I attended a funeral on Thursday morning (for the man who commit suicide). I was to play piano for special music and some hymns and provide postlude. I spent some time with the family and vocalists on Wednesday to plan out the music. Luckily one of the vocalists was comfortable leading hymns so that I could accompany because one the congregational songs ("In the Bulb there is a Flower") really requires accompaniment. The other congregational song was the hymn "Wonderful Grace of Jesus." Such a great hymn! On Thursday morning driving to the church I was excited beyond all reason that I was going to get to sing alto on "Wonderful Grace of Jesus." I'm normally the one leading hymns and I'm, decidedly, an alto. I love singing alto. I'm constantly in mourning about singing soprano all the time because I'm leading. But I was going to sing alto on that beautiful morning and I couldn't wait!
I get to the funeral and park myself on the front bench so I can easily access the piano. I arrange my music tidily beside me. I even open the hymnal to "Wonderful Grace of Jesus" so that after accompanying the first congregational song I could race back to the pew, gather up my hymnal, and not even miss one measure of glorious alto singing. So I accompany the first hymn. It goes well. It finishes and I practically sprint back to the pew, pick up my hymnal, and look at the song leader with anticipation. Here is the inner dialogue that followed:
I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready!
The song leader is looking at me. Is he waiting for me to be ready to start singing? How considerate of him.
He's making eye contact with me. Yes mister song-leader, I'm ready to go. (He must sense how excited I am. Nod your head to let him know he can start.)
Why does he keep looking at me?
He's motioning with his hand. That's strange.
HE'S MOTIONING TOWARD THE PIANO! Oh no! He wants me to play.
(Me, popping up and heading to said piano.)
I don't get to sing! Oh the humanity! (Sniffles inwardly.)
(Sitting down at the piano)
Oh fooey! Bob did ask me to accompany this! I remember it now so clearly. I really dropped the ball on this one.
(Positioning hymnal on the piano.)
I have never played this song on the piano. Fingers don't fail me now.
(Begins to play.)
So there it was. Poor guy. He didn't have a pitch pipe, how was he gonna start a hymn? My excitement blinded me. It went fine though. I apologized later. And on a serious note, for what could have been such a sad and tragic funeral, this is one of the nicest, most touching and meaningful funerals I've ever been to. What a testament to a loving family. Rest in peace Mark.
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Face to Face with Mortality
Three viewings in two weeks. This is the most concentrated season of mourning that I think I've ever been part of. All of them tragedies. They weren't the kind where Great Aunt Millie was 98 and had lived a full life and died peacefully in her sleep. All were cases of the deceased being gone, seemingly, too soon.
The first, a 55 year old man who passed away due to a medication error that occurred in the early and darkest hours of the morning. (The nurse administered insulin to a non-diabetic.) After a week in a coma, he passed away.
The second, a 72 year old man who had battled illness the last several years. His quality of life was quite poor and his golden retirement years were not what he and his wife had dreamed of.
The final, a 40 year old man who tragically succumbed to depression. There are no words for this one. This one is unspeakably painful for his family and friends.
But these viewings have been places where I have seen the best that humanity can be in many ways. I have seen moments of forgiveness and reconciliation. I have seen friends reunite over tragedy. I have glimpsed both vulnerable and sentimental moments taking place. These last two weeks have opened my eyes to the value of viewings. I guess I've always wondered what the point of a viewing really is. I suppose they are just rites that humans need to process sorrow, to offer comfort, to allow us to realize that we are part of a large community of humanity. And I need to be more willing to attend them.
So, tomorrow morning I head to another funeral where I give the only thing I can really offer of any value in situations like this - music. I only hope that my piano playing can speak to the sorrow that my words can not address, and offer comfort.
The first, a 55 year old man who passed away due to a medication error that occurred in the early and darkest hours of the morning. (The nurse administered insulin to a non-diabetic.) After a week in a coma, he passed away.
The second, a 72 year old man who had battled illness the last several years. His quality of life was quite poor and his golden retirement years were not what he and his wife had dreamed of.
