Friday, February 19, 2010

My Music

I grew up listening to an eclectic collection of music. In my house, you might hear opera one minute, then Johnny Cash playing loudly the next. My mother would play the piano while I was in bed trying to get to sleep. She played the same songs over and over. They became comforting and familiar.
When I was nine years old I was given my first clock radio for my birthday. It was amazing with a timer that let me listen to music as I drift to sleep, and it would turn off all on its own. I could listen to music of my choosing. I would watch the numbers flip as the minutes went by, trying to stay awake to hear that week's number one hit on the top 40 list. The glow from that radio's light was a beacon in my dark room that created an island refuge on my bed.

In high school I was given a large stereo. The speakers stood on the floor and reached almost to my hips. The sound was amazing! It beat the clock radio by a long shot. It also had a cassette player that could record songs from the radio. I made many personal cassettes by waiting for that perfect song to come on the radio then running over to push the record button on the stereo. It was tricky, because I needed to turn off the recording just at the last possible moment before the radio announcer came on and still get as much of the song as possible recorded. It was an incredible feeling being able to have the songs I loved, I needed, available to play on demand. I even tried to get creative and record songs in a certain order waiting for days to hear the right song play on the radio at the right time for my personal recordings.

Again at night, my dark room would have a faint glow from the stereo as I played music. Those huge speakers were turned towards each other with my head nestled in between them. I felt the music.

A few years ago I saw a commercial showing how someone could make their own music mix on a CD. Incredible. I felt hungry to make my own CD's. What incredible power. Oh the possibilities. I learned the art of downloading and pulling files, of mixing and burning.

Music holds power. It is my drug of choice. And now?
I have a wonderful little device that fits in my hand, earphones that surround me with beats, melodies, ethereal chords. I have found Hem, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, DeVotchka, Taken By Trees, Six Part Seven, and many others. I can drift to inner worlds, feel emotional boosts, soothe hurts, get energized, meditate, so many facets of my music. I am absolutely convinced the Ipod was created for me. It is the best music gift I have ever been given. Thank you, Mark.


Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Run for Congo Women

I have been looking for motivation to exercise my whole life. Actually, I am always running. I run to the store, to pick-up children, to meetings. But I have never been able to run for exercise. I have wanted motivation to become healthier, loose weight, pump energy into my tired body. Obviously the motivations haven't been there as I get a bowl of ice cream and sedate myself in front of another episode of Law and Order.

Then I my cousin posted a simple Youtube video on her blog.

We can never predict when something we see, hear, or experience is going to effect us in such a way that sparks a flame and then becomes life changing. We see and hear so much in our world. If there is an earthquake on the other side of the world from us, we have news reports immediately flooding into our homes. We are touched, move to action. We want to help. Sometimes the knowledge of the tragedy of another touches us to our core, and changes us forever.

Today I went to the gym. I weighed myself. Funny, I need to loose the exact number of pounds that I am old. I turn 44 in three days, you can figure out how much weight I should loose to be considered healthy. I chose a treadmill that faced a panoramic window looking out at the snow dusted mountains with the sunrise just coming over the crest. I had my motivating, move yourself music plugged into me ears. And I started to walk. Then I walked a little fasted. I actually jogged a few times in between my brisk walking pace. I looked out at those mountains and thought that miles beyond those peaks was Congo. I walked faster, jogged a little more frequently.

A beautiful thing happened today. I traveled a 5K distance on that treadmill this morning. I am running for Congo.

Sunday, November 15, 2009

A Woman Driver

I spend too much time in the driver’s seat of my car. I tried to calculate the exact amount of time I spend a week driving around town. I figure I am behind the steering wheel about 12 maybe 14 hours a week. The number may even be more than that. I know where the construction spots are and how to avoid them. I can tell you which roads to travel through town that have the slightly higher speed limits. The time it takes me to go between violin lessons and ballet is calculated out perfectly. I am on time to all of the various appointments on my schedule 99% of the time. Sometimes weather or traffic incidents crash the well oiled machine of my schedule. Oh, and I have no speeding tickets or traffic accidents on my record. Having spent a considerable amount of time on the road, I feel I can speak about driving with some expertise.

Four way stops seem to be a problem for some drivers. What exactly are the rules with four way stops when two or even three cars arrive at the stop at the same time? Heaven forbid if four cars get to the intersection all at once. I know the rule. So I will politely wait for the car to my right to go. Too many times the car to the right doesn’t seem to know the rule. The driver will hesitate at the stop, waiting for someone else to take the lead. I watch the confused even worried look on the driver’s face across from me. I can even imagine the thoughts going through his or her mind. “Did I get here first? Oh no, we got here at the same time! Now what do I do?” Not that I am an aggressive driver, but I do have a schedule, so if there is a moment of hesitation with the driver who should be taking the lead, I decided I get to go. Of course if there is a police officer at one of the stop signs, I will politely wait for it to pass first. Maybe stop sign confusion is why I am seeing more round-a-bouts in town. No stop sign, no confusion. Traffic moves along at a continuous flow.

