My First Love and First Loss - Writing Assignment #14 Music/Sports/Hobbies Ages 5-10

We had a beautiful piano in our home that had been handed down in my Father's family. It was an oak upright with intricately carved birds perched on ornate branches. At least ¾ of each bird extended out from the piano, it was an exceptional work of art. 

When I was about 5 years old, my older sister was told that she could take piano lessons! I ached to be able to have this honor and I literally begged to be able to join her. Music had always been something I could “connect” with. I remember listening to the radio or to records and realizing that after each note was played I could guess what the next few notes would be. I thought that music was something extraordinary and would be important in my life, so when they turned to me and said that even though I was too young…I could join her - I was overjoyed. And, I only had to promise to practice and I was to never complain about having to spend the time it would take to learn. I was thrilled and devoted and kept my promise. 

Our teacher seemed very old to me (in reality she was probably no more than 40).  She was thin with mousy colored hair streaked with gray and wore bulky eyeglasses that reminded me of the bottom of soda pop bottles.  Once a week my sister and I would be dropped off at her home and we would place one shiny silver dollar on the piano prior to our turn.  My sister, being the oldest, always took her place at our teacher's black baby grand piano first. The piano was prominently placed in the center of the dining room where normally a dining room table would be located clearly defining her preference for music even over food. 

I’d wait my turn in the adjoining and very peculiar living room. With my silver dollar held tightly in my hand, I would inspect the shelves and tables and window sills that were covered with tiny pianos.  Even the area behind her sofa was a mirror-lined niche with glass shelves also sporting miniature baby grands…porcelain ones, blown glass ones, wooden ones, metal ones!  Pianos Everywhere!  Even though I found them to be mildly entertaining to look at while I awaited my turn…I decided it was excessive and silly and have never had a collection of anything to this day.  

Thirty long minutes later it would be my turn. I would climb up on the bench; my feet wouldn’t touch the floor. The instruction was very brisk and unforgiving. Wrists must be held up and feet must not swing. Questions were forbidden and success was expected and never praised. All this I accepted as the price to pay to unlock the mysteries of the written score.

I loved to play, I loved to practice. I loved everything about it. It was easy and natural for me. My first lesson was to learn the names of the notes. I sat there and looked at all of the 88 black and white keys and thought to myself; “This is going to be quite an accomplishment!”  “ABCDEFG” I recited.  “Next?”  she asked. “H?” I responded questioningly.  “No!” she said.  No? I thought.  It just starts over with A? Well then! This was going to be easy! The notes made sense, flats were a breeze, sharps were incessant trouble and required more thought.

I loved practicing, I would get a handful of pennies from my piggy bank and place them on one side of the piano and play the song, if I did it perfectly I would move a penny to the other side (they would then be “perfect pennies”) and wouldn’t stop until all the pennies were perfect and I was a very hard taskmaster! 

I often practiced with my sister. We loved to play duets; we would get bored playing the regular way so we would often turn around, reach our hands behind us and play backwards or we would play blindfolded or we would take off our shoes and socks, lay down on the bench and play with our bare toes amid fits of giggles. Later, when we lived in a nice home up on the hill, we had 2 pianos, one upstairs and one down. We’d play duets, each on our own piano, and then we’d call down or up to each other and say, “OK now I’ll play the other part!” How did Mother ever stand such frivolity and noise?

Our recitals were held at the church. Often my sister and I would play duets, once even a clever rendition of ChopStix which we finished with a flourish and then curtseyed in unison to our applause. 

I remember playing “Frosty the Snowman” at the elementary school Christmas program when I was in the first grade. The girls were polite, two big fourth-grade boys talked through it…hmmm I was going to have to get some better music!

One day we came home from school to find that our Father had sold the antique piano.  I didn't question his motives, I knew there would be a good reason, but in that moment, I believe that I suffered my first great loss.  A huge part of my life was suddenly, unmistakably and permanently just...gone. 

But the music lives on. Over the years it has brought me comfort in moments of my deepest sorrow, it has calmed my moments of anger as I pounded out Schubert and ended with a gentle Chopin, it has brought me great happiness and inspiration. And it all started with a heartfelt desire and ABCDEFG.

