Music, Arts, Love, and a Time to Remember

One of those very good times happened that was so much like late last fall when I hung out with Aidan while he recorded pieces for his music auditions. That was on Fridays at Church of the Holy Spirit when its offices and the church itself are usually closed. This time, last Friday morning, it was Keoni recording pieces there with Seth accompanying on piano. All a blissful way to spend some time. How interesting the setup was, too; every time it gets more sophisticated...

Seth and Keoni prepping for the recording...

When finished, Keoni immediately set out in his mom's truck for the Philadelphia 30th Street Station to pick up other Juilliard members of the quintet arriving from NYC. They had an inspiration to play together this past year. Their collaboration has had exciting results and they came to play in "real-time" at Church of the Holy Spirit on Saturday which resumed the church's pandemic-delayed concert series. JYARD Quintet's collaboration is inspired. They love making music together and it shows.

Here's from the quintet's practice on Friday after Keoni picked them up. This video is from Peter Lockman. You may remember him from earlier blog postings of church concerts--the Escher Trio--Peter, Keoni, and Seth. Peter's family helped house the quintet, too, and so did Wendy, John, Aidan, and Keoni.

Saturday's program...

Keoni edited and sent these two pieces from the concert. He loved the arranging, the collaborating, and infusion of ideas and dynamics of the group. When they play, it's clear there's freedom, happiness, and enjoyment in making music.

(To go full screen click on the play arrow then the word "YouTube". The little square button for full screen is not available until YouTube opens.)

More of the concert will appear here as Keoni gets time to edit and pull the concert video and recordings together. I'll let you know in future postings. 

Aidan captured a couple of quintet moments post-concert...

Taking a bow.

It was the first time I've been in a crowd for 14 months. Every attendee masked, most all vaxxed. The performers shed masks while playing and were a goodly distance from our fairly spread-out audience. Whew! Thank you! I could relax and fully immerse myself in the beautiful music.

On Sunday, Peter played cello during the music at church. Yes, that's Seth playing piano behind Peter...

It was great to hear Peter's music again after a time away.
There's a story there, I'm sure. We're all glad he's back.

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Paula has continued her desert colors series and shared April with us...

April showed her many more shades of yellow. Each month's renderings have brought back the desert lands that activate all my senses once more.

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I think the awareness that takes place in our hearts and minds from music, arts, love, builds limitless joy that humankind will always search for words and ways to express. They take us to the tops of mountains, their fullness promises a beautiful presence in our passages through valleys and rugged terrain.

Tomorrow would have been Dimetrios' 17th birthday. Music, arts, love put their arms around us and help us in our grieving times. Sonja shared an idea, made a request, not long ago. This drawing resulted. Below is a photo I made of it before I sent the drawing to her...

In Memory of Dimetrios, May 26, 2004--June 22, 2020.

In his memory, there is a new page with more about him published in the Electric Attic column on the right, at the top.

Thank You!

An enormous Thank You! to the vast pool of people on the planet who brought the vaccines out of an idea 10+ years ago through inspiration, research, governments, companies, and resources that could all suddenly be harnessed in early 2020 in a Super Nova of creative, focused energy into a pandemic-stopper contained in a simple injectable substance.

Thank You! to everyone who bared their arm for the jab and all who are lining up here and globally to get theirs, too.

A relief. An immense gratitude for life-giving participants/recipients. All of them. No matter who you are or where you are. Thank You!

Yes, I know there are some of you who remain doubtful and some who oppose "vaxxing", as it's come to be called. You have your reasons, your own thoughts, and doubts. It's okay to have thoughts and doubts.

I'll share my thoughts and doubts with you... 

I'm nearly 82 now and am grateful that the complex where I live made the vaccine available to all residents early this year during the time I was being evaluated and treated for breast cancer. On the same day as my surgery, I received my first vaccine shot. The second vaccine shot was another dash from the jab to still another hospital procedure. During those weeks, what a relief, for me and for the personnel who must deal with my needs--who dealt and still deal with so many others' needs.

This part of my thoughts is not just about me. It's also about you. Most of all, it's about a virus that sees no borders, crosses continents, oceans, blows into the air from our human breath—like the warm fog breathed onto our car windows as we start our car on a cold winter morning. The virus is out there menacing all of us, no matter my thoughts and doubts, nor yours. My breath can infect you, your breath can infect me. The virus doesn't care whether it is you or it is me.

The virus infects with oblivion and eventually could reach every single person on the planet. Once inside its human host, this infinitely tiny entity replicates at insanely fast rates, and each time, there is a chance that a slightly different lineup of its building blocks can occur. Sometimes those will be benign, sometimes not and it births a "variant". But new variant or not, it’s a viral infection breathed into the air. The more it infects, all the more chances it gets.

