Peace Pilgrim was born July 18, 1908. She is turning 100 this month. She passed in 1981 when, on the way to a speaking engagement, she was in a head-on car collision and died immediately, only months after she was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. Well, I just saw the most amazing one-hour video on her life... some link off of http://www.peacepilgrim.org/.
In her middle age, Peace took on a vow of poverty in order to walk for the cause of "World Peace". All that she says and did touches me. Were I to have her strength to speak from the heart, strength to take on physical hardship for the sake of the truth of Peace. I wish I could be Peace, but my excuse is that several people depend on me, so I can't do what she did. I am moving ahead in my own small ways.
The video footage shows Peace describing her ideas and aspirations. I had not been aware of her until this year, despite Tom Hanks added a touch of her life to the movie Forest Gump, when someone explained her deep influence on him.
Happy 100th Birthday, Peace. May your life live on in our good deeds. May we follow your "Steps to inner Peace" - I will take time to read it...
Friday, July 4, 2008
Monday, May 19, 2008
THE POTTED DUCK
Chickadees twitter arpeggios by the door.
Potted duck rests in sunny nest...
Potted duck rests in sunny nest...
...Silent night steam lifts yesterday's rain.
My dreams drift on honeysuckle moments.
Saturday, March 29, 2008
Eli Stone "I Want Your Sex"
What do you think about Eli Stone? It's a new show since Jan. '08, Thursday nights on ABC (in the US, but also in Canada & Down Under...). It's fun. Jonny Lee Miller as Eli Stone is cool. The entire cast is cool. Great actors, including Victor Garber. The story line: Eli Stone is a lawyer at a prestigious San Francisco law firm. He is diagnosed with a brain aneurysm - which supposedly causes the visions or revelations he's getting about life and certain law cases. This new-found humility is a life-change for Eli - and those around him.
Each episode, Eli's visions include George Michael singing or the cast singing George Michael songs. The episodes are typically named after Michael songs. This past Thursday's episode, "I Want Your Sex", featured George Michael as a real life client of Eli Stone. (This time it was George Michael having dream visions of Eli Stone.) The end of the show included George Michael in concert. The "Heal the Pain" episode also had a glimpse of George Michael in concert.
I've a new found appreciation for George Michael. Victor Garber sang "Freedom" on the Eli Stone episode with the same name. Victor Garber has a gorgeous voice, and plays piano, but the first time I heard him singing George Michael, it seemed out of character. He is after all the head partner of the money-sucking law firm. Loretta Devine as Patti, Eli's administrative assistant, was awesome in her gospel-rendition singing for the Michael song and Eli Stone episode, "One More Try". For the Michael originals I went to YouTube. Here are the YouTube videos, for: "Freedom", "One More Try", and "I Want Your Sex".
Too bad if you missed Episode 1, when Eli scattered his father's ashes on the Himalayas. The scenery was splendid and Sherpas were preciously satirical (in subtitles)! I wish ABC would make the 1st episode available for viewing again. Since it aired, there was a real life legal case in Georgia suing a drug company by claiming the preservatives in a vaccine caused a child's autism. As in Eli Stone's case, the jury found for the plaintiff. The vaccine-autism controversy remains in the news.
Though you can watch Eli Stone replays at ABC online, unfortunately only the most recent four episodes are available. I often miss the TV show, but then watch it later online.
Each episode, Eli's visions include George Michael singing or the cast singing George Michael songs. The episodes are typically named after Michael songs. This past Thursday's episode, "I Want Your Sex", featured George Michael as a real life client of Eli Stone. (This time it was George Michael having dream visions of Eli Stone.) The end of the show included George Michael in concert. The "Heal the Pain" episode also had a glimpse of George Michael in concert.
I've a new found appreciation for George Michael. Victor Garber sang "Freedom" on the Eli Stone episode with the same name. Victor Garber has a gorgeous voice, and plays piano, but the first time I heard him singing George Michael, it seemed out of character. He is after all the head partner of the money-sucking law firm. Loretta Devine as Patti, Eli's administrative assistant, was awesome in her gospel-rendition singing for the Michael song and Eli Stone episode, "One More Try". For the Michael originals I went to YouTube. Here are the YouTube videos, for: "Freedom", "One More Try", and "I Want Your Sex".
Too bad if you missed Episode 1, when Eli scattered his father's ashes on the Himalayas. The scenery was splendid and Sherpas were preciously satirical (in subtitles)! I wish ABC would make the 1st episode available for viewing again. Since it aired, there was a real life legal case in Georgia suing a drug company by claiming the preservatives in a vaccine caused a child's autism. As in Eli Stone's case, the jury found for the plaintiff. The vaccine-autism controversy remains in the news.
Though you can watch Eli Stone replays at ABC online, unfortunately only the most recent four episodes are available. I often miss the TV show, but then watch it later online.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Song and Memory: "Let's Get Together"
{written Easter Sunday, March 23, 2008}
Yes, and Happy Easter today!
I was driving my car yesterday, listening to the radio, and this article spoke to me:
http://weekendamerica.publicrad
At age 19 in 1970, he hitchhiked from New Hampshire to a rock festival in Ontario. He tells of the time he heard The Youngbloods sing "Let's Get Together". He was in the company of a girl, also from his hometown, whom he just met. Now, nearly 40 years later, he wants to find that girl. His description is so vivid I imagined myself there. There, suspended at the top of a ferris wheel, tingling all over from vertigo combined with anticipation.
Given the poetic predictability, why do people not take action when "in the moment"? (why not - strike while the iron is hot?) Why not [ask for a] kiss, or try to know her more?
Why do people choose to hold back love? Why do people not try? Why do people rather lose each other? Why do we misunderstand? I should know these rules, but can't answer.
Some experiences in youth are indelible. A deeply felt experience leaves a physical imprint as memory and sensations in your organs, from your heart and stomach, to skin and mind. You are a collection of memories, bonded within you forever. When left with only a distant intangible memory, perhaps your memory exacerbates its salient characteristic - turning more poignant or pungent, sweet or bittersweet - through the romance and regret in your eyes.
Is it true we lose youth with age? What changes, besides accumulating years and bodily ailments? Do we have less exposure to rich experience? Do we lose heightened sensations of feelings - that seemed so crisp as a teen? Or is our attention elsewhere? Maybe we close one phase and move on. Maybe we trade one kind of freedom for another. Maybe it's about perception. Or maybe we can try one more time...
And smile when you sing the Youngbloods song to yourself:
"Love is but the song we sing,
And fear's the way we die
You can make the mountains ring
Or make the angels cry
Know the dove is on the wing
And you need not know why
C'mon people now, ..."
And fear's the way we die
You can make the mountains ring
Or make the angels cry
Know the dove is on the wing
And you need not know why
C'mon people now, ..."
Yes, and Happy Easter today!
TOUCHING A CLOWN FISH
{written on Wednesday, March 05, 2008}
He stands on the cusp of manhood. Looking across the horizon, he sees possibilities emerging as silhouettes. They reveal bright lights and deep colors, coming in and out of soft focus. He hears a constant stream of melodies, harmonies, and pulsing rhythms.
Imagine a parallel universe, where he can choose several paths and fully live out the potential of each one. Each choice extends its hand. He reaches out and steps thru to the other side, at least to try a taste.
What does the future hold in store? What will stick? Is there a sign? Can I throw joss sticks? LOL, I'm not so superstitious... Is there a more rational approach - a contemporary twist - to numerology, to calm my hopeful heart? Yes. I searched for his name on the internet.
He is a statistician, who wrote The Book on interpreting case studies. He is at once both surgeon and violinist. He is an internationally renown, award-winning undersea photographer.
What a pleasure to look through the breathtaking underwater and marine life photos of this amazing diver-photographer. Online you can see page after page of his brilliant hi-resolution under-the-sea photos. But the small photo shown below brings me to the subject of this blog: Touching a Clown Fish.
I was lucky to be sent twice on business to Cairns, Queensland, Australia. On the 1st trip, our "US delegation" went scuba diving and snorkeling off the Great Barrier Reef. It was while scuba diving that I met face-to-face with a little clown fish. She looked just like this photo, and was suspended with her back side into live sea coral just like this photo.
