Remembering

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The hubster and I went on a bit of an MP3 bender this past weekend, buying a wide range of songs, including the awesome “Empire State of Mind” with Jay-Z and Alicia Keys.  That tune really gets me going, so full of hope, possibility, and power!  It got a lot of play around the house, though not nearly as much as this bunch.  America – the ultimate seventies band.  We’ve had “A Horse With No Name” for a while, but yearned for some of their other greats, so here’s the new play list:

“Ventura Highway”

“Tin Man”

“Sister Golden Hair”

“Riverside”

“Sandman”

“A Horse With No Name”

This music has always possessed a certain magical quality for me.  It is as if, through the listening, I see the world through a slightly blurry Super 8.  It is a warm summer day, and I am ageless and dancing, arms extended, with the sun in my eyes.  The colors are washed out and my hair, wild and twirling, is like laughter and abundant joy.

Have a fantastic weekend!

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Hello Neighbors.

Ahh, Fred Rogers.  I once won a scoop of ice cream for knowing his first name.  I think I chose cinnamon.  Another time, at the same scoop shop, I knew that “Video Killed the Radio Star” was the first song played on MTV.  See Darin, trivia can serve a very special purpose, beyond board games.  Though, of course,  the name of the ice cream shop escapes me.  It was on 15th and Market in Denver.  Anyone else remember?  Anyone?  Bueller?

Anyway, my fondness for the man goes beyond the fact that he helped me score delicious ice cream.  I wish I could pinpoint exactly what it is about him.  His sweaters were pretty terrific, all knitted by his mother, by the way.  One is even hanging in the Smithsonian.  I made a special trip to see it when I was there and was surprised by it’s size.  It’s funny, most people I have heard are surprised by how petite famous people are in person (We saw Kelly Ripa in New York, and she was tiny), but I had the opposite reaction.  For such a soft spoken man, his sweater seemed huge.  Which, I suppose, is appropriate, considering the impact he’s had on the lives of so many, including me.

Perhaps, it is the fact that he truly believed in children, and adults, too.  He loved people, kindness, music, and the joy of discovery (did you ever see him tour a factory?).  He was never embarrassed either, willingly admitting when he didn’t know or understand something.  A model citizen in blue sneakers.

p.s. The story floating around the interwebs about him being a war hero aren’t true, nor are the tattoos.  Though wouldn’t it be cool if he had one of a zip-up cardigan?!

Have I ever told you about how the hubster and I share a preternatural ability for wanting the same thing at the very same time?  And not just once in a blue moon, either.  It is a rather regular occurrence and doesn’t stem from nineteen years of being a couple – it’s happened all along.  The most memorable and thrilling example occurred rather early in our relationship.  We’d been dating for a few months, and I knew, deep in my heart of hearts, that this man was IT, I-T, IT, so, as we were lying in bed one morning, I asked him to marry me.  Never one to lose his temper, and much to my surprise, he slammed his fist on the bedside table and said, “I was just going to ask YOU!”  We laughed, kissed, and hugged, and knew we were off to a great start.  The same goes for moving to Oregon.  I got it in my mind that we should leave Colorado.  Lo and behold, on the very afternoon I decided to tell the hubster, he came into our apartment and said, “I think we should move.”  Magic.

So, it should come as no surprise that we were both itching to go for a drive in the country this past weekend, to do a little something different, decide to eat at one restaurant, hear about another equally enticing one and (without mentioning a word so as not to disappoint the other) want to eat at said establishment rather than the first, only to discover that the first restaurant was closed for a private party, and we both got what we wanted again (insert giggles and smiles here).  Life really is grand, especially when you are on the same wavelength.

McMinnville, our delightful destination, is a neat town or maybe city?  It has a population of 32,762 (I am trusting the sign and my memory of it are both correct), with some great architecture and restaurants.  Being in Oregon wine country, there are lots and lots of places in town to sample the delicious fruits of their labor.  As serendipity would have it, we just so happened to be there on the monthly art walk and wine tasting, buying a bottle of Coelho Pinot Noir and some blackberry honey, too.

A clever and beautiful arrangement of flowers.

I think he liked it.

La Rambla – Tapas for dinner.

Our beautiful dining partner.

I prefer his company.

Time to go!

There’s been a lot of dying happening in the world lately, earth quake victims in Haiti, avalanche victims in Afghanistan, and on a more personal level, a dear, sweet neighbor and a kindly mother-in-law (my cousin Allie’s).  When someone dies, particularly someone I have known personally, it always creates a flood of memories of  other endings, not necessarily passings into the great hereafter, but of broken friendships and hearts, dreams and hopes dashed, too.

In the past, I would suffer these rushes of memory like one would an awful interloper, with little degree of kindness or patience.  I do not want to feel melancholy, for it is not the desired state, happiness, always happiness!  However, now, I have come to a new place about grief and memory, or any feeling really.  It arises naturally and will pass, too.  There is no need to fret and even a possibility of enjoyment.

Like thinking of the first person I remember dying, my Great Grandpa Briggs.  He was a silent one, so much so that I scarcely have a memory of him speaking, but I do remember his mischievous smile, his cigar smoking, and the fact that he walked me to the Western Motor Lodge near his home to buy me candy.  Or my Great Aunt Mary, there’s so much I remember about her: a kind voice, boundless generosity, the deepest faith I have ever known, mad crochet skills, the papery softness of her hands, and her beautiful penmanship.  Though I feel a little misty thinking about the two of them, these memories are small gifts of their continued presence in my life.

With all of this in mind, I crafted a playlist, one perfectly suited for honoring my time with grief, like curiously watching a stream from on high, the ebb, flow, and rush.  It is long, but not overly so, with a bit of sunshine at the end.

Nico – “These Days”

Neil Young – “The Old Laughing Lady”

My Morning Jacket – “Knot Comes Loose”

U2 – “Scarlet”

Sting – “Fragile”

Sinead O’Connor – “I am Stretched on Your Grave”

The Rolling Stones – “As Tears Go By”

Philip Aaberg – “Cinema Paradiso”

Peter Gabriel – “I Grieve”

Nina Simone – “I Loves You, Porgy”

Willie Nelson – “Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain”

Feist – “The Limit to Your Love”

Eurythmics – “This City Never Sleeps”

Elvis – “Love Me Tender”

Elton John – “Goodbye”

The Dream Academy – “Life in a Northern Town”

Crosby, Stills, and Nash – “Helplessly Hoping”

The Counting Crows – “Sullivan Street”

Coldplay – “Sparks”

Bombay Dub Orchestra – “Sonata”

Bob Dylan – “Tomorrow is a Long Time”

Bjork – “Come to Me”

Bill Withers – “Ain’t No Sunshine”

The Beatles – “Blackbird”

Amy Winehouse – “Love is a Losing Game”

Tom Waits – “San Diego Serenade”

Tori Amos – “China”

Genesis – “It’s Gonna Get Better”

Shawn Colvin – “Ricochet in Time”

The Talking Heads – “This Must Be the Place”

The Who – “Love Reign O’er Me”

The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched.  They must be felt with the heart.

Helen Keller

Nineteen years ago today, I went on my very first date with the very handsome fella pictured above.  I wore a denim skirt and a cream colored blouse with silver button covers.  He wore Levi’s and a rugby shirt and an incredible smile.  We ate at Old Chicago and talked well into the night.  I told him I believed in ghosts, and he held me tight.

I still believe in ghosts, and he still holds me tight.  Thank goodness these things last…

I love you, Buddy!

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