Archive for the ‘Prescient observations’ Category
Illness, Thanksgiving, and Observing My Late Father’s Birthday
My father was born around Thanksgiving, and even before I knew how to understand things like months, days, and years, I knew as early as three years old that if Thanksgiving was coming, Dad’s birthday would be soon.
Of course, Dad died last year about a month shy of his 87th birthday. Had he lived this long, he’d have turned 88.
There are so many things that have happened in the past year that would’ve pleased him. There were other things that would really have upset him, including the national uptick of bad behavior, rudeness, and obnoxiousness. In some quarters, it now seems perfectly acceptable to treat others with disdain, disrespect, and, quite frankly, dishonor.
Dad was a proud veteran of the United States Navy, and watching the country devolve into chaos would not have been his thing. The pandemic was more than bad enough as it brought out the worst in a whole lot of people that seemingly hasn’t gone away since.
Mind you, there are still many wonderful people out there. I think the majority of people in the United States, as well as around the world, are good, caring, decent, honorable, and kind-hearted people who want only to live and let live. We hear about the others because they are aberrations. But there seem to be more and more of them, and you see this sort of bad behavior everywhere nowadays. On the highways, with road-rage incidents and people shooting at each other. In the grocery store, where I’ve seen several fights break out over the years — more in the last few by far. Really, anywhere a person can congregate with another, including churches, mosques, or other buildings meant for faithful people to enjoy their religion/religious beliefs and others in their congregation, can hold a mass shooter.
Other countries do not put up with this, but the US does. I don’t know why. I’ve written about it many times over the years, and I’ll probably write about it even more when the next unthinkable incident happens.
It’s because of knowing this, along with observing my father’s birthday soon and then Thanksgiving later this week, that I have a hard time finding the blessings there still are.
But there are blessings. As I said, there are good people out there. The scenery can be beautiful. I’m fortunate that I live near Lake Michigan — it’s only a few short miles away — and I can gaze out at it any time of the year and gain some peace from that. Books have always been my salvation, too. Plus, I ponder a lot of moral conundrums, as it’s been my lot in life to be a spiritual seeker rather than a follower of any one religion. (I consider myself a NeoPagan, which most of you reading probably already know. But I read the Bible often for its beauty and elegance and feel it holds a lot of truth within it. I’ve also read translations of the Koran and some of the Bhavagad Gita, though not much of the latter stuck.) I consider Buddhism, as it was my late husband Michael’s practice, and try to let whatever part I can absorb infuse my soul with meaning and purpose. (That sounds odd, doesn’t it? Best I can do right now, though.) I have enjoyed reading about the Stoics and their movement of Stoicism, which isn’t exactly what we Americans think it was…yes, they believed in what one Star Trek writer called “mastery of the unavoidable,” but they didn’t believe you shouldn’t feel. They actually believed more along the lines of “don’t let the bad things throw you, as we all have bad things happen in our lives. What can we gain from life besides the bad things?”
Thanksgiving is a time to honor family, friends, and loved ones, past or present. I do plan to see my family, despite the fact I’m quite ill right now and have been for weeks.
(Some of you may be thinking, “Barb, what took you so long to talk about the illness you’re enduring?” I’m getting to that.)
About two weeks ago, I’d called my doctor’s office about my asthma, the fact my throat was sore, and that my allergies were acting up. I was seen, and told that it was most likely viral bronchitis. If I was still sick in a week, I should go back and be seen or walk into urgent care if it was a weekend.
So, yesterday, as I was still quite ill, I walked into urgent care. I was told I had an acute asthma exacerbation — thus the bronchospasms and bronchitis — along with a particularly wicked sinus infection that was spreading to my ears. I had so much fatigue that walking from my car to the house required several stops to rest, and that’s all wrong. I was very frightened by all of this, which I’ll admit here…I also didn’t want to eat anything, though I was still trying to eat, as my throat hurt so bad I could barely swallow.
I was using all my tricks to amp up my appetite, including drinking diet soda before and during meals. (For some reason, diet soda raises my appetite. I guess I’m not the only one this happens to, but I don’t know how frequently it happens to others.) During meals, I often drink diet soda or some other carbonated beverage in order to be able to swallow the food. (Two endoscopies have been performed in the last ten years to find out why this is and no one has any idea.) Plus, I knew that without food, I’d have no energy with which to heal myself.