I looked into her eyes, and she into my mask, just inches apart. We stared at each other for some time. Then I reached out my index finger and gently stroked her body on her right side several times, from behind her head towards the tail. She didn't move and simply continued to look at me with a slight flinch. I guess she might have thought, "Oh please don't hurt me." or "Oh no, not another tourist!"
The purpose of my business trip was related to law enforcement of marine fisheries and habitat protection. I later "confessed" my harassment activity to a special agent on the trip. After all, one element of our mission is to allow dolphins to live free in the wild, and to protect dolphins from human contact in the US (such as humans feeding dolphins or swimming together). Here I was stroking a clown fish in a foreign country!
I did regret the touching, but fell in love with the contemplative and passive clown fish. They are the cutest fish and I can see why they are used affectionately in movies, stuffed animals, and beach towels, etc. (I've bought them all.)
"Looking-good - feeling good"
{first written Thursday, January 10, 2008}
These are interesting links intended for you to consider your health condition. Try the virtual age test, which is interesting food for thought. (hmmm... now what can i do to live to 100??)
I am lucky. I am healthy. Albert greets me at the train in the morning (see previous Wash Post blog). Then I work with so many nice people. In my office alone, throughout the day, you can hear laughter nearby and faraway. It sets the tone. It is an enjoyable, smiling environment, albeit not well funded and run on a shoestring. Practical jokes are the norm (I'm a recipient and not a doer... but I'm mulling one over for April 1...).
(Blog title comes from friend's email Subject line.)
Someone at work, with whom i collaborate on cross-organization efforts, called and invited me to join her weekly lunchtime discussion group. In a previous life, she owned her own motivational consulting company. I am happy to take up her offer. I went earlier this week.
This group is limited to about 10 people (there were 8 including me this week). They've already been meeting for months. I don't know these people because they work in a different office than mine, in a different building. It's nice to get out of the office and meet new people. They are all very nice, and represent a very diverse mix of age, gender, and background. I will try to join them for 2008.
My friend had her facilitator hat on. Since I was new, and it was their first meeting of the New Year, we went around the room and described some accomplishments from 2007. I'm in a happy and optimistic frame of mind, and had no problem to open up. Having my recent blogs at the front of my consciousness, I chatted about ideas from these. I was pleasantly surprised. I had people smiling and laughing, and could have gone on, but didn't want to dominate... My friend called me later to thank me for my energy and contribution. (Was she just saying that to be nice, or did people really give her positive feedback about me, or both?) In future meetings, as they have already been doing so far, they will talk more about goals: how to work towards them, how not to sabotage yourself, and how we might provide encouragement. Sounds like fun!
Not related to this week's meeting - but I guess for past & future meetings - my friend emailed me the following links which I share with you:
http://www.halls.md/ideal-weight/body.htm
http://www.dietitian.com/ibw/ibw.html
http://www.peterrussell.com/Odds/RealAge.php
http://www.carbs-information.com/glycemic-index.htm I am lucky. I am healthy. Albert greets me at the train in the morning (see previous Wash Post blog). Then I work with so many nice people. In my office alone, throughout the day, you can hear laughter nearby and faraway. It sets the tone. It is an enjoyable, smiling environment, albeit not well funded and run on a shoestring. Practical jokes are the norm (I'm a recipient and not a doer... but I'm mulling one over for April 1...).
(Blog title comes from friend's email Subject line.)
RESOLUTIONS FOR THE NEW YEAR (2008)
{first written December 31, 2007}
On New Year's Day I will sit with my family and lead this discussion over dinner. I appreciate them humoring me by going along with it. (I'm open to others taking the lead too...) It's funny conversation... Last year my son's resolutions were all about getting the rest of us to exercise. LOL.
I must be getting predictable because my foster son said something today, I looked up into his face, and he said, "I know, I need to make that a New Year's Resolution." He read my mind exactly, and we laughed.
Need help and reinforcements? New Year resolutions are personal. Maybe we fail because we don't have the individual will power or the time while we juggle everything else. You can reduce risk and increase your chances of success if you do the following:
Here are my specific 2008 resolutions:
1. Continue to walk and exercise (already started in 2007) and add vitamins to the daily routine.
2. Focus on some goals at work, such as a new program initiative or professional certification.
3. Clean the house - probably throw out (donate to charity) the last generation of stuff. Simplify the lifestyle and downsize the house.
4. Make my sewing room - after dedicating rooms for every other purpose I'm going to clear space to set up something for me and try to pick up some old projects.
5. Travel somewhere TBD - probably East Coast, maybe UK... I see water in my future...
6. Help my son with his musical pursuits. Help him and my foster son get into college.
7. Write a comedy - maybe a stand-up monlogue? (this one is the impulse item.)
Happy New Year! I'm sharing my thoughts for 2008... Thanks for reading...
Many people make New Years resolutions. I do. It's a good time to reflect and restate your awareness of priorities.
I begin by looking back on the past year. I identify a short list of my achievements and any influences on me over the past year (see my previous blog). Then I look ahead and identify a short list of things to focus on, above and beyond all others. I suggest selecting resolutions that target the following categories:
* To improve personal discipline
* To improve health
* To improve interpersonal relationships
* To enhance professional growth or a vocational skill
* To identify a large goal, milestone or project you plan to achieve in 2008.
* To improve health
* To improve interpersonal relationships
* To enhance professional growth or a vocational skill
* To identify a large goal, milestone or project you plan to achieve in 2008.
On New Year's Day I will sit with my family and lead this discussion over dinner. I appreciate them humoring me by going along with it. (I'm open to others taking the lead too...) It's funny conversation... Last year my son's resolutions were all about getting the rest of us to exercise. LOL.
I must be getting predictable because my foster son said something today, I looked up into his face, and he said, "I know, I need to make that a New Year's Resolution." He read my mind exactly, and we laughed.
Need help and reinforcements? New Year resolutions are personal. Maybe we fail because we don't have the individual will power or the time while we juggle everything else. You can reduce risk and increase your chances of success if you do the following:
* discuss with someone - whether sharing your thoughts or sharing collective goals, talking provides mutual encouragement and helps make you accountable. If you tell me yours, I won't forget and might remind you quarterly...
* try incremental instead of revolutionary change - be realistic not extreme.
* life style changes are more lasting than flash-in-the pan fads.
* try again at Lent, or any next holiday/birthday, to make it right. I find Lenten sacrifices as lasting because I transfer my will power to something bigger than me, and it makes me stronger.
* try incremental instead of revolutionary change - be realistic not extreme.
* life style changes are more lasting than flash-in-the pan fads.
* try again at Lent, or any next holiday/birthday, to make it right. I find Lenten sacrifices as lasting because I transfer my will power to something bigger than me, and it makes me stronger.
Here are my specific 2008 resolutions:
1. Continue to walk and exercise (already started in 2007) and add vitamins to the daily routine.
2. Focus on some goals at work, such as a new program initiative or professional certification.
3. Clean the house - probably throw out (donate to charity) the last generation of stuff. Simplify the lifestyle and downsize the house.
4. Make my sewing room - after dedicating rooms for every other purpose I'm going to clear space to set up something for me and try to pick up some old projects.
5. Travel somewhere TBD - probably East Coast, maybe UK... I see water in my future...
6. Help my son with his musical pursuits. Help him and my foster son get into college.
7. Write a comedy - maybe a stand-up monlogue? (this one is the impulse item.)
2007 RETROSPECTIVE, and SECOND LIFE
{first written December 31, 2007}
In my excitement and optimism about the future, I want to jump to the new ideas for 2008... And throw out the old, 2007... But the more methodical side of me says I must take stock of 2007.
Looking back helps me understand: Was I an active player or a passive recipient in what came to pass? What would I change if I could do it again??
Yes, I was an active player. No, I would probably not change anything, despite not imagining beforehand how events might unfold. OK, well I do sincerely regret sleeping on and breaking my eyeglasses...
