friendship – BethSings

Behind the Wheel

Sometime in the last century I got my driver’s license, not because I wanted to but because that’s what teenagers do.

The Summer of 1975 I took a driver’s ed class from the head football coach with two close friends, Patsy and Diane . Every Sunday that Spring, my father would take me to the long dusty roads near the airport to practice, patiently working on my driving skills. By that summer my grandfather had a no frills, white 1963 Ford Fairlane parked in our drive-way. Nothing fancy, just a safe vehicle to get me back and forth to school and rehearsals. Everyone on Lee Avenue was ready for me to get the license…..except ME.

For most teenagers a driver’s license was a sign of freedom, a step closer to adulthood. Maybe because my mother didn’t drive. Maybe because I didn’t understand cars. Whatever the reason, as my November birthday approached I became more nervous and reluctant. My parents encouraged me to take my time with the decision. Finally after the first of the year my father took me for the driving test. I passed with flying colors.

Funny thing. Now I do enjoy driving….especially long distances. It IS freeing.

I’ve been on several long distance journeys this summer….Last week I listened to a 70’s playlist I created several years ago. On it was Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide. The first time I heard that song was around the time I had been struggling with not wanting to get a driver’s license. At the time I didn’t understand the song, at least not in the way I do today.

Driving on this last adventure, listening to the music and lyrics for the first time in a while cleared the cobwebs for some letting go. Sometimes there’s sadness in saying goodbye but this time there wasn’t. This time there was certainty in being behind the wheel with the road ahead and some good memories tucked away for safe keeping.

It’s taken over 40 years to admit it but getting that license wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

I took my love, I took it down
Climbed a mountain and I turned around
And I saw my reflection in the snow covered hills
‘Til the landslide brought it down

Oh, mirror in the sky clouds

What is love?
Can the child within my heart rise above? Me and mother

Can I sail through the changin’ ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder

Even children get older
And I’m getting older, too

Well, I’ve been afraid of changin’
‘Cause I’ve built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I’m getting older, too
Oh, I’m getting older, too

Landslide

Unwritten – Outside the Lines

May. Graduations are bountiful.

On the cusp of marking my 25th graduation at St. Aloysius School I find myself more sentimental than usual at these occasions, feeling both lucky and grateful to be included in the lives of so many students and their families over 33 years of teaching. It’s hard to believe that 40 years ago this week I was lining up between classmates Brad and Joy for similar festivities on the evening of my parents 28th wedding anniversary, wistfully gazing toward the future.

To the class of 2017 from a mother, teacher and fellow traveler from the class of ’77:

Some days will seem incredibly long while the years and decades slip past rather quickly.
If you haven’t discovered it, journeys are sometimes better shared with companions…Form them wisely. That includes yourself.
Be kind. Be grateful.
Money isn’t everything.
Respect yourself and others. Don’t confuse respect with entitlement.
Failures are a part of the journey. You can’t change history, only learn from it.
Never loose your sense of humor. Don’t take yourself too seriously.
Be humble.
Dream big.
Love bigger.

“I hope your dreams take you…to the corners of your smiles, to the highest of your hopes, to the windows of your opportunities, and to the most special places your heart has ever known.” Anonymous

Godspeed

Unwritten-Natasha Bedingfield

Hear that old piano…

FullSizeRender (19) Like many people, last Saturday evening I gathered around a radio, computer, iPad or device of choice to listen to Garrison Keillor’s final “A Prairie Home Companion” broadcast. He became a Saturday evening staple when I first moved from Shreveport. His stories were like keepsakes of childhood family gatherings at my grandparents reminding me of my grandfather’s story-telling. I’ll miss those stories, that calm voice and music. Traveling to Lake Wobegon each week reminded us of the possibility to live a neighborly life.

My children were 3 years and 3 months old when I left behind my first adult job, a community and people I had come to love to move to Baton Rouge. With the exception of a few, Baton Rouge was slow to welcome. I haven’t been alone in that observation.

