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our sturdy old tree. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

at approximately 3:48 last wednesday afternoon, in the first mighty gust of the storm, the great soul – the great tree – in our front yard – for decades and decades and decades – fell. and nothing was the same.

this sturdy old tree was wise beyond its years, withstanding all manner of weather-fury, all seasons of plenty and not-enough.

this sturdy old tree – magnificent, its canopy shading our lawn, its spirit encircling our home and family – stood vigil out in front, a talisman of protection and a peaceful adapter to the change of winter to spring, of autumn to winter, each time, bending to the rules – or whims – of nature…for at least seventy-five years.

this sturdy old tree – was what i looked at from the nursery while rocking babies, looking out the window. it marked the passage of time as my babies grew, early morning light in its leaves, the sun setting through its crown, its winter-nakedness to its verdant maple-leaf splendor, its yellow glow in fall, the way snow lay on its strong branches, its promise in early spring.

this sturdy old tree – was what i looked at from my bench in my studio, sitting at my piano composing, lyricizing, practicing. it gave me breath and reminded me to place rests in the music, to give others breath, time to process, to take in, to feel. i stared at this tree out the window from that spot, standing still or sitting quietly, pondering what had been, what was, what might be. it was a touchstone of consistency, of continuity, of the timeline that goes back and forward, dynamic.

this sturdy old tree greeted us as we came down our road, as we turned the corner. it offered shelter and filtered sunlight, framed the moon and the stars and planets, played with color at dusk. it elicited our appreciation for yet another homecoming. it was the monument, the lighthouse, the trailmarker that said “home”.

this sturdy old tree – wizened – was that which i advocated for, in times of electric-wire-branch-trimming, in times of water main work, in times of road construction, in times of other injuries it withstood.

i whispered words of – truly loving – gratitude to it, “you did nothing wrong. you did everything right,” as they began to tend to the-cleaning-up after the wind had wreaked havoc upon it. with more extreme storms coming – and a heavily one-sided bit of our beloved tree left – i knew that it was its time. and it was hard to watch, this family member which had preceded me, which had lived here the whole time i have, which had seen much life in that bit of yard at this house on this street. we were fortunate that it was our tree and we loved it for being our tree.

it feels like a marker in time to have felt and heard this great tree fall. to see its brokenness. its soul continues on with us; we need that wisdom and resilience, especially now. we need its tenacity as it aged, especially now. we need its stalwart goodness, its dedication to being the best tree it could be, especially now.

our big, sturdy old tree lives on. it will always be one of the great trees because of its great soul.

and – after its decades and decades and decades of time as a tree on this good earth – in the bowing of its beautiful canopy of leaves, its hefty rough-barked branches, its branches that curved outward with a bowl in the center of the trunk where creatures could rest and shelf fungus could excel, it reminds us of something:

there is no great anything without a great soul.

“and when great souls die/after a period peace blooms,/slowly and always/irregularly. spaces fill/with a kind of/soothing electric vibration./our senses, restored, never/to be the same, whisper to us./they existed. they existed. /we can be. be and be/better. for they existed.” (maya angelou)

*****

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peaceful coexistence. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

we can’t wait for this evening. we will drive the backroads with hundreds of thousands of others in wisconsin – all out on a friday night.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will join with fifty-thousand others in milwaukee attending one of the three days of PRIDEFEST.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will be with the tens of thousands wandering the summerfest grounds for the friday evening shows.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will stand in the dance pavilion – out in front, in the house, or backstage – either place – with over five thousand other people in that same pavilion and gathered all around its edges – and we will watch our son perform.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will have the moment of his first downbeat, the moment he raises his hands in the air, the joy on his face under spotlights and between pyrotechnic fountains of sparkling stars and confetti releases. we will likely be standing and dancing and cheering with a group of his friends, a group of deric’s friends – deric who shares the stage with craig as they perform together as EDM artists DOGGPOUND.

we can’t wait for this evening. we will hug him after his performance, ecstatic with him on this day, on this journey. our own pride will be bursting and he will absolutely know it. just as he has absolutely known – since the very moment he came out – that he is loved and – with-no-exceptions – completely accepted, embraced and supported.