The biggest impacts on my life in 2007 were (1) inviting my now foster son into my home to live with us; and (2) spending time in Second Life.
I was not seeking another son. This boy came into our life after I received a phone call in 2006 from a friend introducing a boy who seemed compatible with us and who needed a place to stay. He started to live with us in 2006 but fate put him with another family and I almost lost him. Then in 2007 he was in need again, and this time I was ready. The social work paperwork to bring a foster child home is incredible. Let's say it's worth it!
And Second Life?? I first heard about SL from a former co-worker who wanted me to see the SL "island" hosted by my new workplace. Lent was just starting at the time... For Lent I had given up "comedy TV". LOL! Wow, talk about replacing one addiction with another!! I spent probably too much time in SL, I admit it.
For this blog, let's say why I'm thankful for SL. Two of my "real life" friends, who are also in SL, are now better RL friends. I became friends with people all over the world in SL. After not reaching out to foreign friends after 9/11 and the Iraq War, it felt good to talk to non-Americans once again. I have tended to make more long-term friends in SL than one-time conversations. I'm thankful that after nearly one year in SL, I can still meet and greet the same people almost like old friends. Friends from Germany, Austria, UK, New Zealand, and Brazil - these are the places where just a handful of new SL friends come from. In the US, there's New York, Mass., North Carolina, Penn., NJ, Colorado...
I am thankful for their examples: genius, faith, sensitivity, friendship and fun. Hope, conversation, caring, initiative, humor, and sensibility. I learned LSL (the scripting language in SL) and found ways to be creative. SL is probably not a place for everyone. Sometimes you come face to face with thoughts and situations that you didn't need, but which end up challenging and changing you. If you can keep things in perspective, the benefits of SL will help you grow. My annual renewal comes up soon, and I think the SL glass is half-full, so I will renew. Better yet, I hope to strike a balance: be better friends to my SL friends, while not going too deep inworld (you SLers in too deep know what I mean) and to learn more next year.
In my excitement and optimism about the future, I want to jump to the new ideas for 2008... And throw out the old, 2007... But the more methodical side of me says I must take stock of 2007.
Looking back helps me understand: Was I an active player or a passive recipient in what came to pass? What would I change if I could do it again??
Yes, I was an active player. No, I would probably not change anything, despite not imagining beforehand how events might unfold. OK, well I do sincerely regret sleeping on and breaking my eyeglasses...
The biggest impacts on my life in 2007 were (1) inviting my now foster son into my home to live with us; and (2) spending time in Second Life.
I was not seeking another son. This boy came into our life after I received a phone call in 2006 from a friend introducing a boy who seemed compatible with us and who needed a place to stay. He started to live with us in 2006 but fate put him with another family and I almost lost him. Then in 2007 he was in need again, and this time I was ready. The social work paperwork to bring a foster child home is incredible. Let's say it's worth it!
And Second Life?? I first heard about SL from a former co-worker who wanted me to see the SL "island" hosted by my new workplace. Lent was just starting at the time... For Lent I had given up "comedy TV". LOL! Wow, talk about replacing one addiction with another!! I spent probably too much time in SL, I admit it.
For this blog, let's say why I'm thankful for SL. Two of my "real life" friends, who are also in SL, are now better RL friends. I became friends with people all over the world in SL. After not reaching out to foreign friends after 9/11 and the Iraq War, it felt good to talk to non-Americans once again. I have tended to make more long-term friends in SL than one-time conversations. I'm thankful that after nearly one year in SL, I can still meet and greet the same people almost like old friends. Friends from Germany, Austria, UK, New Zealand, and Brazil - these are the places where just a handful of new SL friends come from. In the US, there's New York, Mass., North Carolina, Penn., NJ, Colorado...
I am thankful for their examples: genius, faith, sensitivity, friendship and fun. Hope, conversation, caring, initiative, humor, and sensibility. I learned LSL (the scripting language in SL) and found ways to be creative. SL is probably not a place for everyone. Sometimes you come face to face with thoughts and situations that you didn't need, but which end up challenging and changing you. If you can keep things in perspective, the benefits of SL will help you grow. My annual renewal comes up soon, and I think the SL glass is half-full, so I will renew. Better yet, I hope to strike a balance: be better friends to my SL friends, while not going too deep inworld (you SLers in too deep know what I mean) and to learn more next year.
CHOCOLATE FUDGE and INNOCENCE
{first written December 31, 2007}
My younger son is one of these people who gets an idea, and never lets go. Weeks and months might pass, but the same fixed idea comes back. He planted the seed last summer. In August, I picked him up from his summer school - after 7 weeks in upstate NY. What was the first thing he says? "Mom, I want to buy fudge for Christmas and send it to my new friends."
I heard him, and answered, "Uh-huh... yes, dear." This means: he remembers some previous time long ago, at the Baltimore Inner Harbor (read "tourist trap"), when singing and dancing youth were also making and selling fudge at extremely high prices. He wants me to mail gifts to a bunch of new friends (whom he'll never see again). I shudder to think of the effort, the cost, the point...
Well, like clockwork, he continued to remind me about once a month, and became increasingly authoritative in his reminders. I never said no, always "Uh-huh..." But I secretly hoped he might drop it.
Fast forward to mid-December. We pass by Baltimore Inner Harbor on weekends for music lessons. With concerts, recitals, lessons all finished for 2007 and I was hoping to sneak out of town. No way. He announced our side trip to the Harbor. My other sons took a ride home with friend, leaving just he and I together to walk there alone.
The streets of Baltimore and the ships in the harbor were decorated with Christmas lights, reds and greenery. Magical. We went right after lunch, thinking we would efficiently squeeze in the errand before his voice lesson.
We stood enjoying the fudgemakers sing old R&B and pop songs. They change the lyrics to describe the joys of making, buying, and eating fudge. I got the idea in my head that my son should respond in song. Afterall he's a singer too. What's the point in all these voice lessons and chorale performances if he can't mix it up on the fly with the fudgemakers? We worked out a possible vocal response, but my son simply melted in fear; he chickened out. With our window of time gone and the errand a failure, we walked back for the voice lesson, quite unhappy with each other.
After the voice lesson, we went again. This time I would not try to get him to sing along. I merely intended to keep my mouth shut and plunk my cash down for some fudge. I'm glad we went twice. This time outside on the waterfront was a 200-person Tuba band playing Silent Night. Inside, "The Fudgery" was packed with customers. These guys and one gal are powerful singers. R&B or gospel-style, they know how to get a crowd going. My son's eyes are lit up, just like when he used to visit and believe in Santa Claus. He wants so badly to buy the fudge, and to share with all his friends. But first, there's the floor show. Three tuba players drift in and join in the fudge-making jam session.
Somehow, they pick me out from the crowd?? The fudge-makers, they ask my name, and tell me to shout out - at their cue, "Word!!!" They sing a line, I shout "Word!" and the rest of the audience shouts back "Word!" I guess I learned "word". We all got into it for a few songs... We bought 7 lbs of fudge, in 5 flavors, and added a tip... And this was the best money spent.
We walked back to the car in twilight. We came home and I lovingly re-wrapped up each 1/2 lb. fudge bar, shaped like bars of gold, to be air tight for their trips cross-country. I typed up a little cards to insert with each gift, a little blog-like depiction of The Fudgery experience, with red bows and name cards in Fudgery bags. Shipped that following Monday as Priority Mail all over the US.
You might think this is a Christmas thing, but as they pointed out, The Fudgery is open year-round. We can do this again any day of the year when the spirit moves you!
My younger son is one of these people who gets an idea, and never lets go. Weeks and months might pass, but the same fixed idea comes back. He planted the seed last summer. In August, I picked him up from his summer school - after 7 weeks in upstate NY. What was the first thing he says? "Mom, I want to buy fudge for Christmas and send it to my new friends."
I heard him, and answered, "Uh-huh... yes, dear." This means: he remembers some previous time long ago, at the Baltimore Inner Harbor (read "tourist trap"), when singing and dancing youth were also making and selling fudge at extremely high prices. He wants me to mail gifts to a bunch of new friends (whom he'll never see again). I shudder to think of the effort, the cost, the point...
