I have been depressed for the past couple of weeks. There are a few reasons I can readily identify: lots of new aches & pains that have effectively prevented me from going to the gym for the past couple of months, including a flare-up of the nurse's curse, plantar fasciitis. This is THE WORST. The first step out of bed in the morning, or after sitting for a while, is just awful. And the treatment: take anti-inflammatories, try to stay off your feet, and use ice on the affected foot. Then wait six months.
I'm also starting to feel old for the first time. My birthday was last week and it was neither a "big" number nor really a particularly impressive one (I'm officially 53), but it's just left me more than a little blah. I look at Diana--she is so gorgeous, so young, so untroubled, so on the cusp of life--and while I am proud, it also makes me feel tired, and uninterested in my own life. I'm not envious: good God, I wouldn't be 22 again for love or money. But the knowledge that I'm probably 2/3 done with this life is more than a little sobering.
Then there is the nagging memory I cannot put behind me. In my work, I have seen birth, death, trauma, medical mayhem, miracles, and just about everything in between. Most of it I brush away, or perhaps save for when I need a story as a cautionary tale: don't smoke, do you know what cancerous lungs look like? I do! But a couple of weeks ago, I saw something I cannot dismiss.
A four year old girl was airlifted into my hospital for emergency surgery. She had been horrifically, satanically, sadistically abused. She needed an immediate craniectomy because she had subdural bleeding. When the surgeon took off the skull plate to relieve the pressure and evacuate the hematoma, her brain swelled so much he was unable to reattach the skull flap. In short: not a survivable injury. Which is good, because the rest of her poor little body bore witness to the suffering she had sustained. There were bites around the perimeter of each of her nipples--it looked like someone had attempted to bite them off. She bore laceration marks that the pediatric surgeon said were from ligatures--she had been tied to something. Her body was so bruised it was hard to tell she was a white girl. Part of her earlobe had been nibbled away, possibly by vermin. She had burns. She had been sexually violated. FOUR YEARS OLD.
What kind of human does this to an innocent child? What kind of society puts up with it? There was a lot of coverage in the press, and a lot of outrage expressed by law enforcement personnel, child protection agencies, and the like, but her case is neither the first nor the last this month, or possibly even this week. How can anyone believe in a loving and all-embracing God, if he lets things like this happen?
None of these are new questions. Philosophers, clerics, and wise men of all stripes have been wrestling with them for ages. I'm old enough, and cynical enough, to know that there are no answers except that evil is here in the world. I'm just tired--tired of reading about it, tired of people who have power who do nothing about it, tired of people who tolerate it, tired of people who incite it, tired of everything.
In fact, the only thing I'm not tired of is being tired, because I can't sleep. Her face haunts me--especially the face in the photograph that was published in all the papers when, after three days in the ICU, this little angel was mercifully taken off life support, and allowed to die. The sweet face with the pigtails and the shy smile so little resembled the visage I saw that night in the O.R. that it cuts to my soul.
There's a quote by Lily Tomlin: "No matter how cynical you become, it's never enough to keep up." God help us all, it's true. I have lost some joy, gained some years, and exponentially upped my cynicism quotient after this experience. Ironically, though, I may have acquired a smidge more religion than I had before, because I would so very much like to believe that there is a heaven, and this child is in it. Rest her tortured soul, she'll never feel pain or fear, or cry, ever again.
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Memorial Day Weekend
Well, I am on day 4 of being off 6 days in a row and I have to say it's feeling just great. I've rehearsed, gone to the gym, had a marvelous dinner with dear friends, and just chilled out. Tomorrow there's a concert on the books, and then Tuesday is another rehearsal and then dinner club. Life is good, I am very blessed.
Of course, that many blessings make for boring writing, and reading! Conflict, upsetment, doubt, rage, guilt, greed, lust, envy, and the other deadly (and not-s0-deadly) sins make for much better copy. This is probably why I am fascinated with reading about the tragic travesty taking place with the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. There are more than enough sins to go around in that situation. Will it all get cleaned up in my lifetime? I'm thinking there's a good chance the answer is "no". The photos of the spill, the oil-soaked wildlife, the befouled coast line, and the audio of the endlessly prattling bureaucrats and politicians and scientists are eerily compelling. It's like slowing down to look at an accident on the highway.
