Words to Song

I have a collection of favorite  vinyl albums I  enjoy listening to on my vintage   turntable when I'm doing chores around the house,  sitting at the PC, or  on our well worn  wingback chair doing nothing.   Some  I play over and over, like today with Frank, Ella and Bing. Besides their voice and style,  I like the music and words they sing.  Especially the songs with words by Lorenz Hart, Irving Berlin, Cole Porter, Gershwin, Mercer, Sondheim (and so many more).  I'm awed and amazed at the flow of their lyrics; the phrasing and prose.

I've heard some say, " The lyric is nothing  without the music",  but  one can  also pose,  "What is the music without the words?"   Yes. Yes. Of course,    many songs  are beautifully arranged as  instrumentals only,  helping to sooth the soul and lift the spirit,  and  I appreciate those arrangements greatly, but  suggest even when listening to the' instrumental only'  arrangement, what pops into your mind are the words !

A perfect example of   a great  lyricist's  poetic flare  is   Johnny Mercer's " I Remember You" :

'When my life is through,
And the angels ask me to recall
The thrill of them all,
Then I shall tell them
I remember you'

or Hart's - any of Hart's - "Mountain Greenery", There's a Small Hotel" , I Could Write a Book", " I Didn't Know What  Time It Was", "My Funny Valentine", "Blue Moon" :

'And then there suddenly appeared before me,
the only one my arms will ever hold
I heard somebody whisper, "Please adore me",
and when I looked,
the moon had turned to gold.'

And the more contemporary Paul Simon:

'When you're weary, feelin' small,
When tears are in your eyes,
I'll dry them all;  I'm on your side.
Oh, when times get rough,
And friends just can't be found
Like a  bridge
over troubled water
I will lay me down.'

Song words. Poetic words. Beautifully written  words. Not just for a time, but timeless .

1.26.2011

This day:
books to read
songs to sing
a walk outside
dreams to dream
letters to write
a kind word said
prayers to pray
love to give

More Than Words and Paint

I find that words, as wonderful as they are, can't always describe true beauty, intense feeling  or a heart overflowing with marvelous joy.
Even the artist, while being able to paint the scene of a wooded landscape, seascape , or mountain lake with just the right shadows and hue can't completely translate what one experiences  when witnessing such an awesome, spectacular view.
 A feeling so sublime;  Perfectly at peace,  tranquil.   The spirit within is lifted higher, enriching the soul.  If even for a moment, allowing   one to  grasp the sure  knowledge,  God's grace abides.

The Written Word

Email and texting can be quick and immediate - depending if the recipient replies within a  minute, and while  most of us today would be lost without  internet connection,   and checking our e-messages  every day, I still think there's  something special about receiving a hand written note in the U.S. Mail , or card from a friend wishing you well.

The other day  I read educators in some districts are no longer going to teach  cursive writing in school. In my opinion, a sad change in curriculum.   I remember my own grade school years and thought about the dedicated   nuns and how they placed such  importance on their students  learning good  penmanship. Besides being  a discipline in perseverance , we were learning a skill  - knowing how to write our thoughts  would allow  us to communicate in another away. Everyday we  would practice writing letters of the alphabet, then whole words , and eventually full sentences over and over until it met with Sister's approval.

I then thought about the handwritten letters  and journals throughout history - many of them  held sacred , displayed   in museums and other great archives - letters of popes, poet, kings, queens, presidents and layman describing their place and time in the world.  Not only  do they tell us of a particular  era, but also   a part of  who they were are preserved in the actual writing of their own words, in their own hand.

Finally, I thought about letters and notes written to me by  those I know and have known, those  I   love  and hold dear - some  no longer on this earth. To  re-read  their  words written  personally to me brings a smile to my face and  joy to my heart. In their hand written word, a part of them still near.

Winter

Winter has fallen
upon my spirit
like it covers
the earth; Cold
and bleak
Dark days, darker nights
i search  the light of the sun.
Nature's music - a babbling
brook, the bird's sweet song
remain silent, still.
For how long?
Until seasons change
and Spring comes again

Kindle v.s. Print

The Kindle, Nook,and iPad are all the rage with readers today. In an on-line article dated December 28, 2010 the guardian.co.uk reported "Amazon e-book sales overtake print for the first time".  Wow !  That is  impressive.   In September when my friend Sandy C. and I traveled  to California ,   I thought I might want  one, too, and  even  considered putting it on my Christmas wish list, especially after a fellow passenger was gracious enough to show us her Kindle, allowing  us to  hold it up close and personal.   She  took great delight in telling us about the benefits of an e-reader - including free downloads -depending on author and story, and its many other fine features.  One of those attributes, the passenger pointed out, "No more stacks of books laying around the house."   After hearing so many positive things about the Kindle, I was ready to sign on.

