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Posts Tagged ‘Music’

We picked up the L’il Pumpkin at school mid-morning. It was going to be a fun day, going to the Children’s Theatre to see The Little Mermaid, then lunch and on to Hannukah. But we had a long holding session in the lobby before the play with a few other schools, so I headed over to the large center table covered with paper, crayons and writing prompts.

“Ariel and her father the King are having trouble understanding each other. What do you wish adults could understand better about children?”

“What do you think,” I asked my little grandson.

“Listening,” he said without missing a beat.

And a light went off; I thought about the term “active listening,” like some ancient artifact that had washed ashore in my brain, back before parenthood. While studying child psychology, I knew even before reading a text that some people are checked out when it comes to their kids, and some are just naturally checked IN.

This was long before we had tiny smart phones to ding and buzz our attention away from our children. Just as we need context to read and comprehend, we need to hear between the lines in order to communicate well with little people. Sure meltdowns can happen, but if we are paying attention, we can usually avoid them.

I was recently involved in a conversation with one of Great Grandma Ada’s friends. He had been a professor at Vanderbilt in his youth, now well into his 90s he liked to paint beautiful, vivid landscapes. I was aware of how effortlessly we spoke, and it’s hard to remember what exactly we spoke about, but it started with Brexit. The rare thing of beauty was that here was a man who was listening – he wasn’t turning his head away, or nodding, or looking at his watch. He was engaging, and our words flew elegantly back and forth.

You don’t have to be a Disney princess to get into hot water with your parents. The L’il Pumpkin told me he was glad Ariel smashed the magic shell containing her voice, thereby breaking the sea witch Ursula’s spell. I thought about the many voiceless women, throughout his/herstory, who were destined to live a constrained life; tied up in apron strings, never learning to drive a car (like Nelly, my foster mother), living in a “Doll’s House” like Nora herself, or Shakespeare’s Rosalind before her.

I hope our grandson grows up to be a good listener, to be a mensch. Watching him skip back to our car, holding Bob’s hand in the parking lot, my heart melted a little.

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Who is (or was) St Andrew? According to Wikipedia, “He is the patron saint of Cyprus, Scotland, Greece, Romania, Russia, Ukraine, the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople,San Andres Island (Colombia)Saint Andrew (Barbados) and Tenerife.” He was a disciple of Jesus Christ, a fisherman who preached Christianity in Greece, where he was crucified. Of course I think of golf when I hear his name and not my old Catechism.

Today, St Andrew’s Day, November 30, is a bank holiday in Scotland; with Brexit looming larger and Ukraine closing its border to Russian men, not women mind you, we may all want to light a candle to this saint!

Our family will start lighting Hannukah candles on Sunday night. Since we follow a lunar calendar, you never know when this holiday will pop up. The Amazon smile boxes have been piling up all week, and lucky for us there were no “porch pirates” in sight. I’ve always had mixed feelings about online shopping, wanting to patronize local businesses during this critical sales period. But when it comes to toys, Amazon always wins.

The Love Bug just asked the Bride if she believes in Santa Claus. I told her I hope she said “YES!” Because this was the one thing I could never give up for my children, the magical mystery of elves and reindeer. Santa always left a little present for Jewish children, a shining red and green package amidst the blue and white decorations. And since the Bug is about to lose her first tooth, I hope my daughter keeps the Tooth Fairy alive as well.

In fact, I believe the going rate for a tooth is astronomical!

Whether you believe in saints or santas, I believe the L’il Pumpkin will be delighted with his first Hannukah present. You see, he and the Rocker watched two Star Wars movies back to back over Thanksgiving, and as you probably already know, our Star Wars history runs deep. From creating stop-action films in our NJ garage with his toy action figures, to composing music for the new films, our son never ceases to delight and amaze me – just like his red headed nephew! And his new furry friend.

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We are counting down to Thanksgiving.

My turkey is defrosting, the corn bread is crumbled and the butternut squash is ready for its close-up. Our Big Chill friends Bernie and Ellen arrived Saturday from a frigid Buffalo and are always eager to help, which means today we make a lasagna! Some people have mac and cheese, we have veggie lasagna.

This is the first time in our history where we are expecting one or two die-hard Republicans at the Thanksgiving table. I guess it was inevitable, right? So I thought I’d share this little interactive ditty from the NYT; you decide if your angry uncle is conservative or liberal and then answer a few questions…one little hint. Don’t talk about the weather, because, well you know.

But before you give it a whirl, go see Bohemian Rhapsody. Going to the movies after Thanksgiving dinner has been a tradition on my side of the family. Bob’s side would put all the doctors in a room and hang up a sign for consultations – Aunt Bert would get her knee checked and the latest rash on cousin Amy would be poked and prodded.

Not to brag, much, but I found out on Instagram that the Rocker just won two more Cleos this year!

One for Bohemian Rhapsody, and one for The Quiet Place. Imagine composing music for a mostly silent horror movie! My guy is rather humble, so I had to Facetime him to ask directly what he was getting congratulated about all over social media. When I think about gratitude tomorrow, I’ll think I’m the luckiest mom in the world. Two adult children, both living authentic, creative and challenging lives.