Just finished reading a book about Andrew Carnegie, Henry Clay Frick, and how they became friends & business colleagues, formed the steel industry, fought the nascent unions, fought with each other, and ended up bitter enemies (albeit rich ones). A fascinating story. The personalities are so vivid! I think it's because there are such rich primary sources (letters, cables, minutes of meetings, etc.) for historians to mine. I wonder what kind of biographies and histories of the electronic era will be written when the primary sources are as evanescent as the life of one's computer memory, or the technology with which to decode it.
Thoughts, anyone?
Of course, that many blessings make for boring writing, and reading! Conflict, upsetment, doubt, rage, guilt, greed, lust, envy, and the other deadly (and not-s0-deadly) sins make for much better copy. This is probably why I am fascinated with reading about the tragic travesty taking place with the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico. There are more than enough sins to go around in that situation. Will it all get cleaned up in my lifetime? I'm thinking there's a good chance the answer is "no". The photos of the spill, the oil-soaked wildlife, the befouled coast line, and the audio of the endlessly prattling bureaucrats and politicians and scientists are eerily compelling. It's like slowing down to look at an accident on the highway.
Just finished reading a book about Andrew Carnegie, Henry Clay Frick, and how they became friends & business colleagues, formed the steel industry, fought the nascent unions, fought with each other, and ended up bitter enemies (albeit rich ones). A fascinating story. The personalities are so vivid! I think it's because there are such rich primary sources (letters, cables, minutes of meetings, etc.) for historians to mine. I wonder what kind of biographies and histories of the electronic era will be written when the primary sources are as evanescent as the life of one's computer memory, or the technology with which to decode it.
Thoughts, anyone?
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
How curious
Did a concert on Sunday night and for the first time in my performing experience I think the audience didn't like it. Or, they liked it but they didn't feel like clapping. I don't know. Arturo and others in the audience who have heard me before said I did a great job, up to my usual standards, and it was the listeners who had the problem. It was such an odd feeling: lots of things that in the past have been sure-fire laugh getters or audience pleasers just kind of fell flat. In one way, it made me work harder, but then at a certain point I realized I wasn't going to cajole or invigorate or cattle-prod them into being "into" the evening, so I just figured, the hell with it. I'll do the best I can for ME and I'll just have as much fun as I can. But it was very hard to relax & carry through with that intent. It was like there was a big wall out there between me and the audience.
Maybe it was too much of a "holy" crowd for the material? There's no way to know. Nobody forced them to attend......they could have just sent a check for the charity & skipped the show. My friend Britt said that everyone seemed more interested in the food than in the entertainment. (The leftover scraps I was able to taste after the performance WERE really good.) I believe she used the word "stampede" to describe the general hubbub when all the food was put out. Maybe everyone had postprandial doze syndrome.
Whatever the cause, it was a very odd sensation. I can see why young performers could take a [non] reaction like that very personally, feel rejected, etc. Thank God I have more sense/ego than that. But it's a feeling, and an evening, I'd not care to repeat.
Maybe it was too much of a "holy" crowd for the material? There's no way to know. Nobody forced them to attend......they could have just sent a check for the charity & skipped the show. My friend Britt said that everyone seemed more interested in the food than in the entertainment. (The leftover scraps I was able to taste after the performance WERE really good.) I believe she used the word "stampede" to describe the general hubbub when all the food was put out. Maybe everyone had postprandial doze syndrome.
Whatever the cause, it was a very odd sensation. I can see why young performers could take a [non] reaction like that very personally, feel rejected, etc. Thank God I have more sense/ego than that. But it's a feeling, and an evening, I'd not care to repeat.
Thursday, May 13, 2010
A woman's work is never done
I have been working like crazy the past few weeks, what with rehearsals, and company, and spring cleaning, and those never-ending yard chores, and (oh yes) my actual paying job, and I think the stress has finally caught up with me, in the form of a massive headache, the "GI Blues", and I think a UTI, too. NOT FEELING WELL.
Diana is off to Mexico on Saturday. Laura is off to Florida on Saturday. My mom is off to China on Sunday. At least Arturo is here to commiserate.
Got the van all checked out today. The "Mom Mobile" is good to go for another few thousand miles. It's a wreck but I do like that car! I took a short ride in a friend's Chrysler Pacifica the other day. If--I mean, when--we have to go car shopping I might look at one of those. There were a lot of sweet features and it looks fairly decent, too. Of course having a new car means caring about how it looks, and then there's the higher insurance cost. Hope we can put off that particular hassle for as long as possible.