Well, like clockwork, he continued to remind me about once a month, and became increasingly authoritative in his reminders. I never said no, always "Uh-huh..." But I secretly hoped he might drop it.
Fast forward to mid-December. We pass by Baltimore Inner Harbor on weekends for music lessons. With concerts, recitals, lessons all finished for 2007 and I was hoping to sneak out of town. No way. He announced our side trip to the Harbor. My other sons took a ride home with friend, leaving just he and I together to walk there alone.
The streets of Baltimore and the ships in the harbor were decorated with Christmas lights, reds and greenery. Magical. We went right after lunch, thinking we would efficiently squeeze in the errand before his voice lesson.
We stood enjoying the fudgemakers sing old R&B and pop songs. They change the lyrics to describe the joys of making, buying, and eating fudge. I got the idea in my head that my son should respond in song. Afterall he's a singer too. What's the point in all these voice lessons and chorale performances if he can't mix it up on the fly with the fudgemakers? We worked out a possible vocal response, but my son simply melted in fear; he chickened out. With our window of time gone and the errand a failure, we walked back for the voice lesson, quite unhappy with each other.
After the voice lesson, we went again. This time I would not try to get him to sing along. I merely intended to keep my mouth shut and plunk my cash down for some fudge. I'm glad we went twice. This time outside on the waterfront was a 200-person Tuba band playing Silent Night. Inside, "The Fudgery" was packed with customers. These guys and one gal are powerful singers. R&B or gospel-style, they know how to get a crowd going. My son's eyes are lit up, just like when he used to visit and believe in Santa Claus. He wants so badly to buy the fudge, and to share with all his friends. But first, there's the floor show. Three tuba players drift in and join in the fudge-making jam session.
Somehow, they pick me out from the crowd?? The fudge-makers, they ask my name, and tell me to shout out - at their cue, "Word!!!" They sing a line, I shout "Word!" and the rest of the audience shouts back "Word!" I guess I learned "word". We all got into it for a few songs... We bought 7 lbs of fudge, in 5 flavors, and added a tip... And this was the best money spent.
We walked back to the car in twilight. We came home and I lovingly re-wrapped up each 1/2 lb. fudge bar, shaped like bars of gold, to be air tight for their trips cross-country. I typed up a little cards to insert with each gift, a little blog-like depiction of The Fudgery experience, with red bows and name cards in Fudgery bags. Shipped that following Monday as Priority Mail all over the US.
You might think this is a Christmas thing, but as they pointed out, The Fudgery is open year-round. We can do this again any day of the year when the spirit moves you!
PUTTIN' ON THE HITZ 07-08
{first written December 31, 2007}
It happened early December 2007, but I'd be remiss if I ended 2007 without praise and thanks to the kids who put on the high school remix dance show, "Puttin On The Hitz '07-08". (Also known as POTH.)
POTH is one of many Senior Class projects. Run by students, POTH is an annual variety show in December, with about 20 acts of kids dancing to remixed pop and hip-hop medleys. The music and choreography is of their own choosing.
I attended as a parent. My son was one of the show's producers, and he danced in 3 acts. I was totally clueless beforehand about the existence of POTH - and my son didn't say much... I almost didn't know to go, and showed up as a surprise to him (but the surprise was on me). I am so glad I was there.
The auditorium was packed to the gills. Auditorium capacity is somewhere around 1600-1800 seats. Plus the hallways, aisles, backstage and orchestra pit were jammed packed. Imagine 2000 high-pitched girls' screams, and booming male hoots, and the sound can lift you off your seats reading this. Every act was 5-10 minutes, set to a blaring, wall-shaking, pop-rock-hip-hop medley soundtrack. The kids acted out story themes (boy-girl interactions), sychronized group dancing, hip-hop, breakdancing, kung fu, comedy, and pure good times. With every new move came a surge of screams and cheers from the audience. Going ape-sh__ is one way to describe it. What chaos!
The first half included acts by smaller groups and clubs with an inclination to strut their stuff, say, less than 10 people each act. The second half had huge routines involving 30-plus kids each act, representing the freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior classes, the planning committees, and student governments. Sorry! ...I haven't loaded my favorite videos online (the ones with my son). Instead please check out this link from YouTube as an example: http://tw.youtube.com/watch?v=0X3EFOgIl0M (For some reason YouTube only has a couple acts from the 1st half at this time.)
I used to be active in some youth groups and personally know many of these kids and their parents, since the kids were small. I had chills running up my spine to see them today. They are bold, daring, happy, creative, and talented. I laughed out loud to see some certain dance moves coming out of these kids. Like my son's best friend jiggling his butt for a minute straight with 2 other guys, their backs facing the audience, while the girls danced around them. OMG - I wouldn't have such nerve. Clearly there's safety in numbers, and there is no stopping the power of 2000 kids. My son was joy in movement. Who taught him those moves?? I say he can get a part time job as a male dancer to get him through college (just kidding!). And don't forget that awesome drummer from the rock band Lemonface.
Then they had to voice vote for their favorite acts, and the walls came tumbling down. It was mostly a shouting contest among the freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior classes. OK, the juniors won...
This is a high-achieving high school with 2600 kids in suburban DC. This year it's the top-scoring public high school for S.A.T. scores in the county, and transitively the state. Recognized in the Top-20 nationally for academic challenges and AP testing. Recognized nationally in the Top-10 for music. These poor kids face stiff academic and extracurricular competition and expectations.
The Senior Class raised about $8000, give or take, from the sale of $5 admission tickets, $15 T-shirts, and baked goods. That money helps sponsor the senior prom among other things.
I'm so glad some would pause from their busy structured student life to blow off some steam. These kids are an inspirational example to me. Their youth, their daring, energy, friendships, fun, team work and happiness. I thank them for showing me their perspectives - which I think was to have a good time.
It happened early December 2007, but I'd be remiss if I ended 2007 without praise and thanks to the kids who put on the high school remix dance show, "Puttin On The Hitz '07-08". (Also known as POTH.)
POTH is one of many Senior Class projects. Run by students, POTH is an annual variety show in December, with about 20 acts of kids dancing to remixed pop and hip-hop medleys. The music and choreography is of their own choosing.
I attended as a parent. My son was one of the show's producers, and he danced in 3 acts. I was totally clueless beforehand about the existence of POTH - and my son didn't say much... I almost didn't know to go, and showed up as a surprise to him (but the surprise was on me). I am so glad I was there.
The auditorium was packed to the gills. Auditorium capacity is somewhere around 1600-1800 seats. Plus the hallways, aisles, backstage and orchestra pit were jammed packed. Imagine 2000 high-pitched girls' screams, and booming male hoots, and the sound can lift you off your seats reading this. Every act was 5-10 minutes, set to a blaring, wall-shaking, pop-rock-hip-hop medley soundtrack. The kids acted out story themes (boy-girl interactions), sychronized group dancing, hip-hop, breakdancing, kung fu, comedy, and pure good times. With every new move came a surge of screams and cheers from the audience. Going ape-sh__ is one way to describe it. What chaos!
The first half included acts by smaller groups and clubs with an inclination to strut their stuff, say, less than 10 people each act. The second half had huge routines involving 30-plus kids each act, representing the freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior classes, the planning committees, and student governments. Sorry! ...I haven't loaded my favorite videos online (the ones with my son). Instead please check out this link from YouTube as an example: http://tw.youtube.com/watch?v
I used to be active in some youth groups and personally know many of these kids and their parents, since the kids were small. I had chills running up my spine to see them today. They are bold, daring, happy, creative, and talented. I laughed out loud to see some certain dance moves coming out of these kids. Like my son's best friend jiggling his butt for a minute straight with 2 other guys, their backs facing the audience, while the girls danced around them. OMG - I wouldn't have such nerve. Clearly there's safety in numbers, and there is no stopping the power of 2000 kids. My son was joy in movement. Who taught him those moves?? I say he can get a part time job as a male dancer to get him through college (just kidding!). And don't forget that awesome drummer from the rock band Lemonface.
