Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.

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A little right music

Music fixes fragmented lives.

Music fixes fragmented lives.


I admit the past few months have been stressful and for lots of reasons. Campaigns and elections, elderly aunt and nursing homes, rotator cuff impingement and physical therapy. What’s missing?

Music! Music is what’s missing!

Our community band preformed the Christmas concert way back at the beginning of December, and then we were off until the kids at our local school district went back to school after the holidays. This year that wasn’t until January 9th, and the first Tuesday after that the schools were closed due to weather. So no rehearsal. And the Tuesday after that it snowed again, the schools closed again, and so again we didn’t rehearse.

To be honest, while I was dealing with everything else I was secretly glad we weren’t in rehearsal. What I didn’t realize was that I was missing those weekly infusions of music. I’d forgotten how music fixes things.

So this week we went back to work, a little worried about the extended delay in starting, a little worried about a concert approaching faster than we had planned. And guess what? We sounded pretty darn good. Sure there’s lots to work on, but still, the sound was big and round and full. People were smiling.

I have a feeling I wasn’t the only one glad to be playing with the group again. One of the pieces we’re working on is Undertow by John Mackey. If you’d like to smile a bit too, take a 5 minute break from your stressful life and take a listen to a band in Texas doing justice to the piece.

And then maybe let some other music help ease your personal angst. Check out your local high school; odds are there’s a concert scheduled near you. The young people there love to play or sing to a full house, so stop by and support them and you’ll feel some stress slide away.

Guaranteed.

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Respect

Life in the woods goes on undeterred by politics.

Life in the woods goes on undeterred by politics.


Four years ago, or was it eight, I had lunch with a good friend. We’ve known each other for more than 40 years, adventured together decades ago, worked together, grieved together, laughed a lot. That kind of friend. But at that lunch we learned our politics were light years apart. I was surprised. So was she. By the end of lunch we had silently agreed to leave the politics out of our friendship, and it’s never come up again.

My philosophy, which I voiced then, was that you didn’t have to like the person, but you had to respect the office.

I had lots to reflect on.

There’s a lot to reflect on.

Yesterday the United States peacefully transferred power and, though I still believe in respecting the office, I’m having a hard time this time. I needed to settle, so instead of watching the inauguration I left home for the day and went to a place where I’ve always found peace.

Kensington Metro Park.

The world feels colorless.

The world feels colorless.

It was a dreary, soggy, grey day and few people were braving the raindrops and cold. I should have worn warmer and dryer shoes. And a hat. Still, the birds, always eager to great me, made me smile.

Thanks for coming by lady!

Thanks for coming by lady!

And there was color to be found if you looked for it.

Love the blues and greens.

Blue and green living together in harmony.

Even when the fog began to drift in and the cold made it’s way into my bones I didn’t leave. So much on my mind, I debated both sides of the argument I’ve watched unfold in the news and in my friends.

Only time will tell.

Only time will tell.

Can a man who has spoken such vile things, a man who apologizes for none of it, a man who essentially uses his wealth and celebrity to bully, can such a man lead the free world? Can he be my president?

Can't we learn to get along?

Can’t we learn to get along?

You don’t have to like the person, but you have to respect the office. Somehow that’s harder to do when your candidate didn’t win. I’m reminded by my more conservative friends that they quietly accepted a candidate they didn’t support for the past eight years.

Can I trust you lady?

Can I trust you lady?

Still…this president scares me.

On the other hand….respect the office.

I am more liberal than many of my friends and family, more conservative than others. Yet we all care about each other and I hope that will continue far into the future, beyond the term(s) of this president, beyond the terms of presidents to come.

Looking for a treat.

Looking for some resolution.

Today I will respect the office, but am mindful that there must be accountability. It’s early yet, but I reserve my right to respectfully, peacefully but loudly protest any actions that take away benefits and rights from members of my family, my friends, and even strangers that deserve the same respect I give the office.

I’ll respect the office Mr. President. But I think we all expect some respect in return.

Change is hard.

Thanks lady!

Thanks lady!


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Early morning grocery musings

imported-photos-00000When you use the last bit of milk on your cereal as your spouse is still asleep you realize you’ve put off grocery shopping one day too long. Glancing around the kitchen you recognize you’re out of a lot of staples. Plus you have no idea what you’re going to make for dinner. Though if you got really creative you could probably put together a meal out of whatever is left in the back of the pantry.

Maybe best not to go there.

So you gather your gloves and dog hair encrusted coat, shove your bare feet into worn running shoes and head out over icy rutted dirt roads in search of food and inspiration. You haven’t showered and you’re still wearing the shirt you slept in. But you figure you won’t see anyone you know and even if you did what does it matter really?