In the words of Johnny Mercer: "Not a lot to write/Not a lot to say/Same things happen every day"........so I'll close. For all you uninitiated out there, those are the first few lines to the great song he wrote with Gordon Jenkins, "P.S., I Love You".
Diana is off to Mexico on Saturday. Laura is off to Florida on Saturday. My mom is off to China on Sunday. At least Arturo is here to commiserate.
Got the van all checked out today. The "Mom Mobile" is good to go for another few thousand miles. It's a wreck but I do like that car! I took a short ride in a friend's Chrysler Pacifica the other day. If--I mean, when--we have to go car shopping I might look at one of those. There were a lot of sweet features and it looks fairly decent, too. Of course having a new car means caring about how it looks, and then there's the higher insurance cost. Hope we can put off that particular hassle for as long as possible.
In the words of Johnny Mercer: "Not a lot to write/Not a lot to say/Same things happen every day"........so I'll close. For all you uninitiated out there, those are the first few lines to the great song he wrote with Gordon Jenkins, "P.S., I Love You".
Thursday, May 6, 2010
It's That Time of Year Again
After a 9-month hiatus (no, I didn't have a baby) I am taking pen in hand--or should I say, fingers to the keyboard?--and writing on the blog again. Don't know who will see this but I do want to make everyone aware that the incredible annual BEAVER QUEEN PAGEANT is taking place again in lovely Duke Park, Durham, NC, and--
*I*
*ME*
*MOI*
*YOURS TRULY*
will be one of the judges this year! I am humbled by this honor. In the true spirit of the Pageant, and in keeping with its motto of "Peace, Love, Beaver", I would like to invite everyone to help sponsor my judicial seat! Just go to:
scroll down to the "judges" section, and click on the tab for Beaver Streisand. (She's my--are you ready?--"beavatar"!) You can read about the contestants and use your credit card to buy my influence for your favored candidate. All money raised goes to the Ellerbe Creek Watershed Association, to assist in their goal of protecting Durham's natural creek and its surrounding area. Read about their good work at www.ellerbecreek.org, and remember: all contributions are tax deductible!
Here is a song I've been rehearsing for the pageant. Remember the tune "Memories" from the musical "Cats"? It was one of my biggest hits. For this very special event, I've rewritten the words:
Beavers! Looking out at the sunset!
All surveying the forest
Seeking trees fresh and sweet
As their fur drips
Their teeth are making chattering sounds
And their dam is all complete!
If you want to hear more, come to Duke Park on Saturday, June 5th, 2010, at 4PM. LIVE THE BEAVER QUEEN EXPERIENCE!
*I*
*ME*
*MOI*
*YOURS TRULY*
will be one of the judges this year! I am humbled by this honor. In the true spirit of the Pageant, and in keeping with its motto of "Peace, Love, Beaver", I would like to invite everyone to help sponsor my judicial seat! Just go to:
scroll down to the "judges" section, and click on the tab for Beaver Streisand. (She's my--are you ready?--"beavatar"!) You can read about the contestants and use your credit card to buy my influence for your favored candidate. All money raised goes to the Ellerbe Creek Watershed Association, to assist in their goal of protecting Durham's natural creek and its surrounding area. Read about their good work at www.ellerbecreek.org, and remember: all contributions are tax deductible!
Here is a song I've been rehearsing for the pageant. Remember the tune "Memories" from the musical "Cats"? It was one of my biggest hits. For this very special event, I've rewritten the words:
Beavers! Looking out at the sunset!
All surveying the forest
Seeking trees fresh and sweet
As their fur drips
Their teeth are making chattering sounds
And their dam is all complete!
If you want to hear more, come to Duke Park on Saturday, June 5th, 2010, at 4PM. LIVE THE BEAVER QUEEN EXPERIENCE!
Thursday, August 13, 2009
The Summer so Far
It's been a while since I posted so I thought I'd catch up on "The Summer So Far". It's been pretty routine in a lot of ways: the annual neighborhood Independence Day parade was its usual self, with lots of kids and animals, flags and decorations, the usual songs sung by the 'hood's own "OK Chorale", yours truly working the neighborhood association T-shirt booth, and of course the great snacks. Everyone really missed Mr. Holmes's lemonade, though; the cokes generously donated by our local bottling plant just didn't make up for the loss.