Because I’ve got so many friends and family on the Other Side now, and fewer remain on this side, I thought a lot about why I continued to fight to stay on this plane of existence. Yes, I feel I have unfinished business. Yes, there’s editing to do. Yes, I’ve got I don’t know how many books in me to finish plus at least seven stories at work either singly or in collaboration with my friend Gail Sanders. Yes, my family needs me, and yes, I hope someday that I’ll find some nice man that can tolerate me (better yet, light up at the sight of me and enjoy all our interactions, but first things first) and that I can tolerate in return (again, I want a lot more than tolerance, but I tell myself, “Patience, grasshopper” in my best Kwai Chang Kane voice).
Still. My chest hurt so bad it was like a vise was around it. I couldn’t get a good breath. My cough was unproductive in the extreme, though intermittent. And until yesterday, I had been told it was viral and that I couldn’t do anything about it other than put up with it and hope it went away.
I’m fortunate that I still have medical insurance, though I wonder for how much longer. That said, I had it now, and I was able to get the medication I needed at a lower price than I’d have paid on my own after I was diagnosed with acute asthma exacerbation driving the bronchitis and a wicked sinus infection driving everything else.
Just knowing what’s wrong helps. Being able to take some medicine (in this case, antibiotics and steroids) that I know will work has improved my attitude overall, to the point I can at least come to my blog and write/talk about it.
I’m glad that the US still believes in helping those in need, those who are not as fortunate as others (I, a disabled, long-time and still youthful widow, count in that category). But the uptick in bad behavior has me concerned. If we as a country go all in for “I’ve got mine, to Hell with you!” we are doomed.
I think most of us want the US to be a strong and safe country with leaders that make sense and try to do the people’s bidding rather than go off on tangents and only fix their own, personal hobbyhorses. I also hope and pray that people in the US, as well as around the world, will know that putting someone else down does not make you rise up. It instead lowers you to your enemy’s level.
This has been a long blog. But it all weighs on me. Dad’s impending birthday, that I’ll probably celebrate out at the cemetery where he’s buried. Thanksgiving, where half the country seems to hate the other half. This illness, which came too close to me just saying, “OK, if my time’s up, it’s up.” (When you can’t breathe well, you can’t think, you don’t really have much in the way of energy as I said before, and trying to find positives seems like a Herculean effort.)
I hope those of you who are ill right now, in body, mind, or spirit will know that you are worth it whether anyone else knows it or not. I also hope that this Thanksgiving will be one of reconciliation and kindness. Somehow.
If you want to light a candle, though, please do it. Pray for peace, especially in the Middle East and the Ukraine. Pray for wisdom among our elected leaders. Pray for strength for ourselves, and healing, too. Pray for the downtrodden, those marginalized by bad circumstances, by faults not their own, and pray their situations get better. (Here I’m thinking about the Sudan, much of the problems Middle Eastern women have, and other such things along with the prosaic.)
If you want to add to your prayers, say a prayer for my father, who I hope is in Heaven/the positive afterlife of his choice now. Or you could even say one for me, and I can’t stop you…(I know it’s a weak joke, but that’s all I’ve got right now).
Please have the best Thanksgiving holiday you can, though. Try to find the good in your relatives, even if they are difficult and insist on only the choicest cuts of turkey and hog all the dressing to themselves. (You can always wait until they get up to use the bathroom and grab the rest of the dressing if they refuse to give it up, you know.)
Find meaning and purpose however you can. Remember, don’t spread vitriol, and do be kind to others.
That’s what I want this week. That’s what I want always.
Musing on Life’s Purpose
There’s a lot of angst right now, partly due to election season and partly because of other factors. But we all need to realize this: We have a purpose in this life even if we don’t know what it is.
If we can do one good thing for someone else, just one, that can move mountains in time. It doesn’t seem like it. It’s maybe an incremental change, rather than a sweeping one…but doing something good for someone else just because is one of the best virtues I know.
The way I define success is, “Did you make any positive difference for anyone?” And, honestly, I think most of us do. We’re not perfect by any means, but most of us try to be good to others, at least some of the time — or to help someone we don’t know, because it’s needed in that moment.
I’ve run into a lot of different things in my life that have changed the course of it significantly. Some were very good, such as meeting and marrying Michael, my late husband. Some were not good. Some were just plain bad, in fact. But when you look back on your life, you can sometimes find small moments that made a huge difference.
