40s

Talk About the Passion


R.E.M. – Talk About the Passion

It isn’t often that I’m tempted to think about the 1980s as a time of hope and promise. My high school and college years took place during the Reagan years and everything seemed bleak and hopeless. My first presidential election is a day I’d really rather forget but never will. It felt like the beginning of the end (and in some ways, it was).

The news of late has been pretty awful. We don’t have regular television service any more so I’m not even talking about the major network news outlets (most of which I’ve had trouble stomaching ever since Peter Jennings died). It just feels like everything that I read or that comes across my screens lately is more disgusting, baffling, frustrating, sickening, shocking—yet at the same time not shocking, that I start getting really depressed.

“Not everyone can carry the weight of the world.”  Trust me, I know. And I know what you’re thinking. “For fuck’s sake! Combien de temps?! Hmm, Harry Reid?” All those empty prayers, empty mouths. This song may not have anything to do with the issues I’m incensed about today but it’s bigger than a single issue, or two or three. I want to talk about the passion. I want to talk about working toward something better. About finding some passion and doing something about it.

Today, one good thing came across the wires. For a few moments, I was reminded of a wonderful person who made a difference in so many lives. I’m talking about Mister Rogers. Today, March 20, would have been his 84th birthday. Mister Rogers not only lived his mission but he talked about it. And when you first hear his voice, especially in a serious setting like testifying before Congress, you almost chuckle to yourself thinking about how quaint and simple he sounds. But the more he talks, the more you watch everyone else get quiet. They sit, and they listen. They listen to him say things like, “I feel that if we in public television can only make it clear that feelings are mentionable and manageable, we will have done a great service for mental health.” In 1969! Talking to Congress about tackling mental health on children’s television! Or the way that he gently, and without pointing fingers, takes all of the television industry to task in his Hall of Fame induction speech (the whole thing is at the link above but if you just want to cut to the chase it’s here). Watch it. Really.

The article about Mister Rogers I linked to in the paragraph above is two pages long and has several videos, but they aren’t all that long and I promise you they are all worth taking the time to watch, and to read how and why he and his words are still relevant. In the final video included in the article, he says, “I know how tough it is some days to look with hope and confidence on the months and years ahead…” Yes, it is tough, and we have a lot of hard work to do, and Mister Rogers isn’t here any longer to help us do it. He carried the weight of the world while we went busily about our days. We need to pick up where he left off. We have to.

Maybe it’s unfair to hold up Mister Rogers or bands like R.E.M. as examples of how we can take what we’re passionate about and try our best to spread the word and educate and inform people without getting mad or preachy. I guess I’m just hoping that we can remember those lessons and not get too discouraged. If there’s one thing I learned from the Reagan/Bush era it’s perseverance. It hurts and it’s demeaning to lose. But I, for one, need to look back at where I’ve been, what has been important to me, what helped me get through difficult times. This helps.

{If you’re wondering why I chose this early live video instead of the black and white one set to the studio track that would seem to fit perfectly, it’s because I couldn’t find a version of that without an ad and this time, I really felt like I didn’t want to subject people to a possible football ad.}

Given to Fly

Pearl Jam – Given to Fly

I first saw this video a couple of years ago but came to think about it again recently when someone tweeted a link to an article about sign language interpreters at concerts. I also thought about it because I’ve noticed that I hear a low buzz in my ears when there isn’t any other noise around and I wonder if all those years of loud concert-going has finally caught up with me.

My grandfather was quite hard of hearing because he was a track coach and he was always firing a starter’s pistol just above his ear. Then my grandmother started to lose her hearing (she always said it was because she had to shout at him so he could hear her but I don’t think that’s quite how it works). She did not take it well and she groused and complained constantly about having to wear her hearing aids. Every time she did she would tell us, “don’t lose your hearing, it’s terrible” and I would always answer, “it’s too late, Grandma, I’ve been to too many loud rock concerts.”

When I graduated from college I didn’t have a job lined up or any ideas about what I might want to do with my life. I worked at a record store for a while and tried to figure out my next move. For a couple of months I got the idea in my head that I should become a geography teacher at a deaf school and tried to teach myself sign language. It didn’t take long for me to realize that was not going to pan out and fixed my sights instead on the much more employable field of film preservation. That turned out to be not nearly as far-fetched as at least my mother thought and I wound up working in D.C. in the photographic archive at one of the museums that’s a part of the Smithsonian Institution.

Washington, D.C. is home to Gallaudet University and at one point we had an intern from there working in our office. She taught us sign language for a couple of useful, everyday things, but the only two I can still remember are the signs for shower and coffee break.

I am such a believer in the powerful role music can play in people’s lives and I’m so glad to see articles and videos like this because I’ve always thought that not being able to hear the notes shouldn’t mean that people lose out on the whole experience. To me, listening to music is something that involves your whole body and I hope that no matter what happens to my hearing, I can still go to a show and be moved.

