Go Venus Go

I am really excited about Wimbledon this year. I think Serena Williams plays fabulous tennis, but I've felt a little sorry for Venus ever since her little sister took over the spotlight. I think playing a younger sibling would definitely affect an older sibling more than a younger one. (Probably because I am an older sibling). She'll have a tough match tomorrow against Maria Sharipova, but I'm glad to see Venus having such a fantastic tournament so far. She's quieter, wiser and older. Three great reasons to root for her.

Where is that publicist when you need her?

I have never been a Tom Cruise fan. He bores me as an actor. So I have been watching with a hidden (until now) bit of delight as his mouth slowly starts to nibble away at his acting career.

I don't like to knock anyone's "religion", and I don't know enough about scientology to comment on. I just think it should be a private matter, no matter how famous you are. I can only guess as to why he thinks that all of a sudden, he can spout forth all of these very strong but slightly crazy opinions about things without his fan base sitting up and taking notice. I mean, yes, he's stirring up all kinds of publicity, but is ALL publicity GOOD publicity? How does he have time to read up on the history of psychology (or was it psychiatry?), including pouring over research papers on Ritalin, Prozac and other prescription drugs? I can think of alot more worthwhile things to do with his time in between movies. Like looking in a mirror and saying over and over to himself, "I am not that special".

The saddest part of all of this is Katie Holmes, who appears to be totally brainwashed. Can you imagine the horror of sitting through dinner after dinner listening to him go on and on? If she had half a brain cell to begin with, that little voice that tells women to "run away, run away quickly" when they're on a first date SHOULD have kicked in. I only hope that she snaps out of it like Nicole and Penelope did before the best years of her life are gone.

Anyway, if anyone besides Tom was in War of the Worlds, I would probably be interested. As it is, I will search out a less boring actor to go see this summer. Like maybe Russell Crowe.

Zuzu

I have been feeding a cat where I work for four years or so. I named her Zuzu after Jimmy Stuart's little girl in It's A Wonderful Life, because I started feeding her around the holidays. She was solid black with greenish/yellowish eyes. She was not a people cat at first and wouldn't let me pet her. I took her to the vet and got her spayed and he gave her shots. So after four years of seeing each other once a day, almost every day, we'd gotten to be pretty good friends. Sometimes she didn't even seem to want to eat whenever I'd go outside and call her. She just wanted me to pet her and talk to her, which I loved doing. It was such a nice break from work problems and people to be able to hang out with her for 10 minutes or so. I always arranged for other people to feed her if I went out of town. I always worried about her when it got really cold, or if there were bad thunderstorms. But she seemed to be a survivor - battling all of these things, along with neighborhood dogs and bigger male cats, in her quiet sweet way.

A week ago last Wednesday was the last time I've seen her. It's not like her to dissappear for a few days at a time. I think once before, I didn't see her for 4 or 5 days. But for about the past year she's been around between 9 and 10 in the morning, every day. I drove the neighborhood calling for her over the first weekend. The next Monday, I called the animal shelter. They had a black female with green eyes, so I held my breath and drove over, only to be unbelievably saddened when it wasn't her. She seems to have just disappeared. Everyone is telling me that cats are like that, one day they'll just decide to let someone else feed them for awhile. I'm trying really hard to hope that she's fine, and that she's being well taken care of with food and water during this so far brutal summer. But I really, really miss her and wish she'd come back. My work day isn't the same without her sweet little face.

Ommmmmmm Ommmmmmmm - Oh forget it

I have been enjoying the physical benefits of Yoga for about 4 years now. I had a video tape that I would do once every couple of weeks that was considered advanced. Because I sort of learned backwards, there are parts I've never been able to manage. But recently, I decided I would try to get into it a little more. I subscribed to Yoga Journal magazine and stepped up my practice to twice a week. Thanks to the magazine explaining exactly how to do the poses and which muscles to work, I've become much more flexible in a short period of time. I'm working courage towards actually taking a class, but I always find myself busy on Saturday mornings.