But when I got home and walked into the study and saw all the books lining my shelves, I  began re- thinking  the e-reader vs print book .  I wondered  about city libraries and those row upon rows of titles and authors so carefully cataloged. What would happen to all those books?   Will our libraries now be changed to 'downloading' centers?    Then I thought  about inscriptions, and underlining and jacket covers.   Some folks , like me,   highlight  a sentence or phrase  with a marker because it touches our spirit in some particular way, and we want to find it again to read and re-read.   Not possible with an e-reader. And most importantly,  how does one inscribe something special  to another when giving an e-reader for a gift.  Can't be done.

Just this past Christmas my  son received a print book from his grandparents in Florida.   His Grandma Susie waited in line for six hours to purchase "Decision Points" and have it signed by the  former President of the United States, George W. Bush.  Gavin's Grandpa Cooney  took the time and effort to write a note describing the purchase of this book , where and when.  My  dad  wrote on the inside cover, " A piece of history, Grandpa Cooney".

I began looking at other books on my shelf.  Some with inscriptions from life long  friends, Susan and Phyllis. Others  from my mother, and grandmothers.  One book , " I've Got to Talk to Somebody, God"  by Marjorie Holmes dated 1974  is  from my brother, Walt. On the inside cover he wrote, " To my sis Kathy on her 1st Trip Abroad.  Luv Walt. Good Luck. hurry home.  As soon as possible, o.k. Sis.  Love Always .  The First of Many. (over)   Kathy, read 115 when you're on the airplane"

Walt knew I was afraid of flying, the words he chose to underline gave me great comfort then,  and  continue to  touch my heart deeply, especially now  since he passed away last May. The words he wrote to me in 1974 will continue to speak to me, as my dad's words will to Gavin - into the future.  One big advantage an e-reader doesn't have.

Advent - A New Beginning

Advent.  The four weeks prior to Christmas, now  once again  drawing to an end, but  leading to a  new beginning.   A season when we anxiously await, anticipate  something bright and beautiful.  Something bigger than ourselves. The birth  of our Lord and Savior. We plan  and prepare  with daily prayer for our hearts to be renewed , restored, reborn. We  decorate our homes with lights and  trim a tree and wrap packages for friends and family all in celebration of the one who is to come: "Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Lord of Lords, King of Kings. Immanuel."  Christmas morn  we can  envision  and almost hear the choir of Angels  singing,  " Gloria, gloria  in Excelsis Deo".  Filled with awe,  we humble ourselves by  bending  a knee and  bow  our head  to praise God , giving   Him thanks  for His gift of perfect love.

Snowy Silence

Snow covered ground,
more snow falling from a
grey covered sky
i open the  door
and grab the Yukon Jack's
leaning against the
front porch wall
After snapping the strap
onto the heel of my Sorrel's
i'm ready to head across
the field and down the hill.
i criss cross back and forth;
The only sound i hear
my snowshoes stepping
across the snowy terrain.
 i stop and all is quiet -
Centered in a circle of trees
i watch small fluffy flakes
dress the pines and
feel their wetness tickle my nose
As though in a  trance
i become lost in thought

and contemplate the lack of sound
i appreciate the stillness ; No angry
voice or misspoken words - only
a sense of peace
seeing God's
earthly beauty surround.

On Eagle's Wings

i've accepted
but don't  comprehend
i've acknowledged
but can't yet perceive
my brother now six
months dead
i only know my heart still aches
in wanting to hear his voice,
see his face
To remember together
our growing up years
the special bond of
friendship shared

As i pondered my sadness
at what i lost
and sorely bemoaned
other cares of the day
i looked out my window
to  see a pair of  bald eagles
majestic and beautiful
sweep  across the sky;
then pause mid air,  and back again
as beckoning me outside -
While on the deck i saw
more clearly their
feathered wings spread
wide,  high above
evergreen trees, their great
white head and golden eye.
Flying high, back and forth
hovering the earth  below - i was reminded
of my favorite sacred song,
 "On Eagle's Wings, " the
one cousin Kim sang at my
brother's funeral

 "And He will raise you up on eagle's wings
bear you on the breath of dawn,
make you shine like the sun,
and hold you in the palm of His hand"

i reflected further, and recalled a
prayer of several months ago
hearing the Lord speak to
the quiet of my heart:
"I am with your brother,
and he is with Me".
So i believe. i am  calm,
my spirit still. i don't see
my brother now, but trust
again i will.

ICICLES

Icicles hang from the roof
of our house
like stalactites in a cave
frozen ice, not cubed
tapering jagged
dagger sharp;
Their unique beauty
glistens like a
Swarovski crystal
in the cold glow
of the bright winter sun.

Frozen Snow

Snow today  isn't
the freshly fallen, fluffy stuff
fun for snowshoe treks
and building snowmen  like 'Frosty',
but  furrowed  and frozen
making it hard for even deer
to navigate their way
across the  white covered terrain.

