The Hillhouse

The Journey of a Mother and Son

These Were The Days January 19, 2017

Filed under: An Ongoing Journal... — wingmother @ 1:38 pm

As I pounded the dripping kitchen sink faucet off with a hammer for the umpteenth time tonight, it occurred to me. One day this is precisely the sort of thing we will be nostalgic for. The same faucet  – the one that has me cursing and sighing and wringing my hands over all the many other things it reminds me of which I cannot afford to have fixed properly either – this faucet and so many other loose ends all about our household (that alternately stress and amuse us) are very likely the things we’ll look back upon with tenderness after they have long been fixed and the problems forgotten.

These are the times will make us smile someday: This time, right now. When the rooster lives in the house with us at night and wakes us at 6:15 on the nose every morning, the days when tuba lessons are still such a novel joy, the days of expansive Sunday afternoons flying RC aircraft with friends who are just as crazy for aviation as we, the days when saying goodnight to the chickens can still take a half an hour easy, the days when mom still plays music at school and is still part of her son’s life and he is thankfully still happy for it, the days when the great field outside our window is still dark at night.The days when grandma is just next door, and we can pop in anytime she’s home. The time when things still feel just about as innocent as they did when my son was still very small. You see, we’re not too far away from them to at least remember how it feels. How if feels to have a home, a life, and a few simple hobbies, some animals and a few instruments to play. We know the importance of all this stuff. It’s our bottom line, really.

These are those days still; the days when our house needs a long list of repairs far beyond our budget, the days when life is cluttered, busy, full of hiccups, false starts and sometimes even sudden unexpected runs of good luck. The days when we’re poor, but the magic always follows us and makes up for the rest. These were the days.

 

Busy, Cozy January 1, 2017

Filed under: An Ongoing Journal...,Farm Life,Pics,The Studio,Vids — wingmother @ 12:03 am

Have you ever seen that old movie called “You Can’t Take It With You”? If you have, suffice to say our household resembles that one in spirit. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, imagine a small house energized by the chaos of sick roosters, tuba practice, helicopter assembly, bursting pipes and coops catching fire, injured animal rescues, funerals, concerts, parties, and trips to the hospital. December has been a month with little respite, and I was grateful that Elihu got to spend some time with his father in the final week. Gave me a chance to breathe and get down to the little stuff that doesn’t always get done when I’m on mom duty.

In the month or so since my last post I’ve managed to get a lot done. It doesn’t always feel like it, but I can look around and see piles which have either diminished or disappeared entirely, my room is tidy, things are mostly put away, and the Christmas (New Years?) cards are finally addressed and stamped. The ailing rooster is looking more robust, and the sickly hen has picked up a bit too. The Studio enjoyed a record crowd at the last open mic, with cars parked along the shoulder of the road in both directions. Elihu performed his first semi-professional concert at the local TubaChristmas, and in general, a lot of wonderful things have happened.

Funny how life just keeps tugging at you; nagging to get that next item done, tidied, concluded. But there is seldom a final and tidy ending to things, resulting in a constant, low-grade nagging presence which may sometimes dim, but which never disappears entirely. Honestly, how many years must I live on this planet before I realize that endeavoring to see the to-do list completely done is a fruitless endeavor? As I looked out at my incredibly cozy little living room tonight and enjoyed the pure silence and solitude, I realized (for the umpteenth time) that there would always be a nagging to-do list. Always. But it was this stuff – this sitting alone in my living room doing nothing at all – and enjoying it so very much – that held it all together, that made it all worthwhile. Very few folks on this planet ever have this kind of luxury and comfort. It may yet be modest by the standards of many, but I don’t take it for granted for a moment. I am one very lucky person.

