Yearful

It seems I should be feeling some enormous weight removed from my chest; a great lifting of spirit at the conclusion of a stressful Spring full of performances and commitments. And to some degree I do, I guess it’s just not quite the experience of bliss I’d thought it might end up being. (Don’t get me wrong – I’m more than relieved it’s all behind me now.) Last night the 8th through 12th grades of the Waldorf School did their end-of-year performances in Skidmore College’s ultra-modern and gorgeous Zankel Music Theatre. After having secretly dealt with the idea of panick attacks resurfacing at such an event – and meditating daily to mitigate their probability, and even in spite of having taken 3x the normal dosage of Xanax to stave off such attacks from hitting onstage, I was nonetheless side-swiped, mid-performance, by a couple of doozies. The difference between the recent attacks and those of some thirty years ago is mostly the medicine, I think, and also a good deal of high-intensity mental energy spent beforehand in preparation. Those two things seem to make the attacks the slightest bit more bearable. But no matter how prepared you’d like to be, if you suffer from em, there’s really no hiding to be done; they’ll find you eventually. And let me tell you – that shit is not fun to deal with. It definitely takes away from you being able to enjoy – and fully live into and perform into – the moment. I just kept reminding myself that my role was supportive, that my job was to make movement easier for the kids; to make the movement as intuitive as the sound itself. I just kept thinking my only job is to make a beautiful sound… It helped a bit, but not as much as I’d hoped. But in the end, as it is with any on-stage errors, those that I made were much larger in my head than in reality. (Although I’m not going to be checking the Skidmore live broadcast archive to prove that theory. !!)

It was a lovely night. The teachers have the routine of the end-of-year performance down. So do the kids. They struck and re-set that stage ten times that night and kept the program moving along. Yeah, it was long, but yeah, it was also impressive, diverse and heartfelt. How proud I was of every kid up there. Hell, this may well be what it feels like to be a part of any school I suppose. I have nothing to compare it to, so I can’t be sure. But I had such feelings for all the kids on that stage… How can one not have strong feelings of solidarity after having gone through so much together through the long school year? But there’s just something about knowing each kid – even if it’s just their name – there’s something wonderful about having some sort of relationship to them – however small (in my case I’m the accompanist for movement and chorus classes – not super-exciting perhaps, but the kids do know that Miss Elizabeth used to be a real musician once upon a time. Seems she used to tour… she just might be kinda cool. Not sure, but there’s a small chance that the thought exists among the populace…) I could look upon any one of those faces and feel something unique… And I consider it no small blessing that I’ll come to know most of these children as they grow up over the next few years. How lucky am I?

Well, I’m a pretty lucky lady if for no other reason that I finally know how it feels to play a truly in-tune piano. !! And a honking big one at that. Same fellow who tunes my piano tunes the 10 foot Steinway I played on this night. Must give that fellow a call soon. My piano quickly became a disappointment after playing this gorgeous, responsive creature. Only wish I’d felt freer to really enjoy myself on it. There’s always next year. But I’m on it- getting ready for it already…

As life tends to do, the landmark events quickly and unceremoniously move into the mundane, everyday landscape of regular life. Within hours of leaving the stage with an arm full of flowers, it was life as usual. A visit to the local animal shelter, a stop at the town cemetery, the taking care of domestic tasks forgotten all week in favor of prior committments. The big news this week was not so much the performance at Zankel as it was the installation of our new dishwasher. And yes, you naysayers, I have found it to be just as life-transforming as I’d hoped! At least three hours of time have become mine since I first began to use it late Friday night.  And my counters are CLEAN and EMPTY for the FIRST time in my nearly six years here. If folks don’t already know, I’m a BIG fan of right angles and empty surfaces. I like it when things are put where they belong. My life may be a mess, but God please grant me clean-looking counter tops. That way at least it looks like everything’s perfectly under control.  !

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Ok, so this is how the day starts. Josh will be installing my new dishwasher as I go about my very busy day.

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We started out early with Grandparent’s Day at school. Mom in back at left, Elihu in front at right with pal Ben. Note the drawings on their desks that they’ve made on Classical Greece (their recent study block.)

IMG_3300Class Five gives a performance of a classical Greek poem for an audience of grandparents in the Eurythmy room . It was done masterfully.

IMG_3203This is a regular eurythmy class. The idea is simply that sound is made visible through movement. Kinda like dance, but not exactly.