At the end of the month I attended a cabaret workshop called "Summer in the City". It was 5 days of pretty intense work. A group of 16 singers worked with the two leaders and two pianists, and then we were also split into smaller groups to work with guest teachers at various times. I generally found the critiques and opinions of the guest teachers to be more useful and on point than those of the organizers, who I thought were more into the "tag team" mode of echoing each others' supposedly wonderful insights, but then again that's just me. I have a history of being rather skeptical during these exercises--which of course begs the question, Why do I go? Why do I spend what probably came to about $1000 (tuition, airfare, expenses) to come away thinking that at least 50% of my time there was wasted? Likely it has to do with the sense of "cabaret isolation" I feel here in good ol' Durham, NC. There's nobody besides my pianist, Glenn, and my husband, to give me knowledgeable feedback that I really value. I love it that they do it but after a while I get the feeling that I need more. And when I go and seek more, my problem is that I don't generally find it sincere. The insincerity is not confined to me, mind you; they're equally useless with everybody. I totally understand that with cabaret singing, it's mostly about the lyrics--telling the story, conveying the emotion, making it personal, drawing in the audience. But my problem comes when, as most of these workshops seem to do, this is achieved by almost completely ignoring the musical part. I don't understand, and I guess I never will, why it is somehow taboo to point out out-of-tune singing, unmusical phrasing, or anything having to do with faulty technique to participants. Someone can be the best actor in the world, and the best servant the lyricist ever had, but if they don't sing in tune---well, I just don't want to hear it. You'll never get me to listen to the story if my ear is complaining! Then when these lapses are not pointed out to participants, I lose respect for the teachers.
Which is why I said to both my mom and Arturo: if I ever say again that I want to go to one of these things, PLEASE, talk me out of it!
Diana is getting ready to go back to school. She is outfitting her apartment at Elon University (about 45 minutes away from here) with her friends, doing a marvelous job custom decorating chairs, coordinating bathroom accessories, etc. However she still hasn't signed up for the required "don't drink" course and the required "rules for cars" course for those who will have cars on campus. Things like this always put me in such a pickle: part of me wants to stop nagging and let her find out consequences on her own (like not being able to register her car), and part of me knows that if I follow through, I'll just be making more work, more nagging, and more aggravation for the wrong person: ME. It's such a merry-go-round and I wish I were a wise enough parent to know the answer.
Oh, and I had a birthday. Lots of wishes from friends, a bevy of wonderful books from my sweet husband, a little mad money from Mom--but nothing from my children. (Except a card.) Probably I would save myself a lot of grief if I would just let this one go but it really rankles. In their entire lives neither one of them has EVER had a birthday go by without a present. How is it that I'm so undeserving? Now, if Diana ever reads this (which is not likely but always possible), she'll be posting a comment that says, "But I took you out to lunch, Mom!". My reply will be, yes, you did, but no, you didn't. What happened was we were out shopping at the mall, decided to get lunch, and I made you pay. Besides, I don't think $6 makes for a very appropriate present for your one and only mother. So there.
I guess that's all the angst for now. If you have something to say, do say it! Maybe if I got more comments I'd do more writing.
Gotta go.........TTYL.
At the end of the month I attended a cabaret workshop called "Summer in the City". It was 5 days of pretty intense work. A group of 16 singers worked with the two leaders and two pianists, and then we were also split into smaller groups to work with guest teachers at various times. I generally found the critiques and opinions of the guest teachers to be more useful and on point than those of the organizers, who I thought were more into the "tag team" mode of echoing each others' supposedly wonderful insights, but then again that's just me. I have a history of being rather skeptical during these exercises--which of course begs the question, Why do I go? Why do I spend what probably came to about $1000 (tuition, airfare, expenses) to come away thinking that at least 50% of my time there was wasted? Likely it has to do with the sense of "cabaret isolation" I feel here in good ol' Durham, NC. There's nobody besides my pianist, Glenn, and my husband, to give me knowledgeable feedback that I really value. I love it that they do it but after a while I get the feeling that I need more. And when I go and seek more, my problem is that I don't generally find it sincere. The insincerity is not confined to me, mind you; they're equally useless with everybody. I totally understand that with cabaret singing, it's mostly about the lyrics--telling the story, conveying the emotion, making it personal, drawing in the audience. But my problem comes when, as most of these workshops seem to do, this is achieved by almost completely ignoring the musical part. I don't understand, and I guess I never will, why it is somehow taboo to point out out-of-tune singing, unmusical phrasing, or anything having to do with faulty technique to participants. Someone can be the best actor in the world, and the best servant the lyricist ever had, but if they don't sing in tune---well, I just don't want to hear it. You'll never get me to listen to the story if my ear is complaining! Then when these lapses are not pointed out to participants, I lose respect for the teachers.