There’s been so much talk of 2016 being such a horrible year. As if the events – the deaths of beloved stars, cultural icons and horrific acts of violence across the globe – were personal attacks. I do agree that we’ve lost some key players in our culture, and the timing of Carrie Fisher’s and mom Debbie Reynolds’s deaths really did add something of an exclamation point at the end of the year. ! I know. But still, things like this have gone on before, and events like these will continue to go on in the future. Famous folks die, martyrs die and take people with them, insane men rise to power, injustices are enacted upon the innocent, wars are fought without end… Throughout the history of mankind shit like this has always been happening. I just think that it was never before in our constant view the way in which it is now. Now, with the hyper-vision of social media, we see this stuff all in front of our eyes us all day long in real time. And so then we begin to stoke the flames of each others sorrow, to amplify each others outrage and through our commiseration we inflame the sense of injustice enacted upon us. Yes, people die. They always will. We certainly should be sad, and we’re entitled to miss them, but truly, that’s how this heartbreaking planet works. People are born and people die. There’s nothing personal about it.

The trick is to enjoy the life you have while you’re having it, to remember the life you once had with gratitude, and to steel yourself through a combination of love, good humor and old-fashioned fortitude for the infinite number of possible futures that may befall you, whether happy, deeply heartbreaking or life-changing. I realize this kind of stuff easy for me to say, my losses have been the easier of all the possible outcomes. But still, I’m grateful for all the wonderful qualities of my current life. I’m grateful for the people who are still here with me, the countryside in which my son and I live, the safety of my home and the companionship of the animals around me. For now, I have it good. Not sure what the next year will bring, cuz really, one never knows. Suffice to say, I look to a year of increased prosperity, new friendships and the blossoming of my son in his early teenage years. There will be heartaches, there will be triumphs. Good, bad, it’s all part of the landscape. I know I’ll remain busy, that’s for sure. And my home – that will always be the cozy center of it all.

super-moonThe super moon. Can’t believe I took this with a point and shoot from my driveway. !

morning-full-moon-snow-and-henThe next morning it was just setting in the West.

super-moon-in-morningDeep blue was the early morning sky.

fire-wireWe had not one but two small coop fires. Might have been truly devastating had we not been home. A warning to all to ziptie those lights up nice and tight.

earlier-pumpkin-looked-wellThis is the way Pumpkin should look.

pumpkin-is-ailingBut sadly, this is how she’s looked this past week.

ailing-rooBaldy’s suffering a slump too.

mr-and-mrs-duck-are-now-a-problemThere are our new rescue Muscovy ducks. The drake (white) has really been a bully to Bald Mountain. Until the snow melts and there’s more turf upon which the menfolk can all spread out, the old rooster will likely be living in the kitchen. Man that guy is loud – and crows first just about 6:15 every single morning. ! Who needs an alarm clock??

supping-insideA little food, a little drink…

baldy-and-me…and a little TLC, and now he’s looking and acting much better.

setting-precedentMaybe this was too far. Ever since that one night he’s been following me into the bedroom every evening…. Now he knows how the other half live! Good thing he can’t communicate this to his coop mates.

roo-and-bassBaldy always hangs around when we play music.

xmas-with-tuba-and-rooReally – he just kinda sticks around. Cool, right?

treeI love our tree. Every single ornament has a story. Many have been with me for 30 years.

xmas-roomJust love our cozy living room…

cozy-kitchen…and our cozy kitchen.

elihu-and-rockyOur friend, Rocky Groce finally left us. He hosted shows at The Apollo Theater back in the day. He was very kind to Elihu, and expressed great support for Elihu’s love of music.

funeral-parlorAt the funeral parlor.

goodbye-rockyAnd at the cemetery.

eye-spyElihu worked hard building some fancy model airplanes for his class’ Secret Santa.

gift-letter-re-bellThe assortment of models included a little handbook.

sea-of-wordsAt Waldorf, there’s a lot of writing, and it’s still done mostly in cursive.

elihu-sings-in-chorusOne final event at the Waldorf School before break. The 8th grade sings, my son easily spotted by his bow tie and red glasses. And if you’d been anywhere in the auditorium, there would’ve been no mistaking his full and distinct sound.

always-jumpingOn that last day of school, Elihu jumped the fence with a flourish. (Truth be told, he jumps the fence with a flourish every single day. !)

