Change Is Hard

…but change is certain.


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When the music stopped

I don’t remember when I started playing with the local community band. And when I joined I certainly didn’t expect to still be playing years (maybe more than15 years!) later or how lucky I’d be to form a friendship with the band’s music director.

But it was easy, she was a clarinet player as well as a band director in the public schools. We were similar ages, and had lots of the same interests. She gave me tickets to the Detroit Symphony, took me and others to the Detroit Institute of Art to see the Van Gogh show, invited me over to play with her beloved kitties, made meals for my husband and me when we got Covid the first time.

She gave of herself in ways too numerous to mention. As she did with so many others.

In recent years Shelley has fought cancer, going to treatments and tests but still coming, every Tuesday night, to rehearse a band that on it’s best days can be a handful. We are something of an island for misfit musicians, all with different sets of skills, different levels of commitment, but each of us 100% lovers of making music. When we get it right it is so right, and when we fail, well, we fail spectacularly.

And still she came, every Tuesday night. Arriving early, she was the last one to leave.

At our October concert, “Three Women and a Podium”

When the cancer struck again it became harder for her. She had moved an hour away to be closer to family and her doctors. The trip back to be with us was sometimes long, sometimes impossible. Still, she persisted. When necessary other dedicated music directors stepped in to give her a break.

But we always knew she’d be back. She wasn’t ready to give up her community band.

The last concert she conducted for us was this past October. By Christmas she didn’t have enough stamina to stand on the podium and keep us in line. I texted her after the Christmas concert, her favorite of each year, and gave her a report. We had done well, had a good crowd, we missed her, Santa said hello. She told me she was grieving the loss and missed us too.

She never came back.

Last week at rehearsal we learned she was in hospice at the family’s home. She was receiving visitors and cards and spending time with her grandchildren. This past Tuesday morning she died, her family surrounding her, and music playing.

Of course it was a Tuesday.

In Michigan’s UP on a 3 day trip, where it rained every single day.

Maybe she knew that we’d need each other, as one by one we heard the news. She knew, of course, that there is no better group of people to be with when you’re mourning your music director than the people with whom you share the music.

And so we went to rehearsal. Those of us that knew had a hard time walking into the building, into the band room, looking at the podium. Even though she hadn’t been physically there since last fall, it was still her podium. Those that hadn’t heard the news yet sat in stunned silence as it was announced.

The room was quiet for a moment and then people started sharing stories and we laughed a bit and teared up a bit. And then we did the best thing we could do for ourselves, and for her.

We made music. For a moment the music had stopped. But only for a moment.

Last week I wrote Shelley a letter, thanking her for being a friend, for her advice, for her musical support, for our travels together, for her generosity, for her time and her care. There are so many stories I could tell you about her, and I am just one of hundreds who have stories of her giving to them and their families.

I ended my letter to her by reminding her of the hundreds of students she had mentored over her 30+ years of teaching music in our public schools. Her legacy will go on forever through those students, many who have made sharing music their careers.

I told her she was the stone tossed into quiet water and the ripples she made are still spreading out into the universe. I told her I didn’t think any of us could have a bigger affect on the world than what she’d done with her talent and her love.

A subset of us, playing a pop-up concert during Covid in her neighborhood.

And I asked her if, after she gets settled and has her celestial band warmed up and in tune, if she might look around for a way to let us know she’s OK. I told her I knew she’d be OK, but it would be nice to know.

I expect to be hit over the head with something fantastically musical any day now. And I bet that first concert up there is going to be amazing.


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What can we do?

I try very hard to not get political here or on any social media. But these last couple of weeks have been overwhelming and I’ve been feeling sad and hopeless. Perhaps you’ve been feeling that way too. Or, perhaps you’re feeling that things are finally moving in the right direction.

Either way, as long as we’re respectful, we have the right to express our feelings.

Me? I’m thoroughly against 99% of what the 47th President is doing. And at this moment I can’t even think of the 1% I might find acceptable. But that’s not the reason for this post.

The reason I’m writing now is not to beat a drum for one side or the other, but to ask you to think about what you can do to help us all keep moving forward. As programs that were designed to catch people falling through the cracks to help meet their food and housing and educational needs are cut off, what can we do, as individuals, to help?

Here’s a link to a news story I saw last night that gave me hope and a bit of inspiration. I thought as I watched her talk about her front yard food pantry….well…I can do that. Maybe you will find her inspirational too.

