My brother, Raymond, had suggested that I contemplate the Pacific Ocean while on this crossing, unfortunately I have been watching Shogun and keep envisioning 15th and 16th century sailors on wooden ships not much bigger than one of the containers on this ship.
The mind can go to strange places when not constantly distracted by the accoutrements of twenty-first century American life, especially when the better part of three days is spent curled up in a ball on a couch.
During the days that I was ill, I kept switching my computer back and forth between the Chinese Language program (none of which stuck) and all the music I have transferred from computer to computer over the years. Music has always been my constant companion and pinpoints the high and low moments of my life.
Early Beatles call to mind family and friends on Winthrop Street in Brooklyn, where I grew up. My first 10 transistor radio, which I would play at high volume while we played stoop ball or jump rope, and where you never knew exactly when it was going to happen, but all hell was sure to break loose in the not too distant future. They also spark memories of my sons when they were very young, usually trying to build a fort or some such thing singing Penny Lane at the top of their lungs.
Janis Joplin, Gordon Lightfoot and Neil Diamond bring me back to Gilmore’s Pub on the corner of Church and Rogers Avenues, where far too many weekends were spent partying and nourishing long term friendships. I believe more than a few of that crowd would enjoy this trip.
The Who’s rock opera Tommy brought back memories of my first husband, the rock and roll drummer with a big chortling laugh and a generous spirit who would have loved this adventure.
Rolling Stones’ Sticky Fingers album reminds me of a woman I worked with in a law firm in upstate New York where I would play it when the bosses weren’t around – she hated them. We are still friends.
Barbra Streisand’s Funny Girl album calls to mind my sister, Bernadette, who had the biggest heart I have ever come across, a wild sense of humor that she gladly shared with anyone within hearing range and the most contagious laugh in the world. October 17th will mark six years since her passing, it is still an open wound.
It’s quiet in here now and almost in time with the hum of the engines I can just barely hear my father singing Peg O’ My Heart, what a character he was . . . but that is a book unto itself.
Instead of going on like this ad nauseum I will let John Lennon say it for me:
There are places I remember
All my life
Though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some are gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I’ve loved them all
Oh, what the heck, why not one more? While living in Kansas I was in a training session during which we (the trainees) were to provide the background music, I drove one instructor to distraction with Eric Clapton’s Unplugged.
The mind can go to strange places when not constantly distracted by the accoutrements of twenty-first century American life, especially when the better part of three days is spent curled up in a ball on a couch.
During the days that I was ill, I kept switching my computer back and forth between the Chinese Language program (none of which stuck) and all the music I have transferred from computer to computer over the years. Music has always been my constant companion and pinpoints the high and low moments of my life.
Early Beatles call to mind family and friends on Winthrop Street in Brooklyn, where I grew up. My first 10 transistor radio, which I would play at high volume while we played stoop ball or jump rope, and where you never knew exactly when it was going to happen, but all hell was sure to break loose in the not too distant future. They also spark memories of my sons when they were very young, usually trying to build a fort or some such thing singing Penny Lane at the top of their lungs.
Janis Joplin, Gordon Lightfoot and Neil Diamond bring me back to Gilmore’s Pub on the corner of Church and Rogers Avenues, where far too many weekends were spent partying and nourishing long term friendships. I believe more than a few of that crowd would enjoy this trip.
The Who’s rock opera Tommy brought back memories of my first husband, the rock and roll drummer with a big chortling laugh and a generous spirit who would have loved this adventure.
Rolling Stones’ Sticky Fingers album reminds me of a woman I worked with in a law firm in upstate New York where I would play it when the bosses weren’t around – she hated them. We are still friends.
Barbra Streisand’s Funny Girl album calls to mind my sister, Bernadette, who had the biggest heart I have ever come across, a wild sense of humor that she gladly shared with anyone within hearing range and the most contagious laugh in the world. October 17th will mark six years since her passing, it is still an open wound.
It’s quiet in here now and almost in time with the hum of the engines I can just barely hear my father singing Peg O’ My Heart, what a character he was . . . but that is a book unto itself.
Instead of going on like this ad nauseum I will let John Lennon say it for me:
There are places I remember
All my life
Though some have changed
Some forever, not for better
Some are gone and some remain
All these places have their moments
With lovers and friends I still can recall
Some are dead and some are living
In my life, I’ve loved them all
Oh, what the heck, why not one more? While living in Kansas I was in a training session during which we (the trainees) were to provide the background music, I drove one instructor to distraction with Eric Clapton’s Unplugged.