We went to the estate sale of a friend who had to sell the entire contents of her childhood home (see, this life is not for wimps, right?). We were happy to give some of her household artifacts a new home, including this decorative horn. I’d like to mention that lil man had just blown a few little bebop-esque passages prior to my getting the camera going, hence my excitement. Still, pretty cool that he can even make a sound on that thing. I tried and could hardly get two notes out of it.

img_3988So proud of Elihu. Reading music is very difficult on account of his low visual acuity, so he ends up fairly memorizing the parts, and they end up being essentially gestural landmarks on the page. This is his first time ever reading music to tempo – with a conductor. Again, super proud mom here. (Btw, all the high school events were cancelled due to snow – but TubaChristmas? On with the show! A dedicated sub-culture if ever there was one. !!)

A short video of “Oh Christmas Tree”

 

We went to the estate sale of a friend who had to sell the entire contents of her childhood home (see, this life is not for wimps, right?). We were happy to give some of her household artifacts a new home, including this decorative horn.

tuba-picFirst TubaChristmas. Yay!

nursing-homeNow to my gig. Admittedly, the dementia ward has a sad vibe, but there are always a few folks whom I help to make a little happier, if only for a short time.

angle-torresTorres is an award-winning nurse at St. Peter’s Hospital in Albany, NY. He noticed mom’s elevated heart rate, and contacted her doc, which resulted in a necessary second night’s stay. We’re grateful to him for his exceptional care.

ox-tail-stew

Some oxtail stew. Recipe from Torres, originally from Antigua, who told me where I could find a local West Indies grocery in Albany (my small-town substitute for Chicago!) and I followed his instructions which resulted in one of the tastiest dishes we’d had in ages.

img_4442Back home, Elihu likes to place his recorders precariously on the edge of the table. He giggles when he sees how uncomfortable it makes me.

roooomCozy.

img_4444And cozier.

event-todayThe flock is ready.

rooms-readyThe Studio is set and ready for December’s open mic which we call “Express Yourself Kickback”.

me-and-eElihu will be with his father in Chicago for this one, but hopefully he’ll perform at a Kickback soon.

kickbackDropped the kid off at the airport – and look what we saw! Crazy, huh?

open-mic-with-treeThe night after Elihu left we enjoyed a record crowd at The Studio – cars lined the shoulder of the road in both directions. Kids were home from college and it was a real scene.

snow-outside-the-kitchenThe next morning, this is what I saw from my kitchen steps. How lovely. Lucky are we, right?

Happy New Year, friends. If we stick together, it won’t be as scary as we think. Let’s just keep focused and busy, and let’s remember to take time to chill at home where we feel cozy, safe and warm. Thank you all for coming along with us on our life’s adventures here at The Hillhouse. I’m grateful that you’re here to share in our experiences. And please, never hesitate to say hello.

 

Snail’s Pace November 16, 2016

Filed under: An Ongoing Journal...,Growing Older — wingmother @ 8:47 pm

baby-and-mama-snail

It’s all hitting me again. We’ve lost so many beloved musicians, poets, dancers, artists, writers and journalists this past year that I can’t even begin to count them. The sense of loss I feel at their departure has me turning to look inward, to contemplate what was, and sometimes, to contemplate what might have been… To put it bluntly, their departures leave me feeling deeply bereft of hope for the world yet ahead, as well as feeling acute heartbreak for the culture and world we’re leaving behind.

The present is doing things to me tonight. In this moment in time I dearly miss my husband, the man I remember him to have been, the times we enjoyed together, the music we made, the friends whose company we enjoyed…. I miss that certain, specific life very deeply. I miss the chance we lost to be a family – all three of us; mother, father and child.

I wonder at the familiar things lost to us; a growing up, a journey, a shared story… Even now, years later, I can’t fully understand that he is gone, that he is a different person. That he is not coming back.

Elihu and I enjoy a full and rich life, yes we do. But somehow, the sorrows of the day have amplified that tiny, mostly-dormant voice of regret and loss that begs for some witness… a leaning, that, on most days – on healthy, vigorous and forward-looking days – I easily dismiss as a momentary weakness. Hopefully this week’s melancholy won’t last, as I’m feeling far more nostalgic and weak than is good or productive for either one of us.

