Friday Night at the Blue Frog

As a surprise for our wedding anniversary, Mark Zane graciously agreed to add a song to his show at the Blue Frog in Cortland on Friday night. He sang "In My Life", the song my brother Alan played when Chris and I were married. I was honored that he did this for us. I had expected that song to be the highlight of the evening for me. We've seen Mark perform live and on tape now, and I've listened to his CD almost every day for a couple of months now. You'd think the music would get too familiar after awhile....that doesn't seem to be the case.

His songs become "friends". I missed not hearing him perform "Ruby" at this show. And was delighted to hear my favorite tune from his "American Hunger" CD, the song "Casualty Officer" about the man with the job of coming to your door to inform you of the death of your child serving in the military. As I've said before, Mark's lyrics haunt you. In this song he forces you to consider multiple definitions for causalities of war.

His cover songs at this show included some Neil Young, Townes VanZandt, a couple of very well done Dylan songs and Cohen's "Hallelujah" again. I enjoyed watching my brother, a musician himself, delight in Mark's music, and had to laugh when my cousin whispered in my ear that she'd like to take him home and cook him a good meal, which is similar to foreplay in our family.

The surprise of the evening came for me with an original song I had not heard before that has stayed in my head. I've hummed it all weekend....on Saturday night as we sat through a dinner theatre of Joey and Maria's Italian Wedding and all day Sunday as we drove out of town to help the son in crisis-mode (at least he's out of jail) , a day that ended with renting a U-Haul, loading up his furniture, and....yeah, he's on the couch downstairs.... but more about that another post.

That song, "Is There A Banjo in the House?" is about those times when your muse arrives and you're doing something else. One verse is about trick or treating with the kids and asking someone "is there a piano in the house?" I often have this issue myself......how lucky I am to only need a scrap of paper to write down a few words......musicians need paper and something to pluck out the melody that's running through their head. I hope to hear that song again soon.

Thanks, Mark, for another great performance.

Lucky Thirteen

Her husband introduced me to others attending their wedding as her "best" friend. I hadn't really had a "best" friend since Linda Mason.....that ended badly when we both dated the same boy. I had believed Linda when she said she wasn't in "love" with him anymore and didn't understand why she "hated my guts" when I went "out" with him....I think we were twelve at the time. I swore off being best friends with anyone else ever again ever. Just like I swore I'd never get married again.......

However....thirteen years ago today, as I was interviewing volunteers at the job I held then, I first met Denise. A glorious friendship grew that I know I could not have lived without. I treasure it every day. It doesn't matter whether Denise is my "best" friend or I am hers. It only matters that we are friends and that we remain friends. No matter how many miles separate us, no matter what paths our lives take. No matter what.

The journey of our friendship has helped us survive the deaths of our mothers, divorces, and the turbulence of raising independent children. We've shared the celebration of welcoming grandchildren and new husbands into our lives. We delighted in and agonized over our addiction to words. Spoken and unspoken. We "get" each other, and that's not an easy task.

I'm grateful that she left her house on a cold Syracuse morning thirteen years ago and that I was well enough to go to work that day so our journey could begin. And I'll see her again in 103 days...

February...such a long winter month here is snowy Syracuse...holds warmth for me: the anniversary of my friendship with Denise and tomorrow is my wedding anniversary (more about that in a future post)

Thanks, Denise, for always being there for me. Always. Happy Friday the 13th.

She is priceless

"Women Only"

Those were the last words in an invitation extended to me to read one of my short stories at an event at a neighborhood restaurant scheduled later this month. And because I've been saying "principles must count for something" a lot in conversation lately, I feel I must walk that talk. I will decline the invitation to read at this "women only" event.

Not because I don't love women and the amazing energy generated when they gather together, because I certainly have enjoyed such company many times. But it seems unfair to me. I would not be attending if the invitation had said "skinny people only" or "Jews only" or "midgets who left home at twelve to join the circus only".

I've decided not to do anything that excludes others.......even (gasp) Republicans. I believe it's the only way we can heal. We need to stop concentrating on our differences and celebrate all we have in common. That can't be done by holding events that focus on "only" anybody. What's that Abe Lincoln quote? "United we stand, divided we fall." Maybe we should take that to heart. I'll read my story another time, when they have an event open to one and all.

A Day Off

Today is my day "off".....first one I've had in longer than I can remember. Hubby is out of town on business and Rupert the Wonder Dog in at the vet's for the day. I have the whole place to myself. I won't have to leave the laptop to make lunch or get a wet nose on my arm when someone has to pee (just to make that clear, hubby comes home for lunch and Rupert's the one with the wet nose...)

I love them both madly, beyond reason, and even though they have both been gone about fifteen minutes, I miss them already. But I need this day. My lump was removed on Wednesday and I have stitches that are healing...but much less pain than I was handling, thankfully.

My novel -- done but in desperate need of editing -- has been calling to me. And today I can give it all the attention it needs without having to feel even a second's worth of guilt. That's how I'm spending my day "off".....can't wait. Ta Ta!

Handicapped

That's me.

I understand how folks become addicted to pain medication. Putting a shirt on, pulling the cover up, pouring myself a cup of tea...all of these every day movements we take for granted send blasts of searing hot pain up my arm. It's worse if I indulge myself in typing or knitting.

And I haven't fought in a war. I mourn even more for the children we send into deserts for no good reason who return to us maimed and must deal with so much more than this pain I am experiencing. I cry for them.

The Music Room

This is one end of our Music Room. When I use the downstairs laptop, this is my view as I type. I have a wide choice of music to enjoy. AND...hubby's working on hooking up some new software that will allow me to burn CDs from all those songs on the LPs I still love to play....I cannot wait to begin that project!

Birthday Tattoos

My favorite cousin, Pam, and her son, Corey, have birthdays in January. She's about ten years younger than me. Her adorable son turned 22....egads, we're getting old! This year they decided to get mother and son tattoos. If you knew them, you'd know this is perfectly normal for them.

Pam is the oldest daughter of my Aunt Gretchen who passed away this past September. Corey was Gretchen's first grandchild. His first word was "Mas" ...it's what he called his grandma until the day she died. And that's what Pam and Corey chose to have tattooed on their wrists for their birthday tattoos.

They had it done yesterday. Pam sent me this picture with a text that said "hardly felt it being done". It made me smile. And I know Aunt Gretchen would have laughed out loud. Probably after she gave them a scolding....but she'd be smiling ear to ear.

Good job, dudes.