I'm also amazed at how much more there is to Yoga. The work out benefits are just part of it. The health benefits are astronomical, with certain poses helping with back pain, bad digestion, headaches, sinus issues - the list goes on and on. It's really a way of life, and that's something I never knew from watching my dinky tape. I am making an effort to follow some of the ideology, like trying to think nice thoughts about and find value in everyone in your life. But the thing that I just haven't been able to "get" is the breathing and meditation part of it all. I am not someone who sits still well, in fact if I'm sitting still, I'm probably asleep.

I try to sit for five minutes, just five minutes after I'm done with all of the poses, but I rarely make it. I jump up and onto my next task. But this is such a big part of it all. I have this feeling that I'm missing the big picture-that a much better feeling of peace and contentment is waiting for me, if I would only slow down a little and do my deep breathing. There just isn't enough time in the day for meditation, if you ask me. If only I could multi-task and do something else while I'm just sitting. Then it wouldn't seem like such a waste of time!

Music from My Dear Dad

Here I go thinking too much about how I got to be me again. But I have to give equal time to my Dad.

I always thought it was kind of odd that my parents did not get into rock and roll. No Buddy Holly, Elvis or Beatles for these two. But my Dad got closer than my Mom. This list will be a bit different from my Mom's, because with Dad it was more about getting to spend time with him. I remember my Mom letting me stay home from church some Sundays just so I could hang out with him. His job was in retail when we were little and he normally worked 6 days a week - sometimes pretty long hours. So I was always so excited to have a whole Sunday morning with him all to myself. I would help him make pancakes for breakfast, then I'd play while he read a book or the Sunday paper. Or he'd work out while I read this old set of history books. When I got a little older, he'd set up a work space on the dining room table and let me help him with whatever paperwork he was trying to catch up on. But we'd always listen to music. Here are some of the artists that bring to mind the fondest memories of spending time with my Dad on Sunday mornings:

Jim Croce. Definitely a life that ended too soon. I Got A Name made it on my "Top 50 Songs of All Times" list. (To be discussed in a later entry).

John Denver. Laugh if you will, but the man could sing. And write some beautiful songs. The record Dad had was a Greatest Hits, with Grandma's Feather Bed, Thank God I'm a Country Boy, and Annie's Song being the ones I remember from back then.

The Ventures 50th Anniversary Album - I guess they're known for their instrumental surf music, but this double-record had Beatles songs, Neil Diamond, and all kinds of hits from the 60's. This was actually my first introduction to Beatles music, and I didn't find out until years later that someone did these songs before The Ventures, and even sang on them! My Dad loves the songs that the Beatles wrote, he just doesn't like hearing the Beatles sing them.

The Carpenters. I think my Dad had 4 or 5 albums of the Carpenters. This seems like a good time to bring up that although my Dad has a lovely singing voice (imagine Larry Gatlin, but not so brash), he loves to whistle along with songs. He has the prettiest whistle I've ever heard. And his whistle shined the brightest on these Carpenters albums. One of his favorite songs was a cover of Leon Russell's Song For You. Once again, I never knew someone else originated this song until Julie made a mix tape for me for Christmas with Leon himself singing it. His version would make my top 3 songs. The words are so sweet-and it's sung straight from the heart.

The Brothers Four. My Dad loved folk music like this. I especially remember a jaunty little melody called Tie Me Kangeroo Down Sport. Has anyone seen A Mighty Wind - Christopher Guest's parody of the Folk Movement in the early 60's? It made me laugh, but maybe not as hard as people whose parents didn't listen to this music. Some respect for the genre kept me from wanting to make fun of it too much.