My past may be gone, and my current weakness may leave me soon, but the Trump term will remain our new reality for the next four years, whether we voted for it or not. Just gotta get some sleep I suppose, some exercise too, and then re-boot for the months to come. At first I was merely sad. But now… I am scared, too. I’m scared for my son and for me. And beyond that, I feel a deeper, much realer threat for the citizens of Korea, and for those in the Middle East. And for we US citizens, too. And for all the innocent people in between who have nothing to do with the egos and agendas of a couple of narcissistic fellows in power trying to broker deals. My neck is beyond tight and my gut tells me I might have the flu, but both are simply physical manifestations of my deep concern for the state of the whole goddam world. Tylenol and Alka Seltzer don’t do much good when I’m feeling like this.

Trump and his cadre won’t take away our food stamps and heating assistance, ya think?? I can’t even entertain that idea right now; I’d collapse under any other outcome. Hopefully, in a year’s time The Studio will be my generous employer, and my son and I won’t spend another year in lack and apprehension for the future… Damn. Everything felt safe until now. Now it’s sad, scary and frankly, absolutely unpredictable. But I suppose in complete truth, that could be said of life on any given day. I’m fully aware that as natural-born citizens of this country we’ve still ‘got it good’. For now.

So never mind. Forget about it. We’re good. Shit – I’m even overweight! Is that not a signature problem of the middle class? Yeah. That helps calm me down. Honestly, forget it. I’m cool. We’re cool. Really. Don’t worry. Just venting here. Let’s all check back in a year from now and see how our realities have changed. My guess? Things won’t be all that different for those of us who live at the bottom of the pond… We snails move pretty slow, after all. It’s the minnows and the sharks that get all the action, not us. Snails are integral to the holistic profile of the environment; they’re low-maintenance and cost very little to feed and for the most part, no one notices them. And no matter how large they get, their curves – and their no-nonsense, keep-going attitude – are what make them the beautiful, resilient creatures we know them to be.

So onward we lowly snails go, eyes on the horizon (or safely retracted inside our heads, whichever), sure-footed yet cautious, and ever-moving into the future…

 

 

More Perfect November 8, 2016

Filed under: An Ongoing Journal...,Growing Older,Pics — wingmother @ 8:05 pm

tattered-flags

Mel Ziegler’s Flags at A More Perfect Union, Tang Museum, Saratoga Springs, New York

 

This time it doesn’t feel like business-as-usual. This time, this election, things feel very different. Or at least that’s what I had thought to myself a few minutes ago. And then I re-read my post from election night four years ago. Seems there were many more similarities to this time around than I’d remembered. But still… even taking into consideration how much this season shares with the one four years before – I’d still say 2016 is a different ballgame. The very least bit of evidence to support that is that one of the candidates is a woman.

Looking for a bit of humor to lighten our collective emotional load, I unearthed some long-forgotten material on Pat Paulsen. This comedian had run – legitimately – for president on numerous occasions. (I’d also learned that comic Gracie Allen, among others through the years, had also run for President in 1940 as a member of the Surprise Party, whose mascot was a kangaroo, and whose slogan was “It’s all in the bag”. Ha!) Elihu and I pulled up some videos and to my surprise, a lot of the material was just as funny all these decades later. I particularly liked Paulsen’s slogan “I’ve upped my standards, up yours too!”. For real, that’s some good shit. Right?

But what was altogether mind-blowing and wrong about that era – for as insightfully as those comics may have mocked the process and the politicians – it was still a time in our culture (not all that long ago to my 53 year-old mind) in which a girl was never even considered a possible future president. In fact, when we heard a bit of video in which narrator Henry Fonda speculated that every boy in America (at the 50 second mark) had likely imagined at one time what it might be like to be president, I had to replay it. What? I mean, really. What? My mind flashed to something my mother had said once about being pregnant in the 1960s: you pretended that you weren’t – up until the very end. There was no pantyhose made for pregnant women, instead you cut up the middle seam to accommodate your belly. To put it simply: it was not a women’s world. I’m still not sure it is, and even if Hillary does win tonight, I’m still not sure it will be a woman’s world anytime too soon. But thank God we are making some progress towards that universal goal.