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Here the class is given direction for a new piece.

IMG_3236Same room, now it’s used for orchestra. This is the most utilized, multi-functional room I have ever, ever seen.

IMG_3237The bass section.

IMG_3307Later on the same day, here we are at Zankel. Fancy shmancy indeed.

IMG_3331We started with a little eurythmy rehearsal on stage in the late afternoon.

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Now the High School orchestra rehearses.

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Eurythmy in traditional costumes which show and enhance the movement so beautifully.

IMG_3415Alex has a solo in the Bach.

IMG_3418Recorder ensemble.

IMG_3422The Waldorf acapella  group. Sublime.

IMG_3424Yay!

IMG_3431A nice shot of the High School Chorus

IMG_3433They did some great pieces, including  a lively arrangement of  ‘Ain-a That Good News’ by William Dawson.

IMG_3414It’s growing next to impossible to take a candid of this 11 year old boy. Screws up his face as soon as he sees me lift the lens… Mom is in the striped shirt. She’s been with us since before 8 this morning, and it’s now well past 8 p.m. Long day…

IMG_3409Backstage the ninth grade girls dish…

IMG_3411And Miss Elizabeth tries to secretly listen in on what ‘the kids are talking about these days’….

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Hey look! They got me flowers!! Apparently, they’d planned on giving them to me onstage with some fanfare, but I’d quietly slunk off after my bit was done. This is a new world to me! I was so very touched. Plus I just LOVE fresh flowers. A wonderful night. And did I mention the Steinway was ten feet long? Almost looked like a mistake it was so honkin big. And those bass strings. UN real.  Woo hoo!

IMG_3686Ok, the night’s program was beautiful, the whole day in fact was a marvel, but this is the height of it all: a new dishwasher was at home just waiting for me!!

IMG_3443A dishwasher and flowers. !!

IMG_3280The next day starts out cool and green…

IMG_3219Elihu’s taken my camera to document our life from his perspective for a little while…

IMG_3212This is what lil man sees from his world in the backseat…

IMG_3217…and this is what’s on his mind most of the time.

IMG_3491On our way to the 4H meeting, I was struck by fresh activity in our long-dormant village cemetery…

IMG_3473We stopped to see that a local woman who’d died in early January was just being buried now.

IMG_3489Having just begun to read a book on the current culture of death in our country, I was fascinated and had to stop.

IMG_3488Wherever dear Agnes is now, I hope she can share in the joy Elihu finds in making a lovely, resonant percussive sound on the structure designed to lower her casket down into the vault. (I learned the proper terms from the man who’d set it all up a bit earlier.)

IMG_3493As a child, I’d ride my bike to cemetery hill and pump myself a refreshing drink of water at this now dry hand pump.

IMG_3499And this is how I think of this place looking. Most graves are over a hundred years old on the hilltop.

IMG_3524We’re over the hill and on the other side of Greenfield now at the locally well-known Estherville Animal Shelter for our 4H meeting.

IMG_3532It’s a very casual place, a casual bunch.

IMG_3541Aged horse Stardust (yes, I sang him his song) and goat Blossom routinely stand in the newly paved road. All of my 51 years this was a bumpy, uninviting dirt road which posed no threat to these two residents. Now the cars zip thru here and I can’t help but worry…

IMG_3545Elihu doped up good on allergy meds for moments such as these.

IMG_3554…and for these too.

IMG_3560Elihu found his sweet spot it seems.

IMG_3587Jessie and Sam – in the 4H shirts – are daughters of a guy I’ve known since I was their age. It’s nice to have continuity like that in the kind of displaced world in which we live in these days.

IMG_3578See this is why I have a ‘no hooved animal’ policy at our home. Give em an inch… Blossom is joining the party without an invitation…

IMG_3597After the club kids go home, Elihu remains to brush Stardust a bit. He’s got a lot of wild, winter hair coming off him and could use a little help being groomed.

IMG_3601Apparently goat Blossom and horse Stardust are inseparable.

IMG_3607After a good grooming they’re in search of treats in one of the out buildings.

IMG_3679Coming home to a clean, open counter. Oooooohhhh

IMG_3684See how nicely my flowers fit in the open space? What a nice reminder of our lovely weekend.

I can’t wait to wake up in the morning to a load of magically washed dishes. Truly, it feels like the dawning of a sparkling, new age.

Grateful to all I am.

