Health and Long Life, Home and Hearth, Music and Theatre, Uncategorized

Laughing Down Memory Lane it’s a small world, after all

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Perhaps it’s the fact that eight months ago, I moved back to the town I grew up in. Or, maybe I have high school on my mind because I anticipate a milestone class reunion this summer.  Then again, I did get a call from a fellow Sweet Adeline the other day who insists we sang soprano together in a capella  choir.  She was a junior my senior year. Mostly, I suppose, it is because there is something familiar about the name of my newest adult piano student.  Something niggles in the back of my mind. What am I missing?  What incident from my past should I connect with that name?”

Whatever originated the impulse; as I readied a couple of boxes of books for storage yesterday, I stopped and took a trip down memory lane in my high school annual.  Once again, I am mortified by my poor showing.  Had I no sense of fashion? No self-confidence?  Even in high school, I was musically adept; student directing the choir, acting as rehearsal pianist for the tenors and basses, beginning my apprenticeship as piano teacher. Musically talented, yes; but, in every other area – a nerd, unpopular, un-sought-after.

I graduated with a fairly large class – over 400.  The class before me was also large, and the class that followed.  Given that it is a small world after all, and that I have spent many intermittent years in my old home town, it should not seem strange that I occasionally run into former classmates in the social and business world. I have attended church with a handful, and participated on worship teams with others. In my early thirties, I even dated the class president from a preceding year.  Thankfully, he did not remember me; had never known me, in high school.

I always cringe when I know a renewed acquaintance will go back to the yearbooks and see me as I was:  girl nerd poster child.  I wonder, do others also shrink from this possibility?  They, too, may have changed in the intervening years.  So, last night, I lingered with the yearbook, looked in their faces.  There are a few whom I would not want to meet on a dark street.  Woe to me if I did not remember them from high school and take necessary caution.  Some character traits do not grow better with time. There are others who, like me, were not completely formed by the time we graduated high school.  It did not yet appear what we would be.

Others, even in high school, bid fair to succeed – the girl who was always smiling and friendly to me, whom I always thought a snob, simply because she was a cheerleader?  She became a senator.  I found my Sweet Adeline colleague in the choir picture. Though I sing high tenor with the Sweet Adelines, I was an alto in high school.  Happily, I think she is mistaking me for a more popular girl who shares the first name by which I am now known. And my new piano student?  Standing right next to me in the a capella choir picture!  Yes, it is a small world after all.

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Spiritual Well Being

Follow your heart – trip over opportunity

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There is nothing quite like a career change or a job hunt to raise the internal debate of  Heart vs. Head.“Follow your head, not your heart!” scream the practical voices, bent on success.“Follow your heart, not your head!” sooth those to whom love is paramount.  So which is it? For most of my life, I have been able to argue both sides to an issue and come to an impasse with myself – without anyone else having to voice an opinion.

heart

It is such a perilous thing to follow one’s heart.  So risky. I mean, that’s your heart out there leading. It could get broken, smashed, stabbed. At the very least, you will expose your soul, become vulnerable. You will cry and you will feel like dying.  What if?  What if I follow my heart and it turns out it is just my imagination? My own rebellious nature?  Now here’s an argument to put fear in the mind of those raised with an overabundance of rules, religion, and regulation:  What if I follow my heart and it turns out to be my own evil desires and lusts?

brain

Following your brain seems like such a responsible thing to do.  It is equally perilous to your self-esteem to follow your brain, not your heart.  If you think it through deeply, if you follow every bit of logic you can muster, weigh the possibilities, twice think through the outcomes, then it is your intelligence you are trotting out there for the world to see, your credentials. Should you fail, you will be labelled for all time as “stupid.” And for the deeply religious and legalistic, again, a trump question:  When you follow your brain, are you just following your own willful nature?

Follow your whims?  Let your brain govern your heart?

So, I can only report what has happened to me.  I have often followed my brain with the result that I became overly responsible. Taking to heart the message that God (or your Higher Power) tells you what to do, but gives you the responsibility of figuring out how to do it, I push and scramble. I try to make it happen – to force outcomes. Like Abraham’s Sarah, I know God promised me a child; so I go find a surrogate mother.

Looking back over my life, the really great jobs have come from times I followed my heart, did what I was created to do, those things in which I found joy; and in the process – I tripped over opportunity. Yes, I say, “follow your heart,” but with this caveat:  make sure you have enough brain, skill and preparation to take hold of the root of opportunity when it trips you.