And I’ll be thanking the Bride for hosting all 20 family members, inbetween saving lives and raising children.

OK, now for your angry uncle Bot, or aunt for that matter. This really does work, that is if you want to keep your turkey day civil. Plus, it’s never too late to learn a few new communication skills. Bon Appetit!

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“Green deck for landing, conditions CAVU.”

John McCain’s son Jack tweeted a tribute to his Dad this morning – conditions are great, “Ceiling and visibility unlimited!” Jack is a Navy lieutenant, a helicopter pilot who graduated from the Naval Academy in 2009. The military is in their blood, and flying into danger was part of their family legacy. Now that the great Senator from Arizona is being laid to rest, his service to our country stands in stark contrast to the current occupant of a gold (whoops, “golf”) course in Bedminster, NJ.

As many of you know, Bob is a private pilot. Although he’s never landed a fighter jet on the prow of an aircraft carrier in the middle of the ocean, I like to think I could trust him to land a passenger plane if needed. He likes to follow our flights around the globe on his iPad. I may be reading my Kindle all scrunched up in coach while he happily points out our descent and predicts what runway our Southwest pilot will land on, depending on the wind of course.

Flying around in his old four-seater Piper Arrow, I would breathe a sigh of relief when I saw those three green lights on the console light up, meaning the wheels were down – a very important part of the approach pattern. Kind of like having a green deck for landing!

Yesterday I asked Bob where he was on July 20, 1969 when the Eagle landed on the Moon. We had broken up in college, and he was planning a trip to Woodstock. I was living in a basement apartment in Cambridge, MA with a roomie named Alicia. His parents were away on a trip, and there were lots of friends crashing at Great Grandma Ada’s house on a hill. I asked him if he remembers calling me then, during the moon landing. It’s strange the memories our brains choose to store and those that fall away.

We were reminiscing because I’d played the first trailer of the Rocker’s new company, TOTEM. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/29/movies/first-man-trailer-ryan-gosling.html

Bob isn’t on social media so I have to keep him up to date with the millennials in our lives. Our son did the sound design and music for the trailer of the film “First Man,” with Ryan Gosling playing Neil Armstrong landing on the Sea of Tranquility, taking that first small step. https://www.nasa.gov/mission_pages/apollo/apollo11.html

Flying into the unknown, into clouds or out of earth’s orbit, takes courage and training, knowing a thousand different variables could go wrong. Starting your own business today takes a leap of faith and a lot of talent. And while staying calm under pressure is a reasonable trope for men and women who choose aviation as a career, it could also be said for young entrepreneurs. An image of a Tesla in space comes to mind!

In fact, this morning astronauts on the International Space Station are having to deal with a leak probably caused by a tiny high-speed meteorite. How did they find it? By passing a finger along the wall. How did they fix it temporarily? Using a sealant and duct tape! https://www.bbc.com/news/science-environment-45364155

So big congratulations to my son and his partners in TOTEM. Your parents are over the moon happy and proud of you! https://www.totemmx.com

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We all hate to say good-bye to summer, although in the South summer does linger. Gardens get droopy as children wait for school buses at sunrise. Leaves begin their inevitable transformation while the last crepe myrtle blossoms rain down on my car. But instead of slowing down as temperatures cool, things speed up in our family. We are entering the season of the Birthday Party!

Or as I like to call us, those Christmas Party babies.

Most all of my family birthdays span August and September. And although Martha Stewart I am certainly not, I love to plan the celebration. One year the young Rocker had a treasure hunt on the beach for hundreds of rocks I’d painted gold. Because his birthday is in August, his classmates combined with beach club friends to make a mob scene. Another year, they all played roller hockey at the end of our street.

The Bride’s birthday would fall at the beginning of the school year and one year (around 10 or 11) we rounded up all her friends and stopped by the nearest beauty school for fun makeovers. Before that, we’d had clowns and games in our Berkshire backyard. I remember a Strawberry Shortcake cake. There was a certain New England pride some of us moms felt in doing the deed at home – a leftover martyr complex from our parent’s generation.

This year the Bride took the Love Bug to her first Taylor Swift concert for her birthday present, a rite of passage she is continuing since Bob started bringing our young daughter to Madonna’s Blond Ambition Tour at Madison Square Garden. I was not a big concert or band fanatic. I was never a groupie or a Dead Head or a Parrot Top for that matter. But Bob’s identity was forged at Woodstock, and so the tradition continues.

I listened to friends talk about the Jay-Z and Beyonce concert this past week, had coffee with a cousin who was attending the Keith Urban Graffiti U tour at the Bridgestone, and then last night heard all about Tay Tay from my grand daughter. That was this past weekend in Nashville!

Sometimes I wonder if I’m missing out on something. And I’d always like to slow down time. But over the years, I have seen the Yardbirds, the Stones, the Boss, Bob Dylan and Billy Joel and Sting as back-to-back piano men, and so my life is complete. The concerts I’ve cherished were at Tanglewood over a picnic supper. For now I’ll just tune my Sonos to Mozart and plan our 70th birthday trip to Italy. Wait SEVENTY? Ciao baby!