Ok. Nothing to do now but go to bed. I’ll need a good night’s rest, because tomorrow morning I’m driving some of Elihu’s eighth grade classmates on a field trip to Albany, our state’s capital, as part of their government study block. Such timing, huh? It’s times like this when I’m grateful to be self-employed and able to participate. I want to be there, taking in the majesty and promise of those grand buildings and massive foyers… That feeling of hope and wonder one gets when standing in the midst of two hundred marble stairs a half-block wide… Oh how I pray the day is augmented by one of our nation’s most historic victories.

We know that good things come to those who wait, right? I mean seriously, how about them Cubbies? It wasn’t something any of us Chicagoans could’ve truly believed until that glorious moment. And so, as I go to sleep tonight, I can relax in knowing that victory is possible. Girls have the same rights as boys. And a really great country can still become even more perfect.

 

All Saints (Go Cubs) November 2, 2016

Were it not for the directives written on the kitchen’s dry erase board, yesterday I would have had no idea what to do first.

The morning had the distinct feel of a ‘morning after’. Clothes laid draped over every single basket and chair back, contents from purse and backpack had been hastily dumped to make mad, last-minute searches for lost objects, and both Elihu and I had comically bad bed hair. Me, I still wore a raccoon’s mask of the previous night’s witchy kohled eyes. Finally, we were there. The day after; November first.

Halloween night had seemed like a distant dream – like a storm arriving after great anticipation, it had caught us up in its frenzy of costumes and clutter, pumped our systems full of sugar and then swept off into the distant night leaving us exhausted and in great need of a long night’s sleep. On the morning after I awoke in a cold, motionless space. My head was free of to-do lists, free of immediate concerns. For one rare moment, I was not in a state of mild panic. It was just me and a silent house. The day was sunny and clear, and there were almost no leaves remaining on the trees. My head was as still as my room, as bare as the branches. After stalling for a good long while in my horizontal position, I finally rose and walked, bare feet on the cold floor, to the kitchen and turned the kettle on. The quiet had seemed somehow extra quiet. I tried to think, but no thoughts came to me. I must have had things on my mind – things that desperately needed doing… but what on earth were they? Thankfully, the me from the day before – the one going a hundred miles an hour – that thoughtful woman, she had written a list. What a relief. As I cupped a warm mug of coffee in my hands, I allowed my mind to remain vacant for a good long while as I stared out of the window to the mountains beyond. And then I dove back in.

Although it was a mere day and night ago, the morning after, All Saint’s Day and day of the dead, the day of the thinnest veil between the here and the hereafter – it seems already to have been last month. So much has happened in the past thirty-six hours. Many wonderful and serendipitous meetings have occurred. There have been dozens of tiny errands, a handful of new financial scares and a few stressful concerns, but the final take is that things are off to a pretty good start. I’ve made some mistakes, but I suppose none are for naught. I am definitely learning.

Yesterday is what I personally consider to my own New Year’s Day. For me, Halloween is always the raucous end to a long, long year, and the cold and silent morning after is the quiet beginning of a new one. This coming year promises to hold some fine surprises. The challenges – especially the financial ones – are not over, but I’m beginning to feel a little hope. Some friends encourage me to embrace only the possibility; they insist that my holding onto fear and ‘scarcity’ thinking will only bring more of the same. Maybe so, but my hope is still guarded and a bit weary. One never knows though. And certainly one should always hope for the best…

The Studio is taking on a new life; people are finding me – and the space – and becoming excited for the potential. I’m beginning to realize a couple of things in the process: firstly, that I am clearly not my father and must dispel for once and for all the romantic notion that the space will continue in the same manner in which it began (namely a performance space for early music) and secondly, that I must embrace the new programs that are now coming to the venue. There will come a day when Baroque music will resound again within those walls, but the reality doesn’t indicate it to be anytime soon. But that’s ok, because a great new adventure is beginning.

