Music Man

                                                 he's married to the notes
                                                 inside his head
                                                 with glassy eyes
                                                 that hold a distant stare.
                                                 his ears are cradled
                                                 by her touch,
                                                 she is the sound
                                                 of midnight air.
                                                 she hypnotizes with
                                                 a symphony of rhythm
                                                 which warns the mistress
                                                 beware!

artwork by Hannah Jorgensen

                                                                                                                                                                                                            

"Many a man would rather you heard his story, than granted his request."

     ~Lord Chesterfield~

Girlfriend Night

Sometimes I want to share a story for selfish reasons to get it off my mind. This is one of them. Once it has been typed and posted, hopefully, the laughing will subside.

  Driving to Olathe from my house usually takes twenty minutes, but on a Friday night during rush hour traffic, it took forty five. I love Cedar street. The homes are tree lined, well lit and beautiful. When I was little, that is where the rich people lived or so I thought, now my friend Vicki lives there. The trailers were still in the driveway from the day's auction and it was so pitch dark, my daughter and I had to take baby steps.
"Ed, I know you're here, don't scare us!" I thought. Vicki's dad Ed was a joker with a big personality. Ghost hunters would love this guy! He came to our girlfriend parties after his wife died and then six months later, Ed joined her but I still felt like he was partying with us one last time.

  I was mad because I didn't take the torquoise bracelet when Ed was alive. He said, "take it! take whatever you want, pay me later, take it!" Mad too because I didn't have the patience to stand in line at the auction. Oh well, Debbie had made her famous Italian dinner with homemade marinara sauce and roast that had slow cooked all day with pasta. The bruchetta with heirloom tomatoes and fresh garlic dripped olive oil down my wrist and the cold Bourbon slushy erased any fears of Ed jumping out of the corner.

  We talked about jobs and co-workers, divorces and lawyers and Frank. "He came in the house after work and saw us women with the kids, house a mess and yelled about how he'd worked all day and why didn't we get anything done around here?" Vannessa said about her father-in-law. "Yea and then he watched the girls one Saturday afternoon for a couple of hours and when we came home we asked him what the heck was he doing all the time?" Vicki laughed. "Weren't you going to get dinner going?" "I was watching the girls!!" Frank had yelled.

  They are a loud bunch so I moved myself to the private living room to start the Tarot card readings. All the preparations were being made like lighting two white candles, praying and centering for protection and Divine guidance. I placed the amethyst crystal on the table and felt a cool breeze across my shoulders. "Did you feel that mom?" Hannah whispered. "No! Shh!" I said. My first "client" was waiting and I had to change hats.

  We are all so similar. Everyone wants to know if they're loved, if they are in the right place and who still thinks of them from their past. About this time, Hannah placed something in my hand from Vicki. It was a sterling silver bracelet with a torquoise stone and two feathers, handmade by Ed. A box had been overlooked by the auctioneer and inside was Ed's gold bracelet that Vicki had dearly loved, some pieces of handwritten recipes, lots of junk and my bracelet!

  "Dad did this! He wanted you to have it." Vicki said. "I wanted the gold bracelet but was afraid to get it because of the law suit with my brothers."
  "Well what do you know!" I thought. Six hours later, driving home, the moon was a radiant yellow and everything was cohesive. I felt loved, in the right place and knew that someone from my past loved still loved me. Next month, girlfriend night will be at my house. Think I'll make enchiladas.



 

Judge Not The Gift

With hesitation I drove to the funeral this afternoon. Not because of the deceased who I had only met once and not because she had made my friend's life miserable. The throbbing in my right eyeball was the reason I wanted to stay home. The church was fair sized with a hand full of people. I sat in the back, alone, not wanting to be noticed. A bad mood is a bad mood no matter where a person is and I was still aching with yesterday's unfulfilled birthday wishes.

Who were these people anyway? The woman ahead of me had an eighties hairdo, and where were the rest of my friends? At home doing their own thing on a Saturday afternoon? I judged every little detail. There was no singing, shame! Served her right, the dead lady. She should have been nicer in life. Should have treated her girls better. Why did Bill give me such a tacky birthday present?