My small moment was this: I had been divorced, I’d just gotten out of a relationship that hadn’t gone the way I’d hoped, and then I met Michael. I had a choice: could I open my heart to him, despite how badly I’d been hurt? Or was I going to just drown in the sorrow of it all?
I chose the risk. I opened my heart.
As difficult as it has been to be without Michael all these years since his passing, it would’ve been far, far worse for me to have stayed closed and to have kept Michael at arm’s length. I’d have missed out on great love, happiness, true understanding…the two of us wanted to be around each other, wanted to make each other’s lives better. We could talk about anything for hours. We could sometimes even sit in silence, holding hands, looking at one another, and be perfectly content.
I was right to choose the risk. But no one would’ve blamed me (except myself, of course) had I said, “I have had enough of men, thank you!” and not done so.
The main reason I fight so hard to make any sort of positive difference I can in this life is that I believe Michael being in my life at all was a miracle. I know that has to sound very odd, maybe even a bit woo-woo/out there. But it’s what I believe.
So, if I had turned my face to the wall (metaphorically speaking) years ago, and not opened my heart, I’d have missed out on that miracle. I am glad I didn’t miss out.
For those of you who are hurting for various reasons, I hope you can take some comfort in the fact that you are not alone. Good human beings care about one another and try to help when they can. (I know I’ve been overloaded lately, as I said in my last blog. But I still try to do something, anything, that’s positive, even if it’s just wishing the cashier at the market a good day and telling them they did a great job.) Good human beings notice when you’re making your best effort, and that does matter.
It may seem like it doesn’t. But don’t believe that.
Believe that you are worthy. Worthy of love, worthy of friendship, worthy of understanding, care, and concern.
Don’t let anyone, ever, grind you down into nothing. You are worth more than that.
Linkin Park Hires a New Co-Lead Singer, and I Have Thoughts…
In case you haven’t heard yet, Linkin Park has a new lead singer, or probably better explained as co-lead singer along with singer/rapper Mike Shinoda. They needed someone because their iconic lead singer Chester Bennington died seven years ago by his own hand, and most of Linkin Park wanted to play together again. (The exception was their original drummer, Rob Bourdon.) So they’ve hired a woman, Emily Armstrong, who fronted a group known as Dead Sara, to sing the parts that Chester would’ve sung had he still been alive.
Note that I did not say “to replace Chester,” as there’s no way to replace Chester Bennington. But Linkin Park wanted/needed someone to sing those parts, and Emily Armstrong can sing melodies and then scream in a heartfelt way. My guess is that Emily A. sings in a similar range to Chester, or at least is close enough that with some minor arrangements (perhaps changing the key signature and/or mode — as lots of groups use modes like Mixolydian, Lydian, Dorian, etc., in addition in order to better reflect a mood or feeling), Linkin Park’s songs can be rendered well enough for fans to appreciate them.
This is a big controversy because of two things. One, you can’t replace Chester; he had a unique set of skills, including an emotional awareness that was almost uncanny, that could never be reproduced by anyone else. Two, one of Chester’s sons, Jamie, is very unhappy about this. Jamie pointed out that September is International Suicide Awareness month, which seems disrespectful to him as his father Chester died by suicide.
That raises a good point: as Linkin Park had been working with Emily A., quietly, for months, why didn’t Linkin Park wait another month to drop this news? Or why not move it up into August? Why court this sort of drama when you don’t have to?
See, there was someone else, a musician — I can’t remember the guy’s name right now — who had reported about four, maybe five months ago that he’d heard that Linkin Park had hired a new female singer. Mike Shinoda and other Linkin Park members pooh-poohed this and said if there was any news to report, they’d report it themselves, thank you.
But the guy who reported this was a fellow musician. I knew at the time, being a musician myself, that something was undoubtedly going on even though the guy who’d said he’d heard Linkin Park had a new lead female singer backtracked pretty quickly once Mike Shinoda, et. al., basically said the man should mind his own business. Still, from that report, I figured Linkin Park was probably rehearsing, trying to lay tracks in the music studio, and figure out if a combo with some woman — who we know now to be Emily A. — was commercially viable.
That’s exactly what was going on, as we now know.
