A month of thankfulness, Part Five

I want to share these posts with you, to help you consider what you are thankful for. Perhaps some are identical, perhaps some are analogous, perhaps some are completely foreign to you. But the thing that should stick with you is having an ATTITUDE of GRATITUDE, always. Just this one simple change in your life, on its own, can transform you.

Some of the details of these posts are rather personal; obviously, I'm not revealing anything i don't want to reveal. At this late stage, my life is an open book for reading and enhancement of others. But it also means there may be things which don't make sense because you don't know my background. Hopefully it will be clear enough in context, but leave a comment if there's something that's unclear, and I'll clarify. May God bless you in this season of thankfulness. 

A month of thanks. No different than any other month except that it’s on the internet. And my phone now automatically writes that text now for me.

Nov 20. I am thankful both for my innate and developed skill in writing and arranging music, marching shows, and the like, as well the software that makes them appear for my evaluation before needing to shove it at a band to discover my mistakes.

Some of my greatest joy has come from the hours and hours spent creating music and shows to entertain audiences and the ensembles which performed them (that was always a high priority for me). The introvert in me relished the twelve-hour non-stop day-into-nights when the creative came out of me. Wendy knew there was going to be stretches of time in the summer when it was best to just take the kids and go spend the day somewhere while I hunkered down over the computer and chipped away at the fall marching drill and flagwork; a similar solitude came in the winter while I created the music for the next year’s show. (And then to see and hear it all come together in October? Most of you will never know that thrill.)

In between, so many “smaller” pieces - I lost track a couple of decades back how many comps or arrangements I did, but well into the hundreds of each, at least. But then here’s the telling part: when Melissa and I formed GPS MUSIC and I started developing a catalog of music and marching shows to sell on line? I almost didn’t care if we ever sold one. (And I came close to getting that wish, unfortunately!) There was so much JOY in the creation!

Even now, just making recordings for South’s musical theatre competition piece is a thrill - when I have the strength to sit at the computer and DO it. I felt terrible I couldn’t muster Hope’s piece up for her - but I write checks with my mouth the rest of me can no longer cash. It’s sad to realize how the pipeline may be just about dry now. It was such a joyous part of my life. I hope some of my music lives on beyond me; if so, I won’t really be gone.

A month of thanks. Not so different from any other month in my life, except you, you lucky reader, get to listen in on my praises and prayers.

Nov 21. I am so thankful that despite my almost criminal lack of automotive prowess, I have had such great luck with my cars over the years.

My first car was the '64 Dodge Dart sedan with the push-button gear shift and an automatic clutch.. We also had a '64 Dodge Dart station wagon that Mom drove which had the H-column on the steering wheel shaft and the manual clutch, pedal on the floor. They looked and felt so similar that when either of us drove the other car, we'd forget it was/wasn't an automatic. Mom got to the point where she'd do the motions for BOTH cars - foot on the imaginary clutch, push the button on the dash whether it was there or not. She looked ridiculous doing it, but it worked. Those two cars had three engines that Uncle Earl would fix up and rotate through those two carcasses (CAR-casses, get it? No?). When I left Gilardi Road in 1992, I'd estimated those two cars had 750,000 miles on them; I think the wagon's still going and has 750K on it by itself now.

Then I had "Mr. Bubble". Dad found an ad that led me to buy my Impala station wagon that moved me to Idaho and ran me back and forth to Penryn and Kuna.

Wendy and I had the coolest green Neon, a couple of really useful vans, and I bought her the Karmann Ghia she still drives around occasionally. That was something I was so pleased to be able to buy for her - it's made her so happy for years, even long after the divorce.

And now, I'm driving the 2003 GMC Yukon that's running in the 240K range and still going strong with occasional oil changes and new tires every few years. Had to fix the dashboard this summer, but that's about the only "extra" money I've had to put into it. It's so dependable that I almost never even think about it. I love that car, as much as I loved that Taurus before it. Probably the last car I'll ever drive; it's a great vehicle.

A month of thanks. No different than any other month except that I get to share my prayers and praises with my internet friends. (Sure, it cuts into my prayer time in the morning. But for one month, it’s definitely worth it.)

Nov 22. I am selfishly thankful that while my twin daughters have struggled with the effects of their “bilateral spastic cerebral palsy” their whole lives (meaning both legs have erratic nerve ending messages), they have been able to lead completely normal lives, mas o menos. Sure, they’re Shriner’s kids, and we’ve done the braces and casts and shots and physical therapies and dealt with the coordination problems and all of that. But I watch the beautiful children like the youngster in the article I was just reading, or the crew of buddies I get to greet in the afternoon when I get to the HS, and I am profoundly grateful that my daughters have such a mild version of the disease.

Similarly, even though he died, it was somehow reassuring to both my first wife and I that Emerson seemed to be a perfectly normal, healthy, presumably intelligent little boy when he arrived, rather than the problems which had caused his death (remember, we knew he was dead before he made it to the outside world) being some sort of systemic issue. He “just” had an accident. Tragic but not something that prevented us from trying again.

Unfortunately, our next son, Sutherland, suffers from The Arts, a condition for which no cure is known, although constant singing, dancing, and melodramatic movement works as therapy for such hapless individuals. We also see signs in our other children of this pervasive condition, though none so deep as South’s. His Uncle Stuart (my brother) has suffered for five decades now. Please, won’t you help support this tragic condition? Write your Congressman and tell him to support a budget that provides outlets for these victims. Thank you.