And what do you mean I’m the last birthday of the year?

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Someday I’ll stand up in a not so smoky bar and sing torch songs. I’ve always loved the idea; an older, down on her luck crooner in a long gown with an amber-filled glass on the piano, singing her alto soul out. Under the spotlight, her grey hair like a halo. It’s the Blues for everywoman. Anything Ella or Billie is everything!

Stormy Weather (Keeps Rainin’ All The Time)

Don’t know why there’s no sun up in the sky
Stormy weather
Since my man and I ain’t together
Keeps rainin’ all the time

Life is bare, gloom and mis’ry everywhere
Stormy weather
Just can’t get my poor self together
I’m weary all the time, the time
So weary all the time

Last night Great Grandma Ada was expecting over a foot of snow, and we told her it’s just cold here in Nashville. Cold and sunny, but robins are hopping all over the city. I swear I hear more birds around this townhouse than I ever heard on our mountain, except for those jack-hammering woodpeckers. So I was surprised when I opened the door this morning to take Ms Bean out, we actually had a dusting of snow! I had to squint in the dawn light, was it just a frost, are my eyes deceiving me?

This past year has left us all pretty much teetering on the edge of delusion and despair. We never know what Tweet will manage to screw up the economy or create new enemies in the world. Let’s raise tariffs on the EU, so TN whiskey will cost more to export. But wait, maybe we’ll exclude some countries from a tariff on metals? Foreign policy has been reduced to a frat-boy play/as/you/go/poker/game, let the chips fall. It’s no wonder we’re weary.

When along comes a porn star to brighten things up, Stormy Daniels, aka Stephanie Clifford, saves the day! Granted she had agreed not to talk after receiving $130,000 but she now says Mr President never signed the contract. So she’s free as a bird to tell us what kind of sex Mr T was into right after his son was born – missionary mostly – and that he wanted to see her again, and again.

It’s rather amusing that the GOP is more concerned with Mr T’s tariff musings than his adulterous affair with a porn star. We must work hard amid this storm to suspend our disbelief. After all, Nashville’s Mayor was caught in an affair of the heart, and five weeks later she resigned. One wonders where Mr T found that money to pay off Stormy, and other women, and just how indebted is he to Russia?

Happy International Women’s Day everyone! Thundersnow has hit the East Coast and the president and the porn star threaten to capture our news cycle for the time being; no talk about guns, or tariffs today thank you. If you’re feeling like you “…can’t go on,” the BBC has compiled 100 stories of women you’ve probably never heard of, and I think it’s worth a listen. http://www.bbc.com/news/topics/c779dqxlxv2t/100-women

Before that old rockin’ chair gets y’all.    IMG_2340

 

 

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It’s warm and rainy in Nashville today, the first day of winter. Our car smells like wet dog and the house still smells like latkes. This will be my second Christmas with Bob not working the ER; but, the Bride will be and her Groom will be in the MICU, sooo we’ll be doing some grandparenting on Christmas Day!

It’s been a busy week, but the highlight by far was yesterday’s Nutcracker. We all ubered downtown to see the Nashville Ballet. The scenery was stunning, the orchestra was phenomenal, and the ballerinas were perfect. The Love Bug sat entranced; like the daughter of two scientists, she asked if Uncle Drosselmeyer’s magic was real? And she waited patiently for the ballerinas to appear, and laughed as it actually started snowing on the audience during intermission!

Her Mama played a reindeer in the Berkshire Ballet’s Nutcracker when she was the Love Bug’s age.

Some of you may know that I was a dancer in a previous life, and was thrilled to dance the opening waltz myself at the ripe “old” age of 35. If I was asked when I was the happiest in my life, those moments on stage, dancing, were among the best. Maybe it’s the Flapper’s influence, she would slip out of her bedroom window as a teenager to meet her friends and dance to the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra. And once the Bug was born, she tied a stuffed pink ballet toe shoe over her crib.

I asked the Bride if she had any memory of being under La Mère Gigogne’s (Mother Ginger) skirt? She said, “I remember being dizzy!”

It’s a dizzying time of year, but my wish for you today is that you stop and breathe for just ten or twenty minutes. Step away from Amazon on your computer. Pet your dog or cat and put on some Tchaikovsky, with a cup of hot tea on the side. Try to let your mind wander, or meditate. Practicing self-care can easily be forgotten when Hanukkah and Christmas demand so much attention. Remember that “stressed” spelled backwards is “desserts!”

And that the days, and therefore the sun when it reappears, will lengthen. We are beginning that stretch towards Spring, which is how I like to think of the Winter Solstice – not as the shortest day, but the beginning of longer daylight hours. https://news.nationalgeographic.com/2017/12/winter-solstice-2017-first-day-winter-definition-space-science/?_ga=2.23714169.2115897125.1513975428-807897739.1513975428

May you and yours have a peaceful and joyous Christmas. And thanks in advance to all those doctors, nurses and emergency personnel who will be working on Monday. You are truly doing God’s work.

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