My thoughts on this are a bit mixed. First, it is hard for me to conceive of anyone singing the parts Chester sang so well and so distinctively. Chester Bennington was an integral part of Linkin Park, and as I said before, I do not believe he can ever be replaced. But second, as a musician, I know that the members of Linkin Park wanted to play again. It’s been seven years since they last played a concert in public, and most of them (Rob Bourdon, original drummer, aside) were itching to get out there and to perform.
I can’t blame any musician for wanting to perform, OK? That’s kind of what we do, providing we’re healthy enough to do it. Every performance, even of a well-known song like Linkin Park’s “In the End,” is a little different, because the energy of the crowd may be different. Or maybe one or more of the group members is feeling especially emotive. Or there’s some extra tenderness in a quiet musical interlude. Or the bombastic, up-tempo stuff seems to have extra fire one day, while the next, while still fun to listen to and hopefully fun for the group members to play, doesn’t quite meet that level of intensity.
This is true of any human music group anywhere in the history of time. Live music has variables to it, and can be extremely good one night, good the next, a bit off the third (though probably the audience won’t recognize it, the members of the group assuredly will know and feel like they let themselves down), and back to good the fourth night. It is just the nature of the beast.
As I’ve said before at my blog, there are such things as post-concert highs and post-concert lows. For example, I believe famous singer Chris Cornell may well have been dealing with a post-concert low before he called his wife and sounded so odd just a few hours before he took his own life. Audience members, from what I can recall at the time as he passed a couple of months before Chester did, said that Chris seemed frustrated, maybe a little unhappy, and his performance was not necessarily up to par. Again, some of this is the nature of the beast, and every musician worth his/her/their salt knows it. But it can be hard to remember, in the moment, that as wonderful as music is, and as wonderful as it is that some people get to live their dreams and make a living from music, that being a musical performer is not the sum total of everything we are.
I’ve had both post-concert highs and post-concert lows. They can be disconcerting, but the lows are worse by far than the highs. On those nights, I wonder why I even bothered to take up an instrument. (I don’t sing in public and am glad I don’t.) My hands felt a little off, maybe, or it was very hot outside and playing an outdoor concert was uncomfortable and unpleasant. Either way, it affected my performance for the worse. Because of that, I felt like I’d let down the audience, let down the group I was playing in, let down myself too, and just wished the ground would swallow me up, whole.
At any rate, getting back to Linkin Park and their new singer Emily A. — I think we should give the new-look and new-sound Linkin Park a bit of time to see how things go. I also think that as open-hearted as Chester B. often was, he’d not want to keep his bandmates from making music with someone else (even if it doesn’t feel easy for fans).
Finally, Shinedown’s lead singer Brent Smith posted on social media that he believes Linkin Park is doing what’s right for them. It sounded to me like Smith also believes fans should give the new version of Linkin Park time, and at least be open to listening to Emily A.’s vocals. (He spoke in a quite complimentary manner of Emily A., too.)
I think that’s a good position to take, and it’s one I can live with.
So, while I still wish that Chester was alive, singing his heart out, and playing/singing music to his heart’s content, I’m at least willing to listen to the new version. I make no promises yet as to what I think…but I will at least listen, and hope all goes well for them.
The Perils of Customer Service
Folks, I know it’s Sunday. I usually come up with some sort of deep thought, or at least an attempt at deep thought, with regards to spirituality, religion, etc.
So, why am I talking about customer service today instead? Simple. I ran into some not-so-good service about a week ago, and I had excellent service on both Thursday and Saturday (two of the last three days), so I figured comparing and contrasting that might be interesting to talk about.
Besides, I haven’t blogged in a couple of weeks. That’s too long to go without saying anything. I get lots of questions like, “Barb, are you alive? Why aren’t you writing? What’s up with your blog? I’m used to seeing something there, and you’re falling down on the job!” (OK, only I said that last one. But the other three have been asked more often than not.)
Anyway, regarding customer service: If you don’t get good service, sometimes it’s frustrating in the moment to say something about it.
See, the bad service I got was at my local credit union. I needed something from them that they’re capable of, but it takes an extra-long time for them to do it; because of that, I had to wait while standing, with my cane, for at least twenty to twenty-five minutes. I started shaking my legs out from the hips so I would be able to walk out of there…and what bothered me most was that the young teller (he couldn’t have been much more than twenty-one, if even that) didn’t seem to realize I was having trouble. He’d seen me come in with my cane, then realized he’d need a supervisor’s help…the supervisor never saw my cane, so I can’t blame her for much of anything as she was on the phone with people trying to straighten stuff out.