I also think people have forgotten that they have a signal switch on the side of their steering wheel. There are good reasons to let the cars behind you know if you are turning or changing lanes and which direction you are changing in. We have GPS now that can tell us where to go and where we are. Maybe we need to have a nice motherly voice come on to remind us to signal when we turn the wheel a certain degree to the left or right….”Please signal now.”

Please don’t ride my bumper. I can’t talk about tail-gating drivers with patience. If the speed limit is 30, I will go 33. Riding on my back bumper will only make me go slower. I drive an oversize van. If a little car is driving too close behind me, I can’t see it in my mirrors. I guess I know how a semi truck driver must feel. Once a small car was driving way to close behind me, I started to slow down several miles an hour below the posted speed limit. Of course that only brought the car closer to my bumper. Finally I slammed on my brakes! Stop tailing me! In my state, the law says if you hit my bumper, it is your fault, period. I think the driver got the message. It followed me at a safer distance until I turned off the road.

The world seems to be in one big race. We all have places to be and things to do….Now. What would happen if everyone listened to relaxing music or funny stories while they drove? What would happen if we all enjoyed the drive just a little more?
I think I am pretty good driver, at least around town in my big, oversize van. I have a good record. I try to be courteous and conscientious. So don’t say women drivers are bad drivers.

Now for a confession. I went to quickly return some video rentals. I pulled into the parking lot and quickly ran into the store, dropped off the DVD’s. Before I could turn around I heard a slight crunch sound. I turned around and saw the van nose to nose with another car in the parking lot. I thought, “Shoot that car just hit me.” Then I realized the van wasn’t where I parked it. It was sitting in the middle of the parking lot no longer in a designated parking place. Damage was very minor, but I won’t tell you while in a hurry who forgot to take the vehicle out of drive and put it in park before running into the store.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Lost Sight

This morning I was ahead of schedule and ready to have a great day full of success and accomplishment. Then I dropped my contact when it was almost in my eye. The world came to a complete stand still.

I have had contacts for decades, since I was 10 years old. I have occasionally lost a lens. Every time I lose one I feel this sense of time suspension. I can't seem to progress in my day or my life for that matter if I can't see. I have also had many ,what I call, minor miracles in my life from finding a lost contact lens in impossible places. Seeing is very important to me. If I wake up and fix breakfast without my contacts or glasses I don't have clear memories of the morning's events. My sight abilities help create my memories and the permanent pictures in my head.

I wish I had a second set of lenses that could help me see the truth of all things. Sometimes I just can't figure out why people do dumb things. Are they just dumb people? Wish I could see the motivations behind the actions. If I could know, I could understand and that would effect my reactions or actions. I would like to have another set of lenses that would give me a view of the future. But maybe a clear and impartial view of the past could be just as helpful. Maybe if we all saw things a little less clouded by the lenses of our opinions and prejudices we could be more tolerant or forgiving or loving.

"I see," she said with a contemplative nod of her head.

So this morning everyone in the house is gone but me, one of my contacts is missing. I am standing in the bathroom trying to decide if I should move or stand perfectly still. Finally, I carefully started checking around me, taking the curve of pipe off the sink, searching the sink, counter top, and floor around me. I decided I needed a flashlight to see better. There I was holding my flashlight crawling around the bathroom floor in my underwear looking for my lost contact. I really needed to see.

I found it.

-whew-

Monday, November 9, 2009

The Beginning....or the middle

How can I tell if I am young or old? To my children I am old. These cute kids were discussing how old their parents are, and one of the younger ones insisted I was at least 90. So to them, I am old. When I talk to my grandmother, who is 87, she will tell me I don't know what being old means. And if I think my body feels stiff and tired now, just wait a few more decades and I will really know what being old feels like. She would say she is old, and I am not old, yet. I am past the age my mother was when I got married. I thought of her as getting up there in age. I was getting married so that would make her practically a grandmother. Isn't that old?

Here's the thing...In my head I swear I am just 18. I can feel insecure, unsure, and unprepared. I don't have all the answers. I can't fix everything. I am still so young and have so much to learn. Can I please look to someone older and feel the reassurance that everything will be fine? I want to still be pretty and energetic. And I love feeling in love. I want to have all the possibilities that life can offer me just ahead and around the corner. And I want to be able to do or be anything I want, because I am young and invincible. Oh the power of youth!

Then I check the reality of the time line. I am in the middle. I look back and wonder about the "could have beens" and the "what has beens". I look forward and realize that the middle is just that...the middle not the end! I may not have world recognized accomplishments, but have lived, breathed air, birthed children, acted respectably, managed a home, and most of all kept from drowning in all that life washes over me. I am alive and well. And I get to decide that the middle is a good place to be, looking backwards and forwards with the maturity of a little life lived and also still remembering the passion of youth. I can take a deep breath and keep living.

Well, short skirts are out thanks to varicose veins. I think 10 pm is the new midnight. But I can still keep up with the best of you. I can text and twitter and lol at your jokes. Life is good at any age.