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Brenda and I did our final 'clearing out' of our Wood Lake home. Such memories! We will probably never step foot there again, at least not with most of the things we collected through the years (decades!) intact. The estate/auction people are coming tomorrow to start the process of eliminating everything we've left. so we went through a lot of it last weekend, and captured what we wanted, what resonated, what was a part of us. In the process, discovering what was important.
We saw Dad. He's pretty fuzzy now, but fortunately it wasn't a bad visit. I will take "I can't really remember what I wanted to say" over "THIS PLACE IS A PRISON!!!!" any day.
I drove down from the Indianapolis airport through a significant
snow event. I haven't done driving like that for awhile. It seemed
appropriate.
Here's a panoramic photo I took from our back windows. The memories,
the memories...
All of this is buried within the ongoing horror unfolding in the world. It's getting downright scary. Trump/Musk and their band of raving lunatics are doing serious damage to things I value greatly. It has to end somehow, but I can't think of the some that will be needed for the how. God help us.
I did finish two more pieces. A friend, commenting on the current world scene, suggested that one thing we artists/composers/poets/writers can do is work to make our little corner of the world nicer. This is my latest bid to do that; I tried to make it... nicer. To tell the truth, I'm pretty happy with the results:
I was listening to Steve Reich's Music for Eighteen Musicians, one of my favorite pieces. It was raining, and as I listened I watched the drops gather and slide down the window. I remember doing this exact same thing, sitting in my apartment (NOT doing the work I should have been doing) when I was an undergraduate at Purdue. I was depressed then, too. Blank. Watching the water, watching it slide and flow, listening to the gentle but insistent pulsing of Reich's music, barely imagining that there was a better life beyond this. The two points in my lifetime fused. There I was, here I am. In the moment, and not really a good one. Oh, the world.
Here's on example: a few weeks ago, Brenda and I met in Columbus to go visit with Dad, take care of some house-details, etc. Just before I left, I finished another (yay!) new piece. The link:
Things are all wrong, except for the music, which is going well. The trip to Indiana wasn't good -- Dad was very difficult to deal with. Columbia was just beginning at that point to implode, and now it is in full-Trump capitulation. I believed so much in my University! It was so good! A big part of the malaise I am experiencing is because of the life-context Trump & Co. have established. It has taught me new depths of hatred. I truly, truly hate that man and all he stands for. I hate him. I hate what he does. I need to find a way to compartmentalize and somehow nullify this. Hate.
The earth itself is actually lovely, as it almost always is when noticed. Here in the Pacific Northwest we're on the cusp of change from the cool/grey/rainy winter to the sparkling, sunny summer and early fall. Today was like waking up in the mountains. The sky was a sharp and deep cobalt blue. The trees are now all dusted with new-growth light green buds, and the flowering trees are poufs of pink and white delight. In the morning, a slight chill was still in the air, but it was a crisp chill, not the cold damp we've been experiencing the past few months. I had a very nice lunch with friend Jonathan Beard yesterday, and I've got some new music happening.
It's appropriate! It's Easter Sunday! We celebrated last weekend with the kids, along with Passover. And then our birthdays! Me, Daniel, Shai, Naomi, Jussi. Daniel says in Finland December is called "Christmas Month". April is "Birthday Month" for us.
When I was young, Easter would be one of the few times we all went together to church (First United Methodist in Columbus). The music director was a doctoral organ student at Indiana University, so the music was really good. I loved it! On Easter, they started the ceremony by playing Cat Steven's Morning has Broken, and Tim (the music director) would end with a stunning piece by Bach. Those days of Junior High and High school! Such hope! I need that hope for the future now.