Chris had his right knee operated on today and is all bandaged up. My left arm in still in a sling. We're both enjoying the healing effects of Vicodin.
A friend suggested we'd be perfect as cameos of the walking wounded for a Civil War epic....so if they're filming one in your neck of the woods, let us know. We're ready.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Songwriters' Circle at Sparky's Last Night
We missed last month and it was so nice to be back. There were Syracuse University students attending this session; they behaved and even seemed duly impressed when their professor blew the room away with his tune. They were right to be impressed.
The group is getting tighter, more trusting of one another, quicker to find the laughter, less awkward. I'm enjoying the discussions about the process that are popping up: does one write for the audience or the songwriter; does the melody drive the words or vice versa; abstract concepts versus the virtual; show versus tell. These are issues my writing group wrestles with all the time. I sometimes wish more time could be spent on exploring those themes in this arena, although only because it furthers my goals.
The critique can be intense. I wish people would listen, take a deep breath, remember the reason they are there. If they want warm and fuzzy, "that's wonderful".....this probably isn't the group for them. As a former human resources director, I often had to be the one to pass on information to people who thought they were doing a great job when they weren't. It was often tough. Someone once told me, "I take constructive criticism very well the second day." I wish some of these songwriters would think about that......and think about some of the things that are suggested to them at the songwriters circle...on the second day....when it's sunk in.....when it might make some sense. Because, Dana is sometimes right on the money, folks.
Lots of surprises were to be found last evening:
... A timid song by a newcomer that held greatness in its core: It didn't necessarily need the Simon and Garfunkel references to make it strong, though they were lovely.
... A contribution by one of the students: I didn't get the lyrics so I can't do it justice here this afternoon. What I remember is that a word he used -- microcosmic, I think -- immediately brought me out of the song and made me think about it so I lost the rest of the song. That was too bad. I hate when that happens.
...The professor's "Stop, Drop and Roll" song that caused WAY too much conversation about what was happening or going to happen. I felt it was pretty clear, had a rousing guitar melody and it might only be made better by being a little shorter of a song. It was romping and clever and just plain fun to listen to. I'm still humming it today.
...A "cute" song about what pops up at a 7-11: It's on its way to telling a story. I hope the writer keeps working at it. I agreed with the suggestion of working on the internal rhymes, knowing all too well how much work that is....but the song concept seems worth it.
...A rambling tune about an abandoned pond with so much promise you can see those old waters sparkling. I truly hope this songwriter pulls away the weeds here to let the real story shine through.
...An amazing song written just that morning in a kitchen about the battle between the sexes that said a bunch and can say even more once she figures out who the enemy is....harder said than done, but I'm sure she'll get there.
...A delightful, luring melody (I'm getting used to that from this gal) about kisses in a lifetime, with thoughtful lyrics that just need a little more polish. I'm struggling with the concept of a full heart "shining"...I think she could find a better word, although it fills her rhyme.
And then my favorites. I had three "wows" last night. I simply couldn't pin it down to only one.
"Wonder"......After hearing some of the comments, I felt as though I might have been one of the only ones who got it. The writer had revised it from last month and I was sorry to have missed the first version, but this song spoke to my poet's ear and my woman's heart, loud and clear, "I've been there."
"Unknown Waters"....A man, his guitar, nature and the calling of the muse, all blended with a haunting melody. Just a word here or there I might have tweaked.....the word "glimpse" kept taking me off track.....the rest, soothing yet unsettling at the same time, exactly how the creative process is for so many of us.
And, last, but certainly not least, "Let Me Go". I spent ten years working for ARC in Cortland County and ran my own business, Incredible Journeys, taking adults with developmental disabilities on vacations. So I would be the very FIRST person to jump up and down if I felt it was politically incorrect in any way to start off a song about someone with Downs Syndrome with the lyric "Why am I slow?" This song is lean, crisp, to the point, and poignant. Of course, I may be somewhat biased towards this writer's work (it's Mark Zane....check back on past posts, I've reviewed a couple of his shows) but he has an uncanny way of cutting to the chase and showing you what's what. I've said it before: he nails it
Thanks, Sparky, for your hospitality. Thanks, Dana, and all the songwriters for allowing Chris and I to observe. It's always so difficult for us to get to sleep after watching such talent and creativity. See you next month!
The group is getting tighter, more trusting of one another, quicker to find the laughter, less awkward. I'm enjoying the discussions about the process that are popping up: does one write for the audience or the songwriter; does the melody drive the words or vice versa; abstract concepts versus the virtual; show versus tell. These are issues my writing group wrestles with all the time. I sometimes wish more time could be spent on exploring those themes in this arena, although only because it furthers my goals.