Then they had to voice vote for their favorite acts, and the walls came tumbling down. It was mostly a shouting contest among the freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior classes. OK, the juniors won...
This is a high-achieving high school with 2600 kids in suburban DC. This year it's the top-scoring public high school for S.A.T. scores in the county, and transitively the state. Recognized in the Top-20 nationally for academic challenges and AP testing. Recognized nationally in the Top-10 for music. These poor kids face stiff academic and extracurricular competition and expectations.
The Senior Class raised about $8000, give or take, from the sale of $5 admission tickets, $15 T-shirts, and baked goods. That money helps sponsor the senior prom among other things.
I'm so glad some would pause from their busy structured student life to blow off some steam. These kids are an inspirational example to me. Their youth, their daring, energy, friendships, fun, team work and happiness. I thank them for showing me their perspectives - which I think was to have a good time.
LOVING YOUR LIVER
{this was originally written, Tuesday, November 6, 2007}
God blessed us with bounty in nature and endless second chances. Our bodily organs are usually endowed with spares. Except we have only one liver. People who pause in life to look for secrets of longevity realize the liver is a key consideration.
A number of years back, I bought this book off a sale table somewhere: Between Heaven and Earth, by Harriet Beinfield and Efrem Korn. Subtitled, "A Guide to Chinese Medicine", it changed how I viewed health. Between Heaven and Earth helped me take more responsibility in my health, and gave me insight into another way.
At the time I seemed mysteriously ill, and after seeing many doctors (HMO at that time) with no clue, I was frustrated. Here is the western clinical model: (1) take a snapshot of your baseline measures; (2) do nothing but wait 'n watch you go downhill; (3) reach the point of severely acute or terminal illness, then intervene with strong treatment. At that point it may be too late to go back in time and recover the lost organ function (for example, as in diabetes onset). Their preventative model is passive – refraining from advocating preventive practices, because doctors by definition intervene through insured and expensive medical drug prescriptions and treatments. We are responsible for our health and well-being. So educate yourself and follow your instincts. Well that's enough soapbox, for a blog on Loving Your Liver…
The book lays out theory behind Chinese medicine. There are 5 Phases or "networks" by which your mind and body are organized. Each Phase has a controlling, root organ – liver, spleen, heart, kidney, and lungs. Each Phase is associated with an element from nature that characterizes them, namely: wood, earth, fire, water, and metal respectively. There is a sixth force known as "qi" ("chi") or energy. These five networks and qi flow and interconnect dynamically throughout your body. Described through "yin" and "yang" relationships, the networks experience dichotomies of waxing/waning, blocked/free, imbalanced/balanced, hot/cold, and wet/dry effects, both within a given Phase and among the Phases. It's not extreme to conceive of the human body as so complex an eco-system. Understand your tendency towards a certain type, while striving for balance & harmony. Never allow total domination by any element or effect over the rest of you. The Chinese view of disease is based on states of imbalance.
I don't disagree with western diet or western medical approaches. Merely hedge your bets with a multi-dynamic "cocktail approach", and look into the Chinese health approaches. Here you must also treat your mind and spirit, and not just your body.
Back to your liver… It is the wood element, and considered the organ where anger is rooted. If you've ever heard of about an alcoholic's fit of rage – this all makes sense. While achieving good diet and liver cleansing practices, you should also work on happiness, positive expression, and relief from sources of stress and anger – if you want health and balance for your liver.
*new, added 11/06/07* --> Control yourself from outbursts of temper (which is hard to do when you have anger built up inside). I don't mean that you hold things in, but rather you should find a way to resolve the source(s) causing anger, and be in peace. Laugh at every opportunity. For diet - sour foods are good for the liver: grapefruit, tomatoes, vinegar. If you are ill with a liver ailment, Chinese medicine uses "Tui Pen Cao" a strong bitter tea made with a special type of grass, and also 2 similar types of little over-the-counter pills (you can buy in a Chinese grocery store) "Shu Gan Wan" and "Xiao Yao Pian", a.k.a. "Happy Pills". The types of supplements are use herbal ingredients, not pharmaceuticals. For example: milk thistle, schizzandra, dandelion, white peony, licorice, etc. And for a dinner recipe - nothing on earth tastes better than chicken and broth boiled in ginseng and scallions (optionally with red dates, ginger root, and "gou qi-zi") .
Love your liver, love yourself.
To keep the blog short, here are good reads when I googled "liver anger" (maybe with "Chinese" "health"?):
And so on for the rest of your Body and Mind. My blog is just a dialog, not-FDA approved. I should start reading again about Chinese Medicine and health, and should practice what I preach!! I'm curious about but haven't read Daniel Reid's many books, which seem to do quite well on Amazon. If anyone can recommend a good book, please do.
I APPRECIATE YOU
{this was originally written, Sunday, October 14, 2007}
I was suprised to learn earlier this week you were nominated for Homecoming Court, whatever that means. You told me very matter-of-factly. The day of Homecoming you disclosed you were one of four seniors contending in a school-wide vote. Your brother said he "sort of" voted for you. He put a check next to your name, but never submitted the ballot because, he says, "I didn't know where to bring it." Of course, I never expected any different answer from you when you said, "Of course, I voted for M___. I would never vote for myself."
At 4:30am this morning after the Homecoming Dance, I woke up on the couch with a heart-panic startle - "Did you come home last night? Are you OK?" I found you sleeping, and you barely whispered, "I got King... I got in at 3, I love you."
You getting "King" was never part of my plan. How did this happen? Did I help? Did I hinder? How does one become school King?
You've been most cooperative. You obliged letting me expose you to an endless stream of stuff - to the point where your idea of a good time is now to stay home. (Remember the time you threatened to committ suicide if I made you take Chinese on Sundays instead of play baseball? Which cost me $2000 for a shrink, only to be told you have a great head on your shoulders, and would mom like some counseling? lol. You are the world's greatest catcher, 1st spot in the batting lineup, and base stealer!) You know more about music than your peers (and most adults), except for your brother. I kept you on a short leash. Constant war drums about improving grades and studying. You didn't go to public school until grade 9, and this school has 2700 students, so how did you get to know everyone?
Father John said today, we are so busy being self-reliant or on task that we often don't take time out in our lives to show appreciation for those who love us or to those who affected us in our lives. Without their love or uniqueness, what do we miss? Show appreciation and thanks, he says. We should not take each other for granted. The thought of taking someone for granted is sad, because only someday later might you realize what you had, after they are gone. Did you ever acknowledge them? Did you say you love them?
How do all those kids who voted know you? Was it your name? Your school spirit? Your female friends? A sympathy vote from the smart kids (for your brother)? The music vote? The track vote? The nice guy vote? Your dancing? Well thanks to your friends.
You are friendly and reliable. If I was on a desert island, you'd be on my short list for company. When I think of what qualities you must have to get this recognition - it's kinda funny. This one is all yours. I'm glad you pursue your interests. I'm thankful for you. Congratulations!
Saturday, September 29, 2007
DEDICATED TO ALBERT, OF THE WASHINGTON POST EXPRESS
{originally written September 28, 2007 - Friday}
Three cheers for Albert and the Washington Post Express. Since I changed jobs a year and a half ago, I take the commuter train from Rockville to Silver Spring. Every morning, rain or shine, Albert faithfully stands at the West entrance to the Rockville Metro handing out the "Express", a free commuters tabloid version of the Washington Post.
Kudos to the Washington Post for getting it right. The Express is an abridged Readers Digest version of The Post. It's just enough news bites for the 15-minute traffic-free train ride to my office. Here's the Express' "Supply Chain":
1. Highly-educated journalists develop reports and analysis of sometimes horrific, world-shaking, &/or interesting political, sports, and human-interest events.
2. Editors condense articles into a couple hundred words or less, often with humorous, hip, LOL headlines and punchlines.
3. Mini-stories are laid out in a 25-page tabloid surrounded by a ton of ads.
4. Published daily, the Express awaits the hordes of rush-hour commuters heading towards DC.
5. Awesome Albert personally greets us every weekday morning, and hands us our paper. This is the most important step: delivery and dissemination.