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Poetry and Prose

Write!

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I took my usual course of action and went for a walk.

Life had taken an unexpected turn, so I stressed;

And questioned;

What now?

Clear and unmistakable;

Concise as one word;

Came the answer.

WRITE.

Still, I continued to question.

Who will I write for?  Who will buy my stuff?

What? What am I supposed to write?

When will I find time to do this if I am frantically trying to make a living?

Where am I supposed to write if I am homeless?

Why is this happening to me?

Then came another one word answer:

YES.

What kind of answer is yes?

Asked I, in near desperation.

Yes what?

Who

What

When

Where

Why

How

Yes, that’s write.

Simple.

Concise.

Yet, to my human emotions, so complex.

 Cherry Odelberg, January 30, 2012
Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Home and Hearth, Music and Theatre, The Petty Pace, Uncategorized

Spit-shined boots

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Woah! Spit-shined boots! This is my own private cliché. This is my exclamation when I experience that darkest moment that is just before dawn and I know by experience I will soon see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

Spit-shined boots happened to me again this morning. In my capacity as the new member of Musique, I was diligently, and exuberantly, rehearsing the tenor part for a song that has become one of my favorites. I have thought for a week now that I had the notes down and the memorization in the bag; yet, as I sang with confidence, I began messing up here; forgetting a word over there. Suddenly, the light dawned. Yes! Spit- shined boots!

I learned about spit-shined boots in 1972, from my first husband who was a stract trooper, in the army. Basically, this means he was strict about every last detail of appearance and behavior. Infatuated, starry-eyed, young bride that I was; I sat with him weekly as he spit-shined oxfords and boots. Under his instruction, I learned to do the process myself. Cotton ball, Kiwi, water. Kiwi, water. Kiwi water. Water. Kiwi water. water. My shoulders ached, my eyes were glazed. Just when I was exhausted, he would say, “more water.” Ah, I could see the shine developing under the cotton ball! We were almost done! Then, he would say, “more Kiwi.” The first time this happened, despair came crashing down on me. I so wanted to be done with it. With experience, I came to understand that more Kiwi did not mean I was starting over. More Kiwi is the final polish before the dazzling shine.

The tough moments in life; the times I have already invested too much to go back, but I despair of ever seeing the success of completion? Those are the times I encourage myself with spit-shined boots!

Character, Emotional Health, Family, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Home and Hearth, Spiritual Well Being, Uncategorized

One Year To Live

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As far as I know, I am in excellent health for a fifty year old – and I’m 57. But, think

With my daughter, Thanksgiving 2011

with me for a few minutes; what would change in my life if I was told I had one year to live? Gone would be the long-term goals. In their place, would remain stark priorities; things that could realistically be completed in 12 months if I stepped up the pace. I could not afford to waste any time. My bucket list would be overhauled from, “someday I would like to have a Phd. in Music,” to “what information and knowledge do I need, right now, to make better music?” “I want to be published, and achieve a certain amount of acclaim,” becomes, “I want to write my heart, get it all on paper, for the benefit of those who follow after and the great conversation.” Suddenly, it would be clear to me exactly what I wanted to do and what was important.
People who have only a year to live spend lots more time with family. They renew old friendships and polish up their relationships, making sure all those stories that need to be told are told; that all the words that need to be said are said; that all the missing pieces are put in place. I want to make sure to fulfill my mission, complete my calling, fulfill my heart’s desire, keep my soul in excellent heath by performing lots of music, walking, writing; and reading what philosophers and sages have written. If I had only a year, I would want to maintain good health and an attractive appearance, so that I might go out with a bang, sail into port grandly. To that end, I will cut my hair, iron my clothes, choose my wardrobe carefully. But, one year is not long enough for braces or facelifts. I want to invest in life-long friendships and loving and tending of family. There is no time to waste on pursuing or flirting with new relationships.

I will endeavor to live 2012 as though it is my last year. I will invest more time and soul in family, music, writing, spiritual and emotional health, and friendships. While I want to live as though I have been given only a year; I am not one who can live as though there is no tomorrow. Inevitably the doing of these things – travel to be with family for milestones and memories, daily needs of food and shelter- present financial challenges.
I want to be about the business of putting my house in order; settling my debts; reconciling my accounts; mending fences. A year of life is short. There will be challenges. Never-the-less, I have decided to live 2012 as though it is my one and only year to live.