Oh ye saints, if you can still hear me on this day after, I pray that you will watch over me and my new friends as we pilot this little community arts center into the future. And, please, while you’re at it, do you think that you could see to it that the Cubs win the World Series? If you could, it would be really nice. Don’t fret too much over it though. Whatever happens, I’m sure it’ll be ok. But still..

______________________________________________________________________________

Post Script: A heartfelt thanks to all Ye Watchers and Ye Holy Ones. 108 years is a long time to wait. So thanks. Really. Thanks from all of us. Down here we’re grateful and happy as we’ve never been before. We appreciate any energetic help you may have tossed our way… After all this time, it seems that we really needed it! Luck, skill, tenacity or divine assistance, howsoever it came our way, we’re delighted to the heavens for having had it in our grasp when we needed it most. Saints be praised….

 

 

Sow Busy October 22, 2016

Life is really, really busy. Isn’t it? And recently I’ve come to understand that it certainly aint just me. In fact, I have a feeling my life doesn’t come close to those with whom I rub elbows each day. But still, I’m busier than I’m entirely comfortable with being (if only being busy equalled money coming in rather than money going out, I might actually welcome it!). With the addition of starting a small (very small) business on top of the single mom thing (3 meals a day folks, sometimes more – from shopping to prep to cleanup) to playing tuba police, to de-worming and de-miting some 30 poultry by hand daily to trying to put the clean laundry away – never mind the hour or so a day I spend in community with my far-flung friends on Facebook (I don’t consider it a waste; it’s my connection to old friends. Some days yes, it can be a pure waste of time, but mostly it’s not) and oh, yeah, that’s right, teaching piano lessons (that’s the only ‘real’ thing I do!) I find that when I lay down at night exhausted, I can’t sleep for all the to-do lists competing for my attention. Yes, I write em all down. And no, I don’t do social media or tv (what tv?) before bed. And yes, I read books. But still…

I can’t say things aren’t going well. Cuz they are. Well, better, at least. This fall has seen the deaths of several friends, and while I didn’t know any of them very well, I had quickly grown very fond of them. Their permanent absences in my life make me more keenly aware that I actually do have work to do here on this planet, and when I remember that the possibility does exist that I might follow them to that other plane without much warning or time to prepare, I double down on my efforts to accomplish those things yet before me on my ‘real’ to-do list. As in ‘really’ doing something of good for my fellow anguished, over-busied humans. Busy though I may be, I gotta keep remembering the light at the end of the tunnel.

And I do actually mean light. I mean to bring a little light to the world; music, art and the delight of having created either or both – and the community and sense of belonging that those things in turn help to grow. In my short time on this earth I wish to bring people together, I wish to see them supporting each other, being witnesses to each others pain as well as their joy. These words look a bit trite when I see them on paper, but it’s true. I just want to have a life party. Like my mother, the consummate host, I just want to offer people the venue in which to come together. Some may need the community of movement, of healing arts, others need to sing, to play an instrument, others find their peace learning how to paint an image in their mind’s eye. (Adding in some food and wine to the mix couldn’t hurt, either.) Also, I’d like to know that this entity will continue to live after I’m gone. So there’s a real goal ahead. There’s just so much to do in order to make the crudest, simplest versions of those dreams come to life. And for the most part, it’s still just one woman behind the curtain.

But that’s changing. Recently I’ve begun to actively reach out and seek a little help. I do however still suffer from the routine handicap of not having enough money. I can barely feed my teenage boy much less fill in the expenses of the Studio.  (All I can say on that front is thank you friends, and thank you mom.) When Elihu leaves town for a week here and there to visit his dad, I relish the dramatically lower food bills. Food stamps are never enough. I pad our menu with a slightly healthier diet of ramen noodles (add an assortment of chopped raw vegetables, stir an egg into the hot broth, add lemon juice or spicy asian oil), I make the most out of our flock and fill my kid up with a half a dozen eggs every morning, yet he’s a growing boy, hard-pressed to weigh in at 80 pounds and is always ready to eat. Food is probably the least of my financial worries though. I’ve learned some tricks, and can make a little go a long way. It’s a bit harder to make heating oil last. Thank the gods that this year has been quite warm so far; I’ve only had to rumble the old furnace to life a handful of times. Back in our morning’s ritual is making sure the thermostats are pulled down so we don’t wast precious fuel during the daytimes. At a balmy 65 degrees today, so far, so good.