I grew up in a small North Louisiana town in the 1960’s with parents that worked to develop employment and educational opportunities and better living conditions for all people. It was not an easy task nor was it easily accepted but it was the right thing to do. I grew up believing that all people are neighbors. I still believe that.

Alton Sterling’s fatal shooting by two local policemen early Tuesday rocked our community creating division and discord as events such as this have created in so many other communities. Sorrow in families. Grief in the community at large. Anger for some. Fear in others. Emotions run high.

Yesterday I wasn’t fearful but wanted to hear a calm voice, a balm. There was little here in this city I’ve called home for most of my adult life. The last thought before I went to sleep last night were these words from Psalm 30: At nightfall, weeping enters in, but with the dawn, rejoicing. The rejoicing will be slow for families or communities who have suffered tragic losses until we’re able to look into a person’s soul find common ground then ask who is my neighbor.

Over the decades I’ve witnessed this city’s citizens’ indifference and intolerance as well as an immense capacity for compassion and mercy . Unity. Calm. Compassion.

Hear that old piano….

Mahalia Jackson- His Eye is On the Sparrow

Shells in the Stars

Spring has been heavy with activity. Partly my fault really. Too many good choices it was hard to say “no” that my well-intentioned “yes” kept my hands and calendar full. I’m not alone in this fatal flaw.

It reminds me of a story I heard a few years ago by motivational speaker Rob Bell. His son is playing on the beach when a large, beautiful starfish comes floating by. The little boy looks up and wants to grab it. Rob yells over, “Go get it buddy” but his son yells back “I can’t.” Rob says, “Sure you can, just run into the water and grab it.” His son replies with emotion and frustration, “But Dad… I CAN’T.” Rob says, “Why not?” and his son says, “My hands are full of tiny shells.”

He had been picking up all these little shells. His hands were so full that when the big starfish came (opportunity) he couldn’t reach out and grab it because he was too afraid to let go of the shells already in his hands.

The giant starfish was right there… right in his reach but he just couldn’t let go in order to get it. Sound familiar?

We live in a society that has such a hard time letting go…. a world that teaches us that busy is not just better, it’s the only thing….when less IS so much MORE.

What is the quieter, better ‘yes’ that frees us from ourselves……

of being ‘too busy’ to do what matters most.

of toxic relationships. You deserve to spend time with uplifting and supportive people who truly care about you. Find your tribe.

of letting your past define your future.

Drop a few of the shells. . .

……then go after the starfish. . .

Nimrod from Enigma Variaions by Edward Elgar

Scavenger Hunt

Creativity is a scavenger hunt. Elizabeth Gilbert

I dictated this installment in my head numerous times over the last weeks: driving to the theater, driving to my hometown, to my son’s house, on the return trip to Baton Rouge. With each drive I reworked the story. I knew once I sat at the computer the story, the music and photos would change. I like to drive, especially in the spring…new life, hope. The journey this month has been, as Elizabeth Gilbert so eloquently states, a scavenger hunt.

For years I had each holiday planned down to ‘soup and nuts’. Looking back, it was an occupational hazard working for a church and wanting a nice holiday for my two children. Passion for both. Loved both. Until I walked away and I realized that only people love back—for some, unconditional love is difficult. Rules, stipulations. SPARKLE

On Good Friday I ran into my long-time colleague and friend. After being a part of ‘the club’ do I miss it? In the four years since I’ve left we’ve returned to the support we had for one another in the beginning of our professional life. I had missed that. We had both become so passionate about what we were doing neither could see the forest for the trees. It happens in work. It happens in life.

One of my favorite high school teachers, Mr. Russ Harding, taught American History. He was a challenging teacher. I sat on the front row absorbing every word, imaging I would major in history then go to law school. He said that history was an insight into the future. We can’t change it, but it can change us. I believe that. Music was always my first love but rarely a week goes by that I don’t quote Mr. Harding: you can’t change history but you can learn from it.

