January 19
“It’s not the tragedies that kill us, it’s the messes.” - Dorothy Parker.
1965
#1 song on WABC: I Feel Fine (Beatles)
I didn't go to Wykeham Rise today - I couldn't. I probably won't go anymore. No transportation. I wish in a way I could go on, but unfortunately no luck. No V, either. I like him. I wonder what he thinks about me! Probably not much. I wish I had a chance to talk with him and really get to know him.
SIGH!
Love's Labours Lost
Comment 2023
What a glum day! And so my musical training ended. Being dependent on my older brother to drive us both there, when he quit, I was done. I can still feel that mixture of relief and disappointment, that uncomfortable place between what I wanted and feared. It would be nearly a quarter of a century before I would sign myself up for music lessons again. Using the excuse of my daughter’s desire to learn to play the violin, I found a Suzuki method teacher who also played folk fiddle. The Suzuki method involves parents in the early stages, so the child has reinforcement between lessons. We learned violin together for several weeks, and then I embarked on a twenty-year “career” playing Irish fiddle. I wasn’t a great fiddler, but I could keep up with the rest of my small amateur band. Having a teacher who was about my age was a real advantage; she would ask if I had much time to practice in the past week, and I’d say “no”, and we’d both nod and laugh and get on with the lesson.
Unlike fifteen year old Jo, middle-aged Jo had no dreams of fame, just a desire to enjoy the music and watch people dance to our tunes. It was great fun while it lasted. Then, one sunny autumn weekend, I caught a football wrong and broke the middle finger on my right hand. There went my grip; I couldn’t turn the tuning pegs on my fiddle, and holding the bow all the way through a jig set was impossible.
Before you start to feel sorry for me, let me reassure you.
I hardly miss it. I switched back to singing in various groups, and when my (very) musical husband is out of the house, I play the piano. My years as a fiddler introduced me to some wonderful artists and music that still enrich my life nearly every day. My daughter still plays the violin, and listening to her fills me with joy and gratitude.
1993
First day of classes, last day of George Bush. Thank God! It is strange too think of a President who is my brother’s age. My generation has - - inevitably - - come of age. What an odd feeling.
My classes are promising, though American Studies is still new and scary. Someday I will be more comfortable.
1997
My mind if running on like crazy right now, filled with competing ideas and plans, want-tos and ought-tos. I am also feeling incredibly drowsy, too.
Gratitude list:
Singing
My church community
My friends, especially Beth and Sandy
The opportunity to serve
Living in a democracy, however imperfect
Comment 2024
I still sing, have even more communities (church, Riderwood, Substack), and can still contribute time and effort to them. Beth and Sandy are gone, but new friends make their loss less painful. That’s life.
I would like to continue to live in a democracy, one that sees its imperfections and strives for a “more perfect union”.
1998
My favorite childhood toy was the Sears catalog.
My favorite childhood movie was “Peter Pan”.
If I could relax more, I’d let myself be a storyteller.
If I weren’t so stringy, I’d buy great, expensive yarn.
2002
“It’s not the tragedies that kill us, it’s the messes.” - Dorothy Parker.
Oh yes, Dorothy. How very true.
What are the messes in my daily life?
Impulse buying. I am regretting those 20 scented candles.
Computer game addiction. Curse you, SIMS.
Too much stuff, too often out of control
Saying “yes” when I should say “Thanks, but no.”
2019 (Oaxaca, Mexico)
Sitting beneath a lime tree next to a small, beautiful swimming pool. I know it’s a lime tree because it is full of fruit. They smell delicious.
What to say so far? Survived the flights and successfully found the hotel, the bus ticket counter and the bus terminal. The 7-hour bus ride from Mexico City to Oaxaca brought back wonderful memories Of driving from Laredo to Mexico City with Mr. and Mrs. Doring back in 1966. The long, wide valleys with rugged mountains on either said have’ changed in all these years. There are still little clusters of houses strewn along the way. Barely enough to be called a village. Just three or four buildings - - a gas station, a taqueria, a market, a dwelling. I watched Aiyya on my iPad, slept a bit, and listened to Missa Gaia while we wound our way south.
Then dinner with P and L, followed by a stroll around town. A wedding with fireworks, which apparently is fairly common. Today we had pastries, coffee, and delicious breakfast, then headed to Monte Alban, the ruins of the city that once dominated this region between 500 BCE and 800 CE. We talked, shared and laughed. We got back to the guest house in time for my nap, and they were happy to let me have my “me” time. Probably also happy to have some “them” time to get better acquainted.
My only visitor by the pool has been small yellow bird “up high in the limón tree”. (Cue musical memory…yes, I know it’s “banana tree”, but “the limón” works, too.)
2020
More purging. Then a flamethrower. #downsizing
2024
Our first of two early music concerts was last night; the second is tomorrow. I have scheduled a bunch of writing on The Other Project for the coming week - AT LAST, I must say. My other Substack (Gender Mystique) wants some attention, poor thing.