A New Adventure

Sally and I have been (willingly) co-opted into a singing group called the Sugar Hill Ensemble. The goal is to play in places such as rest homes and bring some happiness into some people's lives.

The originator of the ensemble is Scott Davis, a retired lawyer here in Spokane. Scott does the cello, Sally does the vocals, and we have a pianist (currently unavailable due to injury) and a guitar (currently unavailable due to travel). I narrate.

Scott is a self-taught cellist and has been urging me to give the cello a try. I already read music, so I am ahead of the game there. This has piqued my curiosity and I think I may go for it.

There is a popular pianist name Jon Schmidt who has been making the rounds, including Spokane a week or so ago. He is actually part of a duo, the other half of which is Steven Sharp Nelson, an absolutely wonderful cellist. Because some friends had gone to the Jon Schmidt concert, and raved about it, I looked him up and found Steven. Now I am totally engaged in the idea of learning to play the cello, not because I aspire to be him, but because his playing has touched my heart and my soul.

Here is an example of Steven's (and Jon's) playing, that should illustrate what I am talking about. Be forewarned, watching that video may lead you to search out others.

I blogged a long time ago about the violin that I got for Mildred one year because she had always wanted to play one. Well, I also have always wanted to play the violin. I love that sound I think more than any other in the orchestra. The cello has a lower range of sounds and now that I have been looking into it I find that it can be just as heart-touching as the violin. Well, almost.

That's my new adventure.

Music

Music has had such a big place in my life, and I forget that sometimes.

My mom had been taught the basics of music at a young age by her grandmother. She had a lovely baby grand piano that was always a part of our lives, except for the three years we were overseas. What was remarkable was that she could hear any song, say on the radio, and sit down and play it. With all the chords.

Now this was not instantaneous, she sometimes had to think it through and work it out. But still, I was always impressed by that talent, and enjoyed a lot of the music she produced.

I married a gal (Mildred) who had been playing the piano in public since she was 11 years old. She had never had the time or the inclination to become, say, a concert pianist, though I have no doubt she could have. She loved her music, and the piano that I got from my aunt Mary's estate became a fixture in our home. She played it until it fell apart and we bought a new one.

Near the end of her life she was the ward organist, at a great personal cost. By that time her whole body was in pain, but especially her hands and her back. She still wouldn't give up playing the organ in church every Sunday, but paid a big price for it for the next day or two.

I married another gal (Sally) who had been singing in public for just about as long. She grew up on the island of Bermuda and as a young adult there sung in night clubs and such.

Sally still has a beautiful voice, one that I don't get to hear very often. But recently some friends have scooped her up into an ensemble they are putting together to sing what they call Magic Songs. These are songs that are memorable and emotional.

The first practice we had was just Sally and the cellist (and organizer), Scott Davis. I was coopted into being the narrator for the presentation. The songs he had picked out so far all seem to have a high emotional charge for me, mostly because of what was going on in my life at the time each was popular.

But most of all I was enchanted, once again, with Sally's voice. It's definitely not the voice of an 18-year-old, but that of a mature woman. Yet it has an ageless quality about it that makes me almost able to see her as she was at that age. If quality is any part of success (which I don't think it is most times, not in that industry), she could have been at the top of the charts in her day.

Mostly though, the passion for singing has been reawakened, and that is good. She has been giggling more, and practicing a lot, and is really happy. She is able to shift her load off her shoulders for a time and just be happy.

I have to say that in an odd way, I fell in love with her because of her voice. The first time we ever spoke on the phone (we were brought together by an internet site) I fell, and knew she was the one. Singing to each other became part of our courtship, though I know she got the short end of that stick.

What does it mean?

I looked back and found that nobody has left a comment on any of my posts since January 29^th, and here it will be August 29^th in two days. I guess that means I can say anything about anybody and not offend them.

On the birth of a grandchild

We are still in Toledo, Oregon, following the birth of our 14^th grandchild, Quentin, Amy and Ben's 7^th. We are leaving for our home in Spokane in the morning; we wanted to make sure everything was on track before we left.

As I was in bed last night, waiting to go to sleep, my thoughts went back to the birth of Mildred and my 7^th, Mary.

I could recall almost none of it! I was overtaken with sadness that I am still feeling this morning.

As I look back I remember so little. I was so busy trying to provide for our growing family that I'm afraid I left a lot of the child rearing experiences, and memories, up to Mildred. And now she's not here to help me remember.

