Contrary Motion

It suddenly occurred to me few minutes ago that I might be in a fugue state...I don't really know why I thought that, it's just that I feel so very odd and disconcerted lately, and that term just popped into my head. So I decided, YES!, that must be what's going on with me. But when I googled "fugue state," the definition was a "sudden traveling away from familiar surroundings in an amnesiac episode." Well, that really isn't me at all right now. My surroundings are all too famliar, and my memory is actually pretty good, considering all the stuff that's roiling around in my head. (I remembered earlier today that it was Chris and Cathy King's birthday - they were twins who were my lab partners in seventh grade science class. So, in some respects my memory is working very well.)

So, if not in a state of fugue, what is going on with me these days?

In thinking about it, I believe it was the musical concept of fugue that felt appropriate to my state of mind...the idea of a theme that keeps repeating itself, but entering and exiting at different times. I even have some variations of the theme going on as well, which helps to keep things even more interesting (how proud Bach would have been!)

Here's how it all plays out in practical terms.

1. The professional woman theme: That's the one that goes into her office, turns on her computer, reviews and documents a huge pile of medical records, creates a summary of medical activites related to patients with all kinds of mental and physical disorders, sends a bill and report to the appropriate people at the appropriate times, assigns and schedules work hours, and handles employee disputes.

2. The "artiste" theme: Here's the musician/writer who sits at the piano for a three hour rehearsal, takes a quick dinner break during which she drafts a letter soliciting funds for a scholarship in memory of a former student who recently committed suicide, and then heads over to a local church hosting a group of homeless people to provide an hour of musical entertainment;

3. The wife/mother/daughter theme: This is the variation that creates a meal, takes the two dogs to the groomer, stops at the grocery to pick up a carton of eggs for her mother, and pays some bills online at 11:00 p.m.

Somehow, these themes become integrated into a day in the life of a whole person - ME. See, I did all the things listed above at various times TODAY. And although part of my mind says, God, you are too old to do all this crap, another part of it is saying, God, you are amazing that you can do all this crap! So, do I want it to end? No. Do I want to have scads of free time to go out to lunch and go shopping, and clean the grout in my bathroom with a toothbrush? GOD, no.

I like being a fugue, one of the most complicated and difficult musical forms to master. It takes hours and hours for me to hack my way through one on the keyboard. But, hell, I can damn sure live one every day.

They Call it Progress

There are some days when I feel as if life is just too hard. It's the accumulation of little things, mostly, like the fact that I just ordered a roll of 100 stamps and they were 37 cent stamps instead of 39 cent stamps, so I had to buy 100 2 cent stamps in order to make them work. Why is the post office still selling 13 designs of 37 cent stamps and only one design of 39 cent stamps?

Why do I have to go to six drugstores (and thank God there is at least one on every corner) before I can find my contact lens solution? And why do I have to go to Farmer Jack in order to get the brand of chicken I like, Kroger's for pork chops and milk, Your Better Market for the Hamilton Brand all natural brown eggs, and Westborn Fruit Market for decent romaine lettuce?

Why is it that our prescription drug insurance now charges us double what it used to charge us, so that every time I get bronchitis or a sinus infection, it costs me $100 for two prescriptions for 10 days? And, I have to pay more each month just for the privelege of having this insurance in the first place?

Why is it that it cost almost $300 to keep my house sort of warm last month, and that my elderly mother is now waking up feeling cold in the middle of the night because she had to "dial down" in order to save money?

Sigh. All these things, and many more, make life in the 21st century seem awfully hard. Physically, I know there's no comparison with life in the 18th or 19th or even parts of the 20th century. We still have hot and cold running water at the touch of a faucet, warm (or cold) air pulsing through our houses, offices, and cars at the push of a button, any kind of electronic or printed entertainment we could ask for at our immediate disposal. Why is it that it sometimes all seems so hard?

I guess the hardships of every generation are relative. Because we have so much more in the first place, there is so much more asked of us. Our resources become stretched to the limit, and we must pay the price literally and figuratively.

There is something in me that so often longs for a simplicity of life that I fear has gone forever. The small town, with the corner store and the bank/post office/police station combined in one. The neighborhood cafe where the regulars favorites are well known to the gum chewing, white haired waitress, whose husband is the lovable grouch at the grill. The town doc, who has delivered at least two generations of babies, and ushered one of those generations to the shaded cemetary on the hill. Am I dreaming? Did such a life every exist in America?