Golden Touch

We’ve been crazy-busy lately, but in spite of that, we both have enjoyed something of a golden touch this past week, starting, of course, with Elihu’s wonderful performances as King Midas in his class’s annual play. (Many times he made sure I knew its true title was The Masque of Midas, with a ‘q’ and not a k.) I cannot relate to you how robust a performance he gave, how clear were his lines, how his understanding of their meaning (in spite of the flowery, archaic language) translated so easily through his speech and gesture… His voice was as crisp, bold and commanding as was his character; his body moved so much like royalty too… I personally loved the part where he admits the fickle nature of humans, and concedes how quickly we forget the small miracles of the everyday. As he eats a grape (which previously his spell prevented him from tasting) he admits that in spite of the lesson he’s learned through having – and then losing – his golden touch, even now the precious fruit was losing its ‘ambrosial taste’. And beyond that, Midas expected that in very little time he would revert to his old ways and completely forget the lessons he had only just learned… I loved the way Midas – and Elihu too, in his understanding and appreciation for the meaning of his lines – had the clarity to recognize that through his human ways he would likely in the end lose the ability to recognize the true value in the everyday. This was a kid who got it, and who conveyed it. The whole cast was wonderful, and many children were able to play their instruments in the production, everyone of the children sang beautifully, and a handful of them enjoyed playing some very animated and funny scenes. The play was a beautiful ensemble piece that will live long in the memories of these children, their beloved teacher, and all their proud friends and family who were there to share in the experience.

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Please forgive – or overlook – the donkey ears. They come out at the end, and we forgot to stash em for the photos.

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A fitting instrument for the king to play, I think.

Things weren’t entirely golden at the start, but we persevered, looking for that unanticipated golden ending… Had a coupla goodnews/badnews scenes of our own play out this past week. Elihu’s bass broke. I went to tune it for one of his plays, and the strings just weren’t responding. I took a closer look at the tuners, and glad my attention was there, for I saw the giant headstock just fall over forward. I caught it, thankfully, so no more damage was done. And the break itself wasn’t a clean one. Worth a look-see at the shop, but deep-down I kinda knew Elihu’s days with this instrument were over. Sad, I thought. My father had seen him first play on it. He’d learned a lot on it – we’d enjoyed making some good music together with it. But then I caught myself, and reminded myself not to get too sentimental. There will be many basses yet to come as he grows. This is a rental, and only a quarter size at that. But still. It was his first. We prepared for a good month without an instrument when good old Ed called from the shop and told us he had a new one in for us. Huh? Really? That only took like a day! Here’s the good news/bad news part. The endpin just wouldn’t come out. Had to be pounded back in when we did finally pull it out with some pliers. Nope. Wouldn’t cut it. Besides, the action felt bad, and I think it sounded like a box. We really had lucked out with that first instrument. (Glad we took down the maker’s name… may try finding him again.) This generic rental was made in Romania, and while we’re pretty sure some fine polkas likely come from this country, this instrument itself was sure not serving as the country’s best calling card. Elihu saw far more promise in his new discovery of a Bajnolele as we awaited the fate of this new rental… Last visit he had his first sit-down with a mandolin, and now this…. Perhaps his problems with these basses was helping to open doors to new adventures… Elihu’s eleventh birthday is in three weeks… He may have another instrument (or two) in his bag of tricks by then…

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Ed ascertains that there’ll be no easy fix here. Time for a new rental. Too bad, this one sounded and played great.

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So in the meantime, Elihu picks up a mandolin. Hey, they’re strung just like violins. Hey, Elihu can play a violin…


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Ed really helped us by getting a new rental in ASAP, only the silly end pin’s stuck. That’s ok, the thing sounded like a box anyhow. Hope the next one sounds and feels better than this. He’ll use his upright electric tomorrow in orchestra – that’ll be kind of a new adventure. Make him a rock star at school, too.!

IMG_1432While Ed tried to work on the bass, Elihu discovered a Banjolele – and now it’s Mama who knows the tuning here and can show lil man a couple tricks. Wow, this thing is fun! Hmm… this might be a lot of fun to add to the collection….

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The culture of fifth grade boys: a renaissance of Pokemon

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Thankfully jamming holds some solid interest. Drums, Wurlitzer, Melodica and Clarinet. !!

