thoughts – Page 3

September 22, 2018

Scramble!

A guitarist strums his guitar in a TV studio. — Warming up for Imagine This!

I’m a talent wrangler for Imagine This! Once a month we invite local acts to share their talent before a studio audience. The show is edited and then replayed on our local cable TV channel. My job is to find and invite performers.

Last Thursday Ron, our emcee, missed our recording session. I sent a text – no response – and it slowly dawned on me that I would be the emcee. I had gone to the show “extra casual” that evening. My hair was a mess, I had no makeup on, my shirt had too “busy” a design for TV, and I hadn’t written down the information that the emcee usually announces.

While the final act recorded, I scrambled: I dug through my purse to find whatever makeup might be available. I set my camera on “selfie” mode to use as a mirror. (Many thanks to whichever high school student showed me that trick!) I wrote notes about the performers. Ron always ended with an inspirational story of some kind — what could I close with? By the time I needed to be ready, I had a little makeup, a comb through my hair, and a vague idea of something to say.

I remember closing with, “That’s our show. You know, every one of our performers tonight started at the same place. They said, ‘I wonder if I can?’ ‘I wonder if I can play that guitar?’ ‘I wonder if I can write a song?'” I don’t remember a syllable that I said after that, but everyone in the studio was watching intently, and someone asked later if I planned a career as a motivational speaker! I had to smile.

They didn’t know I was thinking, “I wonder if I can get through this?”

From now on, it’s back to my Girl Scout motto: be prepared!

February 21, 2018October 11, 2019

“Go in Peace” by Sam Baker

One of the elders sang this song as the benediction at church tonight, and it has stayed with me. I’m struck by how rich in metaphor this simple lyric is.

We “go into the dark” not only at night, but every time we move forward into something new. Every morning. Each new person. Each new venture. But also with each loss, as we deal with a new “normal.” When we try to resolve an issue. When we make a change.

To move forward “not afraid” is not always easy. The world can be a dangerous place. To remind ourselves that we are “not alone” is also not easy. We often feel that way.

And just as Robert Frost did in “Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening,” Baker emphasizes his final metaphor with a simple repetition:

Let us hope by some good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home.

For the record, I want this song sung at my funeral. At the end.

January 12, 2018

At the grocery

They passed me near the pickles. She was about 7 years old, with a voice that carried, demanding, over and over. At the end of the aisle, her mother replied quietly with something that sounded like, “You need to ___ or ___.” Daughter thought about it briefly, but decided to continue, hesitantly at first, then as before. I met them again near the canned vegetables. Her mother spoke to her quietly. Then, “No, Mommy! No, no!”

I looked up.

Girl with arm outstretched.

It was about 8:30, the end of a busy day. All of us were stocking up ahead of a winter storm. Mother was dealing with daughter by using her words quietly. Effectively. I didn’t hear what she said, but she had laid down the law. “No, Mommy! No, no!” continued as mother picked up chips and paper towel.

“I don’t want to go, Mommy!” was the new refrain somewhere near the eggs. “Mommy, I don’t want to go! Don’t make me go! Please, Mommy, please! Please! Pleeeeeeeeeease!”

There was no fear in the child’s voice and no anger in the mother’s response. This was a power struggle, and the mother was not giving in.

Near the checkout, hoping to bargain, daughter tried, “Maybe, Mommy? Maybe I don’t have to go? Maybe?”

I wanted to tell this mother how much I respected what she was doing. That what she was doing was SO important. That I admired her calm. I wanted to support her. But I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to sound condescending, and I didn’t want to butt in.

They were behind me in the self-check area, daughter still nonstop. “Maybe, Mommy? Pleeeeease?”

A third shopper came in. From his scanner he spoke to the mother, “You’re doing the right thing. I’ve got one just like that at home. Kids are terrorists! You can’t give in. You’re doing the right thing.”

“Yeah,” I smiled to myself. “That’s how to do it.”

She thanked him and said that there had been an after-school event and that daughter was up a little past her bedtime. We scanned and bagged and headed out the door.

She had parked right behind me. Strapped in her car seat, the daughter was still begging as mother loaded groceries into the back. I walked over. “Moms rule!” I said, and we shared a fistbump. “Thanks,” she said, “I needed that.”