Seasons in the Sun

We had joy, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.
But the wine and the song,
like the seasons, all have gone.
-- Terry Jacks

This is an old song, and kind of a depressing one - about someone who's dying. But it popped into my head today, of all things because I saw my cat stretched out in the sun. The morning sun was streaming in the patio doors and he was long and sleek and black, soaking it all in. And the phrase "seasons in the sun" came to mind. Songs, or parts of songs, or lyrics, or melodies, are always in my head. I guess that explains in part why my blog is built around songs.

Sometimes a melody will come to mind and I make up my own words. When my girls were little, I did that all the time--make up my own lyrics and would sing little things to them. And then again, I sang all the dumb childhood songs to them I grew up with, playground songs and camp songs and nursery rhymes, and other little ditties. It was the playground songs that got me in trouble with my husband. One time the Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts song came to mind. And my husband wanted to know what was the point of home schooling the girls if I was going to teach them all the "playground trash" we were supposedly protecting them from? I just saw it as part of being a kid.

Then there were what I called the "camp songs". Ones like Little Rabbit Foo Foo. I'd forgotten all about that one til my cousin found it online and posted it on Facebook. I learned that from my cousins and we used to sing it at my grandmas. That, and Adellena Madellena. Then just this month I was telling people at work about the song, I Wish I Was a Little Bar of Soap. They thought I was making it up til they googled it. People tend to think I'm making things up a lot - which I do just for the fun of it - but I don't usually make up entire songs. I learned a ton of them though, when I worked at Camp Tamarack. And I've forgotten most of them until some event or conversation will trigger the memory and the song will come back to me. I can understand why music therapy can be so powerful for some people. The one I learned at camp that I love the best is the round...Hey Ho, Nobody Home. It's a beautiful melody and kind of haunting when it's sung with Rose Red.

The Thunder Rolls

The thunder rolls
And the lightnin' strikes
- Garth Brooks

We had our first thunderstorm last night. On rare occasions we get thunder in the winter in Minnesota, but not usually. Last night it woke us up though, and today it's been sleeting against the windows with periodic rumbles of thunder all evening. I love the rain and I love the thunder. It makes you want to hunker down and get all cozy. Pull up a blanket, make sure the doors are all shut tight against the elements, and snuggle up. And I look forward to the first real rain of spring. Even though it makes for a cold, gray, dreary day, it also washes away all the lingering snow and helps to nourish the fragile green plants that are trying to push through the dead brown remains of fall. Two days ago was the official start of spring. You can hear the birds - loudly - when you go outside now. Next will be the buds bursting forth, then the green shoots of grass, then the lilacs. My lilacs are especially important to me. One year for my birthday, my husband's grandmother gave me $100 for my birthday. Living on a single income as we were, that was an incredible amount of money. I chose to buy lilac bushes with it.

I had always wanted to get married in May and have a bouquet of lilacs. But because my in-laws could more easily come up for Christmas and stay for a January wedding than a May wedding, we accommodated them and January it was. And to this day, I regret it. There have been so many years we just don't go out to celebrate our anniversary because it is just too cold, and I didn't have the wedding I always dreamed of, getting married in January instead of May. The colors weren't right, the flowers weren't right, the ceremony wasn't right. I wish I'd been the kind of bride who stomps her foot and says, "No! It's MY wedding and this is what I want!" But that's not me. Sigh. So buying lilacs was also sort of symbolic. It was money from my in-laws to buy the wedding flowers (or at least the bushes that would grow the wedding flowers) that I never had. And then my neighbor decided to cut them down.

I was looking out over my back yard from my upper patio window and could swear that the bushes looked like they had been trimmed all along one side. I stared at them in disbelief for the longest time before calling my husband to ask if he had cut them. No, he said. But it was obvious they had been cut -- they were just sheared off all along my neighbor's side, a neighbor that many people in the neighborhood had had difficulties with in the past. I was just floored to think someone would do this. Unfortunately for my neighbor, she called just then to ask if she could borrow a cup of sugar. And the words just spilled out..."What the hell did you cut my lilac bushes for?" She immediately went on the defensive. "They were hanging into our yard and you weren't trimming them so we did." And had we been told this was a problem for them? Nooooooo! I was beside myself. I insisted my husband go talk to them. "Me!?! Why me?" You're perfectly good at sticking up for yourself," he said. "You go talk to them if you're upset." I told him he should go talk to them and put all his years of debate to good use. We went back and forth. My husband did try to go talk to them, and they actually tried to dodge him when he'd go over there--by hiding in the garage or not answering their door.

