Reflections

Power of Music

Twelve years ago I had the opportunity to experience many “firsts”. Shortly after my husband died, I joined my daughter and the choir she was singing with on a trip to New York. Here are some of the firsts for me:

first time in New York City.
first time walking through (and getting lost in) Harlem.
first time playing a huge pipe organ located high above the choir.
first time being assisted by one of the greatest organists in North America.
first time watching the choir director through video feed while trying to sync with the choir.
first time playing flawlessly.

I have performed most of my life since the age of 10, playing in recitals, music festivals, churches and later accompanying many choirs and professional musicians. It was almost predictable when performing classical music that I was going to miss something — a note didn’t sound with the proper emphasis, my finger hit a wrong note, syncing with the other musician(s) wasn’t absolutely perfect. In fact from my experience, even though listeners didn’t always hear things going wrong, I could count on it happening.

That Sunday morning, maybe it was because I felt suddenly closer to Michael, whom I missed dearly, or maybe it was the gentle encouragement from the regular organist at St. John the Divine, or maybe it was the fact that I was very focused on supporting the choir. I can’t say, but that day it was the first time in my life, and maybe the last that I knew there was something or someone helping me present a flawless performance.

Usually musicians aim to affect the audience and help them to enjoy the music, feel the music or feel emotion from the music. That performance 12 years ago helped me to understand that I, too could feel the music, even when I was the one playing.

Spring gardens

After the ten years I spent living in a country with no real change in seasons, except hot, hotter with rain and rainy, I was excited to come home to Canada, where we enjoy four distinct seasons each year. Eight years ago I moved to Victoria. We do have four seasons, although they are much more temperate than in the rest of Canada. On Vancouver Island flowers grow all year round.

The gardens on provincial grounds and city parks are replanted at least twice a year for spring gardens, summer gardens and winter gardens. Fuscias aren’t annual flowers here; they come back in the spring! We have bulbs such as daffodils and tulips blooming late February.

One of my good friends decided last year to post a photo each day of a new flower that she discovered. She kept up with her “365 days of flowers” and even had a few extras, without any overlaps.

Whenever I walk from my home to downtown for errands or work, I walk past many beautiful gardens, including this one that is on the grounds of the Empress Hotel. Several years ago the hotel was covered with English Ivy. New owners decided that it needed a face-lift, and they removed the ivy, including the humungous root system below the basement of the hotel. They removed old (and ugly) shrubs and trees that people had obviously loved. Change is tough for many people, and I would walk by crowds of protestors who didn’t want any green or brown thing taken out of the ground. The protestors are no longer concerned. I think the flowers and new shrubs that have replaced the old dark trees have certainly brightened up the neighourhood.

I have decided that spring is my favourite season. I love to see the new buds shoot up through the moist soil, and watch the rhododendrons bloom with their beautiful bright flowers.

Home

I bought these tulips for mom two days ago. Yesterday morning they were looking revitalized, and standing taller! Mom was so happy to have the fresh tulips to brighten her home.

My flight home yesterday morning was cancelled about an hour before departure. Of course my first reaction to changes that are out of my control is usually serious annoyance, and feeling sorry for myself as all my careful planning goes to pieces….

But, as I often find, it was a blessing in disguise. With the extra time available I was able to meet my son and his wife for lunch, and take care of some more last minute legal business, that would have been much more difficult if I had not been in town.

When the rescheduled flight in the evening was finally fully boarded, the engine started up, then stopped. The pilot apologized and said that if he couldn’t get both generators going we would have find a different way home. He tried again and was successful. Somehow I could not relax at all during the flight, listening to every change in motor noise and watching carefully out the window. (It’s a lot of work keeping that airplane in the sky!)