The Studio has finally begun to take on a life of its own in some ways. I’ve been agreeing to participate in every manner of community event that comes my way in an effort to meet people – and finally get out in the world. Elihu is 13 now, and I can leave him alone with some confidence that if hungry, he can find something, and if bored, he has instruments to practice, books to read and homework to finish. It hasn’t been ideal, but I’ve left him home alone for great swaths of time lately – and this past week, seven days in a row! No matter how capable a kid I’ve raised, I don’t feel great about that. But I assure him this time spent away is all an investment in the Studio. He’s smart, he gets that, and he’s a good person too; he never makes me feel bad about it for a second. I know he misses me because bedtimes in these recent days have reverted a bit in their feel… He beseeches me to stay longer, to just sit with him. He holds my hands (we’re not a touchy family mostly at Elihu’s insistence – that’s one thing I still miss about being married; the quick, familiar pats, hugs and flyby smooches) and he touches my face. With great mirth and joking he pulls at the extra chin fat I now carry around, which although slightly demoralizing, becomes quite hilarious. We laugh together again, we sit in each other’s company. We enjoy our rare, quiet moment together. Because tomorrow will be here soon, and the tornado of life will swallow us up again.

We fairly live for Saturdays at this point. Tomorrow, I was really looking forward to going through my kitchen and tidying it up a bit. That, however, will not be happening. My main computer has been so violently assaulted from the outside world that it no longer even opens to the malevolent Bing page (as it had for months – apparently I was already being attacked at that point) and so, without being able to establish connection whatsoever with the outside world – not to download assistive programs, not to ask a friend’s help, nothing – it looks like I’ll have to pull apart my office and bring the tower in to some computer repair joint, and in so doing, use up my precious one day off. Sorry kid, it’s a book and the back seat of the car for you, I fear. That or a good solid afternoon at the tuba. Or both. God bless my ancient laptop and that beautiful horn.

Good timing though. I just made some updates to the Studio’s site before my computer got all wonky. They’re rudimentary – hell, the whole thing is rudimentary and not exactly how I’d prefer to represent the place, but still. It’s a start. It’s what I’ve been able to pull together. I’m learning though. I still can’t figure out how to put a border around a box of text without having to choose a new color for the inside of the box (why doesn’t it default to the background color??) but these, and other small nuisances are just that, and before a year’s time I hope to have them figured out. It just takes time. But therein lies the rub. Everything takes time. !!

A woman I’d known from Chicago came to visit last weekend. As life would have it, her parents just happen to be the landlords for my new bestie in town. A small world coincidence that still amazes all of us. She swept into town for a couple of days, we enjoyed a night out and an afternoon over salad, she visited my home and the Studio (at which her parents once attended concerts of my father’s back in his day) and she gave me some good ideas on how to economize my time. Good input from the outside world. I’m trying to maximize the fruits of my labor, honest I am. It’s just that when you’re one woman, you can only do so much. Hence my recent informal (but ball-busting) campaign to ‘get out’ and meet people. The way I figure it, I’m planting seeds at this time in my life. All of it: raising the kid, starting the Studio, meeting new friends, volunteering to help others, even saying yes to lunch dates (a new one in my world!). All of this busy-ness is the sowing of a new garden. When I realize that I too might be struck with a blood cancer, a terminal illness or an unforeseen accident, I am doubly resolved to sow this garden (and also to write my silly passwords down!). I feel a new urgency to save my hundreds of blog posts, archive my father’s papers and memorabilia, learn where my grandmother is buried and get my kid off to college…

There is nothing I enjoy more than just sitting on the front stoop with a cup of coffee, watching my chickens. There really isn’t time for that these days, but I know that if I can get this garden started, that time will come again. So it’s back to busy. If I can get back to sleep first, that is. !