Character, Emotional Health, Family, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Home and Hearth, Travel

Merry Christmas – It’s been a year

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A year ago, I was living 1100 miles away from where I am today, working as a checker at Safeway in north Seattle, Washington. I was also writing on the side, practicing my keyboard in my cousin’s guest bedroom, and walking two blocks to the library six out of seven days a week to check my email, job hunt, and keep up with my friends on facebook.

A lot can change in 365 days.  I am now living in a beautiful little adobe house on the edge of public lands and walking trails, a few miles outside of Grand Junction, Colorado.  I am working full-time as a family focused personal assistant. I am self-employed, ideally suited to be a personal assistant both by education and experience; and my current client is very dear to me.

The people I work with

 But, what about the 365 days in-between?

In January, I went to work for a medical anatomical laboratory as a lab assistant, moved to a charming studio apartment in Edmonds, Washington; fell in love with the sea and decided to stay there forever. I took dance classes with my cousins and some friends I had known since junior high.  Eventually, I stumbled on a senior citizen band and became the piano player by default. It had always been my plan to fly my children up to visit and maybe interest them in collaborating on some sort of music business.  Or, maybe, I would just make enough money to travel to see them all the time. Abruptly, in June, my job came to an end. Not wanting to leave, I began beating the streets for get-by jobs, and interviewing for positions in my area of interest. My son Kevin; hearing that I was going back for a third interview at a preschool in need of a music teacher; communicated that he was in need of a personal assistant whose duties would encompass preschool, childcare, photo/video shoots, and various music business. Once again, I packed all my belongings in my Subaru (and on top) and drove the 1100 miles back to Colorado. Being a family focused personal assistant to a music and media oriented client is a perfect fit. Like any good personal assistant, I simply keep things organized and do all the things Kevin would be called on to do around the home and office if he were not out serving clients and making money. When he has a shoot out-of-town, and decides to take his wife Sarah as assistant; I stay round the clock instead of going home at night. If Sarah is doing books, I entertain the kids. If Sarah is engaged with the kids, I go assist with the video shoots or take care of office filing.

The most memorable highlight of the year was our family working vacation to Southern California. Andrea managed a week off college.  Philip flew from Ft Collins to Las Vegas to join us.  We spent five days together at a beach house in Dana Pointe.  And we…took a lot of pictures, of course! What a grand vacation with all three of my children and all my grandchildren.

Character, Emotional Health, Family, Goals and Dreams, Home and Hearth, Uncategorized

The baby turns 21

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Philip at 18several months. c

My baby is turning 21. In many ways, he has been behaving like an adult for several months.  He has his own house share, friends and a job.  For transportation, he rides a bicycle several miles to work.  Though he has not lived under my care for over two years, I still worry over him.  The other day, finding he was about to ride his bike to work in the snow, and feeling helpless from a distance of 400 miles, I urged, “Well, wear a helmet then; or, or do something safe.”  He laughed.

How can you know, when you send your boy off to college, whether he will come back to you and live in your nest; or whether you have released him forever and he will never be your little baby again?

How can you grasp, when he packs his unique clothes, his skateboard and guitar in his car; hugs you and goes out the door; that everything you have done for the past 18 years; every opportunity you have provided, every event taxi you have driven, every long philosophical conversation, every creative project; has been preparing him to go away from you? To be an adult?  To be independent?  To not need you.

Over the weeks and months, it begins to sink in. You start to acknowledge. If he wants to see you, it is because he wants to spend time with you for who you are, not because he needs you for life sustenance. He has learned to take responsibility for himself.

If he comes under your roof again, it will be because he wants to; not because he needs you. If he dines at your table, rests his head on your pillows, and snuggles in the quilts and bed of his childhood, it will be because he chooses to be there, not because of your authority or manipulation.

If he calls for advice, it is because it is your particular view and voice he wants to hear; not because he desperately needs counsel.  He has made a few quality friends over the years.  He speaks with grace and respect, adult to adult, with all those he meets-including you. He takes responsibility for his own support, housing, food. Maybe these character traits, now visible,have to do with the opportunities you were able to give him.

Watching a son become an adult is both a joyful and melancholy occasion.  You somehow feel you ought to be there; ought to be a big part of his life and celebration.  After all, you were a super big player in his birth 21 years ago.

Yet his desire to spend time with you for who you are, his mother, for better or worse; will have a lot to do with the relationship you formed with him for those 18 years you were together. It may hinge on whether you were able to accept him for who he was, to find and further his dreams and goals rather than locking him into your own.  He will like to visit with you because you like and accept who he is and who he is meant to be.  Because, if you have done your job thoroughly; he certainly will not need you to pamper or provide.