(Yes, he saw me shaking my legs out, too. But he didn’t ask what I was doing, much less why I was doing it.)
Anyway, this problem eventually got sorted out, and I went on my merry way. But I wondered, the whole time, if I should’ve asked for a chair. I knew that the teller and his supervisor were trying to solve this other issue, and I felt as if I’d made it too difficult for them just by going in there.
An hour later, in great physical pain (my back acted up), I called and complained. I was able to talk with two different people who both helped me, and they reassured me that not only should I not have been treated that way, I should never feel I’m a burden to them. Customers exist because they need something; the bank or credit union knows this, and they don’t want to drive good customers away. So, reassured, I went off to nurse my bad back, etc., and resolved to speak up sooner the next time something weird happens.
Then, I had two instances of excellent customer service: you know, the type you’re lucky to run into once in a blue moon. Both of these positive experiences were at local grocery stores. I tend to have a number of high-value coupons as one of my family members is a huge coupon clipper. (We’re talking in the $5, $6, $8, and $10 off range.) These can be difficult for cashiers to handle, as most high-value coupons are over the preset limit that the store allows one person to have in an order. The more coupons, the more likely you’re either going to need a supervisor, or at bare minimum you’re going to need someone very experienced to be able to accept the coupons and get me rung up and out of there again.
Fortunately for me, at the first store, one of my favorite cashiers was acting as a type of supervisor for the younger cashier at the register. Things got done quickly, which is a plus; no one behind me in the line got upset (I can’t tell you how often it happens these days where someone does, and I always feel bad about it), and I was able to find nearly everything I needed.
At the second store, I went in for a few specific things. I had eight coupons that had to be used by 8/31 (and it was 8/31, so it was then or never). These were all for shampoos that cost around $10 to get. The coupon was for slightly less than that, and that can trip up a cashier quite easily if they’ve not seen it before. In addition to that, I grabbed some other coupon items (that weren’t expiring, but were still helpful), less difficult to process, along with a few things that weren’t coupon items to round out the order.
So, for this second positive experience, I was fortunate in getting a very experienced cashier who was about as quick with the coupons as anyone I’ve ever seen. She also was quite pleasant to speak with, which I appreciated. I smiled on the way out, and made sure to buy a couple of pieces of candy from the kids raising money for youth sports leagues (as I figured I wanted to pass that good karma around a little) on the way out.
So, what did all this tell me? Mostly, it reaffirms the value of human connection and the powers of observation. The teller did not seem to understand what limping in on a cane meant, so he didn’t make any effort to try to mitigate the problems I was having. But both cashiers understood; they saw my cane in the cart, and made sure I didn’t have to lift out the 24-pack of water (in one case) or anything else heavy. They also asked if I needed help to get to the car (I didn’t, but I thanked them for asking), and finally, they were pleasant and did everything in their power to set me at ease.
Compare that with the young teller for just one more moment. The teller, once things were reasonably straightened out, did not meet my eyes (and had earlier, so as far as I know was not neurodiverse) and didn’t apologize for the length of time I had to stand. He completed the transaction and acted as if I were Br’er Rabbit after being thrown in the tar pit, and obviously couldn’t wait to see the back of me.
I didn’t like this, and I didn’t appreciate it for several reasons. (As I’ve said.)
But both cashiers acted the way they should. They were polite, they made conversation, they didn’t act as if what I was doing in bringing coupons (that can really mess up a cashier if they don’t know what they’re doing) was an imposition, they met my eyes, they smiled…all in all, I felt much better about shopping than I’d expected.
So, that’s the perils of customer service. You can run into someone who doesn’t know what to do when the customer throws him an inadvertent curveball, and that person (the teller, in this instance) does not give even adequate customer service thereby. But you also can run into highly accomplished people who know their jobs, who are good at putting people at ease, who don’t blame the customer for bringing coupons even if they’re high-value (and thus can make it harder for the poor cashier to do their job), and who get you in and out of the store with a minimum of muss or fuss.
I wish all customer service people were as good as those cashiers or the two people I spoke with by phone at my credit union after the bad experience I’d had there. But it’s a mixed bag, and you never do know exactly what you’re going to get.