Yes, we’ve had some golden moments in the past few days; the class play, the trying out of a couple new instruments (and getting along with em just fine), a couple of long play dates with his two buddies, one of which was outdoors in the new warmth of Spring (and which also included some making of music, video gaming, Pokemon trading, trampoline hopping, woods exploring, plane flying and chicken chasing). Then there was the day we’d waited for for a long time now. We went to visit an old family member. We went to see (with our breath held and hopes not too high) our beloved goose Maximus in his new home. We’ve been told he’d keen on a certain gal, and that he’s found his place in the large flock. That we even saw him at all was a bit of a surprise to us. We’d come expecting the worst – we’d thought he’d likely be deeply embedded in his flock, that he’d turn and run the other way, aloof, wild, anything but how we’d once known him. Thankfully, he was close by when we arrived, and in spite of Elihu’s advances and Max’s slight protests, in very short order Max had allowed Elihu to pick him up. How our hearts warmed! And I got to hold my beloved Max’s sweet head in my hands and kiss his cheeks and head as I had always done. I swear that bird recognized us in his heart. I swear he knew it was us. That we were there – not just any crazy humans trying to pick him up and smooch him – but us, his first family. Elihu spent some alone time with Max, talking to him. Saying things I didn’t need to ask him about – as they were between a boy and his bird.

The folks who took Max in have taken other sad creatures in to live with them. They’re angels who are giving a handful of God’s creatures a better experience on this planet. Good people, good work they do. And we’re eternally grateful that they were able to give our Max a wonderful, full-goose life here on their side of the mountain. My goodness, they even have a pond! Heaven on earth! I think of that tiny pond I’d made here last summer – and remember Maximus doing his ‘up tails all’ move in that tiny triangle of water… Such joy he radiated, and yet in such tiny confines. Can you imagine the goose-joy he’ll feel when finally in a real pond for the very first time? We hope that we can be there to witness it… we hear that when they pull that winter fencing back and open the pond to all the critters of the farm for the first time each Spring – it’s a BIG deal  – an event of sorts. The birds all know and wait at the edge…. Like patrons at a concert waiting to stake out their spot on the lawn… The geese all hang about, nearly frantic to get on that glorious water… The fence goes back and the geese go forth…. A golden moment for sure.

 

IMG_1434Now it’s off to visit Maximus in his new home

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Elihu spotted him right away.

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And had him in his arms just about within seconds.

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After an ‘enforced’ smooching (I got to kiss him too), Max regards us from a distance.

Probably the very most important thing we did this weekend was to stock our incubator. These twenty-four eggs are worth their weight in gold to us… Each year we put them in the machine such that they’ll hatch out the day of Elihu’s birthday party. I can hardly believe it, but this will be our fifth year doing it. It has truly become a tradition on his birthday. What a lovely way to remember his childhood birthdays, too… We were given eggs from our friends at Elihu Farm (I know, right?) and also from Max’s new family. We added some of our own, and between all three sources hope for a good hatch out in twenty-one days. Ya never know. The sound of the small, table-top incubator clicking along, day and night is for us a sound of Spring. From within those tiny machine noises comes a certain kind of hope, of excitement for the future. It gives us a refreshed sense of happiness and possibility…. So much potential, so much unknown…. such a metaphor for life itself.

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Mary Pratt of Elihu Farm. She kindly gave us some (hopefully) fertile eggs to raise up a new flock.

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 Here they are today going into the incubator. They’ll hatch in 21 days.

Ah, such a hopeful time of year. Snow still lingers, but each day there’s less and less of the stuff. Just today Elihu and I both heard some Redwing blackbirds (haven’t seen one yet – that will have me pulling over to the side of the road for sure). This morning the air was absolutely filled with the sounds of nearly a dozen new arrivals – all of whom were heard for the first time today! It’s as if some threshold has been crossed now. How do they do it? we shake our heads in wonder each year, but more unimaginable still is that they all seem to arrive at once. We don’t even try to understand. In this world of 24/7 illumination and patches of untouched nature so few and far between, it breaks our hearts to attempt to comprehend their task. So all we can do is revel in their return and let them know how much we love them, how glad we are to see them. “They really are like family, aren’t they?” Elihu asks me each year as we lean on our elbows and watch the visitors on our platform feeder. “Yes, they are”, I always answer.

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Elihu has loved and consulted his audio bird books for half his life now. They come out again this time of year.

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One of our many daily visitors

IMG_1399My mother hates these sneaky cowbirds, but hey, they can’t help how they’re engineered….

