kids                                                                                                                           Never be the same

What was it like, Gram?

What was it like to live through that time? my grandchildren will say.

It will seem like a million years ago.

When we were afraid to leave the house. Afraid to turn on the TV. Afraid to hear the latest statistics.

The statistics are people. People just like you and me. They are going about their business, probably never hurting anyone, and then bam. They are sick, and they die.

It’s like you’re stuck on the railroad tracks and way off in the distance you see and hear a locomotive, going as slowly as it ever could, inching bit by bit towards you.

It’s like a news report that a hurricane is coming; it’s thousands of miles away, on the other side of the planet; then it’s hundreds of miles away, on our continent; then it’s in the nearest city; then it’s on our doorstep, howling.

The entire planet is having a slow-motion, communal brush with death.

And there’s nothing, really, that you can do.

I fear for my loved ones on the front lines – the health care workers, and their families. I fear for the older ones, the pregnant ones, the little ones.

I curse this government which has short-sightedly ignored the problem until it hit our shores.

I rail at the people who ignore the scientists and go about their business… their unnecessary business, traveling and shopping as if nothing were wrong.

I marvel at the folks who sing on their balconies, yell and clap and bang pots for the first responders, share their food and their goods, do random acts of kindness.

I hope to learn something from this. I hope to change and live differently. I hope to be a better person, live a simpler life, be kinder and less wasteful. Have better priorities… get down to what’s really important.

Let all the people in the world… and we all, every one of us, is affected by this… let us all learn compassion, empathy, simplicity.

One world, one race, one people, together.

So I would like to tell you, child, that we cherished this time with family.

We played games, went for walks, hugged a lot. We started victory gardens, and baked treats, and sang songs. We wrote poems, and read books, and cleaned house, and created art. We let music heal us and nature comfort us. We looked to the best of humanity for the answers. We tried to avoid the horror stories. We honored the lost ones and the heroes.

We survived.

How can I work when I feel like this?                                                                                               It’s survival. It’s how I make my living.                                                                                        It’s a hassle to reschedule, and I might not feel any better on the day I reschedule to.

I go through the motions.
Automatic pilot.
Get all set up as usual. Go in there, put on cheerful teacher face.

Reach deep inside and pull out all the energy I can muster.
Seeing the kids, listening to their chatter and
their music, drowns out my pain and the noise in my ears.
I must focus with everything I have.
Laser attention.
I know I’m not at the top of my game, but I keep plugging away.
It blocks out all the stuff in the rest of my life.
Teaching is my safe place, my refuge, the best part of my life. It’s therapy.

It feels good to do something normal.
I do this for 4 or 5 hours. I’m totally wiped.

I go in the other part of the house.

The pain and the noise overtake me again and swirl through my brain.

January 15, 2020

I was born in January, 1960. The cusp of a new age.     

The earliest memory I have is of my mother wailing at the TV.     

President Kennedy had been assassinated.

I grew up in a nearly 300-year-old house that had been a station on the Underground Railroad, in a small town where I walked down the street to school and church, and the library was across the street, like my second home. My best friend lived on the same block.

I am the sixth child of seven. My older siblings were an enormous influence on my life. Some were involved in the anti-war movement. One brother was a conscientious objector; another served in the Navy offshore of Vietnam.

The 1960s were a decade of revolution. Civil rights, peace marches, women’s lib, and cultural upheaval were all I’d ever known. Ed Sullivan and Laugh-In were weekly rituals. The moon landing and Nixon’s election were huge events.

My childhood was filled with the music of Mom and Dad’s big band jazz, Episcopal hymns, The Beatles, Motown, Bob Dylan. I learned classical piano on our beat up clunker in the basement, and then as a teen, a friend taught me chords, and the whole world of playing rock ‘n’ roll opened up for me.

Much is being made in 2020 about 50^th anniversaries. The first Earth Day, the Beatles’ breakup, Kent State, the loss of Hendrix and Joplin, the EPA’s creation, Apollo 13. I was ten years old that year, in 6^th grade. Girls had just gained the right to wear pants to school. My mom sewed me a seafoam green, spongy polyester pantsuit that was sooo cool. Jeans were not allowed until I was in junior high.

This is my last day of my 50s. Tomorrow I enter the ranks of the Social Security, Medicare, and (for the fortunate) “retirement” decade.   

 I am eternally grateful for my family, my health, and my incredibly rewarding career. Despite some personal difficulties, I thoroughly appreciate the fact that I’ve made it thus far, and I know full well how lucky I have been.

Tomorrow, all my siblings and I, and our partners, will be in our 60s, at least for a few months, until the oldest turns 70. We have lost our parents, three brothers, and a sister-in-law. We have been through unspeakable tragedy together, and still have fits of uncontrollable laughter together. We have holidays and barbecues and family jam sessions. We have children and grandchildren and great-nephews, one of whom is an adult already.

Life is an amazing journey, a breathtaking roller coaster, a mishmash of unbearable pain and exquisite joy. The wonder of nature, the exultation of Spirit, the camaraderie of family and friends, and the inspiration of music thankfully outweigh the troubles that life brings.

What a long, strange trip it’s been.

I used to teach at a music and arts academy. Every year they’d have a big Christmas party for staff. Several years ago Hubs and I attended. Seating was by department – dance teachers’ table, gymnastics teachers’ table, theatre, art, office workers, and we, of course, sat with the music teachers.
There was a Christmas carol quiz at each seat, so while we enjoyed our sumptuous dinner, we tried to name the carols in the quiz, some of which were tricky, such as “Listen, the winged heavenly messengers are proclaiming tunefully”. After dinner, there were door prizes, and then the director had us verbally answer the questions.
Then, whoever had gotten 15 correct on their written quiz were to stand. Next, whoever got 16 right could remain standing and the others would sit, then 17 right, etc. Of course the music teachers did best of all. When she got to who got all 23 correct, another teacher and I were the only ones left standing. The director said we would break the tie with a singing contest! The other teacher was the voice teacher.
I immediately insisted that he go first. So kind of me! …but actually I was buying myself time to plan. While he began a drop-dead gorgeous, operatic rendition of Silent Night (playing too, as there was a piano), I racked my brain. We had just done Go Tell It on the Mountain that past Sunday in church (at that time I played/sang/directed the contemporary band), I knew the lyrics cold, and it was only three chords. I just had to transpose it down because I’m an alto, so I was mentally trying to find my most reliable high note. The voice teacher finished, to thunderous applause (winner to be determined by audience reaction) and I stepped up to the front.
Quickly picking out my vocal comfort zone, I chose my key. I do sing professionally, but I’m not amazing. My forte is harmonizing. But I do love singing and playing blues and that is my best genre. I launched into a slow, bluesy, gospelly version of Go Tell It, complete with lots of blues piano riffs. The audience began clapping along, correctly on 2 and 4 (no doubt spurred by Hubs – also a musician) as there were many musicians and dancers. I sang and played it with as much gusto and soul as I could muster. At the finish there was raucous applause and hooting and hollering. And I won! It was a Christmas miracle!
And it was especially sweet since as an introvert, I’d always seemed kind of like an outsider at the school and now I felt more accepted. I did feel somewhat bad for the voice teacher, who was technically way better. A fun and fond memory!

 

August 31

There’s a clock on the wall that he can see from the bed.                                                               Why?                                                                                                                                                         So he can watch time passing?                                                                                                          Tick tick tick