He did finally catch them at home and talk to them about it, explaining that if they had a problem with it, they needed to talk to us, not wait til we're out of town and then just go chop them down, and that these were special to me and that I've gone out of my way to be neighborly to them when no one else will. The conversation didn't go very far. It's been about 4 or 5 years and they still haven't spoken to us. But at least my lilacs have rebounded and seem to be doing okay. Thank goodness.

On a sleepless night
As the storm blows on
Out of control
Deep in her heart
The thunder rolls

The Eagle and the Hawk

I am the eagle, I live in high country
In rocky cathedrals that reach to the sky
- John Denver

I spent last Saturday driving down a highway that follows the Mississippi River. It's an absolutely beautiful stretch of road and I love driving it. It's all the more wonderful to drive when you spot eagles. This time of year, they're especially easy to see because the foliage hasn't come out on the trees yet. I saw four eagles on my drive, perched in the bare branches of the trees, proud and majestic, looking over the open river. Cars were stopped along the side of the highway with people just watching, some with cameras. Sometimes, I'm lucky enough to see eagles closer to home. I saw one the week before just driving to the grocery store. It was just gliding on the current without any effort. Beautiful.

I am the hawk and there's blood in my feathers
But time is still turning they soon will be dry.

You're far more likely to see hawks, particularly Redtail Hawks. They perch on light poles, on road signs, and tree branches. Always up high. They have that beautiful light rust color. Occasionally, you see them flying along side the road, wings spread, swooping down on some prey, or settling on a perch, feathers ruffled. I love watching for them. They're so alert and watchful.

And all those who see me and all who believe in me
Share in the freedom I feel when I fly.

I have been fascinated with birds ever since I can remember. I have always wanted to be able to fly like a bird. I used to dream of running down a flight of stairs, so quickly that by the time I got to the bottom I just leaped off the last few steps taking flight and could just soar like a bird. In those dreams I never had wings, but I was flying as if I was a bird. I was high above everything and soaring and free.

It never occurred to me to actually learn how to fly until I was married and my husband, who had his pilot's license, encouraged me to take ground school. I did, and then started flight lessons. We belonged to a flight club and had use of a Cessna 150. I logged my hours and eventually soloed. And then I became pregnant...and flying wasn't as attractive any more. The flying club membership got sold and mortgage payments took over -- and 25 years of raising kids. Outside of the occasional commercial flight for vacations, I didn't fly. And then last summer, during a break at an outdoor country music festival, my Baby Girl and I decided to take a helicopter tour of the area. It was absolutely exhilarating! Far more fun than being in the Cessna...but then I was a passenger instead of a student pilot trying to remember everything for dear life. I would go up in a helicopter again in a heartbeat. It's the closest thing to free flying that I know of.

Come dance with the west wind and touch on the mountain tops
Sail o'er the canyons and up to the stars
And reach for the heavens and hope for the future
And all that we can be and not what we are.

I will never tire of watching the birds. They are amazing creatures. Beautiful in flight.

Drift Away

Oh, give me the beat, boys, and free my soul
I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away
- Dobie Gray

Imagine yourself drifting down a lazy river on a sunny day, a lazy gentle river of rhythm and rhyme and harmony. Just drifting away.... I love this song.