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 The most precious gold of all in our world is the brand-new Spring plumage on our little goldfinch friends…

Fade Up

Just as the very real images of my dream begin to fade, my body starts to register some incoming data from the physical world… although I can still very clearly see the environment of my dreaming mind, I can also sense that my nose is very cold. My face too, and also the shoulder that rests outside of the covers. While still tracking the scene that continues to play in my mind, another line of thinking superimposes itself on top: for a few seconds both my sleeping and my waking consciousness are co-existing. And even as that is happening, there’s a third witness present; I (whomever that may be) am watching the two operate simultaneously, and I am marveling over it. Underlying the whole thing, dreams, to-do lists and the emerging memory that yes, we are out of fuel oil again, a soundtrack of Stanley Clarke’s School Days plays, over and over. The music is a bit distracting, but I can’t seem to stop it. Over and over again the line plays as my waking mind picks up speed and the lists start coming at me fast and furious. So much for sleeping in this last precious hour.

I watch the mix of thoughts and sounds fly around in my head like the scene in the Wizard of Oz where the witch morphs from riding a bicycle to flying on a broom…. Thoughts fly about me in a virtual storm, and it feels I have no control… Eventually my witnessing mind is pulled back in from the sidelines, the dream evaporates, and I am now in my body again. The visions and soundtracks are gone. At last, I manage to sit upright in bed. Yes, the house is cold. The nightscape has faded into another day of earthly realities. And this business of keeping the house from freezing in single-digit temps is now number one on the day’s to-do list. In the past I might have been thrown by this alone – I remember in the early days, running out of fuel was downright frightening. It felt lonely and vulnerable, and although it was nothing personal on anyone’s part, it felt somehow as if the world had chosen to turn us away. But this morning, I wasn’t stopped, or even slowed down. (I admit that without the Brady Bunch double ovens to warm the kitchen and our portable electric heaters I might feel otherwise.) These days, it was just another thing to deal with. And these days, I’m getting pretty good at dealing with things. !

I am, however, a bit dismayed that the five gallons of kerosene I’d dumped in the tank yesterday afternoon didn’t even last us twenty-four hours; we’d barely kept the house at 60 degrees – truly, I’d been frugal. How in hell had we blown through all that fuel? Maybe kerosene doesn’t burn as efficiently. Maybe single-digit temps really require a lot more fuel. I guess. Having some concrete ideas makes it easier to take. We’re on a wait list for emergency oil thru the state assistance program, so relief is coming at some point. (It’s been a week without proper heat now, and although it feels like the longest we’ve gone without oil at one stretch, Elihu remembers us going nearly two weeks without heat a couple of years ago. Funny how you repress some things.) Besides, I’m sure there are folks much worse off than us. Sometimes I worry more about my instruments than I do us, and it’s then that I realize I guess I shouldn’t be bitching. I’m lucky we get help at all – and luckier still to have a piano and a harpsichord in our living room. Just take it day by day, I tell myself, and I keep my sights set no further out – because it’s far less stressful. And it’s kinda funny how the things that used to be the really big stuff become the not-so-big stuff in light of the truly heavy shit. Like a concert hall whose floor and walls are being removed as I write this, like a business that needs to be created, programs developed, budgets mapped out… Never mind getting my taxes together, learning the score for the children’s theater production next week or the Bach Partita with the right-over-left hand crossing business that I need to have learned by Monday (I have lovely memories of my father playing this, so it’s truly a joy to finally learn it myself)…. Yeah, it’s all pressing in on me, but with the drama of the Studio continuing on all the while – sort of like the dream and waking realities living side-by-side – it doesn’t seem as daunting. Interesting how one’s perspective on things can change.