Which is why I said to both my mom and Arturo: if I ever say again that I want to go to one of these things, PLEASE, talk me out of it!
Diana is getting ready to go back to school. She is outfitting her apartment at Elon University (about 45 minutes away from here) with her friends, doing a marvelous job custom decorating chairs, coordinating bathroom accessories, etc. However she still hasn't signed up for the required "don't drink" course and the required "rules for cars" course for those who will have cars on campus. Things like this always put me in such a pickle: part of me wants to stop nagging and let her find out consequences on her own (like not being able to register her car), and part of me knows that if I follow through, I'll just be making more work, more nagging, and more aggravation for the wrong person: ME. It's such a merry-go-round and I wish I were a wise enough parent to know the answer.
Oh, and I had a birthday. Lots of wishes from friends, a bevy of wonderful books from my sweet husband, a little mad money from Mom--but nothing from my children. (Except a card.) Probably I would save myself a lot of grief if I would just let this one go but it really rankles. In their entire lives neither one of them has EVER had a birthday go by without a present. How is it that I'm so undeserving? Now, if Diana ever reads this (which is not likely but always possible), she'll be posting a comment that says, "But I took you out to lunch, Mom!". My reply will be, yes, you did, but no, you didn't. What happened was we were out shopping at the mall, decided to get lunch, and I made you pay. Besides, I don't think $6 makes for a very appropriate present for your one and only mother. So there.
I guess that's all the angst for now. If you have something to say, do say it! Maybe if I got more comments I'd do more writing.
Gotta go.........TTYL.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Tra-la, it's June
The song goes "tra-la, it's May", but I've appropriated the title for June.
I guess the biggest item in my life this week has been my participation in a neighborhood project. This year is the 100th anniversary of Watts-Hillandale, and among the many markers of the event has been a collaboration between the neighborhood and the Summer Workshop of Duke's Center for Documentary Studies. This summer's students were all assigned to work on a documentary about our neighborhood. I was interviewed & videotaped by a team of students. It was quite revelatory......God knows I can talk, but their questions really prompted me to offer some fairly profound thoughts. Looking at the finished product, I feel rather humble, and proud. It seems I've been doing some pretty important things with this life of mine, and while it would be disingenuous to say I was completely unaware of it, it would be equally so to say I wasn't surprised by how well "Ellen" came across in the video. I *do* think that my creative side and my scientific side pollenate each other in deep and often unexpected ways, and I *do* think it would be harder to be effective in each without the input of the other. But somehow it all came across more vividly on film. I know Mom will like it, and I know the kids will be happy to have it (maybe more so in later years). Arturo told me it made him proud of me. Kinda makes me proud of me, too.
I'm tired, but it's a good tired, after a weekend filled with good things: a date with Arturo (dinner, movie, love), work in the yard, time with the crossword, a visit with Carol, and exercise time too. Back to work tomorrow, saving lives and stamping out disease......and singing.
I guess the biggest item in my life this week has been my participation in a neighborhood project. This year is the 100th anniversary of Watts-Hillandale, and among the many markers of the event has been a collaboration between the neighborhood and the Summer Workshop of Duke's Center for Documentary Studies. This summer's students were all assigned to work on a documentary about our neighborhood. I was interviewed & videotaped by a team of students. It was quite revelatory......God knows I can talk, but their questions really prompted me to offer some fairly profound thoughts. Looking at the finished product, I feel rather humble, and proud. It seems I've been doing some pretty important things with this life of mine, and while it would be disingenuous to say I was completely unaware of it, it would be equally so to say I wasn't surprised by how well "Ellen" came across in the video. I *do* think that my creative side and my scientific side pollenate each other in deep and often unexpected ways, and I *do* think it would be harder to be effective in each without the input of the other. But somehow it all came across more vividly on film. I know Mom will like it, and I know the kids will be happy to have it (maybe more so in later years). Arturo told me it made him proud of me. Kinda makes me proud of me, too.
I'm tired, but it's a good tired, after a weekend filled with good things: a date with Arturo (dinner, movie, love), work in the yard, time with the crossword, a visit with Carol, and exercise time too. Back to work tomorrow, saving lives and stamping out disease......and singing.
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