I was born in the 50's, and have often felt as if I were at least a generation too late. Now, as I stand on the threshold of old (er) age, I look forward with trepidation to the decades ahead. Can we survive if we keep escalating this pace of "progress"? Perhaps it would behoove us all to step on the brakes, and look backward for a moment, to see what lessons of life the past has to teach us.

Life is Good

Life is good...Me, Magic, Molly Mei at the lake I only wish this photo had been taken today...I'm simply dreaming, 'cause it's March in Michigan, and we're nowhere near the lake just yet. But I know it won't be long now. I saw robins in my yard this afternoon, pecking merrily at the grass, hoping to find a young worm or grub, or some other avian delicacy. I wish them luck with that, and hope they stay warm and dry. As for me, I'm going out on a limb and hauling my winter coat to the cleaners. From now on I'll make do with my coral colored 3/4 length raincoat, even if I have to pile sweaters under it for warmth should the winter god rear his ugly head once more.

Downhill From Here

Today started out really well. I was on my way to an early musical rehearsal and actually had enough time to stop at 7-11 for a cup of their Kona coffee, which has become my new favorite blend in the last month. (I know, it's only 7-11, but hey, it's really good!) To my delight, my lovely little coffee punch card was full, so not only was it steaming hot and delightfully fresh, it was FREE! Lo and behold, I still had enough time to whisk through the car wash on the corner and scrub that last leftover salt off my poor black car. Wonder of wonders, my car wash punch card was also full, and that too was FREE!

Now, I usually don't get all excited about feebies like that, but even I have to think two in a row must be a good omen. However, not to be. As soon as I got to school, things began to go seriously awry. My friend Pat tossed her bag on the desk with a big sigh, rolled her eyes at me, and said, "I am so down today." Well, Pat is the eternal optimist - she's the kind of teacher who can find the best in even the hardest hearted child, the rainbow at the end of every storm, the silver lining in every cloud. When she actually says she's down, I begin to look for shelter from lightning bolts.

Seems her mood on this sunny Saturday morning was related to some rather disparaging comments from our judges at choral competition the previous date, comments the like of which she had never received in her 20 years of choral teaching. Added to it was that one of her favorite students had performed poorly on her college auditon, a friend whose son had recently commited suicide had left six very urgent messages for her during the past 24 hours, and her driver's license was suspended because she neglected to pay the late fee on her traffic ticket. I guess I really can't blame her for being depressed.

Rehearsal didn't go as planned for either of us, and I ended up hacking my way through some dance numbers that I wasn't at all prepared to play. I always hate playing for dances anyway, since I can't see or hear what they're doing and always feel this awful sense of disconnect.

I was grateful to be heading out the door, when the cheeful chirp of my mobile phone tells me Jim is calling. "Hey honey," he said. "Would you mind running over to mom's place? They just called me and said she can't find her purse and is really upset."

Marvelous. A demented (and that's a medical diagnosis, not my assessment of her personality) old lady who has lost her purse. With heavy heart, I drive across the road to the assisted living facility where's my mother in law now lives. Of course, she couldn't remember where she had been two seconds before I got there, so the chances of her recalling where she had left the battered old brown purse she carried incessantly were slim and none.

After about two hours of looking, talking to other old ladies (demented and otherwise) and one old man who always hits on me every time I go in there (at least I still appeal to the geriatric set), I decided I might as well go home.

During the drive home, I worked very hard to psyche myself back into the optimistic mood I had enjoyed during my earlier commute. It seemed to me that my days so often deteriorated just like this, and I was finding it harder and harder to justify remaining upbeat. After all, if even Pat could be depressed, how much more difficult for me, prone as I am to moroseness.

I think it was the sunshine that did it - that and the exuberant greeting my puppies gave me when I walked through the door. Sunshine in March - how can you fail to find hope in that? As I buckled on collars and leashes to enjoy a walk in the park, I was certain I caught the scent of hyacinth somewhere in bloom. So I managed a smile and a spring in my step as we set off into the almost warm air.

No matter that within five minutes Magic found a lovely burr patch and managed to get at least a dozen of the prickly things caught in his paws.