The final, a 40 year old man who tragically succumbed to depression. There are no words for this one. This one is unspeakably painful for his family and friends.
But these viewings have been places where I have seen the best that humanity can be in many ways. I have seen moments of forgiveness and reconciliation. I have seen friends reunite over tragedy. I have glimpsed both vulnerable and sentimental moments taking place. These last two weeks have opened my eyes to the value of viewings. I guess I've always wondered what the point of a viewing really is. I suppose they are just rites that humans need to process sorrow, to offer comfort, to allow us to realize that we are part of a large community of humanity. And I need to be more willing to attend them.
So, tomorrow morning I head to another funeral where I give the only thing I can really offer of any value in situations like this - music. I only hope that my piano playing can speak to the sorrow that my words can not address, and offer comfort.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
It Ain't Easy Being Green
Donning the rubber gloves and checking out my dog's nether regions was enough of an unpleasant experience for one night. He was really quite good for the entire session. Although, I don't know if I really helped him. I did some research on the web for reasons my dog might have the "itch"...one common reason that surfaced was boredom. Oh gah! I now have to entertain my dog lest he chew his leg off! What kind of horrible pet owner am I that my dog is so bored that he turns to self mutilation for some kind of stimulation? So now I've had to put down my knitting to, you know, play ball with him and take him on a walk. Such a burden.
But the unpleasantries did not end with the wound tending. I LOVE green salsa. LOVE. IT. I'm just crazy over it and can finish an entire bottle in a sitting. However, I've come to discover that the green salsa is not such a big fan of me. I don't know when this began but it is a cruel twist of fate. And approximately every six months I decide that I should try it again. I convince myself that last time the horrible pain I suffered was due to something else I ate, or that I hadn't been sleeping well recently, or that my stomach acids hadn't matured enough to handle the green stuff. And I'm always sure this time will be different. So the sweet husband that Brian is, he bought me a big bottle of the good stuff at the local Mexican grocery. And last night it called my name, beckoning me to give it one more shot, promising me this time would be different. I was skeptical but I thought I could maybe have just a little bit mixed with ranch...the milk in the ranch dressing would mellow out the green salsa right?
Fast forward to 2:00 in the morning where I am curled up on the floor of the bathroom praying for a swift death. I am convinced that the green salsa, upon hitting my stomach lining, has transformed into the mighty fist of the very angry hulk - and he's taking it out on my innocent tummy. This is how it always goes. Me lying there on the bathroom floor, praying that if there is a God (and at this point I'm not convinced there is one because a loving God would surely not have let green salsa ever come into existence) that I would please like to vomit immediately and purge myself of this poison. I don't think that's so much to ask. If God can part the Red Sea for the Israelites I don't think it will take too much heavy lifting on God's part to help me to disgorge the contents of my stomach. This might be sacrilege - but at 2:00 a.m. I simply don't care. But there was no relief to be found, only Reggie, worriedly licking my face and tormenting me with his concern. I crawled back into bed and, thankfully, found sleep.
I am writing this blog to remind myself that, should I EVER get the urge to eat green salsa again, I should be prepared for great misery. PUT THE JAR DOWN FUTURE LISA! This will not end well for you.
But the unpleasantries did not end with the wound tending. I LOVE green salsa. LOVE. IT. I'm just crazy over it and can finish an entire bottle in a sitting. However, I've come to discover that the green salsa is not such a big fan of me. I don't know when this began but it is a cruel twist of fate. And approximately every six months I decide that I should try it again. I convince myself that last time the horrible pain I suffered was due to something else I ate, or that I hadn't been sleeping well recently, or that my stomach acids hadn't matured enough to handle the green stuff. And I'm always sure this time will be different. So the sweet husband that Brian is, he bought me a big bottle of the good stuff at the local Mexican grocery. And last night it called my name, beckoning me to give it one more shot, promising me this time would be different. I was skeptical but I thought I could maybe have just a little bit mixed with ranch...the milk in the ranch dressing would mellow out the green salsa right?