WRITING ASSIGNMENT # 14 MUSIC/SPORTS AGES 5-10

Did you take music lessons as a child? (Age 5-10) Describe your teacher, your instrument, your practice, your performances etc. (Comment on how this experience helped shape your life)

Did you play sports as a child? (Ages 5-10) Describe the game field, your position, your coach and any events or turning points that stand out in your mind. (comment on how this experience helped shape your life)

Did you have another hobby (building things, sewing things etc) as a child (ages 5-10) Describe your passion, your teacher, your prized possession. (Comment on how this experience helped shape your life)

Back and Forth - Back and Forth Writing Assignment #13 Mother part 3 of 3

I remember the day, my mother (a widow of one year and only 57 years of age) sat in her home rocking slowly back and forth, back and forth in the antique wooden rocking chair that her own mother had for many years rocked back and forth back and forth.

Mother’s mind was filled with sadness for her great loss and angst for a future spent alone rocking back and forth, when it dawned on her that her family all lived well into their 80’s.  Could she spend 25 plus years merely rocking back and forth but never getting anywhere?

“No!” she said and she stood up from that rocking chair that for years had been a source for rocking babies to sleep, meditation for solving problems and comfort when in mourning and without looking back Mother made plans for her future.  She enrolled at the university taking classes she had always wanted to take; she bought a new red car; got a job doing what she always loved doing and she eventually remarried; traveled the world; did massive amounts of church work and loved her grandchildren; cried in happiness at their weddings and as great grandchildren arrived on earth she kissed them; loved them and they knew and adored her.

At 88 years old she slipped away from us leaving a legacy of a loving woman who fulfilled her time on earth with an elegant joie de vie.

This leads me to our 3^rd and final writing assignment that is about your mother - (feel  free to add more thoughts and remembrances as they occur to you!) Reread all that you have written in the 3 assignments on "Mother" and add photographs.

ASSIGNMENT #13  MOTHER -  Part 3

What was your mother’s attitude toward:

• Life
• Religion 
• Your father

Describe a tender moment, a special outing, a learning experience and/or the nicest thing your mother ever did for you.

Has your mother passed away?  Tell how it happened, how it affected you and how you are doing now.

If you could use 5 words to describe your mother…what would they be?

I've Always Got the Time Writing Assignment #12 - Mother part 2 of 3

ASSIGNMENT #12 - MOTHER PART 2 OF 3

I adore my sweet sister for so many things, one being the moments when she turns her head just so or unknowingly holds her mouth in just such a way or sighs when she thinks no one is looking that she becomes our mother.  Our beautiful, loveable mother.

She also knows how to make homemade jam with the same delectable flavors of Mother's.  Today we sat in my sister's lovely white kitchen and nibbled on whole wheat toast with butter and rhubarb jam.

It was just like being at Mother’s, the same “I’ve always got the time” atmosphere filled the room making the jam taste even better and the conversation satisfying and pleasant.

There’s an old saying that “Sooner or later we all quote our mothers” and my sister and I are proof of it!  Without trying we find that we quote her words, her mannerisms and her love for toast and jam and do it with an enormous amount of love and devotion.  We miss her. It has been three years this week since she passed away. I didn't dream then that 9 short months later Dale would be gone too. Two huge losses of two towering influences in my life.

It has been a tough journey for me without them but as it was once said "There’s a reason some people think they can do anything…they listened to their mothers.

Thank you dear Mother! Oh and I so hope you found your little gray kittens waiting for you in heaven.

Here’s Assignment 2 of 3 about Mother:

How did your mother spend her day?

Did she have a job or do volunteer work outside the home? (Don’t just say yes or no, bring the details and stories she told here)

Did she hold church callings? (Same instruction as above…write the experiences you remember her sharing/having)

What responsibilities did your mother require of you as a child?

Explain how this effected your growth and development.

Things We have Learned Writing Assignment #11 - Mother part 1 of 3

       

This is one of my photographs taken long before Dale died.  It is a bloom from one of his favorite peony plants in our yard.  He was so delighted with my photo that it makes me happy looking at it today.  I treasure these simple happy memories!

I love this quote by Ardeth G. Kapp:

"It has been said said that the farther back we look, the farther ahead we can see.  With that thought in mind, we can be grateful for the experiences that have taught us valuable life lessons."

And it was Winston Churchill who is credited with saying: "The farther you look back the farther you can look forward."

This is one of the purposes in writing our autobiographies.  Things we have learned along life's journey can not only help us with the decisions we are faced with today but it can help those we love learn from our experiences and be able to stand upon our shoulders in the decisions they must make in their own life journeys.

Few people in our lives are more influential, in one way or the other, than our mothers.  There will be three weeks devoted to her, each with different questions...so here we go!