Bread. I've saved the best for last. If you've never heard of this band, I strongly urge you to check them out. I think they are possibly the most underrated band from the 70's. They were definitely laying the groundwork for bands like The Eagles. I'm not that fond of the sappier numbers (like If, one of those overplayed wedding songs), but songs like Everything I Own, Look What You've Done and Mother Freedom are good over and over to me. I have their 2 CD Retrospective-and would have to bring it along if I was going to a deserted island.

These days, Dad listens to alot of country now, which I will forgive him for. In fact, we danced to Leanne Womack's I Hope You Dance at my wedding, and when he started singing it to me I cried. It was one of the sweetest moments of my life.

This is just a small sampling of some of my Dad's influences. But they are the songs that will always make me pause and smile and think of Sundays and Dad. I still love to hear that whistle, coming from the back of my parents' house. So any fathers out there reading this, know how much it means to your kids to just spend time with them doing nothing. Don't think that they have to be entertained. Just put on some music, sit back, and enjoy each other.

Jose Canseco revisited

Jav and I went to the Ranger Game against the Braves last night, and sat in the first row of the home run porch (with glove in tow, of course). This was the first time either of us had sat on the porch, and we really liked being able to see those miraculous outfield catches up close. Gary Matthews Jr. made an unbelievable play. He caught a fly ball while running and looking over his shoulder for the first out, then made an unhuman throw to first to get Julio Franco out, who had run to second thinking the ball had gone over Matthews' head. Even though the Rangers lost, we were really enjoying our ballgame experience.

Until

The big dumb drunk hillbilly decided to sit a few seats down from us. He was either very sunburned or had turned a permanent shade of ruddy from all the alcohol. He kept spitting, anywhere, every 10 seconds or so. He kept trying to talk to everyone within hearing proximity, bragging about how he usually sits behind home plate, but tonight thought he'd "see what it was like in the cheap seats". He tried to get everyone with caps on to put them on "rally style". And although he never tried to talk to Jav and I, the anger I started having towards this person almost ruined the whole night for me. I started praying that someone, on either team, would hit a home run that would hit him on the head and knock him cold. But no such luck. I really did ponder what I could do to make this guy go away. I wanted to hit him, but knew that wasn't a real option, just one of those imaginary ones that makes you feel better for a few minutes. We couldn't really get security down there, because he technically wasn't doing anything that bad. What could we have done? Other than try to tune him out (impossible) until after the game, then trudge to the car with a stomach ache because my nachos weren't sitting well after all of that anger.

I guess there are times in life when you just have to put up with really annoying people.

36 candles?

We were flipping through channels last night and found Sixteen Candles. And although it was edited (I'm sure Jake only said "Hug me" into the phone when Samantha's grandmother answered it in the middle of the night), it was still really fun to watch. "WE", the station it was on, was calling it a chick flick. I really take issue with this, both because I remember watching it just after high school with all my female AND male friends (that was such a fun Lubbock road trip), and because my husband was laughing alot harder than me while watching last night.

I heard this past Thursday that they are planning a sequal to the movie, and that Molly Ringwald had already signed on. I haven't researched to see if it's true, but how on earth are they going to do this? Are Samantha and Jake coping with marital problems and the pressure of having three kids? Does Anthony Michael Hall (was his name "Ted?-I should know this) come back and try to steal Samantha - claiming that he's always loved her and no one else? How about Long Duc Dong - has he moved on from his "Lec - Big Lec", and become a famous stock car driver? Does John Cusack decide this would be a good career move? I just can't see it. It seems like anything will ruin the innocent genius of the first film. I think Hollywood needs to come up with some originality and stop trying to rehash the classics. (Even though I will probably be one of the first to see "Willie Wonka". I'm such a hypocrite!)