Anyway, what sorts of customer service have you dealt with lately? Good, bad, or indifferent, tell me about it in the comments! (That is, providing you’re still reading. I know I’ve been intermittent lately…ah, well.)
Got Past My Wedding Anniversary…Still Alive
Folks, I know that’s an odd title. But if you’ve read my blog for a while, you know that it’s incredibly difficult for me to handle each year’s observance of my wedding to Michael (to/with/for, however you want to say it). Every anniversary is another year without him. Every anniversary points out that I’m older than he was when he died, and that just seems wrong.
This year, I felt I should stay quiet until it was over. I felt raw inside. (I didn’t stay quiet with my good female friends and I did tell two male friends also. But I said nothing to my family, nothing openly, not here at my blog nor on X/Twitter, nor on my Facebook page.) I didn’t want to have to discuss anything until I got past this anniversary.
Now I’m past it (by about eight days). I’m still alive. Michael’s birthday (not that he’d have celebrated it) comes up later this month. My own birthday, which in some ways is very hard to celebrate (see above), is in August.
I’m doing what I can to look forward. I’ve restarted my version of Peter Welmsley’s novel. I’ll take some of what Michael had, surely, but a lot of it I’m writing on my own. My Peter has a different name, a different place of origin (though Michael really didn’t say in any of his stories, I’ve decided Peter was brought up on Lemuria and that his parents were ambassadors from Heligoland, which was the “first landing place” that started the Atlantean Union after the diaspora from Earth), is going to have a different love interest (some of the same characteristics, mind you, but not all), and the ship he’s on is going to do different things. I’ve made a point of space pirates being a problem in the stories I’ve written and/or thought of since Michael’s untimely death, and it seems to me to make sense to write about that.
Michael’s premise, mind you, in all of his SFnal stories was to show the quiet heroes and heroines who do the needful, without fanfare, without expecting anything except to live their lives and go after it again the next day. Peter W. is still a quiet hero, and he doesn’t really see himself heroically at all (if you’ve read “To Survive the Maelstrom,” you know that, and you know why). He’s not particularly comfortable with being alive when his best male friend and his fiancee are dead, and while his love interest (the one I’m writing) makes some sense for him, it’s not going to be an easy courtship. (Then again, the best things in life take a Hell of a lot of work.)
So, I’ve restarted work on that. I’m also 53,000 words into the “secret” project, which is in a fantasy setting (I can say that much). Plus, my co-written story with Gail Sanders, “Into the Night,” is available in the Tales of the E-4 Mafia anthology from Henchman Press. (It’s available in paperback now, too. Check it out!)
It’s good to be active as a writer, even if my progress is a ton slower than I’d prefer. I feel better when I write. I also believe more firmly in myself when I’m creative, as I’ve suffered a few blows in the past few years that were hard to get past. (Dad’s death last year is just the start of it, I’m afraid.)
Of course, I’m editing as well. Nothing new about that. I do my best to help my clients, as always, in every way I can.
My view of life is pretty simple, in short. Anything worth doing is worth doing well. But if you aren’t able to do it well, but can still do it, you can keep going and keep doing it. You can fix whatever isn’t right once you have your story on the page; you can learn more about the manuscripts you edit every day you have them, if you’re pondering this, that, or the other from a developmental standpoint. (Do I worry about grammatical things sometimes? Sure. But I worry most about the flow of the story and whether or not it makes sense. Great grammar won’t work if there’s no characterization, no definable plot, or no real reason to be reading along, in my not-so-humble opinion.)
So. I’m alive. Doing my best. Some days are better than others. Some are worse. But I’m doing my level best, and that’s going to have to be enough.
How are you all doing? Tell me in the comments…providing I’m not just shouting into the void again (and hoping it will shout back).
Father’s Day Blues
Folks, this will be the first Father’s Day without my father. I am not looking forward to this whatsoever.