The critique can be intense. I wish people would listen, take a deep breath, remember the reason they are there. If they want warm and fuzzy, "that's wonderful".....this probably isn't the group for them. As a former human resources director, I often had to be the one to pass on information to people who thought they were doing a great job when they weren't. It was often tough. Someone once told me, "I take constructive criticism very well the second day." I wish some of these songwriters would think about that......and think about some of the things that are suggested to them at the songwriters circle...on the second day....when it's sunk in.....when it might make some sense. Because, Dana is sometimes right on the money, folks.
Lots of surprises were to be found last evening:
... A timid song by a newcomer that held greatness in its core: It didn't necessarily need the Simon and Garfunkel references to make it strong, though they were lovely.
... A contribution by one of the students: I didn't get the lyrics so I can't do it justice here this afternoon. What I remember is that a word he used -- microcosmic, I think -- immediately brought me out of the song and made me think about it so I lost the rest of the song. That was too bad. I hate when that happens.
...The professor's "Stop, Drop and Roll" song that caused WAY too much conversation about what was happening or going to happen. I felt it was pretty clear, had a rousing guitar melody and it might only be made better by being a little shorter of a song. It was romping and clever and just plain fun to listen to. I'm still humming it today.
...A "cute" song about what pops up at a 7-11: It's on its way to telling a story. I hope the writer keeps working at it. I agreed with the suggestion of working on the internal rhymes, knowing all too well how much work that is....but the song concept seems worth it.
...A rambling tune about an abandoned pond with so much promise you can see those old waters sparkling. I truly hope this songwriter pulls away the weeds here to let the real story shine through.
...An amazing song written just that morning in a kitchen about the battle between the sexes that said a bunch and can say even more once she figures out who the enemy is....harder said than done, but I'm sure she'll get there.
...A delightful, luring melody (I'm getting used to that from this gal) about kisses in a lifetime, with thoughtful lyrics that just need a little more polish. I'm struggling with the concept of a full heart "shining"...I think she could find a better word, although it fills her rhyme.
And then my favorites. I had three "wows" last night. I simply couldn't pin it down to only one.
"Wonder"......After hearing some of the comments, I felt as though I might have been one of the only ones who got it. The writer had revised it from last month and I was sorry to have missed the first version, but this song spoke to my poet's ear and my woman's heart, loud and clear, "I've been there."
"Unknown Waters"....A man, his guitar, nature and the calling of the muse, all blended with a haunting melody. Just a word here or there I might have tweaked.....the word "glimpse" kept taking me off track.....the rest, soothing yet unsettling at the same time, exactly how the creative process is for so many of us.
And, last, but certainly not least, "Let Me Go". I spent ten years working for ARC in Cortland County and ran my own business, Incredible Journeys, taking adults with developmental disabilities on vacations. So I would be the very FIRST person to jump up and down if I felt it was politically incorrect in any way to start off a song about someone with Downs Syndrome with the lyric "Why am I slow?" This song is lean, crisp, to the point, and poignant. Of course, I may be somewhat biased towards this writer's work (it's Mark Zane....check back on past posts, I've reviewed a couple of his shows) but he has an uncanny way of cutting to the chase and showing you what's what. I've said it before: he nails it
Thanks, Sparky, for your hospitality. Thanks, Dana, and all the songwriters for allowing Chris and I to observe. It's always so difficult for us to get to sleep after watching such talent and creativity. See you next month!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Quote of the Day
"I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes. I am out of control, and at times, hard to handle, but if you can't handle me at my worse, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." Marilyn Monroe.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Mystery Woman
My friend Mary Ellen took this photo of on a recent trip to Turkey. I wish I had a chance to sit and talk with this woman. I wonder what she's thinking about, what worries her, did she make the beautiful cloth of her dress?
Thursday, February 26, 2009
"Spring Will Be A Little Late This Year"
My poet friend Mary Ellen and I lunched yesterday and she was singing this old song to me....it's supposed to be about losing an old love. But I take the lyric very to heart literally. I had told another friend just a day or so ago that I'd climb up on the roof and jump off except the snowbanks are still too high so it wouldn't do any good.
I hate snow. I hate winter. And this has been a bad one, not just in actually weathering the nasty weather but battling everything else that has been tossed in with the blizzards and frigid temperatures. All around me people I love seem to have lives collapsing -- for no reasons you can point a finger to really -- and I feel their pain. And I've had my own pain to try to deal with. I've not been successful with that. Every time I use my left arm it's as if razor blades are slicing me open.....so I've basically stopped knitting or typing. In other words, stopped doing anything.
The good news is my husband still loves me, after somehow putting up with all the ups and downs of dealing with someone battling with constant pain and the ups and downs of pain medications.