Day after day I'm more confused
So I look for the light in the pouring rain
You know that's a game that I hate to lose
I'm feelin' the strain, ain't it a shame

Oh, give me the beat, boys, and free my soul
I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away
Oh, give me the beat, boys, and free my soul
I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away

Beginning to think that I'm wastin' time
I don't understand the things I do
The world outside looks so unkind
I'm countin' on you to carry me through

And when my mind is free
You know a melody can move me
And when I'm feelin' blue
The guitar's comin' through to soothe me
Thanks for the joy that you've given me
I want you to know I believe in your song
Rhythm and rhyme and harmony
You help me along makin' me strong

Oh, give me the beat, boys, and free my soul
I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away
Oh, give me the beat, boys, and free my soul
I wanna get lost in your rock and roll and drift away

Hell and High Water

It's hell and high water....that you're goin' through.
But come hell or high water, I'll be here waiting for you.
- T. Graham Brown

In 1997, the Red River flooded so badly the town of Grand Forks, ND had to be evacuated. Then, in one of the buildings downtown, a gas main broke and fires started. A news photographer captured pictures of buildings gutted by fire, completely surrounded by water, and the caption read, "Come Hell and High Water." The Grand Forks Herald made the decision to keep the newspaper going at all costs as a way to keep feeding information to the townspeople in spite of all the hardship the flood was causing, and doing so won them the Pulitzer for public service. Those pictures have been immortalized in Midwest history.

And today we saw a similar horrific disaster play out half way around the world, only on a magnitude far, far worse. And unlike the Red River flood, no one knew it was coming...an earthquake in Japan that registered 8.9 on the Richter scale. And a tsunami following it that not only devastated Japan, it has reached all the way to the US. Hundreds dead. Towns obliterated. Unimaginable destruction. Nuclear power plants damaged. Countries brought to a stand-still. Flooding, and fires. Hell and high water.

I had an accident once, water skiing. It sounds like a silly thing to bring up maybe. But I learned in that accident how unforgiving water can be. I learned that water is not "compact-able". If you hit it at a high rate of speed, you will injure yourself. It's why belly-flops hurt. It's why water skiing wipe-outs or boating accidents can be so serious. And so I watch these tsunami waves crash into the houses and shatter them like toothpicks, and I know why there are no survivors. I am horrified. As important as water is to me, as much as it calms me, I am sickened at these images and absolutely horrified.

Hell and high water. The families affected by this are in my prayers.

Centerfield

Oh, put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be Centerfield.
--John Fogerty

There was a TV show I remember when I was a kid called "Name that Tune". I don't remember much of it except at the end of it, two contestants would try to undercut each other and try to see who could name the final tune in the fewest number of notes. I was always amazed that they could often do it in only 4 or 5 notes.

Except that now I can do the same thing too. Certainly if it's a Country song, and often if it's a song I grew up listening to in high school. Sometimes in less than 4 or 5 notes. This morning I was driving to work and flipping through stations and the song Centerfield came on. It was in the musical interlude where Fogerty wasn't even singing, and in a single note, I knew what song it was. It is a rather unique melody, I have to admit, but it made me smile, nonetheless, to know immediately what song it was. And actually, I can do that quite a bit. After only a note or two, I usually know what song I'm listening to. And this one is such a fun happy one.

Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine,
watchin' it from the bench;
You know I took some lumps when the Mighty Casey struck out.
So Say Hey Willie, tell Ty Cobb and Joe DiMaggio;
Don't say "it ain't so", you know the time is now.

I am always sad for my Mama, that she never knew music the way I do. "I'm ready to play..."

Listen to the Music

What the people need
Is a way to make them smile...
Oh, oh listen to the music,
Oh, oh listen to the music.
-Doobie Brothers

Listening to the Doobie Brothers on the radio while I was driving home today. It's not often I switch away from the country station, but every once in a while I get too many commercials and I start pressing all the buttons in search of something else. And I hit on the Doobie Brothers. It brought me back to the first concert I ever attended. It was an outdoor concert with Steve Miller, the Doobie Brothers, and the Eagles. One heck of a concert! So who else have I heard in concert?

Harry Chapin before he died...that was at a college campus. Heard him sing his famous Cat's in the Cradle song and several others. Not too bad. Heard Kenny Loggins at another college campus. That was only so-so. I heard John Denver which was a good concert. Neil Diamond too, in his prime. That was excellent. All of those were in the late 70s.

Then I started listening to Country Music. I've been to live concerts for George Strait, Kathy Mattea, Dwight Yokum (3 times), Toby Keith, Luke Bryan, Little Big Town, Sugarland, Billy Currington, Billy Dean, Randy Travis, Hiway 101, Tim McGraw, Gordon Lightfoot, Reba McIntyre, Patty Lovelace, and Kenny Chesney.