The minister cleared his throat and began to tell the story behind the woman named Jackie, mother to my friend. His words painted a different picture than the one I had heard. She loved her girls, was an extrovert who made friends wherever she went. Due to an unfortunate accident at birth, she had received a brain injury. Later in life, the injury had caused two strokes which possibly changed her thought processes. The minister spoke of her as a "gift". A gift who drove too fast, gossiped, giggled and spoke well of her daughters while maintaining her faith. I could see the back of their heads, felt their pain and wondered if they were regretting having judged God's gift.

After getting home, I looked at the oval mirror with the black velvet backing and read the hot pink lettering about a wonderful wife. It plays music to the song, "you light up my life". I don't know if I will keep it in the living room but whenever I look into the mirror and see my own reflection, it is going to remind me to be a gift, not the judgement of a gift.

Thankyou Jackie, may you rest in peace.

Fall Back

"When you work, you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music...and what is it to work with love? It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.." ~Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet

"I wanna sing country songs and travel," she sighed. "But you don't even have a guitar!" I said, "isn't that the same as me wanting to be a cowboy 'cept I'm scared of horses?" We laughed, my sister and I at the art fair where imaginations run wild in the month of September and the beginning of Fall. It's the time of year when black creeps in on bark, making memory come alive. I notice it every year as the leaves change color. We become poets and our hearts begin to sing. It's like a wake up call to remind us all about our desires and correct path. Some people cry more and conjure feelings of regret.

We walked further and came across the dancing wire sculptures perfectly formed like a human body. Breathtaking! Photographers crowded the space trying to capture the sense of freedom.

"Do you remember little Bruce Roach?" I asked. "Mrs. McClanahan's grandson? Eew, he was scary weird, why?"my sister asked. "He's playing Edgar Allan Poe at the Coterie Theatre and the critics say he gives an eerie performance!" I rambled. "No way!" "Yeah way!" "So, he wasn't trying to kill us that summer, he was acting?" "Guess so," I said.

The best thing for us to remember our path could be as simple as being a kid again. Think about what you played, how you played and when did you feel like a weightless dancing sculpture? The place where time wasn't important either.

People paint with oil, people carve leaves into gourds, they use glass and some drink too much. The street music is always from the heart. My sister wants to sing, and I let her.

"Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven."

~WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE~

Photograph by Cathy Sherman www.GCUniverse.com/catherinescardstore

Muse

the muse came uninvited!

his unpredictablity disturbed

and charmed with delicious

bits of wit.

I know his ways

and how he never stays

but she is young old spirit muse;

come back again

give me the soul

we'll put you down on

velum paper

with black letters

trimmed in gold.

....to my broken hearted, you loved and gave, I say you didn't lose a thing. Keep your laugh inside your pocket. Mom

Nine Nine Nine! Do It Now!

Nine, nine nine. Some people say that's just six six six standing on it's head. Either way, it's magical and I won't see that number again in my lifetime. Driving to the gym tonight, I happened to glance at the clock right when it turned to 9:09 p.m., and I remembered what a first grader said to me. "It won't be here tomorrow!"
In numerology, the number nine represents completion and wisdom. People from all over the world today prayed and meditated on our "oneness". They even named this day the day of interconnectedness. Charlie went home sick because his body felt weird. Hannah was dizzy. My sleep was disturbed by memories of past wrongs. Twice I hit the pillow. Angie called and wanted to cancel her video shoot at my house. Excuses were made. The rain turned off the sun's light. "Would the deck be too dark for the camera?" Angie asked. "Well, you're the photographer" I answered. "It may cast shadows" she added. Our frustration was building and limitations were taking over. "What do you think Sandy?" "Do it!" we both said in unison.
Three small children came for the art class video and turned our world right side up again. We made eggshell mosaics and ironically it made sense to bring up the fact that people are all sorts of sizes. When we're glued together, it makes a pretty picture.
Once in a blue moon when numbers like nine nine nine at 9:09 p.m. come along, I'm going to remember that it's all about the present moment! Do your life now, don't wait. In the words of a very wise first grader, "it won't be here tomorrow!"