we can’t wait for this evening. we’ll watch him and a large contingency of friends and fans as they all go on their way, celebrating peaceful coexistence at this celebratory festival. we will walk around, buy rainbow trinkets, happily ensconced and feeling a sense of belonging.

we can’t wait for this evening when we drive home on those same backroads and talk about the night. we will be exhausted and exhilarated. we will be thrilled to have spent such amazing time with our son – we will be looking forward to the next.

and then, we can’t wait for chicago’s PRIDEFEST when we’ll take the train down and spend an afternoon and evening in the streets of boystown. we’ll stand with the setting sun on our faces and – again – watch our son perform. there will be many hugs – his friends will surround us and make us feel at home. and at the end of that day, getting back on the train, we will again feel exhausted and exhilarated, both. we will sit back and talk about the day and the people – the people – all of whom are there to just simply honor each other and their very important place in the world – peacefully together.

we can’t wait for a day when all the world is a continual pridefest, when all the world honors each other’s place in the world, when all the world feels that kind of love for one another, when all the world lives in peace.

*****

PEACE © 2004 kerri sherwood

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daisy-path-ing. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

we took off our sunhats. it was a hot day and we had been gardening for hours. the purchased plants had been potted, all the transplanting in the yard was done. it was that golden hour after all the work and before making dinner. we poured a bit of cool pinot grigio, took a tour around the yard and then settled into our adirondack chairs in the shady corner of our deck to gaze out at the yard – one of our favorite pastimes now.

the daisy path – as d has aptly named it – is slower. it doesn’t require the striding or racing around of earlier years. it is a – rather, The – sweet phase and we are trying our best to hone it. we never expect to perfect it, so we are doing everything we can to appreciate it, be grateful for it, honor it.

every night last week we sat on our patio or on our deck, just sitting. at the end of the day – after having dinner al fresco – we – truly – just sat.

and we talked. about anything, everything, nothing.

earlier in the day – on one of the days – i got ready to plant one last sweet potato vine. d had spray-painted a plastic pot and it was ready for the transplant and to be hung on the old ladder in the corner of the deck.

d asked me if he could get me a chair – as i have found that placing a chair on the patio next to the raised deck makes planting easier on my back. i thanked him and said that i was only planting this one pot.

but then i was struck by how generous this offer was. for in the middle of everything he was doing, he was concerned that it might be easier for me if i had a chair – as i had used while potting other days – and he was going to drop everything to go get me one if i wanted or needed it.

and so, it was then – one of those rare moments you remember – not because you don’t appreciate each other all the time, but because sometimes a very intentional wave of gratitude is easy for your brain to snapshot into your memory.

i walked over to where he was weeding the cracks in the patio and bent down. wrapping my arms around him, i told him how much his kindness meant to me. it wasn’t even a few seconds and dogga was there, right in the middle of our embrace, pushing his head up into the armwrap hug, his face even with ours, in the middle of so much love.

i whispered to d, “memorize it.”

of course.

we three stayed that way for at least a full minute, which is a long time for a busy aussie. it was a magical minute. definitely daisy-path stuff.

our old dogga stuck close for a bit more, to get kisses and pets and butt-butts. he didn’t see the tears welling up in our eyes as we committed it all to visual and visceral memory.

d went back to weeding and i potted the sweet potato vine and hung it on the ladder.

it seemed right that this sweet potato would keep vigil over our little corner on our deck. my sweet momma’s words, “live life, my sweet potato,” ring in my ears.

sweet potatoes and the daisy path. sunhats and glasses of wine, a checkered tablecloth and adirondack chairs. our dogga and a sanctuary of peace. love and gratitude.

the sweet phase, indeed.

*****

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this daisy. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it sits on the dashboard of littlebabyscion – the vestiges of a single daisy. it is now thirteen years old, this daisy. and it has been right there for all thirteen years, its seed coats still hanging on, though toughening by the day.

because we had never met when we met, i brought a daisy with me to o’hare – to distinguish myself from all the other people waiting at baggage claim, to be clear that it was me – there – waiting to meet him – arriving.

i told him that i’d be the one holding the daisy because i thought it better than a sign and because daisies are happy. i stopped at the florist earlier in the day to get my one daisy while in the middle of perseverating over what to wear.

in the end i wore jeans, boots and an oversized black chenille sweater and i felt like me. which is a good thing, particularly when you are meeting someone you have never met.