Nikki Lee isn’t a wealthy woman donating millions of dollars to her favorite cause. She’s simply a good person feeding people the best she can. Maybe some of those people are taking advantage of her generosity, but I bet most of them are just grateful for a bit of help.

It seems to me that if we all contribute to programs already in our communities, or if we start one up that isn’t there yet, we can help each other do more than get through the rough times, we can help each other grow.

My library has a food pantry. I’ll be going to the grocery store today, and while I’m there I’ll be picking up some extra stuff to fill the baskets over there. It’s a start.

I challenge you to look around your community and find the gaps that are growing wider by the day. See what you can do to start building bridges.

And, while you’re doing that, it wouldn’t hurt for you to voice your opinion with your Senators and Congressperson.

Looking out over a changed landscape.

Photos are from Friday afternoon’s snow, taken from various dirty windows with my phone. Unedited, raw, the way life seems to be these days.


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The smash and dash

Ten days ago I took you with me while I searched for the redheaded woodpecker. And as you saw, we found the noisy little guy almost right away! So did we turn around and go home, having achieved our mission?

Hey guys! I’ll fly for a peanut!

Well of course not!

I know I’m out of focus but look at my beautiful, piano key, wings!

I have sooooo much to show you that it’s hard to choose! But I think you’ll enjoy our effort to get a good shot of the park’s smash and dash thieves, the brilliantly hued, but common, blue jays.

Who you calling common?

While other birds joyously drop down to hands filled with special treats, select a morsel and flit back up into the trees to enjoy their snacks, the blue jays stalk park guests, skulking up in higher tree branches, then drop lower to scout out the situation, as they wait for an opportunity.

This girl looks promising, she has whole peanuts, my favorite!

And when they see it, when the timing is just right, they swoop down, slam into the giver’s hand, grab the best treat and spill the rest of the seed on the ground as they dash back up into the trees to enjoy their spoils.

Oops, missed the jay.

The rest of the birds stay out of the way and watch. It’s a kind of entertainment for them, too.

Wow! I think the thief went that-a-way!

Plus they get to gather the leftovers from the ground after the blue jay’s dramatic exit.

We spent a lot of time standing in one place trying to get images of the blue jays coming down for their smash and dash.

Oops, missed again.

Mostly we got shots of the empty hand, or a blue jay behind.

I know my photographer friend has at least one excellent image of the blue jay just before it landed on her daughter’s hand, but my best shot was of him racing away.

He got the peanut and I got him!

We had so much fun trying to capture an image of the jays and watching the other birds. It was cold that day and everybody was hungry. I have lots of images of smaller and more polite birds that would like their stories told too.

We mourning doves get passed over for more exciting birds all the time.

I told them I wasn’t sure if you all were prepared for more bird blogs. After all, when you’ve seen one bird, you’ve seen them all…..right?

Wait! Don’t you want to see me too?

Of course not right!!! Stay tuned. I have lots of beautiful birds, and a special surprise that we found on our way out of the park that afternoon.

Excuse me, excuse me! Those jays aren’t all that!

Coming to a blog near you soon.

I’ll be waiting for you.


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These boots were made for walking

Penny here, writing to you from subzero Michigan.

So apparently my parents don’t get that my breed originated from frigid Shetland Islands in Scotland where the weather is worse than anything they’ve endured. And that shelties, as a breed, love winter. Because when the temperatures here were forecasted to be below 0 F (-17.7 C) mom and dad dug out my sister Katie’s boots.

These are not a fashion statement, mom!

They said if I would please wear the boots on our abbreviated trips out to do my business, they would feel much warmer themselves.

Uh huh.

So yesterday mom started putting boots on my feet, all four of them, every time we went out. I didn’t resist but I certainly don’t help her. By the time she’s got all 4 on me she’s usually sweating.

I guess they don’t look too bad against the snow.

Then she has to get all her own paraphernalia on, sweatshirt and hat and scarf and coat and mittens and boots (only 2 for her). By then I’ve usually decided I don’t really have to go out after all. So I stand still in the foyer and refuse to move.

Yep. Mom loves it.

I think I’ve changed my mind, mom. I’ll stay in for awhile, OK?

Mostly I’m just messing with her. The first three times mom took me out I managed to throw off one boot every trip. But then that naked foot got really cold and I stopped running around and held it up and looked pathetic and she carried me back inside.