Fast forward to 2:00 in the morning where I am curled up on the floor of the bathroom praying for a swift death. I am convinced that the green salsa, upon hitting my stomach lining, has transformed into the mighty fist of the very angry hulk - and he's taking it out on my innocent tummy. This is how it always goes. Me lying there on the bathroom floor, praying that if there is a God (and at this point I'm not convinced there is one because a loving God would surely not have let green salsa ever come into existence) that I would please like to vomit immediately and purge myself of this poison. I don't think that's so much to ask. If God can part the Red Sea for the Israelites I don't think it will take too much heavy lifting on God's part to help me to disgorge the contents of my stomach. This might be sacrilege - but at 2:00 a.m. I simply don't care. But there was no relief to be found, only Reggie, worriedly licking my face and tormenting me with his concern. I crawled back into bed and, thankfully, found sleep.
I am writing this blog to remind myself that, should I EVER get the urge to eat green salsa again, I should be prepared for great misery. PUT THE JAR DOWN FUTURE LISA! This will not end well for you.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Just Another Boring Blog
Here's a little update on the goings-on at the Showalter residence this week. Frankly, it's a bit boring. I've become a boring person. Oh well, I guess there are worse things to become - like a horrible, ugly, jerk. I'll take boring.
Knittery: I'll start with a week ago Saturday. I got up early (8:45 a.m.), on my own, without crying or whining, on a Saturday morning to go...to a knit-in at my local yarn store! I was a little nervous considering I wouldn't know anyone there. Would I fit in? Would they think my project was lame or that my stories were dull? Would they tell me, in as many words, that my kind was not welcome? When I got home at noon Brian asked how it was and I replied, "It was only the best time ever." Something about sitting around knitting with a bunch of people and having idle and interesting chit-chat, enjoying each others company and admiring their work is so relaxing and energizing. Conversation ranged from knitting projects to books we're reading to bras. Even though these are strangers conversation is easy and enjoyable. We do, after all share a common interest which is a good start. And everyone is pretty much looking at their hands, lest they drop a stitch, which provides a safety in sharing. None of this intense eye-contact business. They meet the first Saturday of the month and I intend to become a regular.
Here's the project I finished that day. I call it my "I am Woman, Hear Me Roar" bag. Because it's really the first project I've done completely on my own.
Cleanery: Last week was spring break around here, so I didn't have piano lessons. And the weather was beautiful and it made me want to spring clean. And so on Monday I turned into a mean, cleaning machine. (Here's where that "I've turned into a boring person" really comes into play.) I had to pick and choose my projects because I so wanted to turn this house upside down in my cleaning frenzy. But I got a lot done. What is it about a day of thorough cleaning that makes me feel like a productive and worthwhile citizen? Wow that was rewarding. I really need to wash my windows though. I'm embarrassed to say how long it's been. But the last time I did it a bird immediately flew into my clean window and dropped dead. I decided it was a sign from God that I should not have clean windows. But I think even Jesus would be shaking his head in disgust at the current state of my windows.
Friendery: We've recently started playing Rummy with friends of ours, which is a darn good time. That's how old and boring we've gotten. But I also had a great time at the Theater with my friend Heather on Friday night. We saw a great production of "Annie." Which leads me to...
Vacationery: On Saturday morning we had the most lovely and fun Easter breakfast with my family. We had to have Easter breakfast a day early because I then had to get Brian to Da-Lite so he could catch a flight to Holland. Again. (Over Easter? Really Da-Lite?) So he's trotting around Amsterdam right now and I have another week of solitude. Although this time I'm not quite as excited about it. I talked to him a few minutes ago and told him to tell me what he's seen. All he could say was, "Well, we've seen everything...You know." No, I don't know. Name some names. Give some detail. "Well, we've just seen a bunch of stuff. Everything really." Thank you for such a compelling and detailed account of your travels abroad. I can't wait to hear more about you seeing "stuff" and talking to "people" about "things." But, after finding out that he would be heading to Europe again Brian didn't feel any compunction about Heather and I heading to England!!! So, plane tickets have been purchased and travel guides bought and Heather and I are making plans to have tea with the Queen! (The last part is a lie but I would like a spot of tea while there.)