we had written for about six months. every single day. emails would arrive in the evening or in the wee hours and i’d lay awake devouring it all and writing back about my own life, candid and vulnerable – honestly typing it all to this new friend with whom i had only had one phone conversation.

we discovered that life – as artists, even in different mediums – had some parallels to which we could easily relate. we discovered that life held some of the same mysteries for us. we discovered that life’s challenges were, well, challenges for both of us. we discovered we could see that life’s joys were swinging on a star…or two….or a zillion.

i was sort of aware of people laughing when we skipped through the airport to get on the escalator. but it was more like a slow-motion movie happening outside of me, one of the people skipping. slightly dreamy.

but it wasn’t all dreamy.

and though we found our zealous friendship evolved into something much, much bigger, something where two hearts melded together, something where love was undeniable and where we found we made a good team, it had many moments that were less than dreamy.

because life is like that.

this year it was thirteen years on the thirteenth. thirteen years since that veryfirstday we set eyes on each other – two artists scanning baggage claim, both in jeans and boots and black – both nervous, both excited. the next day we got big star drive-in burgers and fries, had a little champagne. this year we got big star drive-in burgers and fries, had a little champagne. a celebration of a big day.

back then, thirteen years ago, on the way into the airport, a girl asked me why i was carrying a daisy. i told her why. we ended up going to the same baggage claim. she was meeting her fiance at baggage claim because he was flying in. it was their wedding weekend. we saw each other in the ladies’ room a couple of times, nervously fixing our hair, pacing.

she looked at me and said, “he’s going to be your soulmate, you know.”

i laughed and said i’d be happy if we even turned out to be friends.

she was right.

and so was i.

thirteen years since the first day i laid eyes on him now.

and we were both right.

and the daisy sits on the dashboard of littlebabyscion, the eye keeping an eye on us with still so many seeds for the future.

*****

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momma and peeps. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

my sweet momma was at the grocery store the other day.

well, ok, she wasn’t.

but as we turned to walk down the aisle near the candy section – cutting over to the aisle with the green olives we needed for our mediterranean dinner recipe – there she was.

it was a huge display of peeps – those colorful marshmallow chicks and bunnies – i could feel momma’s glee.

this was the very first year i didn’t include junior mints in my grown children’s christmas gifts. the very first year. they didn’t seem to miss them. at all. i, on the other hand, had to deal with the grief of not including this box of mints that i had included in their stockings – in person or shipped to them – for evvver. it was not easy to let these go; my thready heart struggled.

but it explained why – even though i do not like peeps, really at all – every year my sweet momma would send a box in spring and always – always – she would include peeps.

it wasn’t about me.

it was about her – continuing a tradition she had started, a ritual that meant something to her, sharing something that was a precious memory – an unwavering, ceaseless thread – part of family tapestry, even in its obvious inconsequence.

each year when i received the box i enthused to my mom – not because i loved peeps, not because i even understood at that point. but because i loved my mom and i loved that she thought about me enough to pick out whatever color – or shape – peep she wanted for me and then she set about sending it. that was the part that counted. even though i didn’t really know the part that counted. until much later.

so turning the aisle while heading for the olives i stopped abruptly…so abruptly d plowed into me. i pointed at the big display and we both laughed.

and i blew a kiss to my mom who i knew was right there – on the other side of this plane of existence – blowing a kiss back.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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together here. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it was his birthday this weekend. he turned 65, a big-deal-birthday. my sweet momma always paid special attention to those big-deal-birthdays – especially the ones that were divisible by 5.

we had plans for friday – particularly because his actual birthday falls on busy valentine’s day – it just figures he is a valentine’s day baby! we were going to go to the milwaukee art museum and then to the public market, to sit at the counter and lunch on divine gumbo.

dogga woke us up early, not feeling well.

and that changed everything.

for this man – this man full of heart – whose very heart aligns with mine – with whom i have mutually – side by side – endured all matters of life for years now – decided he’d rather stick close to home, to be by our dogga so we can keep an eye on him and love on him.

in years hence, it will never matter to either of us whether we went to the art museum on friday, nor will it matter if we had gumbo that exact day. what will matter is that we let our love of our beloved dogga lead us and we prioritized with him in mind.