Boyfriend Band Two weeks ago I was preparing for warm-up before a performance, playing with the Timehop app on my phone and saw a picture of myself from five years ago compared to today. History. Thinking about what has transpired over these years, my head started spinning.

Five years ago I was very comfortable but not necessarily content. In the rearview mirror comfort was beginning to feel complacent. Yes, I had a circle of friends and family. Five years ago I was planning to travel to a foreign country alone…in fact, I’ve traveled a lot in these years. I’ve seen both of my children settle in as adults. I’ve reconnect with old friends, resigned from a job I had for over two decades. Interviewed. Rediscover photography. Sang new songs and rediscovered old ones. I conducted an orchestra again. I embraced theater again and she embraced me. I developed a young musicians program for the local theater, collaborated and helped form a Composer’s Residency. . . and finally started finding a healthier me. Timehop

A few years back, when my kids were younger, when I was younger, there were confusing days….ones of discernment: financial…professional…personal… I found myself alone in a dark church one evening. One of the dear Sisters came walking through, sat behind me, put her hand on my shoulder, with her thick Spanish accent said: “Beth, you are a creative person. God has so much in store for you. Listen. Look. Find the creativity within you.” Then she added her signature. God is crazy about you. . .That conversation stuck with me. Frankly, I was embarrassed to be found there crying. In my mind, I was supposed to have the answers. Mothers and teachers always do. That night I realized that the kingdom is bigger than Stuart Avenue and that a scavenger hunt might be possible. My enthusiasm and courage had gotten me through…it wasn’t going to leave me when I needed it most.

Velveteen Rabbit

Last Saturday I texted my oldest friend Leslie before heading to north Louisiana. “You got a hot second”? Monroe had a terrible flood March 9th. She’s been packing up her mother’s house. Her son’s house flooded too. So many houses flooded the streets reminded me of post-Katrina. Monroe High Water I helped for a few hours to pack her mom’s house so they could begin the sheet rock and mildew removal. On the way out of town I was heading to the cemetery to visit the family plot but stopped. . . the water on the Ouachita River was so high.

I decided to stop at the River and skip the cemetery this trip then drove on to Ruston to start the holiday with my son. My parents and grandparents were masters at scavenger hunts. Like the women on Easter morning, I would be looking for something that “wasn’t there”. They have risen! Easter 2016 Paschal Lamb

History. Present. Future.

The Velveteen Rabbit was a childhood favorite. He ‘became real’ by going on his own scavenger hunt.

Boyfriend Angel Happy hunting!

A Happy Resting Place

I don’t claim that I am psychic
But one look at you and I kick
Away every scruple
I learnt as a pupil
In school my dear

I’m not one to make predictions
But I’ve thrown off all restrictions,
And I don’t mind confessing
I think it’s a blessing
That you are here

Though I’m prepared to find I’m wrong
I’ve got a funny feeling we belong together

Home from rehearsal —pumped! Sleep eludes…..so I write….

For the last two months I’ve been working as music director with the Young Actors Program for the local community theater for the musical comedy, The Boyfriend. This is my fourth year to work with the company. It’s been a pleasure being a part of these young artists’ lives, seeing them grow in every way.

Mitchel Boyle (Lucentio) gazes at Kaitlin Perry (Bianca)

Brooke Bell as The Widow looks with disgust at Thomas Prochaska (Hortensio)-001

Since the weekend we have been in technical rehearsals, an exhilarating, exhausting week (some call hell) prior to the show’s opening night this Thursday. During tech all of the whistles and bells are added to the production: costumes, lights, sound, set, scenery, props, orchestra. These actors, musicians and designers have developed life-long skills – they’ve learned balance simply by the choices they make with hours spent in rehearsal and finishing homework. Many of them are honor students.

