“today is the first day of the rest of your life.”
i remember this on posters, on cards, in songs, in speeches. it was the 70s and recognizing that today was today and tomorrow was fresh seemed enlightened.
we stand, paused – and surrounded by things to pack into littlebabyscion and big red – and glance at what is forward. the adventure. the adventure begins. today is the first day…
we have accepted positions as the co-managing directors of a performing arts center on washington island in door county, wisconsin. we will be on island this summer, settling into the island community and handling the details of this beautiful 250 seat performing arts center. the community seems kind and embracing. the island is quiet and peaceful. our home will be a haven of sunrises across the water and our friends and family will gather there as we do our new work. the deck will welcome loved ones from near and far; the adirondack chairs will tease with invitation on water’s edge. dogdog and babycat will adjust, as will we. and soon, probably before we are ready, the summer will be over and we will be back on the mainland, still managing, but from afar.
there is a special energy in door county. you can feel it; it’s palpable. it’s a creative juju that celebrates the simple beauty of time spent outdoors, time spent with loved ones, time spent honoring the arts. i can’t think of a better match.
“wherever you are, that’s where i will be…” the framed needlepoint hangs next to my dresser. every day i see this message, a message of unrelenting connectedness.
life has a way of taking us near and far, to and from the people we love. children grow and fly free. siblings scatter around the world in pursuit of their dreams. parents age and leave this plane of existence. friends are close; friends move far away. i can speak for those of us who are particularly extra-ordinarily thready – these are tough challenges.
on the album RELEASED FROM THE HEART, this piece CONNECTED follows the piece i composed called MISSING. it was a self-reminder when i placed the track order that way. the connection between us eclipses the missing. our connections guarantee that they will surpass missing and wrap around us like soft blankets right out of the dryer. we have to just stand still and feel them.
we had the blissful opportunity of being together with both My Girl and My Boy under the same roof at the same time for a period of days. my annoying-mother-ness took lots of pictures and memorized moments, from hilariously funny to touchingly heart-full to painfully real. the first moments i saw each of them deplane at the tiny island airport will be indelibly sketched in my mind. pure joy.
we are connected. despite our proximity, despite distance from one visit to the next, despite time between, we are connected. i will – comfortingly, reassuringly, lovingly, supportively, annoyingly, and yes, unrelentingly – always be there for them. always.
that is what connection is.
download RELEASED FROM THE HEART on iTUNES or CDBaby
we packed it. this painting. i will need things that are familiar around me and this is one of those things. familiar paintings, peace signs taken off the wall from home, comfort-comforters and quilts, the dog and the cat and their paraphernalia, favorite kitchen items, and so much more; all will keep me surrounded by the familiar in the unfamiliar.
we are going on an adventure and i will need the touches of home…to keep me centered, grounded, feeling forward movement.
this painting now hangs in that living room, its horizon gazing out on a horizon also of water, of expanse. its solace echoing the solace we will bring for each other, two together in a strange land.
NAP ON THE BEACH will hold court over that living room, that different home, and remind us that this new adventure is indeed together – absolutely, positively together and we need not worry or fear. in the familiar there is comfort.
the adventure will soon begin. but before that, this ONE-DAY PRE-ADVENTURE PAINTING SALE!
if you are freshening up your surroundings and have a spot in your heart and home or workplace for one of david’s paintings, this 50% off sale may be good timing for you. browse the site and contact us (email: kerrianddavid1111@gmail.com) with questions or to make purchase arrangements. all paintings will ship before week’s end.
plan ahead, you say? well, we thought we did. we wanted a photograph to document our shore-sitting-sipping-on-bold-coffee moment that last morning on hilton head. we carefully watched the waves and placed our mugs in the wet sand. i stepped back to take a couple photos and voila! the tide is a funny thing…something of which we have no control. and so, the coffee cup dance became the moment and our laughter sated our need-for-coffee.
life, i suppose, is like that more often than not. when i moved away from family to kenosha, the conversation went something like this: “3-5 years and we will be moving on.” it is now 30 years later. 30 years! where did that time go? what about the plan? the tide seemed to have its own way and waves of joy and challenge, growth and grief, and simply TIME have washed over me. the tide laughs in glee.
we try to plan. my sweet momma had a great sign. i wish i had it. but it was something like this:
yet, despite our measuring, our strategizing, our calculating, our PLAN, life seems to take unexpected turns. the waves roll in and the tide giggles.
i remember i wore gloves the day i flew to finland with my grandmother mama dear. i was eight and i wore my sunday finest. i even wore a hat with my fancy dress, because that is how you flew – all dressed up. it was 1967 and we were departing for ten weeks together in scandinavia.
i remember lawn chairs in the front yard, my grandparents watching me hula hoop and skateboards with my brother and sister down the driveway. playing croquet with an old wooden set on the front lawn, kickball in the street, s-p-u-d across the neighbors’ yards and chasing fireflies clutching jars with punched-hole-lids so we could capture, watch and release them.
i remember riding bikes all over long island with my best friend susan. we’d tell my sweet momma we’d be home for dinner and off we’d go. just two girls on bikes, riding miles to the beach or a state or county park or each other’s houses, or just anywhere, with stops at carvel or friendly’s or mcdonald’s. no cellphones, no gps, no worries, no fear.
i remember in the mid and late 90s flying midwest express, often. the airline served actual meals on real plates with real cutlery, with champagne or mimosas or glasses of wine, depending on the time of day. they made warm chocolate chip cookies and brought them after the meal with hot cups of good coffee in real stoneware mugs. i dressed appropriately – in clothing that said i respected this lovely flight and those around me, the attendants working hard to make the experience pleasant.