Albert cheers us on as we troop towards the trains. He compliments us. He encourages us. He shakes hands. He hugs us. He pats us on the back. We stand in line to take papers from Albert's hand, rather than take from the pile. His love is infectious. Everyone - young, old, black, white - has caught Albert's fever.
"Good morning my little sister, looking beautiful today."
"Love that color on you."
"Be careful on the stairs. Walk, don't run."
"Good morning, my brother."
"Is everything OK today? Be happy."
"Like your necklace."
"How U doin', young brother?" [with cool handshake]
"Brothers and sisters, have a nice day."
What does he DO?
Why is he here EVERY day?
How can he always be so HAPPY?
Can he LIVE off this?
How can I HELP him?
Will I see him tomorrow?
If he can face the world, thus so, then surely so can I. I'm feeling good.
Today, Albert is flanked by a well-built, armed security guard (police?). Hmmm. Wonder what's up? (Terrorist threat crosses mind...) A couple feet away stands a whisper of a woman, trying to get a piece of Albert's action, feebly trying to give away her free little English newspaper published by the Falun Gong (the quasi-religious Qi-Gong group banned in China as revolutionary); but she has no interpersonal skills and no takers. Today, after one and a half years of greeting him, I stop, we hug, and I ask, "What is your name?" The policeman smiles and looks away. Albert points to a pin on his work vest, "Albert. It's Albert. What's your's?"
Attention Washington Post: Give this man a raise, and never let him go!
-------------------
Postscript August 5, 2008: I've gotten to know Albert a lot better since I first wrote this. Albert, you are the most warm-hearted, inspirational, articulate, and loving man. Congratulations Albert on your recognition in today's Washington Post Express, page 11!
Three cheers for Albert and the Washington Post Express. Since I changed jobs a year and a half ago, I take the commuter train from Rockville to Silver Spring. Every morning, rain or shine, Albert faithfully stands at the West entrance to the Rockville Metro handing out the "Express", a free commuters tabloid version of the Washington Post.
Kudos to the Washington Post for getting it right. The Express is an abridged Readers Digest version of The Post. It's just enough news bites for the 15-minute traffic-free train ride to my office. Here's the Express' "Supply Chain":
1. Highly-educated journalists develop reports and analysis of sometimes horrific, world-shaking, &/or interesting political, sports, and human-interest events.
2. Editors condense articles into a couple hundred words or less, often with humorous, hip, LOL headlines and punchlines.
3. Mini-stories are laid out in a 25-page tabloid surrounded by a ton of ads.
4. Published daily, the Express awaits the hordes of rush-hour commuters heading towards DC.
5. Awesome Albert personally greets us every weekday morning, and hands us our paper. This is the most important step: delivery and dissemination.
Albert cheers us on as we troop towards the trains. He compliments us. He encourages us. He shakes hands. He hugs us. He pats us on the back. We stand in line to take papers from Albert's hand, rather than take from the pile. His love is infectious. Everyone - young, old, black, white - has caught Albert's fever.
"Good morning my little sister, looking beautiful today."
"Love that color on you."
"Be careful on the stairs. Walk, don't run."
"Good morning, my brother."
"Is everything OK today? Be happy."
"Like your necklace."
"How U doin', young brother?" [with cool handshake]
"Brothers and sisters, have a nice day."
What does he DO?
Why is he here EVERY day?
How can he always be so HAPPY?
Can he LIVE off this?
How can I HELP him?
Will I see him tomorrow?
If he can face the world, thus so, then surely so can I. I'm feeling good.
Today, Albert is flanked by a well-built, armed security guard (police?). Hmmm. Wonder what's up? (Terrorist threat crosses mind...) A couple feet away stands a whisper of a woman, trying to get a piece of Albert's action, feebly trying to give away her free little English newspaper published by the Falun Gong (the quasi-religious Qi-Gong group banned in China as revolutionary); but she has no interpersonal skills and no takers. Today, after one and a half years of greeting him, I stop, we hug, and I ask, "What is your name?" The policeman smiles and looks away. Albert points to a pin on his work vest, "Albert. It's Albert. What's your's?"
Attention Washington Post: Give this man a raise, and never let him go!
-------------------
Postscript August 5, 2008: I've gotten to know Albert a lot better since I first wrote this. Albert, you are the most warm-hearted, inspirational, articulate, and loving man. Congratulations Albert on your recognition in today's Washington Post Express, page 11!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
A BOY WHO GREW UP WITH MUSIC
{this was written September 23, 2007 - Sunday}
My oldest son made so much noise as a baby. That's an understatement, and not a cliche. There was constant brain-throbbing "WAHHHHH-WAHHH" and "BA-BAh-BAH-ba-bab-ba" coupled with eXtreme physical energy. With a December birthday, my son was 2 1/2 when he entered Pre-School at a church.
And with that he began church choir, "Cherubs". This was weekly singing training, rewarded mid-way with snacks, with occasional exposure to Orff instruments, summer camps, and monthly church appearances wearing choir vestments. It was wonderful to channel some noise into song.
After 4 years, he auditioned for the National Cathedral Boys Training Choir and passed. This included three rehearsals weekly, plus Sunday singing at the Bethlehem chapel. The Rite II liturgy is continually interspersed with hymns, psalms, anthems. This reinforced associating lyrics with melody, and likely helped accelerate reading English language, memorization, and music sight-reading. The Choirmaster/Organist was a young tall and handsome Brit, and the coolest man he'd ever known. And he became to trust in God.
After 2 years, and our beloved Brit departed, we too shifted gears slightly. He changed to the Childrens Choristers at the [new] church were he had been attending lower school. And changed schools to a private all-boys school with a great music program; and more cool male teachers. I started to allow listening to pop music; thus ending the total classical immersion. At church, the Choristers reinforced tradition the same as the cathedral, adding chants, masses, and motets. For the next six (6) years, he pretty much learned the entire Hymnal, plus a very healthy repertoire of Bach, Handel, Mozart, Byrd, etc., American Spiritual and even awesome living composers. ;) At school, he was part of a singing wave, resulting in singing with their all-boys group at Kennedy Center, Carnegie Hall, and regional churches, etc. Summers he is singing in children's opera and even with super roles in adult opera. Parallel to this whole time, he is playing violin. He becomes one with sound. The noise never stops, and thank God it takes some form besides being an out-of-control boy with ADHD.
My most unforgettable moment was his treble solo at a DC evensong, "Pie Jesu", from Gabriel Faure's Requiem, backed by string quartet, where several ladies who didn't know him began to weep. (Me? I cry all the time.)
He is physically intelligent, meaning he knows to move. He can copy runners like Michael Johnson, and is a natural when picking up any sport. At middle school dances he loves shaking around, and has been known to run 'n slide across the floor ending up on his knees. He starts to imitate hip-hop dance. His voice changes. Partly in honor of his voice change, he switches to viola (which is an octave deeper voice than the violin).
He changes to public school for high school. Things start running on auto-pilot. "They say" everything you are gonna teach a child has to be taught when they are young. The foundation has already been built, or not. He goes deeper in special subjects - theory, solo viola, orchestra, etc. But he won't stop singing - and he's in the male a capella group at school. They dance and sing. Recently I figured out it was time to let him take private voice lessons. I had waited - I heard advice that boys should not take private voice lessons too young. We finally found a man - a tenor from the opera genre - who drives down from NY to give lessons weekly @ $85/hr.
I only went to the second lesson and not since (my son drives now). I was told my son would be learning all about sex. That for men to control their breathing and sound projection for singing there is some kind of throat-clearing grunting or muscle deep down that he needs to use. And that it is not unlike when you have sex??? Hmmm... Really... Did I hear correctly?? "Ah, ... OK, you're the teacher." These are lessons about which I don't have to nag! He eagerly goes and does his daily practices. And man, is he happy with himself! And I am happy with his gorgeous and maturing voice.