Win for the sheltie.

Well, they DO give me an elevated look, I guess.

Today mom has perfected the boot placement and has them on nice and tight and I can’t shake any off, so I decided to dance around out there and find sticks to chew on and play in the snow and not go to the bathroom, cause it was so fun.

Win for the sheltie.

Can I get these off now mom?

Mom does not appear to be having fun. Did I mention the wind-chill is -15 F? That’s -26 C! Mom says she’s leaving the stinking boots on my feet, even inside until I pee when we go out. But she was only kidding. She took them off when I asked nice, and I took a nap.

This boot thing is exhausting.

They say by this afternoon the temperatures will be back in the teens, maybe 14 or so (-10 C) and heck, that’s a heat wave, I can go out to pee without my boots, and I very likely will…cause between you and me?

I gotta go!


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Searching for a redhead

It’s been awhile, a really long while, since I’ve been out to Kensington to feed the birds. A photographer friend and I have been talking about it for what feels forever – – stuff just got in the way. But this week we decided we needed to make it a priority, because the weather around here isn’t going to get any better.

Do you see what I see?

With negative wind-chill predicted for next week we decided to get out there Friday afternoon. And boy we’re glad we did because the sun actually came out while we were there. Yes it was cold, but back among the trees, out of the wind, it was magical.

Maybe if he looks at us he will be more obvious.

There’s a lot of content in the 765 images I took. Seven Hundred, Sixty-Five! That’s crazy! We were only out there maybe 2 hours. OK…maybe 3 hours. That’s 255 images an hour, or about 4 every minute…a picture every 15 seconds? Thank goodness it’s digital!

Anyway.

Well that’s more obvious.

The biggest reason I wanted to be out there with my camera was to find the redheaded woodpecker. Hard to believe that until a couple years ago I had no idea there was such a bird in my area. But then I saw pictures online from Kensington and one winter day I saw him myself!

I think he (or she) might be young. Notice the brown feathers between the eyes. Juvies have brown heads.

Now that I know what part of the park I’m most likely to see him, I steered my small party in that direction. Along the way we ran into a couple of other photographers (recognizable by the extra long, super cool 800mm lenses on their cameras) and spent a long time talking to them about camera bodies, lens length, f-stops, tips for bird photography and… wait for it…while we were standing there, 5 people talking camera stuff, the redheaded woodpecker arrived, with much noise and fanfare.

The black and white feathers on their backs make them very elegant birds.

Now that I’ve heard him I will be able to find him more easily because he makes a noise different than all the other woodpeckers around. He was definitely interested in us, just as I was interested in him.

One of the guys with the big camera lens told us that if we threw a whole peanut up in the air the woodpecker would come off the tree trunk and grab that peanut right out of the air! Since we did, indeed, have a peanut like that, he volunteered to throw it so we could try to get a picture of the bird in flight.

Portrait of a beautiful bird.

I failed miserably, shooting wildly and blindly, but I did get one image of the bird flying, kind of in focus, and I’m proud to have gotten that much!

Well, at least I got SOMETHING! That black thing at the bottom is the photographer’s hat.

We had so much fun and spent almost 2 hours standing in one place a bit further along the trail, at a magical tree that was filled with all sorts of birds. Even the redheaded guy came back around. But that all will have to be saved for another post.

Hey lady! What about the rest of us?

I have lots of editing to do!


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I’m a homebody

Penny here.

Who’d of thought that I’d be writing to you a mere week after my last contribution to mom’s blog? Obviously mom’s life is pretty boring if she’s willing to hand over communication control to me!

But I’m a sheltie — I never ignore an opportunity to communicate! (Sheltie moms and dads know this is true!)

So anyway. We got a bunch of snow last night. Not as much as some of you, but maybe a little more than 4 inches. It’s soft, powdery snow and mom had this brilliant idea that I might want to play in it. Cause, as you know, I’m a sheltie and stuff.

Me on the road outside my house.

Yesterday mom had been up at the neighbor lady’s house drinking tea and talking about important stuff like me. The neighbor lives on a big lot, way back off the road and has a wonderful yard that backs up to woods. Mom thought it would be a fun place for me to play, far away from the road.

So when we woke up to all this snow mom got permission to take me up there to play. Unfortunately she didn’t clear it with me first.