Granted, I’m fortunate that my father lived as long as he did. There were things he didn’t get to see, that he wanted to see again, such as watching the Milwaukee Brewers make it back to the World Series (they’ve only been there once), and eventually winning a WS. I know he wanted to see at least one of my books succeed and thrive, too…
The thing is, he did get to see a lot of excellent things. He got to see both of the Milwaukee Bucks championships on TV. (He liked watching better on TV. When he went to the arena, he didn’t enjoy it as much.) He got to see Brett Favre and the Packers win a Super Bowl, then a few years later Aaron Rodgers and the Packers win another Super Bowl. He got to see a lot of good college basketball, a lot of good WNBA basketball (Dad loved the WNBA; he thought they played better as a team than most NBA clubs), and he enjoyed watching Brewers games on Sundays (when Telemundo has a free broadcast providing it’s a home game) while listening every other day on the Brewers Radio Network.
He also got to see me at my best, worst, and everything in between. (I would dare to say that my sibs probably feel the same way.) Just as I saw him (and so did my sibs) in the same ways.
I also know that as long as I live, some of him remains in this world. (Same for my sibs.)
It’s not the same, though. And as it’s the first Father’s Day observance without him, I definitely am feeling the worse for wear.
Those of you whose fathers are alive, please hug them and make much of them. Life is so damned short. You don’t know how much time you two may have left to be together, so don’t waste whatever is left.
Also, play a game of cribbage, smear, or, I suppose, Scrabble in my father’s honor. (Those were his three favorite games.) If your father likes ’em, too, give yourself double bonus points.
Thoughts on Papa Roach’s “Leave a Light On (Talk Away the Dark)”
Sorry about the brief hiatus in posts, folks. Nothing much to report, except that I’m still working on writing, editing, and that I hope to finish a musical composition of some sort soon.
Anyway, while I have been “away” (away in no real sense, but not posting), I’ve been contemplating Papa Roach’s single “Leave a Light On (Talk Away the Dark)” quite a bit. (Here’s a link to the YouTube video.) This song is a fundraiser for the American Foundation for Suicide Prevention (AFPS.org), a group close to Papa Roach’s heart.
Those of you reading along may not know who Papa Roach is. I didn’t, a few years ago, though I knew a few of their songs. (“Last Resort” is a personal favorite.) They are an American hard-rock group from California, and they once had a regular trombonist. (I approve of that! More rock groups should have interesting instrumentation.) They also have talked much about suicide, suicide prevention, depression, and anxiety throughout their career, as it’s important to them.
I’ve posted before about how this is a cause important to me (though I may not have put it that bluntly). One of my best friends killed himself before age forty. (We were on the same bowling team, years ago.) I’ve also watched as excellent singers and other musicians have struggled with addiction, anxiety, suicidal ideation, and more with my own unique perspective. (Hey, being a musician who’s not known along with being a writer who’s not known either has to have a unique perspective, or she’d just give up. I’m not into giving up. Moving on…)
When high-profile singers such as Linkin Park’s Chester Bennington and Soundgarden’s Chris Cornell die too young, what else can you think other than that life can be a major struggle? Being extravagantly talented can’t always save you.
But talking about your problems, honestly and with empathy, can.
That’s what Papa Roach’s song is all about.
Fortunately, because those musicians did so much to acknowledge their struggles while they were still alive, other musicians have continued to acknowledge their own struggles, partly because of the memories of their dearly beloved and departed friends. Papa Roach has a live version of “Leave a Light On (Talk Away the Dark)” that is dedicated to Chester Bennington, for example. Disturbed’s song “Hold on to Memories” has pictures of Bennington, Cornell, and quite a few other musicians who’ve died too young that Disturbed knew well to get across the fact that these people’s lives mattered. (I’ve discussed “Hold on to Memories” before.)
Perhaps a quote from a previous blog, which I called “When Life Does Not Go as Planned,” applies here:
Life, sometimes, is just damned hard. But we get up, we try, we do our best, we create or build or work hard on whatever it is that we feel called to do. Even when we’ve felt like we’ve failed at our deepest levels, what we’ve done matters. Even when our lives have been shattered, what we’ve done and who we’ve loved and how hard we’ve tried matters.
I believe, quite firmly, that’s what Papa Roach’s song “Leave a Light On (Talk Away the Dark)” is all about.
Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this song, if you haven’t heard it before. It’s one of several songs I’ve been paying attention to lately, along with the aforementioned “Hold on to Memories” and Shinedown’s “A Symptom of Being Human.”
Remember this, though: You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to do great things every single day. You don’t have to be anyone other than yourself. You are valuable just the way you are, and if you can keep putting one foot in front of the other, that absolutely matters. Whether anyone else aside from you knows it or not…it does, does matter.
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