As our direct flight to Victoria started heading down to land at the Vancouver airport, there was at first silence among the other passengers, then questions. Isn’t this Vancouver? Wasn’t this supposed to be a direct flight? Why are we landing? Why didn’t the pilot say anything? I looked around and even behind the masks I could see the look of shock and concern on the faces near me. Once we had landed the pilot apologized, commenting that the speaker system isn’t the only the thing needing repairs!

We were escorted onto a newer, cleaner airplane and flown safely to Victoria. It is good to be home.

Chillin’

Yesterday we went on an outing—me and mom. As is almost always the case, we showed up early. Mom decided to sit back and relax in the car, and chill!

My siblings and I were brought up to arrive early. No matter the event or appointment, we had to arrive before the appointed time. When I was 19 I had become annoyed at people arriving late for rehearsals and meetings. I was to meet some friends at 5 for a rehearsal to prepare for a Sunday service, but I was right in the middle of cooking dinner for my mother’s friends and I decided the musician friends could wait for me…for once. It turned out that the planned rehearsal was an excuse to get me to the church for my surprise farewell party!

Growing up we often heard the story of our parent’s wedding. It was one of the hottest days ever…so hot that weekend that the bridesmaid burned her feet running barefoot on the beach. It was one of those hot summer days when a person could fry an egg on the road. Apparently my grandfather was even more serious about not arriving late. He drove my mother to within a block of the church 40 minutes ahead of time so they could wait in the car.

I’m heading to the airport this morning. They are recommending arriving 60 minutes before the flight. I am aiming for 90 minutes or more ahead of the departure time. There are many habits ingrained in us from childhood, some good, some bad. The ”hurry up and wait” habit won’t change easily as there is no way I would risk missing my flight home. I am looking forward to chillin’ at home!

Super-dog

Toffee loved to wear this bandana. Perhaps it was because he received a lot of positive attention from strangers when he wore it. Perhaps because he liked to have something wrapped around his neck. Or maybe it signified that a walk might be happening soon. Last July after Toffee died I gave away many of his things, including food, beds, raincoats, accessories. This super-dog bandana was one of his treasured items that I kept.

Twelve years ago when my husband passed away, each time I saw a photo of him (e.g. at his memorial service) I would fall apart. Tears would flow uncontrollably, just like they are flowing now as I think of him. I knew that as difficult as it might be, I needed to look at his photo as often as possible in order to work through the grief. If I tried to minimize the opportunity for tears and pretend that I was dealing well with the loss, that the grief would only be delayed.

Last July I put together a photo montage of Toffee which I shared with family and friends. That activity allowed me to spend hours looking through photos of Toffee, and bringing back so many fun and happy memories.

I am reminded daily of the many good times and good years spent with my super-dog at my side. His photo is on the fireplace mantel, and his favourite bandana is attached to my fridge.

Deer at dusk

Last November when dad was in the hospital following his stroke there was a big storm which caused floods and fallen trees across the province. One very large tree fell in this area, and has been cleaned up. As I drove back to my mother’s place from a late evening grocery shopping I saw a deer watching me. In this gated community the gates close at 7:00 pm, and I’m wondering if the deer got stuck inside or if they would run and jump over the fence.

Mom and dad lived in this house since a few months before I returned from Thailand with my children. That was almost 30 years ago! I have no idea what it would be like to live in the same town, in the same house for 30 years. Two days ago I went to one of the seniors residences to talk to the representative and take a quick tour. We need to find a place for mom, but after that tour there is no chance I can consider moving her there yet. Assisted living is probably no longer appropriate for her because of the dementia, and memory care is so, so very depressing. The room would be only slightly over 300 square feet. The bed is a hospital bed. Bathtub is in a shared room.

The last time I spoke to my grandfather was to say goodbye before leaving to return to Thailand after one of my trips home. He was in a care home, in a small room like the one described above. He promised me that before the new year he would climb the fence and escape. There was no fence. I don’t think he enjoyed the confinement of the care home. He died on December 29.

If I was moved from a home which I lived in for 30 years, to a place 1/20th size, I would try to escape like the deer at dusk and jump the fence.