This little light o'mine

Is anyone out there lucky enough to have fireflies in their yard? What wondrous little creatures! I get just as excited seeing one as I did when I was 5 years old. Maybe that's part of their appeal-they make you feel like a kid again. Added to the fact that you can only see them in early summer, and only during dusk, and I guess that makes them pretty special. Dusk has always been my favorite time of the day. In Texas, this means the quiet time between the locusts singing during the day and the katydids starting up at night. Before I lived in the "country", I never paid much attention to any of these things. I think I just had the mentality of "Eeeeeeuuuuuuwwwwww - bugs!" But now, they are as much a part of my summer as sprinklers and suntan oil. I love that my husband has become transformed and appreciates nature now in the same stages I went through. We are slowly starting our house hunt, and my main criteria is a big yard. I guess I'm hoping to hang onto some of the magic of this wilderness that surrounds us. In the meantime, you'll find me on the porch, sipping on a beer, watching the sun go down, and hoping to see that little spark of summer.

Me and my Stanley

Stanley with Bones, Zoe and Henry, and me

Sweet and stalwart Stanley

Once there was a girl who saw a stray dog in her neighborhood. He had been hurt and limped around with one back foot held up underneath him. But he was a handsome dog, and she started leaving food for him whenever she saw him roaming around, digging through people's trash to eat. After she had seen him four times in a week, she decided that God wanted her to have this dog. So with some help from her younger brother, she trapped the dog in her parents' backyard. It took some coaxing, but finally the dog ran to her open arms, and has not left her side since.

She named him Stanley, and slowly he started to help change her life. She was struggling in her marriage, trying to cope with a husband with alcoholism. Stanley allowed her to focus on something besides trying to "fix" her husband. Walking him every day allowed her to clear her head and feel less miserable. Stanley made her realize that not only did an innocent puppy not deserve physical and verbal abuse, but she didn't either.

She and Stanley stayed together all through the divorce, moving back home with her parents, and getting out on her own. There was some very low times during these years, but Stanley's Welcome Home!!! bark always made her feel better. His doggie smile and loyalty made her feel so loved, that she didn't feel loneliness after awhile.

By now there were more companions in the household. And with each addition, Stanley accepted them with patience and understanding. Even the cats! When Fred the kitten wandered into her driveway, no amount of coaxing from the girl could get him to come into the fenced part of her yard. But a couple of minutes with Stanley did the trick.

Even though Stanley was a mix (she finally determined he was Chow and Huskie), people would stop her on their walks and tell her what a beautiful dog he is. His golden color shined in the sun, and still does to this day, despite his age. His watchdog instincts were and are so good, that he barks if someone stays sitting too long at the stop sign outside of her house.

Stanley's biggest adjustment came when the girl finally met the man of her dreams. Stanley had always had trouble with men, because apparantly that's who had abused him when he was a puppy. But he adjusted to this new boyfriend who was spending so much time in her house, and the boyfriend was wonderful enough to adjust to Stanley and all of his friends.

The girl married the man of her dreams, and he started taking Stanley for runs and helping to feed him. They became fast friends. Stanley no longer had to worry about yelling and loud noises. This man was quiet and gentle, and took good care of the girl whose side he never leaves.

The girl realizes that Stanley has seen her through the lowest points in her life, and made it with her to the happiest time. He's loved her with all he has the entire time, and she's loved him right back. He's eleven years old now, and not a day goes by that the girl and the dog don't stop and share a moment, and realize how happy their life is because of each other.

I must have a Macsomething in my past

I love Scotland.

I had already painted a romantic view of the place in my head long before I ever set foot there. Maybe it was the tormented history, or the difficult terrain and climate. Or maybe it was because from pictures I'd seen, the place didn't seem to be affected by so-called progress. I loved to watch shows about it, and read books set there. My parents had given me a book about it for my birthday one year. I had such a quaint picture built up in my head, that even though I was excited beyond belief, I was actually a little worried when we decided to go there for our honeymoon. Well, the reality beat out those expectations. It is a beautiful place. We especially fell in love with the Highlands, where they still have Gaelic translations on the street signs. The people were warm and welcoming, and the weather was quite lovely (May is the driest month of the year). The terrain goes from rugged to pastoral, with farmlands and beaches never farther away than a walk. And lots of castles and sheep. The best part, though, is that it really seems like you've gone back in time.