Pettery: So, for now it's just me and the animals around here. After the trip to the vet last week with Fitty, I now have another animal with undignified itching. Reggie's hind-end seems to be giving him trouble. So tonight I shall don my rubber gloves and attempt to do some unpleasant veterinary-type procedures and see if I can heal him. It should be a very fulfilling evening.
That's all for now. More boring blogs to follow...
Knittery: I'll start with a week ago Saturday. I got up early (8:45 a.m.), on my own, without crying or whining, on a Saturday morning to go...to a knit-in at my local yarn store! I was a little nervous considering I wouldn't know anyone there. Would I fit in? Would they think my project was lame or that my stories were dull? Would they tell me, in as many words, that my kind was not welcome? When I got home at noon Brian asked how it was and I replied, "It was only the best time ever." Something about sitting around knitting with a bunch of people and having idle and interesting chit-chat, enjoying each others company and admiring their work is so relaxing and energizing. Conversation ranged from knitting projects to books we're reading to bras. Even though these are strangers conversation is easy and enjoyable. We do, after all share a common interest which is a good start. And everyone is pretty much looking at their hands, lest they drop a stitch, which provides a safety in sharing. None of this intense eye-contact business. They meet the first Saturday of the month and I intend to become a regular.
Here's the project I finished that day. I call it my "I am Woman, Hear Me Roar" bag. Because it's really the first project I've done completely on my own.
Cleanery: Last week was spring break around here, so I didn't have piano lessons. And the weather was beautiful and it made me want to spring clean. And so on Monday I turned into a mean, cleaning machine. (Here's where that "I've turned into a boring person" really comes into play.) I had to pick and choose my projects because I so wanted to turn this house upside down in my cleaning frenzy. But I got a lot done. What is it about a day of thorough cleaning that makes me feel like a productive and worthwhile citizen? Wow that was rewarding. I really need to wash my windows though. I'm embarrassed to say how long it's been. But the last time I did it a bird immediately flew into my clean window and dropped dead. I decided it was a sign from God that I should not have clean windows. But I think even Jesus would be shaking his head in disgust at the current state of my windows.
Friendery: We've recently started playing Rummy with friends of ours, which is a darn good time. That's how old and boring we've gotten. But I also had a great time at the Theater with my friend Heather on Friday night. We saw a great production of "Annie." Which leads me to...
Vacationery: On Saturday morning we had the most lovely and fun Easter breakfast with my family. We had to have Easter breakfast a day early because I then had to get Brian to Da-Lite so he could catch a flight to Holland. Again. (Over Easter? Really Da-Lite?) So he's trotting around Amsterdam right now and I have another week of solitude. Although this time I'm not quite as excited about it. I talked to him a few minutes ago and told him to tell me what he's seen. All he could say was, "Well, we've seen everything...You know." No, I don't know. Name some names. Give some detail. "Well, we've just seen a bunch of stuff. Everything really." Thank you for such a compelling and detailed account of your travels abroad. I can't wait to hear more about you seeing "stuff" and talking to "people" about "things." But, after finding out that he would be heading to Europe again Brian didn't feel any compunction about Heather and I heading to England!!! So, plane tickets have been purchased and travel guides bought and Heather and I are making plans to have tea with the Queen! (The last part is a lie but I would like a spot of tea while there.)
Pettery: So, for now it's just me and the animals around here. After the trip to the vet last week with Fitty, I now have another animal with undignified itching. Reggie's hind-end seems to be giving him trouble. So tonight I shall don my rubber gloves and attempt to do some unpleasant veterinary-type procedures and see if I can heal him. It should be a very fulfilling evening.
That's all for now. More boring blogs to follow...