 

Here, friends, take a peek at what’s been consuming me for the past three years...We’re finally up and running. Whew! It really does feel good.

And here’s our Facebook page, which will give you lots more photos of the place. Woo hoo! Dare I ask you to “Like” it? Yes, I do! Please – like us!

 

 

 

Slaying the Dragon October 10, 2016

elihu-leads

Around this time of year my son’s school celebrates an event they call Michaelmas. During the course of the day the children, from first through eighth grade, (with the eighth graders acting as leaders) must go on quests throughout the nearby woods, gathering clues, assembling objects, traversing obstacles and learning to work together toward a shared goal. As they emerge from the woods, the leaders carry a staff from which flies a colored banner for each of the challenges they met. When all the students finally converge at the shelter there is a large, outdoor enactment of St. Michael (pronounced “my-ky-EL”) slaying a great dragon. The action carries the metaphor of courage, of surmounting obstacles and facing down fear. A large feast of vegetable soup and bread – made by the older high school students – awaits them at the end of their full day.

In the days of old, this autumnal season of gleaning and preparation for the long, cold months ahead required courage, planning, and a supportive community. All of those elements are represented once a year in this magical and transformative day. This year, my son Elihu was a leader. This year was also the very first Michaelmas for which I was not present: I no longer work at the Waldorf School, and so as a parent and not an employee of the school, I was not allowed to participate. Rather, I had to drop off my child, knowing that this day would be different from all those before. He was on his own now. So too was I. As I watched my coonskin-capped son disappear down the wooded path, I turned my car for home, my own dragons waiting there to meet me.

Those who’ve read this blog from time-to-time will be aware that I have endeavored to start a small business. It’s a community art center which still awaits its proper non-profit status from the IRS, however I have been advised by my attorney and my accountant that I should continue to operate as if I were already a true 501 (c)(3) corporation while I wait for the determination. And so that’s what I’m doing. There’s been a board meeting, there have been open houses, art classes, concerts, jam sessions, workshops, seminars, yoga classes, meditation circles, community gatherings – bills have been paid and the electric hasn’t been cutoff yet. (Well, ok, once it was. But it was one of those ‘crossed in the mail’ deals. It was restored within hours.) It’s beginning to look like it might just work. I’ve known for years that it was my fate, but my stomach was queasy at the notion. I, after all, have spent my 53 years on this globe deftly avoiding anything that resembles a ‘day job’. And here I am, formally still unemployed, and yet with a great job before me.

And until a few hours ago, it looked as if the path might be getting a little clearer. A local historic folk music venue had planned on holding all of their concerts throughout the next two months at the Studio while their venue underwent a renovation, however I am deeply sad to report that today I learned it wasn’t going to happen. And so, after feeling the greatest relief I have felt in a very long time at the prospect of two months solidly booked, I am back in the thick of the woods, feeling the dread once again begin to creep in around me. This is a time in which I need to steel myself against my own dragons. I need to raise my own staff now and win some banners of my own. How this will happen I still don’t know. I feel very much as if I am off the path and merely guessing at my way. All I can tell myself at this point in my quest is to keep putting one foot in front of the other…

This past year I’ve spent a good deal of time in my office; at my desk, organizing, planning, filing, (and stalling) – and eating. The weight loss I enjoyed a year ago is history. I’ve accomplished a lot, yes, but in some ways I’ve taken some steps backward. My hands are much thicker with arthritis than they used to be, and my old broken neck injury is manifesting in some new tension and discomfort. Yeah, things are becoming more challenging than they used to be, and it takes more energy and resolve than I remember to tackle this crap. But this is the terrain I’ve been warned about by friends a decade or two ahead of me on the path. The aging thing in of itself is a quest that requires courage and tenacity. And then there’s the starting of a new business. For me, a musician and free spirit by nature, it’s not something that comes with ease. I’m willing to work at it, but it’s still a little more daunting in real life than I’d imagined.

Guess it’s time to slay a few dragons….