Once in a Lifetime

Talking Heads – Once in a Lifetime

And you may ask yourself, how do I work this?
And you may ask yourself, where is that large automobile?

Every once in a while, I find myself feeling this way. Am I really an adult responsible for raising two children? Am I really supposed to know all the things the other parents seem to know like, what makes an acceptable contribution to the golf-themed gift basket (?!) for my second grader’s school fund raiser? I feel like David Byrne, hitting his head over and over again. Surely I missed some vital information along the way here. I’m the person who decides what we’re all having for dinner (and has to make it)? How the hell did that happen? The family is counting on me to keep a roof over out heads and large automobiles in the driveway? What?!

You may ask yourself, am I right am I wrong?
You may say to yourself, my god what have I done?

The doubt creeps in during those quiet moments. When the sixth grader’s science homework question (water dissolving) suddenly has me unsure of everything I thought I knew. Crap! I forgot all this stuff after the test! I thought we were never supposed to need to know it anymore! I’ve been entrusted with making sure two whole people become thoughtful, intelligent members of society?! Shit! You know, it was easy when they were babies, I thought, I’ve got this. Teach them to walk, write their names, ride a bike, no problem. The discipline wasn’t too hard, teaching what’s good and what’s bad was pretty cut and dried. As they’ve gotten older though, there is much that is hard to define and I look at them sleeping and think, ooof. We have not even hit the teenage years yet.

Same as it ever was, Same As It Ever Was!

I’m sure this is nothing new. I’m sure my mother had no idea when she was 23 and had my oldest sister, what lay in store for her. I think most people who contemplate having children tend to think about babies, toddlers, young school-aged children. My kids are still young but I can see what’s just on the other side and I remember what kind of trouble teenagers can get into. My high schools resembled Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Most of us made it out just fine, but not everyone. How much of that is luck and how much is shaped by what I’m doing now? Letting the second grader take his Skylander figure to school is not a decision that’s going to alter the universe much. Letting the sixth grader start to go places on her own and unsupervised gets a little harder. By the time we get to learning to drive I am sure I will have an ulcer.

Time isn’t holding us, time isn’t after us
Letting the days go by, letting the days go by

It’s good that this all happens really slowly over months and years. It isn’t really just Once in a Lifetime. There are days when you might wish for the current phase to be over and to have only existed that one time. Like colic. But by now you know that whatever you’re currently dealing with will pass, there will be a little lull and then the next challenge will crop up. Until then, you just have to let the days go by, into the blue again. Dancing may help.

The Hurdle

The Joy Formidable – The Hurdle

Living in New England, we are pretty well stocked with colleges and, subsequently, college radio stations. In my long commute I drive through the broadcast range of at least five of them. I know a lot of people who just categorically don’t listen to fm radio anymore but I do, in part because of these college stations.

To be sure the shows can be pretty hit or miss. You will have one post-punk show followed by three hours of polka music. A new releases show (where I heard this song on my drive in this morning) and then a basketball game. For this reason my alarm clock’s radio is usually set to one of three commercial radio stations (each in a different state but we’re packed in tight like that) that define themselves as alternative or progressive.

Of course there’s also the internet and the endless amount of music there. It can be a little overwhelming sometimes and I often feel like I am hopelessly out of it. How do people do it? I think back to when I considered myself to be much more aware of new bands and it was when I was young, single, and living in a city. I spent a lot of time going to clubs and seeing bands and buying zines. I don’t really have the time or budget for that level of immersion now. I skim the surface, easy enough with the internet, but I don’t delve as deeply as I did before.

It does feel like a hurdle sometimes and I can understand how some of my friends have just decided they aren’t that interested in adding to their music collection. I still listen to (and love) a lot of the music I did 25 years ago. But I also love going out to see bands in small clubs and that means keeping an ear tuned to what’s new. I’ll never be as well-informed as I’d like but I’m still going to try.

Verona

Geographer – Verona

I recently heard the expression, sitting is the new smoking. I laughed but a second later I thought, heh, oops.

I spend most of my day sitting. First there’s the hour plus I spend in the car to get to my job where I sit, pretty much all day. Then I sit in the car for more than an hour again, stand up for a bit in the kitchen, sit to eat dinner, walk around a little while prodding the kids through their nighttime routine, sit again until I go to bed. At that rate I must be the sitting equivalent of a pack a day smoker.

We belong to the Y and I can use the gym at work, I just need to factor in the time and make myself do it. When it’s freezing cold out and there’s all that snow, my motivation is non-existent.

What always helps is having a kick-ass playlist to spur me into action. So help me out and suggest some good songs to add to a workout list for my iPod. If they make you think of sunshine and warm temperatures, windows open, all the better. In February I need all the help I can get to make it to spring.