I told Jav I want to go back for my 40th (yikes) birthday. Until then, we have to get by with little Scotch fixes from time to time. We're going to the Scottish Festival tomorrow, to eat Shepherd's Pie, watch the Highland Games competition and hear hootenanny-worthy bands, complete with requisite bagpipes. And see lots of men in kilts (at least that's one reason I'M going). But mainly to reminisce about our amazing trip.

One of my favorite authors right now is Ian Rankin, who has a series of Crime Fiction novels, all taking place in and around Edinburgh and starring Detective John Rebus. These are dark and realistic tales, but they are such good reads. And now I can actually picture many of the settings in the books, which is too cool.

Every day I think about Scotland at least once. I don't think I have any Scot in my ancestry, but it calls to me all the same. I'm not sure why. I just know I love it.

The little guy didn't make it

We went to Bergeron's to rent movies for our Memorial Day Marathon on Saturday, and they are going out of business. They're selling all of their inventory and closing up. I was so sad, I couldn't think straight. We didn't ask why, just told them how sorry we were. It could be because of Mr. Bergeron's poor health, or it could be because the location they choose really didn't end up being a very good decision. I think Old Handley was on the verge of becoming a vibrant part of East Fort Worth when they moved there. But some of the surrounding businesses have closed since they moved in, and the area is getting a little run down again. But I'm sure the biggest culprit is Blockbuster.

We are currently searching for another neighborhood rental store, but I don't think there's one close to us.

Maybe it's time to try Netflix, but that really isn't going to make me feel better about the end of Bergeron's.

Am I helping you, or vice versa?

I have had the pleasure of getting to know and become friends with a wonderful woman named Cobra over the past 3 years. Cobra and I met through the Tarrant Literacy Program when I was assigned to be her tutor. I'd only had one student before her, and the guy ended up quitting after a couple of months because he was too busy trying to earn a living to really give reading the time he wanted to. I didn't know what to expect when the director of the program told me my new student was named Cobra. It's not like you meet a Cobra very often in life.

Little did I know that a very unique person was about to come into my life.

Cobra was 59 years old when we started working together. She had already been through at least a couple of tutors, and had decided this was her last try. We liked each other immediately. She told me right up front that she had dyslexia. I read up on it, and learned that I had to lean heavy on phonics in order to help her really learn.

She was this lively, creative, intelligent and charismatic person. NOT what I had expected at all. We met at the library near her house most Saturday mornings for an hour and a half. We probably spent an hour on the lessons, and 30 minutes talking about our lives. She told me she felt really comfortable around me, and I told her I was having so much fun teaching her. Halfway through the first book (there are four books total), she asked if I would mind coming to her house instead of the library, because sometimes we had trouble concentrating because of other people milling about. Teachers are really never supposed to go to their student's home, but something told me that it was ok to bend that rule a little. So that's where we've been meeting through our current book, the third in the series. (We move slow, but that's ok with us).

Cobra is always making or doing things for other people. She has the most generous spirit of anyone I know. I never leave her house empty-handed. At first I thought she sort of considered it "paying" me for my time every Saturday morning. Some homemade fig jam from the figs trees in her yard, some wine she and her husband had tried and liked, homemade fudge, jewelry she saw somewhere and thought of me. But then I realized that she does these little things for everyone in her life. She made flower arrangements for all the girls that work at the bank, after finding out what their favorite colors were. The mailman, the women in her swim aerobics class, her neighbors, her co-workers - every person in her life is significant enough to her to deserve a hand-made gift, a trinket, or a cutting from her garden. She made all of the centerpieces for our out-of town wedding reception, set up several tables, and did a million other wonderful things for me throughout the whole ordeal.