For too many years I worked in the bowels of the health care industry and my trust in that industry is weak at best. However, now, after three months of finding out what is NOT wrong with my arm, I'm going to try another round of docs who might be able to find out what is wrong. It will turn out to be something very simple; it usually is. And then maybe I can return to writing and knitting again. And maybe spring will come.
I hate snow. I hate winter. And this has been a bad one, not just in actually weathering the nasty weather but battling everything else that has been tossed in with the blizzards and frigid temperatures. All around me people I love seem to have lives collapsing -- for no reasons you can point a finger to really -- and I feel their pain. And I've had my own pain to try to deal with. I've not been successful with that. Every time I use my left arm it's as if razor blades are slicing me open.....so I've basically stopped knitting or typing. In other words, stopped doing anything.
The good news is my husband still loves me, after somehow putting up with all the ups and downs of dealing with someone battling with constant pain and the ups and downs of pain medications.
For too many years I worked in the bowels of the health care industry and my trust in that industry is weak at best. However, now, after three months of finding out what is NOT wrong with my arm, I'm going to try another round of docs who might be able to find out what is wrong. It will turn out to be something very simple; it usually is. And then maybe I can return to writing and knitting again. And maybe spring will come.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Flexing My "Mother" Muscles
Sunday morning, very early, I got the kind of text message no mother ever wants to get from one of her children: I want to end my life; I need help.
I was asleep when the text message came and I was either walking the dog or had the stereo too loud to hear the next three phone calls that followed. When I finally did pick up the phone, in a good mood because Chris and I had fixed up a little tray of snacks for us to enjoy while watching the Daytona 500 later that afternoon, and heard just that one word -- "Mom?" -- in a tone of voice I'd never heard coming from my adult son before, my stomach contracted. I immediately had to sit down. I was certain he'd murdered someone.
In a matter of minutes we were in the car and on our way south to pick him up and bring him back here. I had made a couple of phone calls about facilities he might check into in the Syracuse area, on the ride down, not really knowing what to do, flying by the seat of my pants. The ride from Syracuse to Binghamton takes a good hour. About half way there, I received a phone call from the former girlfriend asking if we were really on our way, were we really getting a UHaul and picking up his things or was this just a ploy to get her to see him again? It was all news to me, but a phone call later, yes, this was his plan. She had been doing that horrible "I don't know if I want you now that you're finally out of jail or my new guy" dance and my son, quite frankly, didn't feel he needed to wait to get his life together much longer. He'd already wasted four months being in jail for no fault of his own.....if she couldn't wait for him after being with him for five years, didn't that tell him where her heart was, after all?
We moved him out, he kept his cool. I was never more proud of him than I was on sunday for the way he handled it. Chris and I were of very little help....me with my arm still hurting from recent surgery and Chris's knee smarting (his surgery is next week). But we provided just enough moral support for the son to take the first step he needed to get the pieces of his life rearranged.
We stored his furniture (she had moved out of the apartment they had shared and into a new one, but had not given my son or anyone else the new address --- yet she'd felt free to be using all of the furniture his grandmother had given them....jeesh) in a friend's garage in Binghamton for him to use when he finds a new place and then brought him back up here with us. He's slept a ton, raided the refrigerator and romped around with Rupert. Rupert -- who has an incredible instinct to simply know and latch on to someone who isn't feeling well or in a crisis mode -- didn't leave his side, cuddling with him on the couch or bringing him toys to play with.
And we saw the son smiling again. He's staying with some friends in the town he grew up in. An old girlfriend took him out on the town last night. He's healing. We're breathing again....all except Rupert, who sits by the back door waiting for him to come back. He'll be heading back to Binghamton to start over soon.
As I said to my friend Denise, I found it difficult to remember how to be a mother through all this. It's been a long time since I've had a kid around. I wanted to just pull him into my lap and hug him, but that would have been a ridiculous sight now that he's six foot tall. I hope we did the right thing.
I was asleep when the text message came and I was either walking the dog or had the stereo too loud to hear the next three phone calls that followed. When I finally did pick up the phone, in a good mood because Chris and I had fixed up a little tray of snacks for us to enjoy while watching the Daytona 500 later that afternoon, and heard just that one word -- "Mom?" -- in a tone of voice I'd never heard coming from my adult son before, my stomach contracted. I immediately had to sit down. I was certain he'd murdered someone.
In a matter of minutes we were in the car and on our way south to pick him up and bring him back here. I had made a couple of phone calls about facilities he might check into in the Syracuse area, on the ride down, not really knowing what to do, flying by the seat of my pants. The ride from Syracuse to Binghamton takes a good hour. About half way there, I received a phone call from the former girlfriend asking if we were really on our way, were we really getting a UHaul and picking up his things or was this just a ploy to get her to see him again? It was all news to me, but a phone call later, yes, this was his plan. She had been doing that horrible "I don't know if I want you now that you're finally out of jail or my new guy" dance and my son, quite frankly, didn't feel he needed to wait to get his life together much longer. He'd already wasted four months being in jail for no fault of his own.....if she couldn't wait for him after being with him for five years, didn't that tell him where her heart was, after all?