THANKSGIVING DAY

Thanksgiving.  When families travel across the country,
 across town, across the street  to  gather
together in fellowship and love
around a table laden with favorite food,                                                      
offering  a prayer of gratitude to our
Creator for blessings received                                    
and hope renewed. Then, stories
shared of other Thanksgiving Days
like passing a baton generation to
generation.  Always some are
missing, leaving an empty
chair forever in our heart.
Sometimes it's a parent or
grandparent, husband or wife;
Or maybe an aunt, uncle, or
brother. Their stories
become part of  the stories we
tell;  Keeping them close
holding them dear.

                                                                          

A White Thanksgiving

Am I  dreaming of a white Christmas ?  Yes.  Just like the one Bing Crosby used to sing about . But a "white" Thanksgiving ?  No. Absolutely not. Yet, that's exactly what we're having this year in north Idaho - a very white and bitter cold Thanksgiving.

Instead of  warm autumn colors - red, soft yellow and   burnt orange  that so typically decorate the earth this time of year, and help bring to mind pilgrim's pride and Horn of Plenty,   the ground is frozen,  covered in snowy white. Trees flocked  like a picture on a  winter postcard, with  temps ranging   from minus 7 to 11.

Deer  come closer to the house looking for something green to nibble on; wild  turkey huddle together and take cover under low laying branches. Inside,  I bundle up in front of the fireplace  to  plan our  "white" Thanksgiving Day  dinner,  then pray a prayer of thanks for the beauty of   God's  creation (and long underwear and snowshoes) ,  and remember there's always much to be thankful   for.

TIME FLIES

How fast hours of the day pass by
like a bird flying
from one tree to another
perched for awhile
on a piny branch
then in a moments time
wings outstretched
he takes flight  again
and is gone

Beagle Sam

He wasn't Lassie or Rin Tin Tin
he couldn't do tricks
or fetch a stick
A bit overweight and
kind of slow;
Never did  win
"Best of Show"
Still, Sam E. Dobbs
was a "super star" dog,
(at least to us, who knew
him best)
Good  natured and
gentle, this beloved pet
captured our hearts
from early puppy-hood
Faithful and true,
he'd wait
at the door
happily wagging
his white tipped tail;
Those   naturally sad,
sweet Beagle eyes
like a beacon,
would  beckon us close
to hold his paw,  and
scratch his head.

On  afternoon  walks
he'd scamper through
piny woods, down
a thicket trail
with nose close
to the ground
following a
scent;  His long
floppy  ears
flying in the wind.
After a while, I'd whistle
and call his name.

We  miss  Beagle  Sam,
We miss him a lot.

Sam E. Beagle

Sam E. Dobbs is dying
a faithful and loving dog
he lays nestled in
familiar blankets
laboring for  breath.
When i come near
he doesn't move
except to lift his eyes
as if to call me closer
to scratch his ears
and let him know
i'm by his side.

BIRTHDAY MUSINGS

"Celebrate. Celebrate. Dance to the music"

Today is my birthday.  I sent my mother a bouquet of flowers with a note that says, "Congratulations, Mom !
60 years ago today you gave birth to a baby girl.  Thank you for the gift of life".
I think about my mother, and my father.  They were so young when I was born. I think of their love for me, their sacrifice, and am grateful.

Over the past several days, I've received many lovely cards and gifts  from family and friends - some silly, some serious, but in common they all express kind thoughts and happy wishes.  How  blessed I  am for their birthday remembrance. I think of them,  and all the people  who have been part of my life over the past 60 years, beginning with my mother - my first friend, my forever friend,  and  babyhood; I move through my toddler years, childhood, grade school, high school, college,newspaper work, church life, married life, motherhood. Beloved grand-parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, mentors and friends and how they made my life better with their presence.   I want  to give them  a gift on my birthday  - a gift  of gratitude, wrapped  with a ribbon of love.

I'm also reminded that several I've known and loved have passed away, not getting the chance to celebrate  a 60th birthday. A litany of names come to mind:

Grandfather Walt
Mike (Shirley) Marconi
Sister Mary Agnesine
Tony Moore
Tom
Bob
Grandma Vivian
Roy C.
Uncle Bob Breedlove
Al M.
Pat Sims
Patsy
Father Mike Smith
Denise
Brad
and my brother, Walt.

I celebrate their lives today, too, and  pray  they're rejoicing around Heaven's Table and eternal light shines upon them.

To some,  60 years might seem old, a long time on this earth, especially to a ten or 20 year old. It's only as we age, and each new birthday comes and goes, we recognize just how swiftly the years roll by.    Lyricist Sheldon Harnick,  in his great song from 'Fiddler on the Roof  writes:

"I don't remember growing older
 When did they?