Some things I remember well. Actually, I do remember a lot. But I especially remember sitting together in Sacrament Meeting, and how good that was. I miss that now, a lot, especially when I have to go to church alone because Sally has to stay home with her mother. It's really hard not to be an 'active' dad any more.

Back to the births. I remember Ruth's well. Of course it was our first, plus there were complications. I remember Deborah's well. But again, there were complications. The rest are a blur.

I think another part of this blue funk I am in is that I just plain miss my kids, and of course, their mother. I love my new family, and love spending time with them, but I don't get to see my crowd very often, and that hurts.

I actually talk to most of them quite often, usually at least a couple of times a week. It's the first, Ruth, and the last, Mary, that I can't seem to connect with very often. Coincidentally (?) they are the only two who have never been in my home in Spokane.

I have faith that once we move past this life, all our memories will become clear to us, and I suppose that will have to suffice for now.

The Drug-Free School Zone

The dean of Science Fiction, Robert Heinlein, used an odd literary device to show how silly we can really be. In several of his earlier novels he would, at the beginning of selected chapters, start the chapter out with "headlines" from current (i.e. 22nd century) news media.

One of the ones I still, to this day, get a chuckle out of, was that the state legislature of some state had passed a law setting the value of pi to an even 3.14.

I was passing an elementary school the other day and noticed a sign that read "Drug-Free School Zone". AS IF JUST PUTTING UP A SIGN MADE IT SO.

I don't wonder if that isn't part of the problem, not part of the solution. We want to solve this problem, but instead of getting in there and really really doing something, we find catchy phrases (Just Say No?) and put up signs (Drug-Free School Zone) and then call it good.

For all I know, the Drug-Free School Zone is just what the community needed, and the sign really is keeping drugs out of that school. But my wife and I took a different route. We actually taught our kids what drugs do and what to do when confronted with them.

I know, that's a novel approach.

P.S. Had I known then what I know now I would have dumped the television set off a cliff.

Virgil Carter

I went to High School with Virgil Carter.

Now if you are about my age and you follow BYU football, or the Chicago Bears, you know who Virgil Carter is. He set a bunch of records while at BYU and was the first LDS quarterback in the NFL.

Today after church my wife was talking to a sister in the lobby. We are still in Newport, OR, waiting for the new grandson (should be tomorrow). I wasn't really part of the conversation until I heard her mention Virgil Carter. I said "I know him, I went to High School with him".

Well, long story short, her husband is Virgil's older brother Mike, she brought him over and introduced me and we talked for an hour about his famous brother, and even better, about Folsom High school and all the teachers and kids we knew in common.

Now this doesn't even related to the church, because I didn't join until years later. Truly, It's a Small World After All.

Crabbing

As my family knows, Dungeness crab is one of my most favorite foods. I remember fondly sitting around the dining room table with a pot of fresh cooked crabs that my mother had bought, spending hours cracking, shelling and eating. Not to mention what I have eaten in the many years since then.

Well I find myself in Newport, OR. We are waiting for our daughter Amy to have her baby; when we arrived here a week and a half ago she was in labor. Still no baby. So my son-in-law Ben and two grandkids (Lara and Brenden) and I went crabbing yesterday.

What a time!

Newport sits on the central Oregon coast at Yaquina Bay. Both the ocean and the bay floor must be littered with crabs, and not just Dungeness. But there are lots of those.

The process is simple. A crab ring costs $6/day to rent, and enough raw chicken breast to keep you going all day is $2. There are plenty of spots, piers, to bait the ring and throw it off the side. Wait 10-15 minutes and haul it up.

The law allows, for Dungeness,  only keeping males that are at least 5 ³/₄ inches across, and there is a per-day limit. But the gender difference is very obvious and they give you a ruler. For other species, such as red rock, there are no restrictions.

So it was cold and windy, and boring while waiting out the 10 minutes. But we had a blast and went home with two nice Dungeness and six red rock crabs.

I don't have a license, so I couldn't have anything to do with the process, other than observing. If it weren't such a chore to get to Newport from Spokane (450 miles down through the Tri-Cities and Portland) I would probably get one.

Ben cooked them and he and I dug out all the meat. We decided that red rock were too small, but they were just as tasty as the Dungeness.

I slept like a log last night.