My spirits are also somewhat buoyed by last night’s conversation about the future of the Studio with my mother. I’m back to teaching my continuing ed course I call “Not Your Mother’s Piano Teacher” on Wednesday evenings, and mom stays with Elihu. (I wasn’t able to teach it last semester as mom couldn’t leave dad. Now, of course, she’s free to come over.) After I got back we sat and talked about life for a while. Naturally the Studio was the main concern; we discussed the different systems of heating, the floor materials, small upgrades that might benefit the place – and I was surprised at how positive she seemed at the ideas. I myself had been fighting daily not to succumb to tears over the whole thing. How was she so calm about it all? I learned that from her perspective, this is dad’s legacy we’re talking about here; we need to do what needs to be done. (When I falter, Elihu says the same thing. “You have to do this for grandpa!” he reminds me vehemently.) It it so beyond the scope of anything I’ve done, and it almost seems downright nuts to talk about spending all this money when Elihu and I are living in a house without heat. (There goes dad’s VA insurance, but then this is a much more fitting use for it than an elaborate funeral!) Really, it seems crazy. But then again, it’s kinda like apples and oranges. The Studio will be a source of income one day (that’s the hope, I’m still working hard on believing it) and it will be my sole occupation at some point. So it makes sense to invest in it. We can live in a chilly house for a bit, it won’t affect our future. At any rate, that’s how I justify it. I just see them as two separate entities. And thankfully, as my focus is on the Studio now, it gives me less time to stew over my own personal situation. In a week’s time this will be nothing but a memory…

From one reality to another, from one set of priorities to another, I gotta keep living in the moment, dealing only with what’s before me. I’m keeping my head down here, and my focus on the path in my immediate field of vision. I’ll look up every now and then to make sure I’m going in the right direction, but for now, my individual steps are the most important thing. Soon enough this reality will fade into the next, so for now I’ll just do my best, carefully putting one foot in front of the other until I get to the next rest stop on the trail.

New Groove

Not even out of the gate and things are already getting tricky. Thought the radiant heat thing was a done deal. Electric radiant heat, that is. The water delivery method, not so much. It’s twice as expensive, requires its own shelter external to the building for the boiler, the pumps and such, plus it’ll raise the entire floor a good five inches, requiring all doorways to be raised, making the ceiling shorter at the stage end. I realize that this system runs much cheaper in the long run, and its an efficient one, but it’s just not what I want. I don’t want the stage cramped and low. I don’t want to change the space. Just heat it.

I’d thought the heavens had opened up when I heard about these magic, wafer-thin (that’s my Monty Python-esque way of describing them) pads that one simply rolled out over the space and then covered with a lovely wood floor. (Wood, that by the way, is being cut from our Greenfield forest just behind the Studio and milled locally. That’s the romantic plan, at any rate, at this idealistic stage of the game, but I can just see my dreams being dashed right and left as I make my way through this process…) But in a single email my heart is broken again. The kind fellow who’d come out today to write up a bid on the heating system told me in one short sentence that the system I want ‘will not put out enough energy for that sized room’. And so the manufacturers of the electric radiant system he sells will not agree to it. Crap. I haven’t even started the demo and I’m off to a rocky start. Not the way I envisioned things so early in the game. Come on stars, I thought you’d planned on aligning for me here?

So I do a little online searching and find a system like the one I’d imagined in my head, and I dash off an inquiry… I feel a bit like a patient going from doctor to doctor in hopes of finding the diagnoses I want to hear rather than the honest one. Am I fooling myself? Or is this indeed a big world and might there be someone out there who won’t see my problem as unsolvable? I was feeling too blessed, too hopeful for a moment. Gotta breathe. And hell, how on earth am I going to make my living at this? How can I offset costs like these? One lousy payout by dad’s VA insurance will barely get the place demo’d. Shit. Wow, I am sounding a bit manic. Cuz yesterday – hell, even a couple of hours ago (before the heating guy emailed me the disappointing news) I was beginning to coast on thermals of excitement… man, things were just feeling so hopeful, so possible, and I was lifting, lifting….

But as with any self-respecting manic episode, I found my heart descending to the very floor – literally – as my old friend Jim (and one time assistant to dad) shook his head despairingly and said to me  “In the end, it’s just an oak floor that needs to be replaced.” No romantic salvaging and re-purposing of this very wood – wood which Jim knew the meaning of in my heart – no point for all that labor. I searched, but saw no light of inspiration in his woodworking eyes. No, this was a tear-out and haul-it-away job. (In the back of my mind I continued to search for a meaningful good-bye, maybe instead of a burning man fest, maybe have a burning floor fest? I don’t know, something? All those memories, all that music… If only we could bring it to life again in some way. Or… maybe not. I must remember the object is not the memory…)