WRITING ASSIGNMENT #11 - MOTHER - Part 1 of 3

• Who was your Mother?  (Her full name and what you called her)
• What did she look like? (describe here as you see her in your memory not of a photograph)

• Describe how she dressed

• Tell about your mother's cooking. Can you recall your favorite meal.  Include recipes here if you have them.
• Who were her parents?
• When and where was she born?
• Who were her brothers and sisters.
• Describe your mother's parents, brothers and sister looked. (Remember, don't describe a photo, use words to tell how they looked, acted and talked from your perspective!)

• Write about a memory of your mother that she shared with you about her parents and/or her brothers and sisters.

I've written these in bullet points, but write it out like a story using your own personal style - It will flow!

Until next Thursday.....

It's Only Time and Writing Assignment #10

I stared dumbfounded at the doctor.

He stared dumfounded at me.

It was just an annual checkup. Everything physically is normal, no complaints but he asked if I was ever depressed. I said, “Well I still miss my husband, that’s a bit depressing!”

He said, “How long has it been?”

I said, “Two years”.

With the tsk tsk of his tongue and a shake of his head I didn’t have to hear the words he was thinking…two years was enough, I should get over it.

As I looked at him my mind swirled and my heart ached. It occurred to me that I had been married over 40 years which is longer than this young doctor has been alive. Can you say…well you’ve lived your life for 42 years, now get over it?

I looked away.

When I looked back his look was still one of incredulity so I just forced a smile and asked when I needed to come back. “Unless you sprain an ankle….not until next year” he said.

I walked to the car and climbed in. The days are finally starting to warm up and it felt cozy inside. I put the key in the ignition but instead of turning it, I laid my head back, absorbed the sunshine and allowed my mind to wander. Am I boring people with my journey? Does everyone else think it’s time for me to get over it?

When I roll over in bed at night and the moonlight glows on an empty pillow next to me where Dale should be…must I just “get over it?”.

When there is something clever, or beautiful, or funny or amazing and I want to share it with him but he’s not there…do I just “get over it?”.

I think of the words to an Enya song,

Who can say where the road goes?

Where the day flows?

Only time

Perhaps time works differently for each of us. To a child two years is incomprehensible, to a 14 year old wanting to get a driver’s license at 16, two years seems to be an eternal stretch of never ending months and to a young doctor - its ample time for a widow to get over the loss of her husband. For me, is two years enough?

Suddenly, too warm now, I drive home not having arrived at an answer deciding instead to think about it another day….

So, today I’m sitting at my art table painting a rainy April day picture that I will give the caption “No showers, no flowers”. Pandora is playing my favorite songs – gentle instrumentals that make me feel happy and creative. I suddenly realize I’m listening to an instrumental of the song “I’ve loved you for a thousand years and I’ll love you for a thousand more.”

And my heart skips a beat, the way it does when your mind grasps onto something important.

My mind goes back to Enya....

And who can say if your love grows

As your heart chose?

Only time

Time told me that my love continued to grow for nearly half a century as my heart chose. I made my choice and it was more than a “til death do we part” choice.

Who can say why your heart sighs

As your love flies?

Only time

So my dear reader, in my concern that you are also feeling that it’s time for me to get over it and since I’m now convinced that for what will seem like a thousand years my heart will sigh with no prospect and amazingly no desire of ever "getting over it" until Dale and I are together again, I will move on to writing about something else. Thank you for sharing this journey with me.  I have appreciated your kind comments so very much. I am stronger, I am braver, I am more determined and I am more independent, I'm just not over it!

So now....

I have been remiss in posting the weekly questions for you to write your autobiography! I’m so sorry.

So let’s go forward with this:

• Enjoy every Moment
• Be Fearless
• Breathe Deeply
• Always Believe in Yourself
• Follow your Heart and
• WRITE YOUR STORY

I will post a new assignment every Thursday with love and a sincere belief that everyone has a story and it should be told. And with the assignments you will do it in a year’s time. Now that’s a time period we can all agree upon!

I have posted 9 assignments so far, please go back through the posts if you have missed any. Assignment #10 is here:

AUTOBIOGRAPHY ASSIGNMENT #10

GRANDPARENTS' HOMES

Describe your grandparents' houses. From your perspective, how YOU remember each home. Was it an old house? Tell us about it's cracking paint or it's squeaky door or the mature trees in the yard for example or perhaps it was ultra modern?  Paint pictures with your words.