The other night, he tries to show me his latest exercise. Mind you, he's buff, got a six-pack, and refuses to wear shirts at home. Wearing shorts with boxers exposed, he says, "Watch me." He stands with feet straddle, hands on hips, moving his hips in a circular motion, and starts singing one of his a capella group songs ("Uptown Girl"). OKay... Son No. 3 hears from downstairs, and comes leaping up the stairs. Not a singer, but a joker, he starts singing along - and Krumping up against Son No. 1; he is also shirtless and in shorts. Krumping is this bump/grind, arm-flagging, chest-thrusting, butt-shaking hip-hop dance. We are dying laughing ROFL like crazy. I guess this makes up for last week when No. 3 was playing lovely Chopin on the piano for me, and No. 1 went up against him Krumping and Clowning. They switch to Soulja Boy. They won't stop dancing, singing, and laughing. I've got my head turned to the side with my hand to my face in peek-a-boo form. I can't look straight on, but only from the corner of my eye. With a tear, because he is grown-up now.
i promise the next blog (if there is one) will be very short!
My oldest son made so much noise as a baby. That's an understatement, and not a cliche. There was constant brain-throbbing "WAHHHHH-WAHHH" and "BA-BAh-BAH-ba-bab-ba" coupled with eXtreme physical energy. With a December birthday, my son was 2 1/2 when he entered Pre-School at a church.
And with that he began church choir, "Cherubs". This was weekly singing training, rewarded mid-way with snacks, with occasional exposure to Orff instruments, summer camps, and monthly church appearances wearing choir vestments. It was wonderful to channel some noise into song.
After 4 years, he auditioned for the National Cathedral Boys Training Choir and passed. This included three rehearsals weekly, plus Sunday singing at the Bethlehem chapel. The Rite II liturgy is continually interspersed with hymns, psalms, anthems. This reinforced associating lyrics with melody, and likely helped accelerate reading English language, memorization, and music sight-reading. The Choirmaster/Organist was a young tall and handsome Brit, and the coolest man he'd ever known. And he became to trust in God.
After 2 years, and our beloved Brit departed, we too shifted gears slightly. He changed to the Childrens Choristers at the [new] church were he had been attending lower school. And changed schools to a private all-boys school with a great music program; and more cool male teachers. I started to allow listening to pop music; thus ending the total classical immersion. At church, the Choristers reinforced tradition the same as the cathedral, adding chants, masses, and motets. For the next six (6) years, he pretty much learned the entire Hymnal, plus a very healthy repertoire of Bach, Handel, Mozart, Byrd, etc., American Spiritual and even awesome living composers. ;) At school, he was part of a singing wave, resulting in singing with their all-boys group at Kennedy Center, Carnegie Hall, and regional churches, etc. Summers he is singing in children's opera and even with super roles in adult opera. Parallel to this whole time, he is playing violin. He becomes one with sound. The noise never stops, and thank God it takes some form besides being an out-of-control boy with ADHD.
My most unforgettable moment was his treble solo at a DC evensong, "Pie Jesu", from Gabriel Faure's Requiem, backed by string quartet, where several ladies who didn't know him began to weep. (Me? I cry all the time.)
He is physically intelligent, meaning he knows to move. He can copy runners like Michael Johnson, and is a natural when picking up any sport. At middle school dances he loves shaking around, and has been known to run 'n slide across the floor ending up on his knees. He starts to imitate hip-hop dance. His voice changes. Partly in honor of his voice change, he switches to viola (which is an octave deeper voice than the violin).
He changes to public school for high school. Things start running on auto-pilot. "They say" everything you are gonna teach a child has to be taught when they are young. The foundation has already been built, or not. He goes deeper in special subjects - theory, solo viola, orchestra, etc. But he won't stop singing - and he's in the male a capella group at school. They dance and sing. Recently I figured out it was time to let him take private voice lessons. I had waited - I heard advice that boys should not take private voice lessons too young. We finally found a man - a tenor from the opera genre - who drives down from NY to give lessons weekly @ $85/hr.
I only went to the second lesson and not since (my son drives now). I was told my son would be learning all about sex. That for men to control their breathing and sound projection for singing there is some kind of throat-clearing grunting or muscle deep down that he needs to use. And that it is not unlike when you have sex??? Hmmm... Really... Did I hear correctly?? "Ah, ... OK, you're the teacher." These are lessons about which I don't have to nag! He eagerly goes and does his daily practices. And man, is he happy with himself! And I am happy with his gorgeous and maturing voice.
The other night, he tries to show me his latest exercise. Mind you, he's buff, got a six-pack, and refuses to wear shirts at home. Wearing shorts with boxers exposed, he says, "Watch me." He stands with feet straddle, hands on hips, moving his hips in a circular motion, and starts singing one of his a capella group songs ("Uptown Girl"). OKay... Son No. 3 hears from downstairs, and comes leaping up the stairs. Not a singer, but a joker, he starts singing along - and Krumping up against Son No. 1; he is also shirtless and in shorts. Krumping is this bump/grind, arm-flagging, chest-thrusting, butt-shaking hip-hop dance. We are dying laughing ROFL like crazy. I guess this makes up for last week when No. 3 was playing lovely Chopin on the piano for me, and No. 1 went up against him Krumping and Clowning. They switch to Soulja Boy. They won't stop dancing, singing, and laughing. I've got my head turned to the side with my hand to my face in peek-a-boo form. I can't look straight on, but only from the corner of my eye. With a tear, because he is grown-up now.
i promise the next blog (if there is one) will be very short!
HOW I FAILED AT MIT
{1st written on September 15, 2007 - Saturday}
For Blog's sake, I dust the cobwebs off some memory strands, and let you take a dip into the waters of my * pensieve* (for you Harry Potter fans).
When I was studying Chinese, someone came to my class and asked for people to practice English with some Chinese scholars. I volunteered. Why not? "Fang Wen Xue Jia", Chinese government-sponsored visiting scholars, were on educational exchange programs at US universities as part of Deng Xiaoping's new Modernization initiative.
I became great friends with this group of Chinese ex-pats. They were the first people allowed to leave China since the Cultural Revolution (and Mao Zedong's death). All left behind families in China, thus ensuring their good behavior and eventual return. Although nearly a generation older than I, some came to lean on me for friendship while they sort of worked out issues ranging from being shell-shocked because this country was so well-off and China was so poor, to having to live in dorm-like arrangements with other forty-something-year old Chinese, to getting mugged.
Most of the scholars had research positions at MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, Mass. for you noobs). One time I went to an office to meet one of them. Around this time someone was stalking me. I was paranoid, and I mixed up my routine so that I was very hard to find. Often I would go eat dumplings at their apartment just to delay my hours to get home and to enjoy their humble parties.
I went to an MIT lab building, to my friend's tiny office in the basement. We were chatting, I recall sensing the walls shake. "Did you feel that?" "Feel what?" "The walls are shaking... We are having an earthquake."
I'm sure we used a little translation dictionary. He looked at me, cocked his head. He knew I was afraid of the stalker. He suggested, maybe I needed a little rest, I need to relax. He didn't notice anything. I firmly stuck to my story. Didn't I feel the trembling, and didn't I even hear a little rumbling? I insisted and insisted (was a bit stubborn?). I kept staring at the walls. All's quiet now. Oh well. So we dropped it, and it was time to leave.
MIT's campus is this labyrinth of buildings, some architecturally striking and some like cement boxes without a name. To exit, I would go back how I came: through the archetypal LONG L-O-N-G main lobby that is MIT's heart & soul. This "lobby" actually connects several building together and I don't know its name but it would take me through campus from the East and out onto Mass. Ave. Then I would walk to the subway for the Red Line to home.
Deep in thought, I started the walk down the lobby. I entered a large "great room" or hall, part of the lobby. Suddenly I saw - i dunno? - 15-20 guys?, all guys (white guys?) sitting in one long line at several folding tables parallel to lobby path. They all, each and every one, whipped out and held up these 8x11" signs . Every sign read "2". Just I, the only female, and them. In an instant, time switched into slow motion.
"What are they doing?" "Are they talking about me?" "2?" "O shit." "You can't stop." "Don't falter." Can I turn around and go back?" "No this is the way out." "Continue forward!"