Ok. So now I can see around the corner, into this next, not-so-sexy phase. As the demo guy warned me several times “It’s gonna get a whole lot worse before it gets better”. Yeah. I think I get that – but it looks like pretty soon I’m about to really get it. It’s just that I know how I want things – but in the end, it’s probably going to be settled by cost. The re-build can’t happen without grants, gifts and donations, so I’m already in new and frightening territory. I can commit to a demolition of the existing damage, but beyond that, it’s still just a dream. I guess that’s what part of this new chapter is going to have to be about: dreams; keeping them inspired and alive no matter who says it’s not practical (and that would include my own inner naysayer), keeping the dream growing, adapting, interacting, improving… I have a glimmer of a vision, but as soon as I look at some slick website for another arts center, or as soon as I realize that this might mean I never make it out of town for the next ten years (these are the last of my good years I fear!!) or as soon as I realize that I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING, well, then that kinda kills the buzz. So that’s when it’s time to bust out some tasty homemade Pad Thai for supper and then make a little music with kid.

Who, by the way, is kickin some ten year old butt on that big ol bass of his. We got to his lesson a little early today, and his teacher obliged him by giving him a longer lesson. Did they review the same-old same-old? Not so much. No, instead, my man Mr. F turned lil man onto a bit of walking bass stuff today. And even if it did finally end up in some out-of-the-blue mom and kid scene, tears, tantrum and all, at least for a good half hour we had a really sweet thing going. What he’d begun to learn in his lesson, we finished off at home. I gave him some more of that chromatic stuff he was searching for but couldn’t quite find… And when he got it – that had him just laughin and grinnin ear-to-ear. I remember how exciting is was to finally demystify that left hand walking stuff. So much fun to learn new tricks. The tears, it turned out, were not so much his frustration with my teaching as it was just his ‘turnaround burnout’. (Not the kind of turnaround that happens on a five chord.) Elihu was still in that midway-zone; having Daddy yesterday, having Mommy today, but never having the two together. Before long he was sobbing, his arms around me, face buried in my tummy. “It’s not fair” he said over and over. “I want my Daddy. But I want my Mommy too! I want them both at the same time!” All I could do was hold him and tell him I understood. Maybe the old man felt the tug of his son’s heartbreak all those hundreds of miles away, because the phone rang, and it was him. About to board a plane for Indonesia, but he had a moment. Thank God.

I turned to wash the dishes as I cursed the situation for the umpteenth time. Honestly, I was still pissed as his father for doing this to his son – at his choice to start two other families at the same time, to act without thinking any of it through. But then again, it was the consequences of those unplanned moves which then opened the way for us to live our life here. I very likely would not have been present for my father’s death had I been living in Illinois with two kids and a touring husband. And being with dad as he died – that was always on the short list of things I needed to experience. I did, and I am lucky. When I see my son’s heart so heavy, it makes me mad, but it’s tempered by realizing what we have right now – what we wouldn’t have had otherwise. As I finish up in the kitchen I hear Elihu laughing again from the other room. Think he’s over the twenty-four hour mommy/daddy hiccup. Think he’s settling back in again. Over the hump and back to the routine.

Think we can both settle in to our new grooves now. Lord knows I got a lot ahead, I gotta keep my thinking clear and my pace slow and steady. But man, so much unknown where I’m going. Hell, I guess there are a lot of unknowns in front of all of us. Best thing might just be to lay down a groove and keep on moving; everything around you might be going crazy, but you’ll be still be there, just layin it down, letting everybody know that the ship is doin just fine, and we’ll all arrive exactly when we’re supposed to. Both of us, my lil man and me, bass player and captain, it’s on us to bring the ship safely into port – and all in good time.

Snowy Valentine’s

Yes, today was another snow day here in the great Northeast (you won’t hear me arguing –  it’s always a treat to sleep in an extra hour). We are indeed beset with the stuff. I could hardly manage to shovel yet again, as I had to work to fling the snow high enough to get it out of the way. Worked up a healthy sweat, and felt good when I got back inside. It was nice to move my body a bit; Elihu and I had done hardly a thing all morning but sit on our butts, play video games and scoot around the internet following miscellaneous tangents and such. It was nice to have a day off, but after a while I felt it wise to use my day a bit more productively, so I washed the sheets (not something I do very often, I’ll admit, but later tonite we have guests arriving), vacuumed the place and did some other domestic chores. A satisfying mix of work and play.