i remember the day i flew to meet david’s family in 2013 the flight attendant asked me if i wanted to purchase water. water! no tiny bag of pretzels, no meal, no freebies, not even water. i had jeans and flipflops on, many people around me in their sweats.
time had passed.
the relics of a simpler time gone by remain. while helping 20 prepare his momma’s house for an estate sale, i opened a drawer next to the bed. in it were gloves – mostly white, but a pair or two of black or brown. there were short gloves and long gloves, cotton gloves and soft leather gloves. gloves with bows and gloves with seed pearls. gloves carefully placed together with their mates, clean and ready for wearing.
i wonder when the last time was that eileen wore these. for that time has passed. and we can only now vaguely remember it – a time when people celebrated occasions with stockings and heels and gloves to the elbow, customer-appreciation-gratis mimosas on airplane flights and kickball in the street.
we are all guilty. we speak before thinking. we spew before thinking. we condemn before thinking.
my sweet momma used to tell me if i couldn’t think of anything good to say, not to say anything at all. my dear friend linda taught me that if i couldn’t think of a worthy response to, let’s say, situation/thing x, to say instead, “now THAT’S a situation/thing x!!” both are generous people who have abided by the golden rule and have remembered that they are indeed messengers, anywhere they are.
we are ambassadors, everywhere we go. we take our partner with us, our family with us, our workplace with us, our community with us, our country with us. we represent. we can choose to be messengers of goodness, of grace, of kindness, of fairness, of positive and supportive words spoken about others. or we can choose to be messengers of negativity, cynicism, apathy, denouncing places or another person or peoples.
i recently overheard someone demeaning their workplace. the message was clear and their words of disregard served only to discredit the person speaking. a-messenger-wherever-we-go is a responsibility, sometimes a true test of our maturity. we need be careful. my sweet momma would say, “think before you speak!” i would add – not only because you could be overheard, but because it is the right thing to do.
lists. we have lists of things to get done today, this weekend, next week. so.much.to.do. “…it’s not just romance, it’s not just spark…it’s not just passion, it’s not just flame…” (lyrics)
we are not alone. real life requires lists. and lots of hard work. together. we lean on each other for the challenges. we hold each other through the really tough stuff.
we just came back from being on an island where we heard a story about the recent high school graduation. there were three (3) graduating seniors. (the school has about 72 students, k-12.) most of the people on island went to this graduation. it lasted two hours, with speeches and personally-chosen-songs played by the graduates and a recessional. it is amazing to think about how many unrelated people watched this ceremony, taking time out of their lives to witness this very important moment in the lives of these young people. it takes a village to raise a child. yes.
but everyone knows everyone there, indirectly if not directly. deb recommended to never say anything negative or derogatory about anyone because they are likely related or best friends to whom you are speaking. she added, and i agree, that “we should always live like that.” there is a shirt in her sweet bookshop that already has my name on it and reads:
as we plan our lists and our calendar for this next crazy week, we can see, ever so clearly, that our own village is here to help us. we lean on each of them for the challenges. they hold us through the really tough stuff. it does take a village. it takes each other. together. that is the stuff of real life.
the studio in our basement is full of beautiful paintings that haven’t yet found their proper home. it is also full of boxes of cds that have been replicated and shrink-wrapped, ready for their new homes. there is no shortage of completed work down there, no shortage of heart projects, no shortage of sweat and tears. there is no shortage of work in progress, canvases prepped, notebooks of lyrics and melodic gestures.
we moved our 20’s father’s paintings last week. today we will move the remainder. as we carefully loaded big red, you could not help but feel wistful about these paintings moving away from their home, to be stored by 20. duke was a prolific painter and his work is stunning; we wondered where and how these mostly large pieces would find a permanent home. where does it go from here?
any artist, thinking about the impermanence of life, wonders that. where does it go from here? who will purchase it, hold onto it, look at it, listen to it, read it, ultimately – feel it? will it matter later on? does it matter now?
colorado to wisconsin. with a stop in columbia, missouri. the first day is long. twelve hours give or take. we drive out of colorado into kansas, which has to be one of the wider states in the journey, and head for wendy’s. she and keith are tolerant of whatever-time-we-get-there, knowing the challenges of a long drive. this time, it was different.
this time we weren’t in our littlebabyscion toodling along, huffing and puffing up hills. this time we were in Big Red, a giant ford F150. she hadn’t been driven this-far-at-one-time in years. we were high up and felt like road warriors.
columbus gave us a couple cassette tapes to play in the player and, in planning ahead, i had brought a dozen favorites from years past (ok, the 70s are many years past.) we played each of them, singing along. and then switched to the radio. it only seemed right that country music be blaring out of the speakers, so we obliged.
although we blasted cassettes of john denver, loggins and messina, alabama, england dan & john ford coley among others, i have a few favorite radio songs of the journey east and north. one direction’s what makes you beautiful, lady gaga and bradley cooper singing shallow, toby keith’s i wanna talk about me and my new fave, billy currington’s good directions and turnip greens. a sweet country-music story.
we were talking with jen and brad last night in their kitchen, lingering over our potluck together. we talked about compromise and life and decisions and chance. like everyone, david and i have had our share of each of those. decisions sorted and pondered, and compromises, bending to the things that make life meaningful, balancing reality with idealism. and then there’s chance. we could relate to the story of turnip greens…happenstance changing life. a choice, one direction taken, a turn, one click…and everything changes. what comes is predicated on what was and what is this very second. we second those lyrics – thank God for good directions and turnip greens.
we turned up the stereo in Big Red and opened the windows with the AC on. somewhere along the way, we decided it was a she, for she had gently mothered columbus as he drove a bit more gingerly in recent days and she sturdily and protectively lumbered us across the country. laughing and certain of everything and absolutely nothing, we turned this beautiful big old pickup truck toward home.
reverse threading 