Sometimes it’s hard to find a good video for the song you want to use. This is one of those times.

A Sort of Homecoming

U2 – A Sort of Homecoming

Back in the early-mid 80s, I was not much of a U2 fan. I didn’t have to be to still know all their songs. I always had a friend who was a devoted follower so you’d hear them no matter what. I admit at the time, I didn’t really pay a lot of attention. I bought The Unforgettable Fire at some bargain bin sale a few years ago. When I put it on I was instantly transported back to cold bus rides home from high school football games (I was in the band).

Those dark, frigid days have been on my mind lately as we had a blizzard last weekend that dropped about 20″ of snow and knocked our power out. That wasn’t really a surprise, it happens every time a hurricane comes around. The difference is hurricanes usually occur in warmer months and lose their steam as they head north so the last couple of times, I’ve taken the kids up to my mother’s in Maine to ride it out. We’d lose power at home and my husband would stick around in the area to assess any damage and let us know when it was safe to come back. It’s been nice to have that refuge though I’ve felt a little guilty about just escaping the worst of it and waltzing back in when everything is comfortable again. I’m not going to feel bad about that any more.

Heading north wasn’t going to help us escape a blizzard (and sure enough my mother got buried, snow up to the door handle) so we stayed put. I had left the heat up a little higher than usual, made the kids take their showers early, found the flashlights and was just finished making dinner when the lights first began to flicker. We managed to finish eating but didn’t get the dishes done before the power went out. I played a board game with the kids, we read some books, then went to bed early. My seven-year-old was scared so I let him sleep in with me and my husband took the futon. I’m not used to going to bed that early so I was awake for a while in the middle of the night using a little of my precious battery power on my phone to see how others were making out.

It was 52 degrees inside the house when we woke up. Bearable but chilly. We made a tent in the playroom and lined it with blankets and pillows to try and trap some heat in. I went out in search of coffee and to see if anyone in the neighborhood had power.

icywires
See those wires? Coated with inch thick ice and hanging ridiculously low. I knew we’d be in for another cold night as I didn’t see any plows or power company equipment anywhere. The kids were being good sports about it all, even when their iPod and Nintendo DS ran out of power. We played some more board games (note to self, buy new games you can stand to play more than once), ate cold pasta, cereal, whatever anyone found palatable at the new room temperature was fine with me.

With the sun down it got cold, fast. Both kids piled into the bed with me and we took turns reading aloud by flashlight, gloves and hats on to keep the parts out of the covers from getting too cold. It reminded me of the first year we moved up to Maine. Our house in NY hadn’t sold so we were living in rented houses, the first one an unheated summer cabin which we stayed in until Thanksgiving. My sister and I shared a room, wearing two layers of pajamas and socks, mittens and hats to bed. My mother and younger sister shared a single bed, with the cat on top, just to keep warm. We survived that, have some really great inside jokes and stories we can tell, this is going to be fine, I told myself.

Because of the cold or the early bedtime, I woke up again in the middle of the night. I thought back to those days in the unheated house. As a teenager, it was something to be gotten through, put up with, grumble about. I’m sure I never gave any thought to what my mother was going through, teenagers aren’t known for their great empathy with their parents after all. Now I am the mother and I was responsible for making sure we did all survive it fine with nothing more than a good story to tell. Things sure look different from this side of the fence. The temperature in the morning was down to 42F. We were in the midst of getting ready to pack up and head to a friend’s house when the power company called with an anticipated restoration of power for 2pm. Phew! And thanks, Mom, for the grace I never even knew you were showing under all that pressure.

Cellphone’s Dead

Beck – Cellphone’s Dead

My phone isn’t actually dead, yet, but it’s not long for this world. It’s amazing how accustomed I have become to having the internet in my pocket and how I am no longer put off by the size of a smartphone. I actually want a bigger one. Let me clarify, thinner, but with a bigger screen. I’m having a really hard time deciding though and the more I look at online reviews, the less certain I am. 

I still have a landline in the house. A real, mounted to the wall, no caller-id, has a curly cord, phone. I almost never use it but let me just say, the last two hurricanes that hit did a number on the power lines, damaged the cell towers, but that landline was still working both times. In advance of hurricane Sandy, I fruitlessly searched the area for a replacement battery for my cell phone but it seemed like everyone else, who had been without power for a week after Irene, had had the same idea.

For a long time I didn’t have a cell phone. I didn’t need one and I didn’t really want one. Even after my first child was born, it wasn’t until one day when my husband and I were both going to be out of our offices that it even occurred to me that we would be unreachable if daycare needed us in the case of an emergency. Now I hardly go anywhere without it.

(Source: http://www.youtube.com/)