and this is just one of the reasons i know that “i don’t care about any words on the map besides you are here.”

some stuff just doesn’t matter. and where we spend time together is one of them, for anywhere on the map together – is home together.

i grant you – yes – that we would love to tool about the country – heck, the world – and explore and hike and photograph and write and paint and play music and create joy as we go. we’d love to immerse in places near and far – and feel the actual place, its actual culture, its energy, its gifts – for all places have innumerable gifts to offer.

but at this moment in time, we are happy – content – to be home in our old house, to be sharing our home with each other, to be sharing our home with our old dogga.

there will be other moments. there will be other places to see. there will be maps-with-words and plans and adventures.

right now here – with each other – is the most important place ever.

*****

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and in it you. [kerri’s blog on two artists tuesday]

many, many years ago a dear person said to me, “i see the full moon out my window, and, in it, you.”

like you – especially if you are a woman – i have had a mixture of flattering comments and detritus thrown my way. this one sentence – spoken to me so long ago – stands in one of the most complimentary spots. it wasn’t sugary sweet, nor cajoling. it wasn’t smarmy; it wasn’t even ingratiating. there was no endgame, no agenda. there wasn’t even any expected response. it just was.

i thought about this the other night while i lay awake in the wee hours. from my cozy spot, out the mini blinds to my right, i could see it – the full moon. and every time i see the full moon, i think of these words.

i don’t think that the person who said this to me knew what kind of a gift they were giving me. i don’t think that they knew i would carry these words for decades. they are tucked in, ready to be plucked and re-heard in the cassette tape of my memory at any moment. they are words of value, words of connectivity, words of great love.

for how often have you stood on the ground-dirt of this earth and looked up at the moon…knowing full well that this – indeed – is the same moon we all see, the same moon that shines on all earth, the same moon above everyone’s piece of ground? when every beloved, every family member, every friend, every person of every single social identifier looks at the moon, it is this moon. no other.

we each – here on this earth – simultaneously inhabit this very moon. we each are a part of its light, privy to its lunar cycles, part of the tide of this earth.

as we watched the olympics opening ceremony, i jotted down many of kirsty coventry’s words as the president of the international olympic committee.

she spoke the african word “ubuntu” and i – a part of the earth and of the moon – immediately was drawn to it.

for ubuntu is translated to: i am because we are.

yes.

she continued, “we can only rise by lifting others…respect, support and inspire one another.”

and “the best of humanity is found in courage, compassion and kindness.”

is not each of us held to this basic moral standard? is not each of us obligated to feel gratitude for a place on this earth? is not each of us – as seen in the moon – here to illuminate the rest of earth, to bring light to others, to be light?

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this TWO ARTISTS TUESDAY

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our moment. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

it bears repeating.

“this is our moment … to meet a whole lot of hate with a whole lot of love.” (minneapolis mayor jacob frey)

truth be told – as far as i’m concerned – it is never NOT the moment.

i am horrified to see footage of the minneapolis neighborhoods under siege, horrified that – in these days in this country – homeland security is taking over the homeland and decimating any security people might feel, horrified to think about the actual people walking those streets, living in those conditions, horrified at the violence, horrified at the lies. our daughter went to the university of minnesota. she loved the university and minnesota, both. though i must say that i am grateful she graduated long ago and is not now in those terrifying conditions, i am heartbroken and enraged for those who are.

just as horrified as i am as i think about our son in chicago – walking the streets where this country’s government rabidly storms around, terrorizing anyone who falls in their particular we-hate-you list.

just as horrified as i am to think about family members who live scattered about this country who continue to cheer on and revel in the insanity and vileness of this administration, the brutality of the actions taken against real live people.

just as horrified as i am to think about relatives in finland, in norway, in spain, in the uk, anywhere in this world under the sun – people living in other countries, countries that are finding themselves targets of the abuse of this country – OUR country – who are astonished by the power-hungry attempts at changing the world order – with the potential of forever-devastation, at eliminating any peace that might exist between nations.

just as horrified as i am to think about my parents, both of whom now occupy a different plane of existence, both of whom i am certain are disgusted with the hideous regime at the helm of a country whose democracy for which they fought.

what in the absolute hell?

if you are one of those people who believe that hate – this kind of hate, any kind of hate – is the foundation upon which you build your house, please do not contact me again. you have lost perspective. you have lost the whole point of living.

it’s about love.

life is about love.

it always has been. it always will be.

get a grip.