Tech Week can be a challenge for adults and professionals. It requires patience while technical problems are resolved or set changes are rehearsed so that what the audience sees is seamless.

On the drives home recently my thoughts have been on these young actors and on my own theater mentors: Chris Ringham, long-time director at Monroe’s Strauss Playhouse. Dr. Bill Rambin, Head of the Theater Department at Northeast Louisiana University (now University of Louisiana at Monroe) Both encouraged and shaped my love of theater—inspired me to be and do better, to make adventurous choices. I learned from both Chris and Bill that there are no rights or wrongs on the stage – only choice. The theater is, at it’s best, an understanding community where choices are welcome. On the stage we are a reflection of the world -both best and worst.

Chris Ringham formed my understanding of community theater. Anyone who knew Chris still hears his raspy voice barking directions from the back of the dark Strauss theater. Chris believed in the power of people but more importantly the power that art had within community. He was organized, funny, salty, innovative, a quick mind. He had vision, expected excellence. The art and the audience were foremost in his mind.

It dawned on me last week that it’s been forty years since Chris cast me in my first musical. I was a junior in high school. He guided me through auditions at his theater then beyond.

Chris Ringham

Fantasticks

One of those Chris–suggestions came when NLU announced Tony-award winner Ron Holgate would be joining a student production of The Fantasticks as El Gallo . I remember Chris sitting in the Strauss Playhouse box office, his asking to see me, if I planned on auditioning. He strongly suggested it so I did. It was during The Fantasticks I met Dr. Bill Rambin who directed the show, his wife Linda, choreographed; Andy Isca was music director. The Fantasticks will always be the one.

Bill Rambin was the perfect director…fun, smart, charming. He inspired…and still does. He probably knew how scared I was. He always said the right thing at the right time and still does. He taught me the importance of time management, to be professional. How to say thank you. He was never afraid so we couldn’t be. Bill Rambin is fantastic!

During break at rehearsal last week I was playing on one of those phone ‘throwback’ apps and found some pictures from productions over the last few years. Those photos caused my thoughts to drift to Chris and Bill. Their legacy. My legacy. The support we give to each other when we least suspect it. How grateful I am to have the support from these two artists and the communities they served. They shaped me and so did the communities.

I could be happy with you
If you could be happy with me
I’d be contented to live anywhere
What would I care
As long as you were there?
Skies may not always be blue
But one thing is clear as can be
I know that I could be happy with you, my darling
If you could be happy with me.

Singing this song from The Boyfriend everyday for the last eight weeks….interestingly enough I’ve rediscovered contentment not just from my children, family, friends but a simple contentment that’s from and in me. Instead of perpetually striving and living unsatisfied, I could be happy. Chris and Bill described, maybe not in so many words, that contentment in the building up of community….finding the gift in yourself….then sharing it with others….

It’s something to hang your hat on.. a happy resting place.

Leap

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I’m through with playing by the rules
Of someone else’s game
Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap!

Ana Gasteyer – “Defying Gravity”

Full disclosure. I’ve never been a big fan of the musical Wicked. I read Gregory Maguire’s best seller in the mid-90’s and was probably one of the few people who found it, well, in a word…tedious. He does get points for marketing “chops”. Capitalizing on The Wizard of Oz was a stroke of genius right up there with Disney but Dorothy’s journey down the yellow-brick road is sacred as far as I’m concerned. Who messes with Baum and Judy Garland?

Friday night my friend Beth and I saw Ana Gasteyer’s cabaret show—great friends and music. She and I reminisced about taking my daughter to Houston several years ago to see the show…and many other GNO’s over the span of our wicked friendship. A lovely, serendipitous evening!

Another disclosure. My New Year’s resolution seemed to drift into February. Good news: I haven’t had a Diet Coke since January 1, bumping the water intake significantly. However, at the end of January when the health screening came around I got news that my blood pressure was not just high but off the chart. Reality check into making better choices and living a healthier life.

