A Couple of Free Meals and...

So, what's wrong with a wedding once in a while? Free meals (rehearsal dinner to which us out-of-towners were invited) AND the wedding feast as well. Sure, you have to spend time with some relatives you haven't seen for a while with good reason. But there are usually an equal number of relatives you are glad to spend time with. It's sort of like life, you win some and you lose some, people-wise. Meanwhile, how can you fault a place that calls itself "Pinstripes," and combines bowling, bocce and a fine bistro under one roof, so to speak. The food was excellent; the bocce was under a roof outdoors. The bowling was blessedly out of hearing range and it was a delightful evening. We beheld a gorgeous sunset and a fine meal. SO far so good.... (To be continued, the reception begins in a few minutes). We're back, with another free meal under our belts, and a few reminders for you. There are strange things that occur at wedding receptions. Many people meet their future spouses at weddings. You often see people you haven't seen in a long time at a wedding. And you see them in a different light. You meet strangers and see them differently from other strangers you have met. You see, at a wedding, everyone you meet has some kind of connection with you or you would not both have been invited. So, your guard may be down, or it may deflect things differently, it's just not the same. I should know, I met my wife at a wedding. Who knows what connections were made at this one? Something else I noticed, good wedding bands play your parents' music. It's easier to dance to, it allows those who have enough wine to dance. I even noticed that the grandfather of the bride danced like there was no tomorrow, maybe there is, and maybe there isn't for him. Either he has or he hasn't, but I want to dance as he did at a grandchild's wedding, at least one of them. Oh, and there was enough wine there. I even danced, not well, you understand, but better than I have before, I am sure of it. Something about all the exercise I do, the yoga and the tai chi have loosened up some things, and I have improved. No, no one told me so, I just felt it, I felt differently about it all. The other thing that sometimes occurs at weddings is unusual conversations. I talked with one guy about the Smithfield Company’s effort to broaden its marketing appeal, in part, by creating products like bacon shampoo or bacon cologne. We both wondered about what or whom you'd attract--a dog? We discussed it with one young lady who knew someone who had used bacon shampoo. Sadly, she did not recall what, if any, consequence it had. Later, that same guy and I talked about my theory of weight loss. In short, one of the supporting factors in this theory is that the law of gravity requires that no lost weight actually leaves the planet. Simple enough, if it weighs something, it is not lighter than air and it cannot leave. A corollary to this theory is that therefore any weight someone loses must be gained by someone else or several someones, right? Thinking about it makes you believe you must be vigilant around dieters, doesn't it? See what I mean? Strange things happen at weddings.

What You Gave Up

WHAT YOU GAVE UP

It doesn’t go away.

Leave it for a few days

And it only stands and waits.

Make those days into a week,

Or even several, if you must,

But now it’s back again. 

Knowing it can never change,

That it’s done and for good reason

You still can see and hear it.

Gazing out the bay window—

You promised to forget, you know

To make it depart—but here it stays,

Standing here and waiting,

Stinging, sometimes fading,

But still with you just the same.

St. Louis in the South Pacific

Or was it South Pacific in St. Louis?  Geographical confusion is common among homeless migrants.  Ours was the musical kind.  We saw Rodgers and Hammerstein's South Pacific at the MUNY in St. Louis tonight.  The weather was sweltering, but it was worth every minute.  Do you remember the lyrics?  I don't remember when I saw it last, but I am almost certain it was not a stage version.  This was a marvel.  It was the lyrics that I had forgotten that made it so remarkable.  Pieces of Some Enchanted Evening that had disappeared from my memory are floating anew in my brain, like--

...You may hear her laughin'
Across a crowded room
And night after night,
As strange as it seems
The sound of her laughter
Will sing in your dreams...

There's much more, like Younger Than Springtime,

I touch your hands
And my heart grows strong,
Like a pair of birds
That burst with song.
My eyes look down
At your lovely face,
And I hold a world
In my embrace.

Sure, I remember some of the titles and a piece of the melody, but not the remarkable lyrics.  The production in St. Louis was remarkable, not only because of the source material, but the quality of the orchestra and the voices of the performers.  I don't know where it is done better, but give me the MUNY for this one.  

What about this piece of Bali Hai?  Islands are an image that speak to isolation and to dreams all at once.

Most people live on a lonely island,
Lost in the middle of a foggy sea.
Most people long for another island,
One where they know they will like to be.

Or this one from Happy Talk?  Have you thought about what you talk about and who?

Talk about a moon floating in de sky looking like a lily on a lake,
Talk about a bird learning how to fly Making all the music he can make
Happy talk, keep talking' happy talk,Talk about things you'd like to do,
You gotta have a dream, if you don't have a dream,How you gonna have a dream come true?

You don't need to go see it, listen to it.  It will do your heart good.  

Public Relations: Some Stories Are Made To Travel

I've been reading with some interest about the work of a public relations firm attempting to dress up the antics of their client. Truth can be distorted, you know.  The trick in Public Relations is to create a story people are likely to pass on to others and overwhelm the simple truth.  Applying a few of the tricks I have learned, here are two versions of the story of our lives this month.

The Public Relations Version--The Homeless Migrants!
We departed today, expecting to wander about the country until at least the end of July (covering upwards of 3,000 miles--125 miles per day).  We are in our second week of homelessness.

We are wandering the countryside; relying on the generosity of friends, family, and
a couple of innkeepers to keep a roof over our heads.

We left our borrowed fifth floor walk-up this morning.  When we left this morning, I walked up and down seven times--the equivalent of climbing the stairs of a thirty-five story building and walking back down.