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Trip to the Vet
There's always a little song and dance that has to be done when I need to take one of the cats to the vet. And today was Lex's turn (a.k.a. "Fitty"). Fitty's been scratching like it's going out of style and he wants to get one last lick in. He's losing hair and losing weight and ugh, can't these animals just stay healthy?
So I'm driving home from work, plotting the best way to trap the cat. I figure the best thing to do is act natural. Fitty can smell a plan hatching a mile away and then he hides in some strange crevice in the house that I can't possibly get to. Then he hunkers down for the long haul forcing me to use the broom handle to scooch him out, which traumatizes him so he starts to drip saliva out of his mouth, and then there's a wild chase around the house which ends with me cursing and experiencing an unsafe elevation in heart rate. (Repeat this once a month for application of the flea preventative.)
I walk in the house as breezy and normal as can be. I don't have a cat carrier so I snagged a box and a laundry basket. I walked right up to him, scooped him up, placed him lovingly in the box and wedged the laundry basket down on top of it tightly. He did the crazy "distress" meow. I assured him he'd be fine. And then I walked away because we had an hour before needing to leave for the vet. (I didn't think I could act natural for very long I guess.) And then he popped the top off my cat-carrying-contraption and escaped! I knew things would now be considerably more difficult.
I went back to plan "a" - act natural. I acted like his escape did not phase me a bit. I then implemented plan "b" - do things that normally lures him upstairs. I opened up sandwich meat. No Fitty. I poured cereal in a bowl. No Fitty. I poured milk in the bowl. Still no Fitty. I went to the basement to scope out the situation. He was in a high area that would require broom handles. I didn't want to do that just yet. So I took the bowl of cereal down stairs with me. I don't like cereal and all we had was a box of year-old cornflakes. But, in a bid to act natural, I sat down and started eating the stale cereal. With trepidation he approached the bowl. He dipped his paw in a few times and started purring. Then I felt horrible for what I was going to do next. So I snatched him up and off we went...with the crazy "distress" meows providing the soundtrack to our car trip.
So now, Fitty's on the roids. (He got a steroid shot.) Let's hope he doesn't get roid rage - because I know where he'll be directing that hostility.
So I'm driving home from work, plotting the best way to trap the cat. I figure the best thing to do is act natural. Fitty can smell a plan hatching a mile away and then he hides in some strange crevice in the house that I can't possibly get to. Then he hunkers down for the long haul forcing me to use the broom handle to scooch him out, which traumatizes him so he starts to drip saliva out of his mouth, and then there's a wild chase around the house which ends with me cursing and experiencing an unsafe elevation in heart rate. (Repeat this once a month for application of the flea preventative.)
I walk in the house as breezy and normal as can be. I don't have a cat carrier so I snagged a box and a laundry basket. I walked right up to him, scooped him up, placed him lovingly in the box and wedged the laundry basket down on top of it tightly. He did the crazy "distress" meow. I assured him he'd be fine. And then I walked away because we had an hour before needing to leave for the vet. (I didn't think I could act natural for very long I guess.) And then he popped the top off my cat-carrying-contraption and escaped! I knew things would now be considerably more difficult.
I went back to plan "a" - act natural. I acted like his escape did not phase me a bit. I then implemented plan "b" - do things that normally lures him upstairs. I opened up sandwich meat. No Fitty. I poured cereal in a bowl. No Fitty. I poured milk in the bowl. Still no Fitty. I went to the basement to scope out the situation. He was in a high area that would require broom handles. I didn't want to do that just yet. So I took the bowl of cereal down stairs with me. I don't like cereal and all we had was a box of year-old cornflakes. But, in a bid to act natural, I sat down and started eating the stale cereal. With trepidation he approached the bowl. He dipped his paw in a few times and started purring. Then I felt horrible for what I was going to do next. So I snatched him up and off we went...with the crazy "distress" meows providing the soundtrack to our car trip.
So now, Fitty's on the roids. (He got a steroid shot.) Let's hope he doesn't get roid rage - because I know where he'll be directing that hostility.
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