July 2010 Ft. Collins
Family vacation San Clemente October 2011
Books and other Soul Food, Emotional Health, Holidays and Traditions, Music and Theatre, Spiritual Well Being, Uncategorized

Oh, the bliss of holiday music

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There is nothing quite like the joy of having heard a good musical concert; having seen an exceptionally  good movie; reading a good book; or going for a walk and having a great intellectual thought.   You find yourself crowing inside, wanting to say to everyone you meet, “Hey, the best thing just happened to me, I am overjoyed.”

What?  What happened?  Did you win the lottery? Meet the person of your dreams?

No, not that.  I…I just heard a perfectly executed, exquisite picardy third last night-from mere high school children; and I am undone.  

Sometimes one great musical moment is enough to make you forget any amateurish antics or dissonance that went before. Beautiful harmonies, well executed, heal the emotion if not the soul. I wish it were not so rare.

It happened to me once in Texas, at a state fair.  The midway was so noisy, the hawkers so abrasive, we acquired headaches and nausea and determined to leave early.  On the way to the gate, we saw that the President’s Own Marine Band was about to perform.  We detoured. The moment the huge bells of euphonium low brass turned our way, mighty decibels of perfectly pitched perfection went straight to our eardrums, soothing as only music can.

“Perhaps,” you will say, “It is all in the eye, the mind, of you – the beholder.”

Ah, yes, and may it continue.  I cannot think of anything better than to be a flesh and blood music amplifier.  Off to church now, in anticipation that the drums and bass will gently rock me toward even more gratitude to the creator for making me thus.

Character, Emotional Health, Health and Long Life, Religion

I lost my sole while out walking

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October 21, 2011: I walked at length today near my new home, and though I lost my sole; I think I found at least a piece of my true soul. There are times when I walk; when the sun is shining and the temperature is perfect; that something like joy overtakes me. Have you had those excruciatingly wondrous times?  I hope so.  Occasionally it happens when I am playing the piano.  I call that playing in the spirit.  A few times, this same joy has overwhelmed me while out walking.  I like to think of it as walking with God. 

God is my absolute all time favorite walking partner. We can walk for miles and never say a word,

When I go out walking with God, he does not use the time together to scold me; to tell me what I should do.  In fact, he does not try to influence me in any way, except through gifts of good things and beauty. He doesn’t control me. No matter how fast or slow, or how long I walk, he simply bathes and restores me with nature and beauty.

I come back thinking, “I want to do this every day.”

Character, Emotional Health, Fiction is Truth, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Photos, Spiritual Well Being

When Debris Becomes Life

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I love to walk. I loved to walk on the beach when I lived in Edmonds, Washington last year.

As I walked on the beach at low tide, I would see interesting debris; things the tide had washed in and then left stranded on the sand or rocks. Besides the usual crabs and kelp, there were empty soda bottles, food containers. Those didn’t stay long.  Either the tide washed them back out, or community minded folk who have adopted the beach strolled by and picked them up, delivering them to the proper recycle receptacle.

There are other relics on the beach; random poles not seen at high tide, remnants of piers and docks that used to be, which are no longer serviceable as anything but roosts for eagles and momentary resting places for seagulls.

From time to time, I saw some rubber gasket like things, about eight inches in diameter.  These were strewn randomly, sometimes caught between two well worn rocks, or half buried in sand.

There is an upscale marina located in the area, I took these halved donuts to be bits of boat or dock protective bumper apparatus.  How careless, thought I, in an otherwise well maintained marina and port; these things are not collected and recycled or tossed. A few times, I thought of asking someone, but just never got around to it.  

Early in July, I was able to attach myself to a noon hour, ranger guided tour of the beach at very low tide. It was here I learned that the supposed gaskets I had been observing were actually egg cases for the Moon Snail. When the Ranger told us this, I thought she was joking; pulling a seaside equivalent of a snipe hunt on us; particularly me, a born and bred inlander, newly arrived at the sea. Further research proved this to be a bonafide bit of marine biology information.

And now, I cannot help but wonder, how many things have happened in my life that I have considered debris, trash; that were actually life giving? How many jobs, friendships, or challenges have I tossed and recycled before they were hatched? How many times have I said, “God, you must be joking!”  When I was staring at a golden opportunity?

Putting One Foot in Front of the Other, Hiking for Life!