Well, I've just lost the best friend I've never met.
I learned today that someone of stature in the music world lost a fight with a brain hemorrhage. The voice that carried me through so many dark days is singing a lullabye to her daugher, Valerie Rose, in heaven. Together again, best friends.
Phoebe Snow became the sound track of my life the first time I ever heard her dulcet tones. Her voice filled my head the instant I heard her sing "Poetry Man." (another story, another time.) Her lyrics sang my stories.
Ms. Snow, in the midst of her overnight sensationalism, gave birth to a tiny girl, who, somehow, in the havoc of delivery, lost her oxygen supply, causing the irreparable damage that is Cerebral Palsy. Valerie would never speak,never walk, never see. But her Mama (God rest her, finally)saw enough for the two of them.
Phoebe was advised to commit her daughter to an institution, by many learned people. She was advised by business managers that her career would become non-existent.She in turn, advised THEM, that her career had just begun. God had a much higher calling in mind.
And so it began, the journey those two highwaymen would travel together. Valerie grew into a beautiful person, a face like an angel &, evidently, an interest in opera.It was that sound that finally gave Valerie Rose her focus. Her mother, naturally, delved into that genre, just for her daughter's delight & amusement.
Valerie lived to be thirty-one, then died of her own brain hemmorhage. Phoebe, according to her BFF, Linda Rondstadt, was, understandably, inconsolable.
But, after all those years, she came back, she traveled, she sang her daughters praises and other tales, at small venues around the country.
I got tickets everytime she graced us with her presence.
Phoebe, you were the background sound that kept my son & I going strong when I thought for sure, we couldn't.
"We'll celebrate it, when we've made it,I'll jump over your yard....I'll jump all over .."
You made it, lady, & we're jumpin'
Much love & many thanks,
from Ian's mom.
And, so have I.
This is in no way meant to impinge upon the greatest event, ever, but to share what I have learned, this year, about forgiveness.
For the first time in all my years I met my Easter duty and actually kept my lenten resolutions. Now, those of you who know me, know that indeed, my going without diet Coke & ice cream is monumental..and I DID it !
But that sacrifice pales in comparison to the lesson I've learned this lenten season. I learned about forgiveness. I learned because forgiveness was extended to me, when I least expected it & certainly didn't deserve it.
But that's what it's all about, isn't it? Christ died for us, so that we could be forgiven ! We are washed clean, the earth is washed clean & the spring blooms with new beginnings.
It's time for me to come to the party & extend that which was granted me. Easter Sunday, I will call the brother (who has pissed me off (beyond belief!) and extend that which was granted me. It's about time, because...."He ain't heavy....he's my brother.."
HE IS RISEN !!!!!
I'm new at blogging, & I've made a promise to myself that I would never wind up sounding like Andy Rooney, always complaining...so, I'm just sayin' that I know I've come full circle when I admit I don't get the way kids are dressing now...big kids, teenagers, not little kids who are adorable, (despite some of their mothers living vicariously through them, ala beauty pagents..., but that's a whole 'nutha subject)
I remember wearing elaphant bell jeans & smock tops, I remember my mom harrassing me about putting so much effort into embroidering the above mentioned elephant bells and so little time into finals.
So you'd think I would get today's trends. I don't. In fact, I'm afraid I'll end up in the throes of advanced age,dressing just like these kids are now. I really don't understand their version of "layering." We layered too, in the 70's, I see the ads, I see the TV shows, but it made sense, y'know...not like now,with goofy prints, crazy textures, varying lengths. I see the ads, I see the tv shows & all I can say is that I'm baffled. Just like my parents were.
So, with that in mind, I'll try to remember that the kid I see with his jeans halfway down his ass, stylin' plaid boxers, is just doing what we did. Expressing ourselves..or should I say, expressing the need to be just like everyone else.
Rock on.
This afternoon, I watched a movie made in 1946, before I was even a twinkle in my Dad's eye.
It was Spencer Tracy & the great love of his life, Katharine Hepurn. It's not their affair that leads me to wonder.....
...what it was like in "midtown America" back then. Hard to picture anything in my mind's eye, except in black & white.
What gets me, & has always interested me about those old movies, is how accurately they display the American lifestyle of the time. Are those films an accurate depiction?
Did the fashions really include those fedoras the men always wear? And did they wear them always ? It's hard for me to fathom a sea (see what I just did there?) of those gray hats all over the country at all times of day, on males of any age. Sort of the baseball cap of the old millenium, if you will. Did they wear them backwards? Did even 3 year olds sport them?
What about women & their gloves. REALLY? White cotton with every ensemble. Makes me cringe to think that I can't even keep track of a pair of white socks.
But the kicker, what I'd really like to know, is whether the dialect was as demonstrated in these films. The cadence of their speech, for example. Like rapid machine gunfire. Did everyone speak so quickly? Was their diction so precise? Every sentence seems so...clipped. These people knew how to e-NUN-ciate!
If it is true and people really did converse in such a manner, what happened? When did our speech patterns morph into todays casual repartee'? I don't think I could've kept up, I'd be exhausted with the effort, so it worked out well, for me.
The best part in these movies are their figures of speech: "What, dahling,? do tell!" "I'll not have it !" I shan't!" (Really, I thought it might be set in London,but it was Connecticut, actually.)
Everyone in this story was addressed as "Mr./Mrs. Now, something I have never done is introduce two of my friends to each other, using titles, fercrissake.
If my parents were still alive (RIP, Bill & Urs) I could ask them, but alas, "I shall go to my grave wondering," "by gum!"
Well, I guess this is the beginning of the end. Phase 5.
We go through life, through "passages" (apologies to Gail Sheehy, but she really nailed it, that is what happens) and I have finally arrived at the end. Not that I'm dying of a terminal disease, but that I'm entering into the last cycle of life. We start at childhood, move onto young adult, then, young mothers,careers (not necessarily in that order) and eventually, the kids are grown and flown, you are retired, and if you're lucky like me you become a Grandma. (which is by far, the coolest chapter)
The thing is, when you become my age, or even before, if you're astute enough, you realize that youth really is wasted on the young.Or the YOUNGER. I've come to realize that with maturity (& I use this in the loosest way imaginable,as maturity is an option,not a requirement) you discover that so many things that mattered so much, don't at all. You get new perspective and it's so freeing !
I remember stressing about my weight, my hair,my grades, my job performance & my strengths & weaknesses in all areas. Even as a young mom, my priorities were all screwed up. I was so rigid when I didn't need to be. Don't misunderstand, I was a good mom, very good, I think, but now realize that it doesn't really matter if they don't eat their peas.
In looking back at old photos & memorablia, I see that I did NOT look fat in my prom dress,that my friends really did (do) like me & that people were genuine. All that angst & for what???
I'm trying now to guide my daughter with her child, by reminding her to pick her battles. Life would've been so much easier if I had learned not to "sweat the small stuff" before now. I think she believes me, I know she's keeping it in mind & as a result I see a happier, more relaxed mom than I ever was.
That little boy is the best ever, but not to worry, I'll not wax on about his attributes, at least, not in this entry.
