"Drawer C" and Other October Thoughts
This fall has been, in contemporary jargon, a lot. Nothing catastrophic or life-changing, but some days feel like a constant uphill slog.
I’ve been dealing with mild chronic pain for weeks. When your spine is fused almost top to bottom for nearly 17 years and you get carried away swimming laps in the pool, (not to mention constantly staring down at your phone) the joints tend to get a little cranky. Nothing compared to what many are dealing with, but finding relief has been somewhat of a challenge. Physical therapists are wonderful as are doctors who listen, a husband who performs chiropractic moves when I'm standing at the kitchen sink, and yes, even a deep dive into AI has been helpful.
Our singing life has changed considerably with the retirement of the founder and artistic director of the Susquehanna Chorale. The brilliant interim conductor is taking us to a whole new level, and I love the music. But I feel pushed to the absolute max of what I’m capable of to the point I’m starting to question whether I should still be doing this. Self-doubt can really do a number on you, but on the other hand, maybe venturing (admittedly, kicking and screaming) over the comfort zone boundaries is a good thing at my age. Recently, an offer of help from an unexpected place arrived in my inbox, and I was moved beyond words.
I think it goes without saying our country is in a very dark place. I’m furious, heartbroken, and terrified at what we and those we've chosen to represent us have allowed to happen. I try to keep those feelings on the downlow, but every so often they bubble to the surface at the wrong time and that does not end well. I suspect I’m not alone in this experience. But please, please, vote.
Last week I learned of the passing of a woman who was very special to me. She lived life to the absolute fullest and embraced everyone who came into her orbit with warmth and kindness. I lost my mother when I was 22, and this dear soul walked with me on that journey, as well as some other painful situations in my life. She was truly a saint on earth.
Today marks 19 years since my Dad went to Greater Glory. This season of Halloween parades and earlier sunsets takes me right back to those last days spent at his bedside in the house where I grew up. I would often read him passages from Evening Prayer or Compline, and he would silently mouth the words to the Lord's Prayer even after he could no longer speak them.
As I write this, I glance over at a file cabinet drawer in our office with a sticker labeled “Drawer C” in his handwriting, and I have to smile. My dad was the ultimate organizer, partly, I suspect, due to his passion for researching railroad history, and he probably helped keep the manufacturers of file folders and black magic markers in business. He even recorded a cassette tape identifying the contents of each of those labeled file drawers (which we brought to our home intact) so I knew where to find what I needed when he was gone.
I kept that tape for years just to hear his voice.
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