Did you visit their homes often? Why or why not? (Don't include too many details of the lives of the people here, just the homes and yards etc)

Where did you play? What did you play? What was the spirit of the home?

Close your eyes and be there and now open your eyes and WRITE!! No one can tell it like you!

To love gives you strength - To be loved gives you courage

The sun is up, just barely and with a yawn, so am I. 

We both go silently about our morning tasks.  The sun’s task at this moment is to illuminate the world while my task is to…well, make the bed. 

And it’s silent. And at this brief moment (that rolls around unfailingly and yet unexpectedly each and every morning) I am once again deeply aware of the fact that I am totally, completely and without the distraction of a sound or a smile….All alone.

But today the voice inside my head says; “No you’re not alone, you are with You”. 

I squeeze the pillow I’m holding and think; “Hmmmm” and then as I chuckle and begin to roll my eyes, it seems as if I hear Dale’s voice whisper; “And I used to love being with You”.

My knees buckle and I sit on the edge of the bed.  What a remarkable notion.

This intelligent, charming and witty man used to love being with me! For someone who could carry her ego in a small coin purse, this was an interesting concept.  Perhaps it should be obvious that we are always our own constant companion.  Doesn’t it follow then that we need to love and accept ourselves and glory in the fact that we are unique and interesting and that we should enjoy being in our own company?

My eye shifts to the drawer of my nightstand.  A few days ago, while rummaging through boxes in the garage in the attempt to find an Easter basket, I came upon the long lost battery charger for my beloved old friend, my Nikon SLR Camera. I reluctantly had taken out the camera, charged the battery that had died waiting for me to pick it up these last two years and then replaced the battery and shoved the camera back into the drawer.  I grimaced and shrugged my shoulders at the futility of charging it since going out on photography excursions was such an “us” thing the battery would just die again before I used it.  And die it would because it pained me to remember how at a moment’s notice Dale used to say, “Grab your camera, let’s go out and see what we can see!”  Together we would watch for anything remarkable to capture and the thrill of the clickity click of the shutter was satisfying and joyful.  Side by side we would work and yet our photos were never the same.  He saw things that I didn’t and vice-versa.  Sharing the photos at day’s end was always a delightful event. He always went for the panoramas while I loved to focus in on the smallest, remarkable details.  "God’s in the details", I would tell him.  "I think He’s in the trees and the sky and the clouds" he would tell me.  We were both right.  What’s that saying? Oh yes….“I am so glad you are here, it helps me realize how beautiful my world is.”

But he’s not here and my camera sitting in the drawer has only been an exclamation point on that fact. I don’t want to be alone when I use it.

But with this fresh new concept today…I reach into the drawer and pull out the camera by its telephoto lens.  It feels comfortable in my hands.  Minutes later I am in the car heading toward the lake.

I hadn’t realized it was so cold out, glad I had grabbed my warm jacket.  Due to the low temperature I was the only one at the shore.  “Alone?” I thought.  “Nope not this time” and I hopped out of the car and walked towards the water.

It only took a moment before I was capturing things that intrigued my eye. A pair of Canadian Geese became my willful models until they tired of me and leapt into the water, wings outstretched.

I meandered down the beach snapping shots of drift wood and feathers in the sand and waves lapping onto washed up logs.  And as I stood to pull my collar up against the cold I noticed the two geese floating in the chilly water quietly beside me.  As I wandered a good half mile down the beach, they paddled, when I stopped, they stopped.  And when I realized that my fingers were now too cold to push the shutter release I reluctantly turned to go back and they made a U-turn and glided along silently with me.

I climbed back into my car and as I fastened my seat belt I looked up and smiled as I saw them hop out of the water, stretch out their wings and then comfortably settle back down where I had first found them.

I have been reunited with my camera and now I will take it out on my own little photo shoots...just me…and I’m ok with that.  Thanks dear Dale for this new concept and for perhaps encouraging a couple of geese to accompany my first outing!  Another milestone.

What is Normal?

The seas were violent that day. The gray of the sky and the gray of the water were only broken by the white caps of a million billowing waves that stretched endlessly across the English Channel.   