What we need to live until at least the end of July is in our borrowed car.  We will also be borrowing money for gas we'll need.  The rest of our belongings are being stored behind a gas station, at the end of the airport runway.  We are hoping to have a home again at the end of July, but we can't be sure.

The Normal, Slow, Boring Version--The Extended Vacationers
Yes, we are having an unusual month, but putting it normally, here it is--we sold our home eight days ago, and have not yet closed on the purchase of a new residence--thus, we are homeless.  We are setting out on a four week vacation trip during this period between houses, which makes us migrants, of a sort.  How will we keep a roof over our heads?  We will rely upon the generosity of friends and family.  It began last week, which we spent at a friend's ocean-front condominium.  The elevator has been down since the day before yesterday, making this the "walk-up" we left this morning.  Getting to our rooms to eat and sleep, moving out this morning, etc. really required walking up and down five stories.

Next up is a trip around the eastern half of the U.S.  We've rented an SUV for the trip (well, a rented car is borrowed, isn't it?).  We almost always use a credit card to buy our gas--we earn airline miles with one of them--so we are borrowing to pay for the gas.  This week, we will visit friends in St. Louis, attend a family wedding in Northbrook, IL (suburban Chicago).

Next week and the week after, we will visit family in Lombard, IL, visit friends in Fredonia, New York, family again in Allentown, PA, then attend the wedding of our friends' oldest child in Long Island, NY.

Oh, and the innkeepers?  They are the host hotels for the weddings.  They are not overly generous, but the rooms were discounted for all persons attending the weddings.

Finally, we will return home to a new residence (cross your fingers on this one, we hope to close the purchase while we are on the road using a power of attorney, but nothing is certain until the deal is closed, so our period of homelessness can truthfully be said to be for an indefinite period).

Storing our household goods at the end of a runway behind a gas station?  That's where our self-storage facility is located.  

Which one of these versions would travel fastest?  As Mark Twain once put it, 
"A lie can travel halfway around the world while the truth is putting on its shoes."

Skullduggery

Whatever your belief system, whether you believe in God the Creator; or Brahma, the creator along with Vishnu and Shiva, the preserver and the destroyer, respectively; or Pangu, the Chinese god who separated Yin from Yang; or Allah, the creator, sustainer, ordainer and judge; or the Prime Mover, the Intelligence that guides the universe. You must know there is a reason for everything. There is an intelligence that guides or guided the universe.  

I am less certain of that these days. I was recently reminded of this when a spark of light ever so briefly illuminated a truth inside that smallish space reserved inside my skull for my cranium. The skull surrounding that space can be incredibly thick and nearly impossible to penetrate.  And why?  Our brains are supposed to be our means of making sense of the world and the senses give the appearance of direct interface with the brain.  But the thick skull gets in the way and the light the senses aim toward the brain gets deflected.  After that, it is not what it was meant to be.  The dim light that arrives at its destination only faintly bears any trace of resemblance to reality, or so it seems.  So, we are free to kid ourselves and/or dream up versions of reality that suit our egos or our wishes etc.

We are free to create our own version of reality and ignore some messages simply because we cannot get the truth through our thick skulls.  I know some process like that must be in play.  There is no other explanation for how many times something has to hit me in the head before I get it.  Recently, a point I know had been made to me by this universe finally sank in.  It was a crashing disappointment when it finally settled in.  But that was most likely made to feel that way by the illusion I had created around it.  It would have been simpler if the old skull weren't so impenetrable, allowing room for me to make it all up in my own head instead of seeing clearly.

So what's the point here?  How do you learn to open your mind?  To listen and observe better.  You have to stop looking for what you want to see, judging the world by some standard or vision you have dreamed up.   Search me, I'm just trying to breathe, to be still and observe.  If my brain will cease to occupy itself with racing around, maybe, just maybe, it will allow a little more light in.

WATCHING BEACH WALKERS

Through a gap I could see them

Between trees’ branches

I watch, sitting high above.

First two, then four stroll easily

I almost hear them

Turning, laughing, marking time.

Do they know walking the beach

Will smooth their very soles?

Darken their skin, kink their hair?

Bare feet will lose calluses

Pale skin burns, then tans.

Windblown hair dries, splits then curls

The mighty sea is watching

Gazing into hearts,

Affecting souls, snatching bodies

Are they paying attention?

Breathing it all in

To draw some inspiration

No, they look for shells, shark’s teeth

And conversation.

Thinking of  breakfast, coffee.

Planning the day, and the week,

Forgetting the beach,

Frothing sea, the rising sun 

Some Things Just Have To Stay

At least twenty-eight years ago, perhaps more; a promising young woodworker, Uncle Mike, made several of the Christmas trees pictured below and it was our privilege to receive one for Christmas.  It has graced our home(s) every year since (by my count, we have moved five times since then, but please note that I am a mere husband, and that count must remain unofficial until Sheila certifies it).  

A string of lights attached to the back of the tree make it especially charming at night.  I haven't asked how many of the others made lovingly that year have survived, I imagine any not still in use by the original recipients, have been handed down and are lighting up someone's home each Christmas.  In this pic, you can observe that ours has now made its sixth move (remember, folks, that's unofficial).  It will be stored in this climate-controlled space until Thanksgiving, when it will, as usual, be the first Christmas decoration to appear in our house.  The timing sure fits, we are thankful for all the years and all the family it represents--most especially for Mike and his handiwork, of which I know this is only one little example.  I realize the following is mistimed, but while I'm thinking of it--Happy Thanksgiving and Merry Christmas to all.