At the store you peruse the produce and note that wherever you move there is a woman choosing much the same stuff. Checking out the bananas, picking the perfect tomato. Potatoes. You wait patiently, pretending to inspect the pears while she checks out all the bags of potatoes. It’s a potato. Choose one. But she lingers over her decision.

Though you might have the same eating habits, she and you are nothing alike.

Her hair is clean and bouncy and shiny, cut in a perfect bob. You haven’t looked at yours yet this morning but it definitely isn’t clean. She has managed to wriggle her tiny little behind into her skinny jeans. You’re wearing the same sweats you slept in. She’s pushing a huge designer bag in the front seat of her cart. You aren’t.

She’s perky. You appear to have left your perk at home. Under a pile of laundry in the deep reaches of an overwhelmed laundry room.

You begin to feel bad about yourself only when you realize a purple doggie poop bag (thankfully empty) is trailing out of your right pocket. You check your left pocket and are relieved to find that the cough drops are safely pushed down to the bottom, unlikely to make an appearance unless you pull your keys out from among the used tissues.

You and she move to the dried bean aisle. She makes several selections. You head in the other direction and skip an aisle just to avoid her. As you gather the rest of your necessities you only run into her on occasion, she smiling cheerily, sipping her designer coffee, you mumbling under your breath like the bag lady you obviously are.

As you approach the lone open register, grateful to have this task finished, not even looking at your list because you don’t want to know what you forgot in your rush to get out of the store, you almost crash into another frazzled middle-aged shopper with one of those small carts carrying only a few items.

You take a moment and breath, then smile and nod at her to go ahead. She smiles back and life shifts to normal. So we’re not perky and put together. So what. Everybody got their shopping out of the way before most of the world was awake.

And that makes us all winners.

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Nothing sneaks up on us!

It's raining mama!

It’s raining mama!

It’s raining here in Michigan. In January. Complete with thunder and lightening, which is kind of different for around here in mid-winter. But we have nothing to worry about, no storm arrives that we haven’t been warned.

Loudly and often.

Yes indeed, we have a Storm Sheltie, and she barks to announce rain on the roof no matter the season. I wouldn’t want to be caught in a storm without one.

Good job Katie-girl.


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Doing the best we can

I’ve alluded to stressful times around here recently. We’ve had lots of unexpected and unplanned things to deal with lately. I guess I shouldn’t have expected that retirement would be all golden beaches, blue skies and fruity drinks.

This morning I left early, heading over to my physical therapy appointment a couple of towns to the west. The sky was pretty, big clouds with purple bottoms piling up. I wished I was out with the camera instead of going to PT.

Once that appointment was over, my shoulder iced (which is the best part of my day) I head over to my gym, a couple of towns to the east, intent on getting some cardio in. The sky is filled with more beautiful clouds. I consider heading home for my camera, skipping the gym and the visit to the nursing home.

I debate doing something I want to do v.s. doing the thing I should do.

At the gym I walk three minutes, run one minute, repeat about 11 times on one of the treadmills. It’s an attempt to get back to running after many years of slothful living. But one minute is about all I can run without my heart rate soaring above it’s max rate. Still, I’m pleased I stuck to the plan.

Sweaty I headed to the locker room and dress in layers to head back outside into the 10 degree day. The blast of cold air actually feels good pulling at my sweat soaked hair. It’s afternoon now and I’m hungry. I could stop by MacDonalds….but I only spent 340 calories in my three mile walk/run, and I could waste that in an instant if I’m not careful.

I buy a cup of chicken noodle soup (130 calories) there, and sip it in the parking lot of the nursing home. I burn my tongue, as I always do when I’m trying to hurry.

Inside I visit with Aunt Vi who at 101 is not happy to have given up her own home. She says she’s doing worse today than yesterday, but to me she seems pretty good, though confused about tests she’s having done. More family members arrive, and we spend a bit of time talking, even laughing, but receive no explanation to the pain she’s experiencing.

It’s frustrating.

Glancing at my watch I realize time has flown and I must fly too in order to get dinner into the oven at home. As I prepare the meal I update the husband on the aunt’s status. It’s so hard to know what to do. Everyone wants the best for her, but it’s hard to find that within the health care system.

And then I notice the headlines rolling across the television across the room. The sound is down and I’ve been talking about our daily stresses, not paying attention.

Five dead in the Fort Lauderdale airport. Another shooting. More terror, more grief, more confusion, more debate. I note that the radio playing during my drive home hadn’t mentioned it. The stock market didn’t blink and Wall Street analysts don’t mention the tragedy. They’re talking about the agony of the Dow being within .37 of 20,000.

We have become immune.

My day, filled with stress, seems pretty straight forward now, and in fact quite good. My shoulder didn’t hurt. I got my workout in. Aunt Vi spent some time laughing.

And I recognize I should be grateful.

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PS: The latest test shows she might have a gall bladder problem. We and she are headed to the hospital now. Still, we’re grateful for an answer.