Great, I thought, another sign of middle age, that is, if I plan on living to 112. Not bloody likely! Truth be told, in the last year I had let diet and exercise slip with the exception of weekly yoga practice and the occasional salad at lunch. Ash Wednesday was set as the 40 days to a Healthier Life start date, embracing Lent as a time of joy, a new spring. Eating at home – which shouldn’t really be a choice – I enjoy cooking. I’ve carved out more quiet time reading, photography and yes, exercise—yoga and getting back to walking/running again. The result at 20 days and the halfway point— I’m already down almost 10 pounds, several inches and my blood pressure is improving. More importantly I feel better. Ironically, I was too busy taking care of “things” to recognize I felt bad, mostly things out of my control. I’ve practiced not complaining and letting go of things out of my control; when in doubt I go to my yoga mat or put on some music.

I’m through accepting limits
’cause someone says they’re so
Some things I cannot change
But till I try, I’ll never know!
Too long I’ve been afraid of
Losing love I guess I’ve lost
Well, if that’s love
It comes at much too high a cost!

Richard Rohr wrote recently that “pain teaches a most counterintuitive thing: we must go down before we even know what up is. Suffering of some sort seems to be the only thing strong enough to both destabilize and reveal our arrogance, our separateness, and our lack of compassion.” He defines suffering as whenever you are not in control. Through the sufferings, great or small, we learn to trust ourselves and others….or we don’t. The experiences can be transformative, almost without realizing it. They show us what to do with our pain, with the absurd, the tragic, the nonsensical, the unjust. “If we do not transform our pain, we will most assuredly transmit it.” .

So if you care to find me
Look to the western sky!
As someone told me lately:
Ev’ryone deserves the chance to fly!
And if I’m flying solo
At least I’m flying free
To those who’d ground me
Take a message back from me

The take-away in Wicked-The Musical is forgiveness…of self and others and as Richard Rohr says: always building something new, good, and forever original, while neither playing the victim nor making victims of others.

Flying Free…….who needs monkeys to do that? Like Dorothy, I love a good adventure.

Reflections

For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

In the last few weeks I’ve given thought to why I started this blog. A few reasons, really. As a novice photographer, I wanted to thank and share my journey with my son. Christmas 2013 he had surprised me with a Nikon. Both he and my daughter are excellent photographers. A connection to them, to home, a way of keeping track of progress. Over these years, the blog has evolved….and so has my photography….

At my son’s request a week or so ago I returned to one of my favorite places in Baton Rouge to take some shots of the cresting Mississippi River. It was one of the first places I went three years ago. There’s no place lovelier at sunset.

First Photo on the Mississippi – December 2013

Three years ago, when the water was significantly lower I started this blog to say thank you: to my son for his generosity, to my daughter for books and advice and to family and friends near and far. Those two words are as sincere today as they were then.

I’m grateful for rediscovering photography and it’s quiet voice in the second half of life.

Only Karen Carpenter can say it better…..

Sometimes - The Carpenters

The World So Wide

It’s no use going back to yesterday because I was a different person then. Lewis Carroll~Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

I’m not much of a television watcher but January has traditionally become my time to ‘hunker down’ with Netflix, revisit a handful of television shows……Gilmore Girls. Bewitched. Andy Griffith. Mary Tyler Moore. The West Wing. Some had better acting and writing than others but the common thread weaving all of them together was community. Characters were supportive and rarely unkind or hurtful to one another. My idealism is showing.

It seems easy today for some people to say petty, unnecessary things, abuse social media. Why is it much easier for humans to wrap themselves around problems, negativity and blaming rather than around joy? Why is it easier to point out differences than embrace what makes us unique or see the common ground. The week had been complicated.