Towards the end of the afternoon we migrated to the living room where we began to play a little music. Elihu had come up with a fun little funky, bluesy groove, and after that was played out we started a little old-fashioned jam. He gets the nuances of the different styles, and he has a great natural ability to cop a sound – but if left to his own he’d prefer simply to ‘oom-pah-pah’. The kid still loves polkas. Thought it might have been a phase, but it seems to be sticking around. That’s fine by me. You may not believe it, but there is some pretty amazing polka music out there – if you venture a bit beyond Myron Floren et al (and he’s fantastic, don’t get me wrong), there’s a whole world of charming and marvelous historic recordings to enjoy. I don’t care to be falsely modest here, I am proud of my kid’s ability to play, and happier still that it’s something we can do together.

My heart belongs to only one fellow – and how lucky I was to be able to spend the whole day with him. Tomorrow he goes to spend his winter break with his father. I’ll miss him, and I’ll remember this Valentine’s Day fondly.

IMG_0243A little music, some RC helicopter fun and tower-building. A perfect, easy-paced day.

Mingus Amongus

Friday’s greatest news: Elihu’s bass had arrived. First thing after school we visited our friends at Saratoga Guitar to pick her up. Elihu was beside himself. It was almost better that he had a pal with him for an after-school playdate, as his head might have exploded with excitement if he didn’t have the distraction. Here are some pics from our weekend, from bass to birds to a visit with some civil war cats in the park. We try to be laid-back and under-scheduled, but life just finds us and fills in the cracks.

Bass Sept 2013 222Here we are…

Bass Sept 2013 217Here it is…

Bass Sept 2013 221…and there he goes! Man, this thing really is big!

Bass Sept 2013 237First, a little keva plank tower building…The plan is to knock it down with an RC car. Always lots of fun. !!

Bass Sept 2013 262Play date’s over, and Elihu’s classmate has gone home now, so time to see what a bass really feels like…

Bass Sept 2013 265It’s gonna take some finger strength for sure…

Bass Sept 2013 286Elihu’s not a very big kid, but I think he’ll make it work.

Bass Sept 2013 276Elihu looked at this picture and told me his form was all off – that his right arm was wrong. I have no idea, but shortly will probably know much more about such things.

Bass Sept 2013 298Later that evening Elihu picked apples while I made the crust. We had to celebrate with more home-made apple pie!

The next day we happened upon a garage sale and immediately found this VHS tape…

mingus 002So how cool is this??? We ran home, put it in only to find the entire tape had been re-recorded over with old episodes of Friends. Seriously? Sheesh. So then we watched some performances of Mr. Mingus on YouTube instead. Good enough for now. More to come for sure.

Bass Sept 2013 343Some chicken smooching.

Bass Sept 2013 380A moment with Specks.

Bass Sept 2013 386So crazy cute. Or maybe just so crazy. !

Bass Sept 2013 392We get into the car to go and the girls all follow Elihu.

Bass Sept 2013 399At the Civil War encampment in Congress Park.

Bass Sept 2013 403Some hands-on training

Bass Sept 2013 406and ready!

Bass Sept 2013 411No foolin.

Bass Sept 2013 412A handsome young soldier.

Bass Sept 2013 419Note the bullet-embedded bone in foreground. Ouch.

Bass Sept 2013 424The super old-timey music. Can’t say I knew any of the tunes, nor found much of it that interesting. Am I a snob? Hope not.

Bass Sept 2013 425It was fun to see so many in character.

Bass Sept 2013 455In the end, Elihu’s most interested in the animals.

Bass Sept 2013 461At the fountain locals call “Spit and Spat”.

Bass Sept 2013 517Checking out one of many springs that put the “Springs” in “Saratoga”.

Bass Sept 2013 521As ‘real’ as Saratoga water gets.

Bass Sept 2013 550Not quite too old for one last ride on the carousel.

Bass Sept 2013 541Mama’s waving in the mirror

Bass Sept 2013 555Off to chase one final duck

Bass Sept 2013 545Nice to see some lasting summer color.

Bass Sept 2013 561To the last spring of the day. We try to be open-minded, and we realize that this stuff’s supposed to be really good for you, but still… This one tastes, well, er, uh, kind of….  Ok, how about we just let the Department of Public Works tell you:

“A highly carbonated water of an Alkaline-Saline flavor noted for its high mineral content, and renowned as a digestive curative…”

Bass Sept 2013 569

We tried, really we did.

This was a laid-back weekend, but Elihu was still pooped at its conclusion. Even with all the fun things that we end up doing, it’s still Elihu’s wish that we might have just one weekend with no plans at all. With nothing at all to see or do, no where to go. Is that even possible? We’ll just have to wait and see…