She recently went home to Michigan to bring her four grown children together and explain to them about her dyslexia and inability to read until recently. She never told them about it while they were growing up, partly because of pride, and partly because she was afraid they might use it as an exuse for their own setbacks while they were growing up. She didn't know about the dyslexia until recently, and realizes now that some of her kids probably have it and don't know it. Now they understand so much more about their Mom, and her relationship with each one of them is growing by the day.

Cobra tells me that she could never have imagined these things happening, and says she owes alot of it to me. Maybe she could have come this far with someone else, but to me it was fate that brought us together. She doesn't seem to realize what I owe to her. She has taught me SO many life lessons, which mean just as much to me as her reading does to her. She has taught me kindness, not just to friends and family, but to everyone in your life. She has taught me to laugh and have fun, when it's so easy to take life too seriously sometimes. But most of all, she's taught me about never giving up on a goal. I can't imagine how frustrating it was for her before she learned to read. But she was determined, and now so many things in her life are better than she ever expected them to be.

I'm so proud of her, and so happy to have her in my life.

The Latino Sound

We're listening to a new CD - Los Super Seven (self-titled CD), a motley crew of 7+ musicians with their tribute to border radio. People like Freddie Fender and Flaco Jimenez (accordianist from Freddie's band), and David Hidalgo and Cesar Rosas from Los Lobos. What great music this is. I feel like I'm sitting in a dusty bar drinking my cerveza with Pancho Villa, discussing the politics of the day. And hoping a gunfight doesn't break out in the dusty streets outside.

I can't help thinking about my grandfather. He grew up along the border, and could speak street Spanish. He loved border music, and would have been singing along to most of these songs with his beautiful deep bass voice. I think he would get such a kick out the fact that I married into a Hispanic family.

This last fact has greatly broadened my horizons of Latino music. I already had some CD's in this genre-The Gipsy Kings (Spain), The Bueno Vista Social Club and Celia Cruz (Cuba), Bebel Gilberto (Brazilian). But Jav and his family has opened my ears to great bands (Mana), pop stars (Juanez, Christina Aguilera, who I like much better in Spanish), and traditional crooners (Pepe Aguilar, Pedro Infante, Luis Miguel). These last three were included in our wedding reception music, mixed in with Artie Shaw, Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitgerald. We decided to incorporate music that both of our grandparents loved, and it was a great decision because both of our families were moved by what we had chosen. Little did my new family know that I had a grandfather who loved all of it.

I feel very lucky that my eyes are being opened to a culture that's different (but still similar in many ways) to mine. If I could only pick up Spanish as easily as Bapaw could!

My favorite sporting event

Oh it's that time of year again. The shushed crowd. The quiet commentators. The electric, crackling tension in the air. The goosebumps as your favorite wows the crowd into roaring applause.

I'm talking, of course, about the Van Cliburn Piano Competition.

This outstanding competition occurs only once every four years. If you like classical music at all, it would be worth seeing. Last time, I kept up with the goings on through the video (televised on the now defunct Denton PBS station), and the TCU radio station (88.7), which is broadcasting live again this time. One of the early recitals happened to catch my ear and eyes. An attractive Russian woman and single Mom nameld Olga Kern. She played with more passion than anyone I'd ever seen. She continued to progess, and in the process became the darling of Fort Worth and the competition. I decided to try to get a ticket to one of the Finalist concerts - and ended up getting to see her.

I have heard in my life from time to time that a person was born to do this or that. But I don't take much stock in that, because it seems so rare. I think Tony Bennett was born to sing and Fred Astaire to dance. I think Hemingway was born to write. These people make whatever it is they do well look effortless, and do it in a very understated way. Olga Kern was born to play Rachmaninoff. She pours everything she has into that music, but her performance doesn't seem put on or over the top. Her grandmother actually knew the composer, and she had some music she used in the competition that had his handwritten notes scribbled here and there. All emotions ranging from dark sadness to sheer joy emit from her fingers. She comes back from time to time, and if you can get a ticket, anywhere in the hall, it will be worth your while. I know I will be there.

