December 13, 2025
Happy Birthday, Andrea Laura
Karen and Ember took me and the kids to the Pioneer Valley Symphony holiday concert today. 


Got up and went to work.  Kind of strange to do that, not sure I can explain why, yet, except that I've spent the last six years being focused on LAVA to one degree or another and to have slowly detached myself feels odd.  Not that I've left completely, but today was the last program of the Community Art Show, which I created in 2020, that I will have a leading role.  Now the best thing is that it felt like people were taking over and that if there is a LAVA, which I believe there will be, there will be a 2026 Community Art Show run by community artists. That feels really good. 
Then I went over to the high school and met Karen, Ember, Eliza and Ethan for the holiday concert.  I knew so many people there, so many grandparents.  I was asked if Eliza was my granddaughter and I had to adjust my head and say, "Almost, her grandmother is my sister." I point to Ember and say, "I'm his, I belong to him."  I think I probably said that about him in 1979, too. But he was Ethan's age in 1979 and it probably made more sense . 
I think the symphony should be proud of this day and this program.  It is a combination of several music groups in the County who share the stage, young and old.  There's something wonderful about a 9 yr old violinist playing next to an 80 year old.  They are all so gracious with each other.

One of the raffle prizes is being the conductor for a song.  This 8 year old won.  She went right up on stage, let the conductor teach her a couple things and she conducted the whole song, tympani and all.  Quite fun.

And Santa showed up to wish everyone a wonderful Christmas.



Ethan and Eliza are wonderful to be with.  Eliza will be 4 in 2 weeks.  It's hard to spend 3 hours listening to music up on a stage and to try to sit in your seat.  I think she did great.

And Ethan had to squirm, so Karen went to the back with him, but he did not make noises, he did not scream.  Now he was exhausted by the end.  So at dinner he was almost falling asleep in his food.  His poor Mom did get to eat her salmon, but barely.  


It's so interesting to think of myself at this age in Woolsey Hall.  Or being Eliza's age and going to rehearsals with Dad, playing with my color form kits, especially Sleeping Beauty.  I spent hours in the corner of a stage floor playing while rehearsals went on. 


OK, December is half over.  I'm still here.  

My daughter is 53 years old today.  My father was 53 53 years ago.  53 years, holy shit.  Why am I so boggled by the passage of time?  But I really am.  My daughter is about to be older than my father ever was.  

Tonight I looked into Eliza's eyes, She's got those brown clear eyes.  I wonder what color my daughter's are.  Her hair is the color of my mother's, but I've never seen a picture of her close enough that show's her eye color.  Her father's are hazel and mine blue.  I'd love to look into them once before I leave this planet.   Happy Birthday!




Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Image
  January 3, 2025 The Complexity (what I refer to as the texture) of Life This is a photo of Michael Whiton, eldest child of Jean O. Whiton.  If you knew our mother, you know whose eyes he inherited.  Picture was taken by Linda Boardman.        I did not take pictures today, nor was my brain very able.  So tonight you get a poem I wrote 25 years ago that is more spirited than I could write tonight. I Believe in Color   I believe in red the changing forever-ness of red.  A pure rich red: cotton tee shirt red, berries on the bushes in the dead of  New England winters, cherries in June next to a slab of ripe brie. Magenta, a little redder than wine, blood as it begins to dry, the curtains I always wanted, floor length heavy velvet. Orange red on the skins of a tangelo; blood oranges in a light blue porcelain bowl on a small table near stark white walls. Dusty rose of an old flannel duvet, the height of fashion in 1980. I believe i...
Read more
Image
January  4, 2025 Michael E. Whiton  June 30, 1944 - January 4, 2025     I always talk about patterns, it is my researcher's brain.  This morning I texted with my niece, Grace, and asked her what her 12 year old was really into. She told me math.  He plays the flute in his school band.  I had an epiphany when the 2 things got put together.  To grow up with music as a constant all through your childhood you are exposed to patterns.  You become aware of what can follow what.  My 3 year old great niece makes up little songs, repetitive musical patterns.  Her father repeats them or adds to them.  She already knows how to put notes together.  That's math.  That's what Liam does.        So what does all that have to do with Michael's leaving us on this plain today.  Well, one pattern is that we all seem to be good with babies.   When Mike was 21, Jason was born.  He was good to babies....
Read more
Image
  January 2, 2025 Time is both too soon and too late.   Just keeps slipping.     I believe it was 1996 or 7 when I flew out to Bainbridge Island to see my brother, Mike.  He was very ill and my Mom was worried and wanted me to go assess the situation, which I did, probably in not such a diplomatic way.  He really was ill.  His liver was failing and he wasn't getting put on the transplant list, yet.  I've never quite understand the whys and the wherefores of all that.  But for the next 4 or so years he maintained, so sick, sometimes optimistic, sometimes beaten, but he made it to a liver transplant in August 2000 in Worchester.       24 years ago, holy shit.  EJ's entire life, a third of mine; and again he kept living, kept listening to music and trying to be kind and never regaining any reliable health.   His story is fascinating, and I'll tell it sometime, but not tonight.  Tonight I just want to ...
Read more