Both The Husband... and The Oldest have been here most of the time since Thanksgiving. The Husband... has been working on an opportunity with the promise of a consulting contract and The Oldest has been interviewing. It appears both of their efforts are coming to fruition, and I am so very grateful, not just for the additional income, but for the fact that they both seem to have very interesting opportunities to which they are perfectly suited. I am excited for us all. In the meantime, they are there, in my little apartment, most of the time I am home and I am easily distracted into lively family interaction.
I know it sounds silly but I so enjoy Saturday errands. Maybe part of it is because, while I am out among people, I'm kind of alone and the time is just mine. The routine varies but it's a very comfortable routine. Today I went to Costco for the two things I can only get there, Tyson's Tequila Lime Chicken Wings and really cheap heartburn preventative, and then headed to Kroger for the rest of the list of neccessities to stock the larder for the week. Vaguely out of sorts over the aforementioned stuckness, happy to be shopping but wishing I didn't have to do the math as I went, I was almost done when I heard in the grocery store music, the unplaceably familiar, uniquely rendered strains of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" sung with a twist or two, accompanied by only a ukulele, and it jarred me. Unloading groceries, I asked The Youngest if he was familiar with it and he suggested I was imagining the song, but Middle Son knew it instantly when I called and told me that I likely heard it before in a movie, and that the performer who recorded it died. It's actually a medly and I found this ariticle by Jack Boulware at SFGate.com about the artist, Hawai'ian Israel Kamakawiwo'ole, and the manner in which it was recorded in a session he called suddenly, in the middle of the night:
An incredibly fat man, elegantly caressing a Hollywood show tune, breaking it down to its roots, so sad and poignant, yet full of hope and possibility. Halfway through the tune, Israel spirals off into "What a Wonderful World," the George David Weiss/Bob Thiele hit made famous by Louis Armstrong, then melts back into "Over the Rainbow." He flubs a lyric, and tosses in a new chord change, but it doesn't matter. It feels seamless, chilling. Israel plays five songs in a row, then turns to de Mello and says, "I'm tired and I'm going home." "Gets up and walks out," says de Mello. "Ukulele and a vocal, one take. Over." Israel never played the song again.
I was able to find it on You Tube. It's below, at the end of this post. Sometimes it's not so bad to be stopped in my tracks. It's happened a couple of other times recently, often brought about by the interesting things I find wandering the internet, more often than not, guided by fine bloggers. Greg Peters at Suspect Device in this simple post pointed me to a beautiful tribute, more of a blog than a post, made by Aunt Andi to her favorite and only nephew, Charlie, "the only son of an only son of an only son," lost to war. It's long and sad but so worth taking the time. She painted this young man so very real, with her words and pictures, told his story so well, that I thought of him all week, from his little boy's face all full of hope to the soldier he grew to be, complex resolve.
Sometimes I get stopped in my tracks by the wonderful discussions that follow posts on other blogs, and the places those discussion lead me. In N.O Love Left Editor B wondered aloud why he and his wife (known as Xy on his blog) stay in New Orleans, not being originally from there and given the state of their difficulties, and his readers reply with each their own eloqent reasons for having stayed or having left, the comments easily as beautiful as the post itself. Then there was this discussion at Kevin's that, slightly off balance as it was, resulted in my finding a new blogger (well, previously unknown to me), Dr. Ursa, and this amazing description on one of her blogs of the manner in which she interacts with God:
If I am aligned with God's mindset, I am less likely to foul up the power flow. I used to pray very complex prayers and worry about getting it wrong, but I've uncluttered a lot in the past few years. Basically, I tell God what I want, and then God does what He wants insofar as I am able to let Him work through me, and we're both OK with that. He accepts my flaws and limited vision, and I accept the premise that He's the only one who knows what it best in any given situation. Occasionally, I feel inspired to pray a particular way, and I generally do it, and worry about it afterwards.
Stopped in my tracks again, I've decided that if I'm gonna be stuck, I might as well enjoy the view.
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