For all our efforts—masks, separating ourselves from each other, cleaning, washing, loneliness, suffering, grieving, struggling, and at last vaccines—my doubts and concerns are that we’ve missed the chance to thwart the virus. That it will be with us for a very long time. That so many more will suffer or die from it. That we’ve not respected a tiny speck that sickens and kills humans. I worry we are missing a chance to drive the virus into its own dead end because it no longer can find someone to infect. 

So many here and everywhere in the world remain unvaccinated. Will we have years and years of serious outbreaks?

This is why I didn't hesitate to be immunized when the vaccine became available to me. If my jabs keep even one child, or one loved one, or one friend, or one other human from virus harm or death, it's profoundly worth it. 

I pray to whatever spirit is out there, that enough vaccinations will take place here and throughout the world so this mean, little Covid speck can't kidnap another person's body to breathe disease into a fresh human being to sicken and kill them. That Covid finds its own dead end.

If you feel bad about all of this, know that I do, too. Sometimes, I'm profoundly sad that Covid sickened, harmed, and killed so many. I hope you are never infected. Every last one of you is worth the shots I got.

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Life is opening up a little bit. We could comfortably gather for John's birthday; the four of them and a couple who have been friends. They are part of the family's bubble. They helped secure vaccine appointments for Wendy, John, and Aidan. Keoni found his earlier in upstate New York--almost a day's drive away--twice!

Aidan outdid himself on his baking/dessert pandemic career. His cheesecake for his dad was so good that it set a new benchmark by which all other cheesecakes must be measured...

Walks at the farm, visiting the dogs and Toby, the animals; brief outdoor chats with the family have been stability mainstays during these months of near isolation. Now with all vaccinated, we can sit down together for a dinner. We planned John's birthday outside but the rain came and we moved onto the back porch. It was all good.

Spring's skies, green, and the yellow flowers have been luscious. 

Wendy's garden is all in. Now it's all maintenance.

Keoni took this on one of our walks.

Over in Utah, Elijah and his parents and brother have been at far out-of-town tournaments for a big change from their isolated pandemic mode. Kingston has had his first experience of school as his Kindergarten moved from virtual to in-person this spring. 

Elijah has kept up his basketball skills and had some good games. His season is over for a while but he'll be back at it before we know it, I'm sure.

I've put seeds on the bedroom windowsill outside for over a month. The squirrels have loved it and at last, the birds have found it.

In Tucson, Paula added to her art journal of the trip they took just prior to the pandemic. You can see the addition here...

Paula's New Zealand Visual Trip Journal. Day 21: Hobbit Hole, Hobbiton 

Aidan and Keoni made their choices for next fall. Aidan will go to the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music for cello performance. Keoni will pursue another post-graduate degree from Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. A hearty congratulations to them both for all their work and perseverance that made this possible. And applause to their parents for the love and support over the years that led to all of this.

Keoni sent this from where he often stayed in NYC at his friend Joey's apartment.

My pen and ink sketch of a favorite farm view.

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Also in Tucson, Gloria sent this of her pink cactus blooms from the pups I gave her a long time ago. I am bowing my head now as I think of Gloria's sister Deanna. She passed away and the next morning these 30 blossoms opened in Gloria's yard.

Remembering Deanna.

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Cooking

I was asked how I learned to cook. Here's what I wrote...

My introduction to cooking was as my mother's kitchen slavey, gatherer, and hunter. Peeling. A lot. Clean up. A lot. Every day. Huge summer vegetable gardens, orchards, field stuff, wild stuff--dewberries, blackberries, persimmons, mushrooms. Spade, plow, plant, hoe, weed, pick, gather, glean, peel, hull, husk, pit, seed. Mounds of produce for freezing, canning, eating. Oh, and the milking (2 cows, 2 x da)--sanitation, butter, cream, sour cream, whipped cream, cottage cheese. Not to forget chickens--meat prep, egg gathers. Calves, pigs, wild rabbits, quail, and summertimes--frogs. To put those years into a frame of time, Bill Haley and the Comets' "Rock Around the Clock" hit the top of the charts and Milton Berle was Mr. Tuesday on our single TV channel. Then, high school was over. I left. When asked, I said I didn't know how to cook. I'd never actually cooked--anything. Well, once in a while, bacon and eggs, and sandwiches.

When the hippies went "back to nature" in the 60s and did their communal farm thing. I said, "Are you kidding?! Been there, done that."

I worked, I went to college. Got married. A funny thing happened. I LIKED my own kitchen. Back when all that prep was happening, I was actually absorbing lots and lots--even basics from my Freshman HS year of a hated (required of girls) Home Economics class--white sauce, e.g., had osmosed through stubborn brain barriers. I discovered a deep respect for food, its source, its procurement, its preparation and its enjoyment. I knew far more than I'd admitted to myself, or anyone. I bought my first cookbook, a 1950s edition of Mrs. Rombauer's "Joy of Cooking". A lifetime's enjoyment and exploration in the kitchen began. Best of all--enjoying it with friends and family.

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It's so green again. A couple of days ago as I parked in the lot where I live, a shower broke up showing the sun low behind new green leaves...