So mom and I are trotting up the nice lady’s driveway and I figure we’re just out there for me to do my job, so I pee and mom says good girl, and I turn around to go home. Because that’s what I always do after I pee, I go home.

Me in the nice lady’s backyard under protest.

But mom says, no, no, baby girl we’re going to keep going up this driveway. Well! I hadn’t been up this driveway before and there was a big camper up there with a cover and there were cords swinging in the breeze and they were scary so I barked at them a lot and I turned around to go home!

And mom said, no, no, baby girl come on up this driveway and she drags me up there and around to the back of the house and I’m scared and I don’t understand and mom finally figures out I’m shaking so she picks me up and cuddles me and walks, carrying all 27 pounds of me, around the yard a bit until I settle down, and then she puts me down figuring I’ll run around sniffing some and I immediately poo.

And when I get done pooing I pull mom toward the driveway so I can go home! Cause that’s what you do after you poo, you go home! And mom is looking for a bag to collect the poo and realizing she forgot to bring one and all the time I’m pulling her back toward home.

Me heading home where I belong.

Mom decided to give in and we trotted all the way back down the driveway and back to my yard, where, once I was safe and sound on familiar ground I played with my leash and attacked her boots and chased snowballs just like normal.

And after I went inside mom walked all the way back up the nice lady’s driveway with a bag and collected my poo.

When she finally got home she was pretty cold and wet and discouraged so we took a nap on the sofa. I slept on top of her to make her feel warm and safe and loved in return for her carrying me around that scary yard.

Me keeping my mom safe and warm.

But before we have another adventure like that I’m going to have to have a serious discussion with mom. Yep, no more surprise adventures when we don’t even get in a car! How’s a girl supposed to know it’s an adventure anyway!

Seriously, mother?

Talk later, your adventure-less girl, Penny.

The nice lady’s house is way up there, far away from my house!


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A state funeral for a dad

The news has been so sad lately. Images of California neighborhoods fully engulfed in flames mixed with those of President Carter’s coffin being delivered to our nation’s capitol by a horse-drawn caisson. The lines of people solemnly passing by the coffin in the Rotunda. And, more privately, two different friends of mine learning to live without their own parents.

But this morning my husband and I watched the state funeral for our 39th President, and afterward I felt a little better. No, California isn’t better, the devastation there is beyond understanding, and my friends are still deep in grief, but watching the ceremony honoring President Carter took the edge off my sadness.

Not to say I didn’t cry a little bit during the service. The first tears fell when President Ford’s son, Steven, spoke. Before he began to read his dad’s eulogy for President Carter, he extended his heartfelt condolences to the “Carter children.” It seems back when his own dad died in 2006 the Carter kids offered his family support and comfort. Now he was returning the love.

I remember the funeral of President Ford, it was only a couple years after the funerals of my own parents. The pain on the faces of the Ford children was so intense and I knew, deep inside, what they were feeling. I wanted to hug them all and tell them they were not alone. And now here are the Carter children. Not children anymore by any means, but still grieving their dad a year after their mom. Heartbroken.

Most of the speakers caused me to shed a tear, each of them deeply touched by the life of Jimmy Carter. The grandchildren speaking made it clear that his legacy is in good hands, that the mission of making the world a better place will continue uninterrupted. Grandson Jason heads up the work, and spoke so movingly of his PawPaw, making us laugh and cry, just like, I’m sure, all the kids, grandkids and great-grands are doing tonight as they sit around telling stories after a long day sharing their Jimmy with all of us.

And one of the sweetest moments came toward the end while Garth Brooks and his wife Trisha Yearwood sang John Lennon’s “Imagine.” Somewhere in the middle of that quiet, gentle song the camera swung to President Biden who was singing along. “Some may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”

So what was my big take-away from this celebration of love? That Jimmy Carter was a husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather and that he was a regular guy who wore shorts and crocs and struggled with his new fangled cell phone just like all of us.

For a couple of hours today I could forget about all the stuff going on in the world, in our country, in my part of the universe. For a couple of hours I could immerse myself in times long gone, remembering most of them, the celebrations, the grief, the wins, the losses.

I was reminded that we’ve been through hard times before and we made it to the other side. And I’m reassured that there are more good, regular people out there than we sometimes realize. And that most of us are just regular folks trying to do the best we can.

Just like President Carter did for the entirety of his 100 years.