All of them an incredible pool of talent and worth singing to. My sister has an excellent singing voice. I don't. Or at least I don't feel I do. My father, whether he realized it or not, made comments about me singing off-key when I was a child that made me feel ashamed about my singing so I tried not to sing around others. That was unfortunate. It would have been far better to help me learn to sing on-key because in hind-sight, if I had an ear for instrumental music, I could have been taught to sing on-key. Instead, I grew up ashamed of my singing and saved it for times when I was alone, like in the car. Or later when I was the adult and sang to my children. But it still haunts me. I won't start the Happy Birthday song in a group if I can help it. I have my daughter do it because I am too self-conscious.

But I love turning up the radio in the car and singing to these songs. So often I think of the minstrels and poets of long ago. The songwriters and singers of today are our poets. And the songs that were written 20 or 30 years ago that still get radio play like this Doobie Brothers song are the ones that you know still resonate with people.

We'll be happy and we'll dance
Oh we're going to dance the blues away
And if I'm feeling good to you
And you're feeling good to me
There aint nothing we can't do or say
Feeling good, feeling fine
Oh baby, let the music play.

Cowboy in Me

I don't know why I act the way I do
Like I ain't got a single thing to lose
Sometimes I'm my own worst enemy
I guess that's just the cowboy in me
- Tim McGraw

When my oldest daughter was oh, I don't know, maybe 9 or 10 years old, she fell in love with horses like a lot of young girls do. She was so quiet and shy at the time, and spent most of her time by herself reading. Not a lot of friends, just her sisters and her world of books. That's fine, because we encouraged reading, but she was so withdrawn and sometimes we worried. My husband saw an ad in the paper for a place that gave riding lessons and thought we should see if she was interested. I took her, and saw something amazing happen. She got on that huge horse and there was a light in her eyes that I'd never seen before. Something came alive in her that I couldn't explain. We signed her up.

After a bit, we switched to a different stable. The first place gave good lessons (English) but we arrived with the horse all ready for her, she took her lesson, and then we left. The second place (Western) expected the girls got to go out in the field and get a horse, bring it back into the stable, brush it down, saddle and bridle it, and lead it into the riding arena. After the lesson she had to brush the horse down. A lot more hands-on for girls who were in love with horses.

And I watched. Once a week for almost two years, I stood leaning on the rail fence of the arena, inside in the winter or outside in the summer, watching her as she learned to trot, canter, lead the horse through small obstacles, do small jumps, and other such maneuvers. One summer she did day camp at the ranch. She got to watch the vets at work and learned to ride bare-back as well as do Roman riding (standing up with no saddle). And finally I decided to join in.

I got a life that most would love to have
But sometimes I still wake up fightin' mad
At where this road I'm heading down might lead
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

And then she got busy in high school and I got busy in grad school and neither of us rode for a long time. Well, we do have one story. We were visiting Grandma and Grandpa in Georgia. Her aunt (my sister-in-law) used to ride. So the three of us decided to go for a trail ride. Great afternoon with the young girls who were our guides. And then the horses started to get all antsy...pulling at their bridles and high-stepping. We were told to just hang on as we rounded the corner because we were coming up to "Giddy-up Hill" and the horses knew it. Well, the horses broke into a full gallop through the woods to the top of a large hill. Absolutely exhilarating!

The urge to run, the restlessness
The heart of stone I sometimes get
The things I've done for foolish pride
The me that's never satisfied
The face that's in the mirror when I don't like what I see
I guess that's just the cowboy in me

We didn't ride again until many years later when she went off to college. We found a stable that offered trail rides high in the bluffs overlooking the Mississippi River. To this day, it is some of the most spectacular scenery I've ridden through. We went through dense woods, steep paths, jumps over fallen trees, and some of the most challenging riding I've ever done. We went with an experienced guide who understood we were experienced riders and we cantered for great lengths through the woods. Absolutely fabulous riding. I loved every minute of it....the scenery, the freedom, the urge to run, the time with my daughter. There is very much a cowboy in me.

We ride and never worry about the fall
I guess that's just the cowboy in us all