Rainbow carrots

Last week while shopping for treats to take to my daughter’s home I discovered a bag of multi-coloured carrots. We enjoyed eating these fresh, tasty carrot sticks. I normally enjoy trying new things, and new ideas. In fact, I don’t like getting stuck in a rut, and often seek new adventures.

This week I am staying with my mother who is struggling with dementia. In her life, routine is very important. Yesterday we were too busy to take care of the weekly laundry, which caused great anxiety for her. We are doing the laundry today, but because she sees on her clock that today is Saturday, I am asked about the change in routine every couple of minutes.

Working freelance most of my life has worked well for me — routine is nearly impossible, since every day has a different schedule. Some days I have time for meals; other days I grab something quickly while heading off to another lesson or rehearsal.

This morning I am taking my mother on a new adventure. We will be going for a drive. She hasn’t done that in months, as my sister has settled into a routine of caring for mom which does not include space for breaking out of the routine. Hopefully I will never give up the desire for adventure.

Cats!

Cats! I have never been fond of cats. To be honest, I was never very fond of dogs until Toffee came into my life. Allergies and fear of the unknown has kept me away from most cats.

This past week I spent several days with my daughter, her fiancé and their two cats. Benji is mischievous and friendly when he feels like it. He is curious about visitors and spends time coming close to sniff and observe what I am doing. Bandit is very shy. He hid inside the couch or under furniture for the first 3 days. Finally he did come out and ventured quite close to sniff my fingers, then went back into hiding. I have no photos of him on my phone because I only saw for less than a minute!

I think I have more in common with cats than I realized. I am lot like Bandit…trying to stay invisible until I trust people. Sometimes I just feel like taking my time before feeling comfortable enough to let them “see” me. There are days when I am more like Benji–curious, yet aloof–then I am pure Bandit again, preferring to hide.

Relating

My mother keeps this toy at her home in case a great-grandchild stops by for a visit. She used to have a stack of Dr. Seuss books but they have been given away to her grand-children. Last week my daughter travelled to visit her grandma and brought Baby “A” along. Mom was happy to have a visitor and eager to help her figure out this toy and talk about shapes.

After my dad passed away in November we tried to get mom interested in puzzles and word games. Each attempt could distract her from the TV briefly but she really has very little interest in games and puzzles anymore. That day was different. My daughter saw a calm and patient and attentive side of her grandma that left an impression on her.

When mom was much younger, and we were all in school, she would volunteer once a week at the local baby clinic. Her responsibility was to weigh the babies, to help the new mothers learn how to care for their babies and she loved to carry them while providing the mothers with a few minutes break from the cries and screams. Mom had a gift for calming the babies and was able to keep most babies from crying. This gift was natural and very evident with Baby A’s reaction.

I want to keep this photo forever. This is how I want to remember my mom. I want to remember how she could relate so well to babies and young children.

Steps

Almost every day for over two years I would climb the spiral staircase to practice and/or perform on the cathedral’s magnificent pipe organ. The first time I climbed the spiral staircase I wondered how dizzy I would become before reaching the top.

In the winter the cold air gets locked in and I climb quickly to reach the warmer cathedral air. In the summer when it is hot outside, I would take my time in order to breathe in the cool air. Dead flies collect on the window sills until the custodian is reminded of the clutter. Spiders climb on the concrete walls. Lost ladybugs are often seen gathering in small groups or all alone on the sill.

In normal pre-pandemic times the choir would climb up, down, up then down again every Sunday morning and again on Sunday afternoon. As the choir members aged and their voices began to lose strength and pitch, their knees would also lose agility. I believe the choir director was secretly thankful for the gentle way of weeding out the aging singers, avoiding the disappointment of a failed audition.

Three weeks ago I played for my final service at the cathedral, and climbed down the spiral staircase one last time, achieving one more step along the way to simplify my life.