The France to England bound tickets we held for the hovercraft catamaran ferry were useless.  It couldn’t operate under these torrential conditions.  We were told that we could instead board the cruise-ship-like ferry. So my sister and mother and I looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders, it seemed to be the only way.  We boarded the ship - whether it be an act of faith or like lambs to the slaughter, we weren’t quite sure but as the true shoppers that we are…we headed straight to the gift shop to purchase anything that could help us with the inevitable threat of sea sickness and a postcard!  We found ourselves in long lines and the ship departed while we were making our purchases.  The ship, that seemed so large and sea worthy from the dock was now being tossed and battered like the toy tugboats in my son’s bathtub!  Making our way to our seats through the corridor we were thrown from one side to the other, unable to hold on to the handrails.  But we made the decision to put our faith in the Lord and our trust in the captain and reached our seats. The long and nauseating journey ended nearly two hours later and with trembling legs we disembarked on the English shore.

Many years later on a journey back from Ireland to Italy, the English Channel once again divided my smooth travel plans.  Dale was calm with his decision, hmmmm let’s make that nearly giddy with his decision to purchase tickets for the Chunnel; the 20 minute journey by train that goes beneath the churning sea into a dark and buried tunnel (at depths I didn’t want to consider) and speeds its way to France.  I shrugged my shoulders and thought well it beats the two hour journey across the waves right?  RIGHT??   The high speed train smoothly left the station as we sat comfortably (although a bit fidgety on my part) in our cozy seats.  I held Dale’s reassuring hand and watched the English countryside pass by as we worked our way towards the shore.  Suddenly darkness outside the window, a relentless darkness that seemed to go on and on and I remembered something Corrie Ten Boom wrote in her book The Hiding Place:  “When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off.  You sit still and trust the engineer.”  So I took a sip of my soda, nibbled on my scone and smiled at Dale who gave me his reassuring “Everything is going to turn out fine” look.

It has been a long two year journey.  This passage through life without Dale by my side.  I have encountered many violent waves and dark tunnels.  I have also experienced many moments of joy, delivered directly to my heart and soul through my faith and trust in the Lord (my Captain and Engineer) and the love of my dear angels on both sides of the veil. My earthly angels, who have sacrificed for me, succored me and have given me their unconditional love; my Dale who has orchestrated things from his side of the veil and my departed parents and grandparents whose stories and strengths have given me guidance and hope as I seek to regain some form of normalcy again in my life.

One big thing that I have discovered is that “normal” is a moving target. What was normal for over 40 years with Dale by my side 24/7 is not what’s normal now.  Even though I have established a comfortable daily routine which could be considered my new normal, I also still experience moments of that dark tunnel journey when the absolute silence and void that is and can only be called "Aloneness" is also a normal thing now but so is my faith and prayers and the “pull myself up and out of it” techniques that I can grab quickly and put to use:

I’m aware that I am a visual person who needs beauty to “keep down the overwhelm”.  I escape into music, or focus on the incredible complexity of God’s natural creations, or watch the most recent videos my son sends of my granddaughter flipping through the air off gymnastics bars and landing as softly as a butterfly or my grandson riding his bike without training wheels for the first time with his family woohooing and cheering as he makes his successful journey across the empty parking lot; or click on a comedy show…or just imagining Dale’s hand on mine assuring me that everything is going to turn out just fine. 

You know it seems that the most normal people I see are the ones that I don’t know very well!  The ones who seem to be sailing happily along on perpetually calm seas.  LOL. Yet in spite of myself, that’s the normal that I seek!

And yet… as Boyd K. Packer said; “It was meant to be that life would be a challenge.  To suffer some anxiety, some depression, even some failure is normal.”

My sister and I laughed at ourselves the other day while musing that along with our normal daily tasks we also seem to be given normal daily tests!

Do these tests and the challenge to pass them make for a more interesting life than sailing along on endlessly serene and unbroken seas? Does calling upon our faith and trust and continuously developing a better understanding of “What’s life all about anyway” make for a better journey?  I somewhat reluctantly must say it is.

And I've heard it said that “Anyone who imagines that bliss is normal is going to waste a lot of time running around shouting that he’s been robbed. The fact is that most putts don’t drop,  most beef is tough, most children grow up to just be people, most successful marriages require a high degree of mutual toleration, most jobs are more often dull than otherwise….The trick is to thank the Lord for letting you have the ride.”

So what is normal?  I suppose it’s a comfortable acceptance and even a gratitude that life changes, on a daily basis. It’s normal to expect that each day will be filled with challenges and filled with joy. It’s normal to experience a of myriad of emotions. From fear to loneliness, to ever changing challenges and some failures, to success and joy and unexpected answers and little miracles.

I look out of my window now, the skies are gray and rain is in the forecast, heavy rain…I’ve spent a silent and quiet Sunday morning writing and I’m alone…..but I’m fine.  It’s all quite normal.