C is for Concert

I estimate I've been to 40-50 concerts through the years.  In high school I saw bands like Journey, Styx and Foreigner, and have seen a variety of artists through the years including Lyle Lovett, Elvis Costello, Patty Griffin, and of course, Jimmy Buffett.  But last night I saw what may now be my favorite concert of all time - the Indigo Girls backed by the Nashville Symphony.

I started listening to the Indigo Girls when they first hit the musical scene in the mid to late 1980's. Their haunting harmonies and intelligent, thoughtful lyrics spoke to me then, and still do today.  As a young college graduate struggling to create my future, I related to the words "and the less I seek my source from some definitive, the closer I am to fine".  When I spent a summer in Dallas working for Habitat for Humanity, I was inspired by the lyrics of Hammer and Nail, "if I have a care in the world I have a gift to bring".

Last night was more than just a concert - it was an amazing experience made possible by the generosity of two of my best friends, and made sweeter by the presence of my sister.  We started with dinner at one of the top restaurants in town, then strolled over to the Symphony Center to our box seats complete with wine and snacks. We were on the second level, with seats so close to the stage we could clearly see the facial expressions of the musicians.  The familiarity of the music, the intimate setting, the swelling of the strings and the beat of the timpani were overwhelming; when the concert began my eyes filled with tears.  I found myself singing along to the songs of my youth, surprising myself that the words came back so easily.  Backed by the excellent Nashville Symphony, these beloved favorites took on a new level of intensity and beauty.  To the amusement of my friends and sister my tears kept flowing, fueled by nostalgia and the voices of the Indigo Girls, all the better with age.  The night ended with a rousing rendition of "Closer to Fine" with the entire audience on their feet singing at the top of their lungs.  It was a truly magical concert experience that I won't soon forget.

C is for Commencement

My beautiful, smart niece graduated from Father Ryan High School this past Sunday.  Resplendent in her purple robe, she was positively beaming in every single picture she was in.  (Check out Facebook - she was in a lot of pictures).    We capped the day with a family dinner where we toasted her accomplishments and shared our favorite silly stories about her.

The graduation ceremony itself was lovely, and the words of her principal struck a deep chord with me. In fact, I leaned over to my sister and whispered "I just figured out my next blog post".   He shared the results of a survey given to parents of high school students in which they were asked - if you could only choose one outcome, would you prefer to see your child successful, happy or good?  Overwhelmingly the parents chose happiness.  At face value that answer makes a lot of sense, but the principal said the results puzzled him as he expected a parent would want a child to be good, first and foremost.  After all, you can be happy but not be good, and yes, you can be good and not be happy.  But if you develop and cultivate gratitude in your life, then being good can and will bring you happiness.    I've thought about his words frequently over the past few days, and it struck me that the happiest people I know are also the most grateful.  It is also telling that those same happy people have faced more than their fair share of adversity, yet gratitude fuels their happiness despite the challenges.

This August my niece will start college in Connecticut, studying to become a nurse.  I think she has the right mix of skills and temperament to be successful in her chosen profession - she is caring, has a steady head and steady hands, and the sight of blood doesn't faze her one bit.  She is an outgoing, vibrant young woman who I believe is happy with herself and excited about the future. And maybe I am biased, but I do think she is good.  For her graduation I gave her a pair of earrings, and now I give her this blog post so that she will always remember the lesson of her commencement, that there is no real happiness without gratitude.  I think she is going to be just fine.

C is for Coast

I'm back from a few days in one of my favorite places, Rosemary Beach.  This little town on Florida's gulf coast has everything - a cool coffee shop, amazing restaurants, a few great boutiques, and of course, a gorgeous beach!  The greens and blues of the water, the sugar white sand, the crashing of the waves - the sights and sounds of the ocean have always calmed and comforted me.  Every evening we'd walk down to the beach to watch the sunset and marvel at the way the light bathed the water and sand in a rosy, shimmering glow.  And most nights, we'd walk back to the beach after dinner to gaze at the multitude of stars above the dark water.   It's easy for me to forget the minutia of my own life when standing next to the immense, ever changing entity that is an ocean.  It is perspective on the grandest scale of all!

I can admit it now - I was worried that Rosemary would somehow feel different this time around. It was definitely a study in moderation for me, something for which I am not generally known. I took a daily nap to keep up my stamina,  limited my wine consumption, and opted for appetizer size portions for many of my meals.   But I finally realized that the only one who cared how much wine I drank was me, and in the end, I really didn't care that much.  The truth is, I am different than the last time I was there, but so are my friends, so is the town itself.

My "moderation vacation" was actually pretty wonderful. The weather was perfect, every meal was better than the last and I read two great books.  And each evening when I watched the sunset over the gulf, I did so in the company of four smart, funny and compassionate friends.  We're already looking at houses for our next trip to this special place, whenever that might be.   In the meantime, I'll treasure my memories of surf, sand and laughter.

C is for Coleridge

In my first semester of college freshman English we read Ars Poetica by Archibald MacLeish, and I distinctly remember our professor reading the line "Silent as the sleeve-worn stone of casement ledges where the moss has grown".  The class grew quiet and watched as he stepped over to the window, and with a far-away look in his eyes, ran his fingers over the ledge.  It was such a simple gesture, but that line, that poem, and poetry in general came alive for me that day.  I devoured works by 20th century writers like Eliot and Frost, but, oh, the poets of the Romantic and Victorian periods spoke to me!  My favorite poem is Ulysses by Tennyson, and his words resonate in a new and more meaningful way than ever before:

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

After my Dad's cancer diagnosis, he told me that three things were helping him cope - his love of God, his love of family, and his love of poetry.  I've sat with him through several rounds of chemo which can last up to 5 hours.  His favorite poet is Keats, so on one of those long days in the infusion room I googled my Dad's favorite poems by Keats on my iPad and read them aloud.   Then I googled some of my favorite poems and read those aloud, too.  There is beauty and power in poetry, which I had forgotten, and a really long, tiring day became a little bit brighter. After years of being "too busy", I've started to slowly rediscover and enjoy poetry again.

We're all fighting a demon, and for my Dad and me, that demon is cancer.  We often quote the lines below, as a reminder that we have control over our attitude and tenacity in that fight.  So I close this post in honor of my Dad, with the words of Dylan Thomas:

And you, my father, there on the sad height, 

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.  

Do not go gentle into that good night.  

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.