As if nothing happened, I kept walking. I put a pleasant little fixed smile on my face, stared ahead, and kept going. Did I twitch? It was the longest 10 or 15 seconds. What is the time period of this memory? This happened not long after the movie "10" with Bo Derek came out - and everyone was ga-ga over the movie. I had not seen it. I never will. My uncle would talk about how hot Bo is, and assign numbers to different women. I heard him talk.
"Am I a 2?" "O, God, I am ugly!" "I don't compare to beautiful girls." "Wait." "They put those signs up too fast... and all at once... and they didn't have a chance to really look at me..." "They all say 2." "I'm not a 10, but I'm not a 2!" "Well, maybe a mixture; but surely not all the same score from every guy." "Yeah, that stupid movie '10' with Bo Derek; that's it." "I reject sexist crap that rates women." "Whoever falls for that crap is stupid."
And then I started to laugh or giggle. I completed most of the walk with a real smile and giggles. It's a good joke, a cool joke, might as well go with the flow. They were all jolly, not loud. As I was about to exit the hall, I caught one or two of them in the eyes, and heard them say -- something like (can't remember the exact words) -- maybe "you're nice"?? -- and for sure "you've got a great sense of humor". That's how I failed at MIT. How do you think the other women who passed thru the hall that night reacted?
The next day, the Chinese scholar phoned me. The news reported an earthquake in New Hampshire the previous day. Some tremors were felt as far south as Boston (maybe 60-100 miles away?) and beyond. He could not believe it!! He was very happy. He was listening to the radio - and he says he usually does not listen to the radio. He says it was his destiny to listen to the radio in order to know I was right after all. He says I have excellent senses!
Sorry if this blog is too long! Who can corroborate the date and time of this story (by looking up earthquakes in NH after the release of "10")?
For Blog's sake, I dust the cobwebs off some memory strands, and let you take a dip into the waters of my * pensieve* (for you Harry Potter fans).
When I was studying Chinese, someone came to my class and asked for people to practice English with some Chinese scholars. I volunteered. Why not? "Fang Wen Xue Jia", Chinese government-sponsored visiting scholars, were on educational exchange programs at US universities as part of Deng Xiaoping's new Modernization initiative.
I became great friends with this group of Chinese ex-pats. They were the first people allowed to leave China since the Cultural Revolution (and Mao Zedong's death). All left behind families in China, thus ensuring their good behavior and eventual return. Although nearly a generation older than I, some came to lean on me for friendship while they sort of worked out issues ranging from being shell-shocked because this country was so well-off and China was so poor, to having to live in dorm-like arrangements with other forty-something-year old Chinese, to getting mugged.
Most of the scholars had research positions at MIT (Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, Mass. for you noobs). One time I went to an office to meet one of them. Around this time someone was stalking me. I was paranoid, and I mixed up my routine so that I was very hard to find. Often I would go eat dumplings at their apartment just to delay my hours to get home and to enjoy their humble parties.
I went to an MIT lab building, to my friend's tiny office in the basement. We were chatting, I recall sensing the walls shake. "Did you feel that?" "Feel what?" "The walls are shaking... We are having an earthquake."
I'm sure we used a little translation dictionary. He looked at me, cocked his head. He knew I was afraid of the stalker. He suggested, maybe I needed a little rest, I need to relax. He didn't notice anything. I firmly stuck to my story. Didn't I feel the trembling, and didn't I even hear a little rumbling? I insisted and insisted (was a bit stubborn?). I kept staring at the walls. All's quiet now. Oh well. So we dropped it, and it was time to leave.
MIT's campus is this labyrinth of buildings, some architecturally striking and some like cement boxes without a name. To exit, I would go back how I came: through the archetypal LONG L-O-N-G main lobby that is MIT's heart & soul. This "lobby" actually connects several building together and I don't know its name but it would take me through campus from the East and out onto Mass. Ave. Then I would walk to the subway for the Red Line to home.
Deep in thought, I started the walk down the lobby. I entered a large "great room" or hall, part of the lobby. Suddenly I saw - i dunno? - 15-20 guys?, all guys (white guys?) sitting in one long line at several folding tables parallel to lobby path. They all, each and every one, whipped out and held up these 8x11" signs . Every sign read "2". Just I, the only female, and them. In an instant, time switched into slow motion.
"What are they doing?" "Are they talking about me?" "2?" "O shit." "You can't stop." "Don't falter." Can I turn around and go back?" "No this is the way out." "Continue forward!"
As if nothing happened, I kept walking. I put a pleasant little fixed smile on my face, stared ahead, and kept going. Did I twitch? It was the longest 10 or 15 seconds. What is the time period of this memory? This happened not long after the movie "10" with Bo Derek came out - and everyone was ga-ga over the movie. I had not seen it. I never will. My uncle would talk about how hot Bo is, and assign numbers to different women. I heard him talk.
"Am I a 2?" "O, God, I am ugly!" "I don't compare to beautiful girls." "Wait." "They put those signs up too fast... and all at once... and they didn't have a chance to really look at me..." "They all say 2." "I'm not a 10, but I'm not a 2!" "Well, maybe a mixture; but surely not all the same score from every guy." "Yeah, that stupid movie '10' with Bo Derek; that's it." "I reject sexist crap that rates women." "Whoever falls for that crap is stupid."
And then I started to laugh or giggle. I completed most of the walk with a real smile and giggles. It's a good joke, a cool joke, might as well go with the flow. They were all jolly, not loud. As I was about to exit the hall, I caught one or two of them in the eyes, and heard them say -- something like (can't remember the exact words) -- maybe "you're nice"?? -- and for sure "you've got a great sense of humor". That's how I failed at MIT. How do you think the other women who passed thru the hall that night reacted?
The next day, the Chinese scholar phoned me. The news reported an earthquake in New Hampshire the previous day. Some tremors were felt as far south as Boston (maybe 60-100 miles away?) and beyond. He could not believe it!! He was very happy. He was listening to the radio - and he says he usually does not listen to the radio. He says it was his destiny to listen to the radio in order to know I was right after all. He says I have excellent senses!
Sorry if this blog is too long! Who can corroborate the date and time of this story (by looking up earthquakes in NH after the release of "10")?
MY VISIT TO THE ACUPUNCTURIST
{originally written September 7, 2007 - Friday}
Hi & welcome, this is my first EVER blog entry. I have two friends who blog. This is new territory for me. I don't surf blogs either. Why am I doing this?
Today I decided to leave work early and go see my trusted acupuncturist. I have this numbness at the nape of my neck... :(
First he lets me relax, supine position, on this flat bed. It has heated rollers that travel slowly up and down the spine. The rollers stop along each section of my spine (~ 8 times), pressing and lingering for a while, then proceed to go "round the world" a couple time, before continuing to its next stop on the spine. All the while, various and delicate Chinese music plays softly. :)
After about 20-30 minutes - who's counting? - I move to a massage table prone position, face down. He's now working on my neck. I lost count, but let's say "8", for good luck. He put 8 needles in a several inch radius. I never felt a thing. He placed two vacuum cups in the center - each a couple inches in diameter. He has a sort of tool/gun - looks a little like a caulking gun - that he squeezes to suck the air out of the cup. Then he attached electrodes to the needles and some sort of heat to the cups, in order to vibrate and stimulate my nerves. Again, my problem was numbness in my neck, so he kept jacking up the power because I could not feel anything. Seems I went about 4X thresholds he was expecting - up to the Frankenstein setting - before I flinched. Then he let me go overtime. His final touch was hand massage to the neck area. :) There are residual "hickeys" from the suction cups.
He wants me to sit up straight while sitting. From now on I should really be sitting on my Swooper Stool for computer work.
Records show it was over 1 &1/2 years since my last visit. I felt so bad. My co-payment is only $15 (and he tried to give me a discount on that!), and my insurance covers the rest. Ah, why don't I go more often??
He is [known as] the "Happy Doctor" (with the Santa Claus eyes). No matter what you go in for, you leave with this incredible exhilarating high and a case of the giggles for several more hours. Don't let anything spoil it.
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