Fortunately for the competition, and unfortunately for me, all of the concerts sold out very quickly this year. But in the meantime, I will be listening on the radio - waiting for that one performance that is so spellbinding that I will realize when it's over that I was holding my breath.

The call of the sea

We witnessed a strange event while we were on our beach trip. One afternoon we decided to take a break from our very strenuous lounging and walk along the shoreline. We happened to notice that some of the gulls had stopped milling about groups of people searching for food, and were lined up along the shoreline, staring out to sea. On our way back, there were at least 30 gulls, all staring very intently out at the sea.

I asked Jav, "I wonder what they are hearing?" He pretended to all of sudden hear it too, and snapped around to face the sea with a very longing look on his face. This cracked me up, and we went onto talk about something else. But it stayed on my mind. What were they doing? I thought some ancient memory was causing them to remember generation after generation of gulls. Ancestors struggling to survive with the angry churning backdrop of the sea spurning their instincts.

The actual reason was not nearly as romantic as all of my musings. It wasn't what they were hearing, but what they saw. When we got back to the condo, we went out on the balcony to hang out our beach towels, and Jav spotted what the gulls had been looking at. The biggest patch of seaweed you've ever seen was slowly getting closer to the shore. It was just this huge brown patch in the middle of all the blue. And sure enough, the next morning the beach was covered with seaweed. The gulls hung around the edge of the water for the next day, as we watched the seaweed slowly roll back into the water, then roll back onto the shore. Each time, gathering small fish and who knows what for the gulls to feast on. A smorgasboard of the highest order, at least to gulls.

I guess I'd probably go catatonic, too, if I saw my dinner for the next few weeks floating towards me.

A day at the beach

We just got back from three and a half glorious days on South Padre Island. Nothing recharges a burned-out, stressed-out psyche like a couple of days of sitting on your beach chairs, toes wriggling in sand, reading a book, listening to those roaring waves. Or simply staring out at them. For what seems like hours. Why does time move slower once you really begin to let go of all of that stress? It took me a full 24 hours before I could feel it draining out of me. But then it seemed like three hours turned into eight. I could really swear that we've been there over a week. What can we do to recreate this feeling now that we are back in the mad-paced reality we live in today? Probably nothing. That's why we go on vacations. I'm short of vacation time this year, so we can't do another long one like this. But maybe a three-day weekend every now and again, just to get a quick fix of salt smell and sea breeze.

A Mother's Day tribute

I am one of those people who pays way too much attention to Who Am I and How Did I Get To Be This Way? One of the things that makes up a majority of me is music. I have a love for all types of music, and sometimes I like to ponder over my musical influences to see where my tastes originated. And the first influences all of us have, if we are lucky, is our parents. So this post will explore music that came from or that makes me think of my Mom.

Classical and choral music, especially Bach and Handel and Vivaldi: My mother majored in music at Texas Wesleyan, and sang in the church choir the entire time I was growing up. I can never remember a time when there weren't at least a few classical records in her collection. Our church choir used to combine with the Wesleyan college choir and a small orchestra to sing Handel's Messiah every Christmas. When I was little, I remember watching the tympani player because he was the most interesting. But now, whenever I get to see a full symphony, I marvel at how someone could write all of those different parts and come up with such cohesive beauty. I now also like Romantic composers, like Beethovan, Rachmaninoff and Brahms, but my first love will always be the Baroque period. My appreciation for choral music has grown slowly. I was flipping through stations one day within the past year, and caught a work on WRR that literally gave me goosebumps. It was like the moment on The Shawshank Redemption when Andy plays the aria over the prison speakers, and time just stopped for the inmates. So now I'm hunting for some choral work CD's, and will be asking Mom for help.