We moved him out, he kept his cool. I was never more proud of him than I was on sunday for the way he handled it. Chris and I were of very little help....me with my arm still hurting from recent surgery and Chris's knee smarting (his surgery is next week). But we provided just enough moral support for the son to take the first step he needed to get the pieces of his life rearranged.
We stored his furniture (she had moved out of the apartment they had shared and into a new one, but had not given my son or anyone else the new address --- yet she'd felt free to be using all of the furniture his grandmother had given them....jeesh) in a friend's garage in Binghamton for him to use when he finds a new place and then brought him back up here with us. He's slept a ton, raided the refrigerator and romped around with Rupert. Rupert -- who has an incredible instinct to simply know and latch on to someone who isn't feeling well or in a crisis mode -- didn't leave his side, cuddling with him on the couch or bringing him toys to play with.
And we saw the son smiling again. He's staying with some friends in the town he grew up in. An old girlfriend took him out on the town last night. He's healing. We're breathing again....all except Rupert, who sits by the back door waiting for him to come back. He'll be heading back to Binghamton to start over soon.
As I said to my friend Denise, I found it difficult to remember how to be a mother through all this. It's been a long time since I've had a kid around. I wanted to just pull him into my lap and hug him, but that would have been a ridiculous sight now that he's six foot tall. I hope we did the right thing.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Uncle Dick's Card
My Uncle Dick was my father's best friend. Dick wasn't Dad's brother. Dick was married to the sister of my mother. And even after my father and mother divorced after only eighteen years of marriage, Dick and my father remained close friends. My mother's sister was my Aunt Gretchen. I've talked about her in this blog before....you all know how much she meant to me. When I spend time with my Uncle Dick, it always reminds me of how much I miss both Aunt Gretchen and my father, two of the most important people in my life, truly the two people who raised me.
Last weekend was my wedding anniversary and Uncle Dick joined us at a concert and gave me an anniversary card he had picked out. We only received two other cards, one from my mother-in-law and another from the dealer we buy our cars from who never forgets an opportunity to send a card with his business card enclosed. We always used to get cards from Aunt Gretchen, too.
This card from Uncle Dick is special because he picked it out himself, and he seemed so proud to have done so. But also because of what it says. My aunt and uncle had one of the most successful marriages I've ever had the privilege to witness. They were truly a role model for me. After my first marriage failed, I made a promise to myself that I'd not make that mistake again unless I could find a true partner, could make it work like Gretchen and Dick had. And I got lucky. Uncle Dick's card made me realize it even more, because I know he may have read through several before finding the "right" one......and it made me feel as if I was getting an "A" on a report card.
Here's what the verse said:
Happy Anniversary to a Great Couple
Taking time to understand, a tender touch, a helping hand
A lot of trust, some lucky breaks, overlooking small mistakes,
Smiling at each little quirk, sharing dreams and schemes and work,
A special marriage takes a lot, but you should know, it's what you've got.
It still makes me cry to read it. Not only is it special because it came from Uncle Dick, but because I know that if he feels that way, my father and Aunt Gretchen would have, too. Thanks, Uncle Dick. It means so much.
Last weekend was my wedding anniversary and Uncle Dick joined us at a concert and gave me an anniversary card he had picked out. We only received two other cards, one from my mother-in-law and another from the dealer we buy our cars from who never forgets an opportunity to send a card with his business card enclosed. We always used to get cards from Aunt Gretchen, too.
This card from Uncle Dick is special because he picked it out himself, and he seemed so proud to have done so. But also because of what it says. My aunt and uncle had one of the most successful marriages I've ever had the privilege to witness. They were truly a role model for me. After my first marriage failed, I made a promise to myself that I'd not make that mistake again unless I could find a true partner, could make it work like Gretchen and Dick had. And I got lucky. Uncle Dick's card made me realize it even more, because I know he may have read through several before finding the "right" one......and it made me feel as if I was getting an "A" on a report card.
Here's what the verse said:
Happy Anniversary to a Great Couple
Taking time to understand, a tender touch, a helping hand
A lot of trust, some lucky breaks, overlooking small mistakes,
Smiling at each little quirk, sharing dreams and schemes and work,
A special marriage takes a lot, but you should know, it's what you've got.
It still makes me cry to read it. Not only is it special because it came from Uncle Dick, but because I know that if he feels that way, my father and Aunt Gretchen would have, too. Thanks, Uncle Dick. It means so much.
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