THIS is our – your – moment.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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countless stars. [kerri’s blog on k.s. friday]

the way back north – though we would have lingered on and on save for our sweet older dogga at home waiting – was beautiful. we knew it would be; we have taken these back roads every single time we drive to chicago. following the lakefront, through little towns and along ravines, the holiday lights on our way home – in the dark with full hearts – are always magical.

to sit and spend any time with your grown children and their partners is always a gift. some people are privy to that all the time – fortunate to live in the same town or very close by, fortunate to have time together often. others of us have less time together; proximity can be challenging, so the time together with them is treasured and exponentially valued. we are always grateful to have that time.

earlier this week we had a chance to be with our son and his boyfriend. we brought all the makings for a thai chicken soup, our son’s requested “christmas lunch”. we gathered for photographs by the christmas tree and visited in the kitchen while we cooked. hearing their recent adventures, their thoughts, their latest dreams, hugging them in real life – it’s truly the stuff that this holiday is made of.

i remember the day after christmas from growing-up times. it was a day that was kind of the denouement of the season. it was a slow day, a reflection of what all had transpired, a review of it all.

we kept all the decorations up for a while back then. i don’t remember taking them down as a child. this year i think we will keep them up a bit as well…keep the light going. the trees add warmth to the cold of this season, particularly at this corrosive time in our nation.

he said that he hadn’t had his chance to put the star on the tree before he was no longer welcome. but this year it was HIS home, HIS tree, HIS star. and he owned the very-important-moment of placing his own star on his own tree, undeterred by disrespect of him or biased bigotry. it made me cry.

no longer welcome. holding a ‘welcome’ ransom is as absurd and cruel as holding the star ransom. in the christmas story, the star represents the celestial guide to the manger. but, more so, it represents light in the darkness, hope, the arrival of love. love…that which should level the field for all, that which grants grace, reminds us of compassion and inclusion, of unity, of hand-in-hand support of one another.

on the way home we talked about the lights on people’s houses, in their yards, inside their open front windows. we talked about multi-colored lights vs white lights and our own interpretation of these.

although we both grew up with multi-colored-light-families, we both always choose white lights. for me, that simplicity is part of the season. for me, it’s like a thousand stars, constellations of beacons in the darkness, of hope, of love. white lights bring the galaxies of the universe inside.

this day-after-christmas will be slow. it will be a day of reflection and rest.

and it will be time to continue to keep the happy lights lit, countless stars surrounding us.

*****

TIME TOGETHER © 1997, 2000 kerri sherwood

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now more than ever. [kerri’s blog on not-so-flawed wednesday]

it’s a week ahead of christmas as i write this.

in earlier years – for decades – i would have been consumed with shaping advent and christmas services, designing music that lifts the story of this holiday, that spreads the message of love, of light, of the season.

it’s been a bunch of years now that I haven’t been a minister of music and i trust that each church i’ve served before will again have ringing of handbells, choirs in harmony, cantatas with wonderful narrative, pipe organ music reflective of this time of light…perhaps even a ukulele band strumming some favorite carols. i hope that the music programs i started in churches in new york, florida, wisconsin all have grown and that they carry on in the same spirit of joy i brought. it is different to not direct, but the space allows for introspection and reflection.

several years ago – as a piece for one of the cantatas i composed or arranged – i wrote the song “you’re here”. as i listen to my own song – recorded as i sang it at a piano into my phone – these lyrics: and now, you’re here, in a world of hypocrisy and your love can heal us all…”

and it occurs to me that we are all mary – holding space for love, for light, for hope. even outside a tradition that celebrates christmas or hanukkah or any other specifically religious holiday – it is love – period – that can heal us. OUR love. love for one another, love for equality, love for goodwill, love for kindness. it is holding up compassion, concern, tenderness, empathy. it is recognizing brokenness and despair. it is valuing humanity itself and leading with heart and generosity.

in this season, i have found myself humming another of my own personal favorites: hope was born this night.

i hope so.

in each of us.

we need it now more than ever.

merry christmas.

alleluia.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

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