Show tunes, especially from Rogers and Hammerstein musicals: Mom started trying out for musicals when she was in middle school, and performed in quite a few productions up through college. I wish I could have seen her in Gilbert and Sullivan's The Mikado in full geisha makeup. (I think she played Yum-Yum, one of the three sisters). Or in any of her productions. When you grow up listening to show tunes, you never think about the fact that this might be a little unusual. Doesn't everyone know the words to The Lonely Goatherd? Didn't every little girl try to dance like Rita Moreno does in America, swishing our imaginary skirts? This great start Mom gave me led to many classic musical films. I especially like anything with Fred Astaire in it. I think my favorite, though, might be Sweet Charity with Shirley McLaine. I still throw touches of Bob Fosse choreography in when I dance to this day. All That Jazz, a movie based on his life, is in my top ten list. And I still have many musicals to try, still, like Showboat and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.

Barbara Streisand: Now, I'm not a huge fan. I really only like her stuff from pre-1980. But one of my favorite CD's is Stoney End, where she covers many great songwriters' works (Carole King, Laura Nyro, Randy Newman). But I remember many happy moments as a child with this record playing in the background, or dancing about the house to Don't Rain on My Parade. I can appreciate her amazing singing voice and her ability to hold a note for what seems like forever.

Other sing-along honorable mentions: Here's a few that I remember singing to along with Mom from the days before I had my own car: I Can't Smile Without You - Barry Manilow, Lonesome Loser - Little River Band, Could I Have This Dance for the Rest of My Life - Anne Murray.

I think the biggest thing I can thank Mom for instilling in me is a love for harmony. All of my favorite artists to this day (The Beatles, R.E.M., Indigo Girls) have that in common. I love being able to hear and to sing the different parts in a song. And I think I'm slowly returning the favor in a small way by turning her on to people she'd never listened to before but now loves, like Carole King and Kathleen Battle. So thanks, Mom, for giving me the most unique parts of my musical background! I can't wait for the next time we can sing in the car again.

Supporting the little guy

Jav and I got really miffed at Blockbuster about six months ago. They signed us up for one of their new "plans" where you get to check out as many movies as you want (or can) in a month, but only three at a time. The words out of the clerk's mouth when we signed up were "try it for a month". Jav immediately determined that this really wasn't a good deal for us, because it's hard for us to find the time to watch movies. But I coaxed him into it. What the clerk didn't mention, however, was that they would be charging his credit card each month for the service. Obviously we don't always read the fine print. When Jav found this out, he complained, but they said they could only cancel the service AFTER the current month ended. So we pretty much vowed to never rent a movie from there again.

UNTIL Jav won a free month trial of Blockbuster Online. I really liked using the online service, because it turns out that we DO have time to watch movies. We just don't have time to stop after work and argue about what we want to see, or to take the movie back before work. I loved the convenience of having movies delivered to my door and the US mail taking care of sending them back. We watched more movies in the month of March than we had the entire two years we've known each other. So when the month was over, I wanted to continue, only with Netflix. But Jav didn't want an extra monthly bill.

So now we are renting movies (one a weekend) from a little family owned place called Bergeron's. The store is out of the way for us to get to, they don't have a great selection of new titles, and rarely have DVD's of movies. But after renting from them for a month, I feel really good about the experience. They have hard to find movies, an unbelievable selection of classic and foreign films, and I don't mind watching VHS. The prices are relatively cheap. But the best thing about it is the feeling that you are supporting a dying breed - the neighborhood Mom and Pop establishment. The Bergerons actually attend our church, and are very well-known to Fort Worth's Eastide community. A few years ago they moved their store to the historic area of Old Handley, only to have it destroyed by the same tornado that blew through downtown Fort Worth. But with hard work, luck, many friends and just plain stubborness, they perservered. I like the small town feeling of the store. They are always willing to help you find something, even if there is a long line waiting after you. Nobody seems to mind waiting. They must all feel the same as me, that I can put up with alot as long as I'm still helping David beat Goliath.