Having an early morning breakfast with a friend yesterday, I recalled the grieving I went through several years ago. Not in the traditional sense like when someone dies but in the crazy, unconventional way that parents, especially mothers can understand. . . when your children leave home. It’s like when a team filled with seniors, lead by a dedicated coach wins the play-offs; the coach is left to rebuild or choose to move on. A bittersweet feeling. Children are never meant to stay in one place….I have discovered, neither are we. None of us are ‘place keepers’.

As idyllic as Mayberry or Stars Hollow appeared to be, I wasn’t cut out for that life. We’re not intended to live our parents lives or even the lives of our childhoods. As a single mom, my children and I created our own traditions and defined family using our own lexicon—a new normal with just the three of us, embracing others into our family along the way . Single moms and their families learn to depend on and take care of each other while instilling independence in our children. It’s a balancing act in the best sense. My children are living proof.

When my mother asked “Are you a person of fear or a person of faith?” she was teaching me that a person of character will have many moments in their life. Decision making. Joy. Sorrow. Betrayal. Misunderstanding. Leave-takings. Homecomings. Finances.Hormones. Aging. It’s our job to embrace and find peace in them ALL.

On New Year’s Day 2011 I walked a labyrinth under a beautiful sky filled with stars. Under the stars that same winter my daughter was in her third year of undergraduate school studying in Prague, my son was in his mid-20’s working his way up the corporate ladder. The steps we all took that year were adventure-filled marked with enthusiasm. We were miles apart yet connected. It had seemed like such a short journey from infancy to adulthood for them. That night at the beginning of a new year, I resolved to start on a path of self-discovery. I’ll always be their mother but the time had come to find an adult self apart from being a parent. Along this new journey I’ve had the time to nurture my own interests and career, travel, to reacquaint with friends from childhood, college and beyond who had been on adventures of their own—building careers and families. I’ve explored and discerned. Some choices were great, some not so great but they were mine.

Twenty-six years ago this week, with two small children and the promise of a future we moved to Baton Rouge to begin a new life. In four months my son will be the same age I was then. Ironically, last week some dear friends who have lived in Baton Rouge for these same twenty-five years revealed they will be moving.

We aren’t meant to stay put but to move forward. Have no fear….of the movement or of time….The world’s so wide. Enjoy the ride!

Gurgle

The house is quiet again but echos with the laughter and talking that filled it a few days ago. Not unlike others, our family gathered to celebrate.

Celebrate a birth. Celebrate our love for each other.

The last week has been a whirlwind of cooking, eating, visiting with loved ones far and near. Their presence, whether by walking in the door or a phone call or card was a gift in itself.

On Christmas Day a wave of sentimentality hit me, a brief moment of melancholy.

Call it desire, wanting a little more, instead of being satisfied with what we have. Missing those who are absent is human nature. My son’s words grounded me. The sentiment was fleeting. Generations, family and friends gathered at our table….some present, some in spirit. The days spent together were as splendid as the feast.

This year there was a new addition at our table: a whimsical fish pitcher from my childhood best friend, Leslie. At each meal we giggled as we poured water. It wasn’t until a few days after Christmas that I discovered the story.

The ‘gurgle pot’ was the creation of artist Matthew Ellison inspired by his travel to a small French village for his brother’s wedding. There were no hotels so all of the guests stayed with host families. His spoke no English and he spoke no French so conversation was awkward and challenging. A saving grace at meals was a fish-shaped pitcher that gurgled with each pour. …what a wonderful connection. Laughter. Listening. Whimsy. Trusting communication in all it’s forms on the journey.

In retrospect, 2015 has been a year of similar connections: lightbulbs in deep grace and dark journeys on long days. Listening for a gurgle.

Blessings. Births. Graduations. Weddings. Illness. Deaths.

Maneuvering day-to-day living. Connecting to the gurgle of those we hold dear. Finding the way to connect to them in a meaningful way. Not our way, but the best way.

Gratitude for it all.

In this coming new year, may your connections gurgle…simply with love, and abundantly.