Fireworks On the Lake

We did the dreaded cleanout of my Father-in-law's apartment last week. I've been privy to many of these scenarios, as much of my real estate career involves the sale of estate homes. Often (unfortunately), there's crabbiness, hurt feelings, competition for the bits of things left over after death. I've seen normally-sane people reduced to toddlerhood when the grabbing begins. Thank God, this wasn't how our weekend went down. I don't know how this is possible, but my husband, his brother and sister are all Alphas. That means they're strong-willed leaders of whatever pack they find themselves in. Each one is bossy, opinionated, almost military in their ability to organize and get things done. There's The Chairman of the Deacons, The Manager, and The Teacher...they have other titles too. My life with the Chairman has been fraught with mutiny and convoluted versions of Capture-the-Flag. Job One is to keep things off-kilter just enough to keep his brain from turning into one giant, immoveable groove. I think often of that old movie, "No Time For Sergeants," (hilarious) where the head Sergeant aims to train his unit so that everything is quiet and peaceful, like a lake. Similarly, Ken's Dad, Ken and his siblings all have had this desire to level all the worlds around them to run smoothly. It's really best you go along with their plans. Now think about three of these Alpha dogs in one room. Seal the door and just imagine what kinds of fireworks could conspire. But God...

We had the sweetest of days. Everyone rustled through the necessaries, speaking up when something mattered to them, but also giving way to the others. A spirit of cooperation made the work light and the feelings kind. Trips were made to Goodwill, the trash was placed at the street, boxes and bags made their way to our trucks, as if we need one. more. thing. We finished up our time up in a loud, bustling restaurant and talked, laughed, ate. As we wended our way back to our vehicles, my thought was that the day could not have gone better. 

Now my house is crowded up with things to hand out to our children and maybe the Goodwill store. One thing we brought home was a giant credenza that needed paint. Ken knew that I was toast, so he set everything up on the carport, even bought the paint and primed the boombox with one of my playlists. It was a cool evening and he promised to sit out there with me while I worked. He knows that my FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) is pert-near a sickness with me, and the best way to get me to do something is to make a party out of it. He is not allowed to get near a paintbrush in my presence. This is not because he's sloppy, oh no, far from it. He takes extreme care not to make a mess and paints very carefully. One time, we were painting about 20 doors in a new house. I painted five doors and went to check on him. He was still on his first one, with nary a drip anywhere. But the paint on the door was so thin, I had to do it all over. That's the day I fired him from ever painting again. Sometimes I suspect this was actually part of a grand plan and I am the one who has been duped for the last fourty years. I'll take it. I love the smell of paint in the morning. Or pretty much any time. Now I have a beautiful, creamy white credenza for our lovely guest room and we had our little soiree on the porch. Meanwhile, Dad's having a party up there, with his very own serene, quiet lake and Jesus. Life is good. 

Jupiter Singin'

There's not enough people playing the really good music that's in the world. I love all sorts, from current pop (some) to bluegrass, from hymns to 70s rock, from folk and soundtracks to classical....and everything in between. When I have grandchildren in my car, I like to expose them to all manner of songs. Sometimes they like it, sometimes not. We talk about what the song is discussing or how it makes them feel. As of late, the winners have been the soundtracks to "Top Gun: Maverick" and "Rudy," along with the suite of pieces from Gustav Holst's 1916 "The Planets." Our wind ensemble (Carrollton Wind Ensemble) played some of the Holst a couple of years ago, and I fell in love with the complicated and rich tapestry of his compositions. I'm a barefooted country girl at heart, still wandering through this world picking up the wondrous pieces of artistic genius that drift across my path. How lucky I am, as are you, to live with so much beauty around us. So easy to forget it's right there within our grasp. 

It was on a recent weekend that two of our grandchildren were staying with me (Ken had to work). As we went about our errands, I played the Holst pieces, us all agreeing that "Jupiter" was our favorite. Fashioned after the Greek gods, Jupiter is jolly, boisterous and fun. At a long 7+ minutes, it never gets boring. For us flutes, it's nigh impossible to play with all the trills and runs. The brass play, answering the woodwinds with their pompous and proud postering. Then suddenly, in the middle of it, there is the loveliest hymn in the solar system: "O God, Beyond All Praising."  We sing this often at our church and I love the tune and the words. I heard it first on a Charlotte Church album, where she sang the original patriotic British version: "I Vow To Thee My Country." At that time, I knew nothing of Holst or The Planets. I just knew I loved the haunting melody and the noble words that plucked at my heart strings. Yes, there is music that makes you want to stand up and be brave. 

Maddie and Caiden loved Jupiter and we played it numerous times. After errands and lunch, they plopped in front of the TV to watch Bluey while I snuck in a nap on my recliner. Maddie piped up, "Yaya!! It's that song again!" They were playing the hymn from Jupiter, right there in a Bluey episode. We couldn't believe our windfall. Then it was time to leave for a wedding and we had to play it again on our way (children like grooves). Entering the lovely setting of the church -- fresh flowers and lovely young people were everywhere -- we sat quietly as the prelude played. When it was time to seat the parents and grandparents of the bride and groom, a now-very-familiar hymn began to play. I thought my two enthusiastic grandchildren were going to knock over their chairs. The weekend wound down and I met up with their Mama to deliver them. We told her about our musical escapades, laughed, and went our separate ways.

I know I shouldn't ever do this, but when my grown children text me during church, I can't help but look. During Sunday School, I got a message from my daughter-in-love. She and the children had gone to church that day with their Mimi. As they were sitting quietly during the prelude, Mr. Holst inserted himself into the hymnody. Maddie and Caiden squirmed and giggled as they pointed out the obvious. 

Why things like this line up sometimes, I'll never know. Maybe there's a divine intervention going on. I might need to print out the words of that hymn and get studyin'... Either way, my grandkids know a bit more of the delightful parts of life.