When did she get to be a beauty?
When did he grow to be so tall?

Wasn't it yesterday when they were small?

Sunrise, sunset
Sunrise, sunset
Swiftly fly the years
One season following another
Laden with happiness and tears"

 How important it is for us to embrace life with joy and merriment, to let those we care for know we care for them by the words we say and deeds we do.

THIS DAY

Tonight I'm still 59 years old. Tomorrow  I won't  be.  Today I spent the day doing  everyday,   ordinary, extraordinary  things. Rising early to say morning prayers, smiling at the sound of my husband's voice, "Good morning, honey.  You stay in bed, I'll   make the coffee".   Later  we watch Fox News Sunday  and get ready for church.  I speak with my mother on the phone and read an email from my dad.  I start a fire in our wood burning stove. Gary goes to the garage and lets Missy dog out, then brings Sam E. Beagle upstairs.  A few days ago Sam suffered a seizure of some sort, so we want to keep him comfortable and quiet.

 After Mass  Gary and I  stop for breakfast at Elmer's  on Highway 95.   Gary orders  his usual basted eggs and ham; i tried something new -  a grilled chicken, white cheddar cheese  and pear wrap.  Yes, I know it sounds unusual, but trust me,   it's delicious !

We talk about our sons, and the grand-children.  The week before,  our youngest grand-daughter sent us 'Flat Stanley' with a note explaining 'Flat Stanley' is a visitor to our area and asked us if  we  would please take him to see some of the sights in Coeur d' Alene, then return him to her second grade glass in Apple Valley  with pictures and souvenirs.

We talk about  my birthday tomorrow.  60 years old.   We reminisce about our first date.  I was  only 25 then.  We marvel at how  fast the years have gone by.     Gary says he'd like to buy me a  'no-shed'  puppy.   i'm pleased and know  my husband is being  thoughtful, but am worried about our Beagle,  Sam and how he would react to a new puppy in the house... especially now when he  is so old and his physical health is on the decline. i tell Gary as much as i'd like a new puppy,  i think it best if we wait for awhile.

Instead of a puppy we decide a North Face fleece would be a  nice gift. Although my birthday isn't until tomorrow   we drive to Tri-State Outfitters.  This is a very sweet gesture on my husband's part as he absolutely hates shopping,  and anyone who knows me also knows it takes  a long time for me to make up my mind whenever i contemplate buying something new.  As it  turns out, my husbands gift isn't anything money can buy, but his  gift of  ' patience', and enduring love as he waits and watches me try on jacket after jacket.

  Although there were many fine North Face jackets at Tri- State ,  I couldn't decide on one (no surprise)  ,  and we left the store  empty handed.  At the recommendation of the Tri-State sales clerk we made  another stop at Finn - McDonald  in the Coeur d Alene Resort Mall.  There we hit the jackpot !  A perfect fit, (and color) North Face zipper fleece. Not only a zipper fleece, but a lovely multi-colored  scarf  to wear with the fleece.  The  sales clerk even took the time to show  me three or four different ways to tie the scarf.  i left the store  happy, and my husband was pleased about giving me a birthday gift he knew i liked a lot.

When we got back  home  our son, Gavin  greeted us saying,  "Hey, mom, Stacy and me are fixing the family dinner tonight.  How do taco's sound?"  

As in one voice, both Gary and I said, "Sounds great!".

I   couldn't wait to wear my 'birthday' fleece and take a walk down the hill.  Knowing Gavin and Stacy were in charge of dinner, off i went to trek through  Dobbs' Woods.    The wind was blowing, the air brisk and cool; Rays of sun streaked through broken clouds.  I stare  at the whitecaps swirling the lake, and watch two seagulls swoon high and low.  I contemplate the beauty surrounding  me,  and reflect on the day. An ordinary, extraordinary day like so many others.   I think about tonight when I go to bed I'll still be 59, but  upon waking  tomorrow I'll be 60 years old.   One decade will end, another to begin.

A RAINY DAY

A rainy day. No sun.  No blue sky.
 The temp is cool, grey outside;
A good day for staying inside.
i make my bed and clean the  kitchen.
The warmth of the  fire in our wood burning stove
heats the house and feels good
against my aching, aged muscles.
Listening to the sweet sound
of an  old  "Peter, Paul & Mary"
vinyl album lifts my mood
and causes me to reflect
on life long friends
and days gone by.

Summer's End

The season is changing
from  hot, dry days of summer
to cooler, crisp autumn weather.
i no longer wear  knee-length shorts
and sleeveless tee's
on my morning walk
but long jeans and a  light weight
sweat shirt.
The tree leaves are  a bright yellow gold,
not the deep green of
June, July and August
 while the  sun rises  later
bringing first  light to
 beckon the  day;
and setting earlier
to darken the cloudy sky -  a reminder
winter is on the way.