Musical Alone-ness

My parents were both musical. They were not great musicians, but they both participated in some kind of musical endeavor. My mom was a pianist. Again, not great but advanced enough to play for church and for an occasional wedding. My dad, completely untrained, was a tenor. Being Mexican, he had a kind of a European taste in music. He really loved the traditional operatic music and also a lot of what they called "the light classics."

My father had a few records around the house and was always collecting a few more. He really loved Mario Lanza, the great Italian-American tenor of the '40s and '50s. He knew a great deal about some of the great classical singers and sometimes he would share about some of them: Bidu Sayao, Yma Sumac, Richard Tucker, Jan Peerce, John Charles Thomas, Enrico Caruso and many more.

I was hooked from the very beginning. I love opera. I love German Lieder. I love vocal solo music from all countries and in all languages. I also love instrumental music. Brahms, Mendelssohn, Copland, Hanson, Strauss, Bach, Beethoven. I love polkas, waltzes, symphonies, string quartets, piano sonatas, violin concertos. I love Yo-Yo Ma, Jussi Bjoerling, Rafael Mendez, The Boston Symphony, The United States Marine Band, (The President's Own). I love all classical music.

I own about 500 record albums and over 1100 CD's. These represent my aesthetic and artistic beliefs. I listen to music for spiritual cleansing, for musical enlightenment, for understanding. But always, I listen to music for musical enjoyment. This music "speaks my language". The problem is this:

NOBODY I KNOW SPEAKS THIS LANGUAGE

I am the only person in my family that speaks this language. Not my lovely wife; not my beautiful daughter; not my athletic son. Although I think they respect my deep love of great music, they still see me (and it) as some kind of wierd.

Music, to me, has always been a spiritual way of living. It doesn't matter to me what style of music is being played or sung. I am still moved in my soul. Music is my balm and it always leads me to a spiritual place; a place where I am alone with God and where, if I relax and listen with my heart and not my ears, I can feel God come close.

I guess it is better to be alone and be able to feel God's presence, than to be with other people and not be within His grasp!! I am grateful!!

Who are these people?

I drive for a living. I work for a local, community-based mental health agency and I am a Courier. You know, the guy who delivers and picks up inter-office mail, confidential medical files, client medications and anything else that needs to be picked up or delivered. I drive as far south as Lynnwood, Washington in the morning and as far north as Sedro Woolley, Washington in the afternoon. It's a total of about 225 miles every day.

I really like this job, for reasons that I will probably write about at some future date. But for now here is my story.

I drive safely. I don't speed (by very much) and I always signal, look in my mirrors, and, above all, I am courteous to others. My mother taught me that courtesy would always pay big dividends and it is true, if the others are also interested in being courteous.

So today I was driving north on I-5. Around Smokey Point I was passed by a Mercedes driven by a well dressed, middle-aged man. This man had a three-ring binder balanced on his steering wheel; his right arm resting comfortably on the head rest of the passenger seat and his left hand held his cell phone to his left ear. I guess he was steering with his knees. As I was traveling at 75 mph at the time and he passed me VERY quickly, I surmised that he must have been going at least 85 mph, perhaps faster.

He was to my left and when he was about a half car length ahead of me he quickly pulled into my lane. I slammed on my brakes and honked the horn. What do you think happened? HE flipped ME off! HE flipped ME off! What gall!

This guy had the nerve to insult me when he was the one who was endangering both of our lives! I really wanted to do something but . . .what? What can one do?

Who are these people? Who are these people who no longer care about their fellow human beings? Who are these people who disobey laws? Who are disrespectful in furthering their own desires? What are they teaching their children? And what are the rest of us going to do about these peoples' self-centered habits? What can we do?

Sometimes I worry about where we are going and what we are doing!!!

Talent Is Talent

Our daughter, Julie, was an amazing artist when she was in high school. She created some absolutely wonderful pieces which were commissioned by the United Methodist Church and were used in some national meetings. She was selected as the Art Department Scholar of the Year in her senior year (2001)and we all thought she would major in Art in college. She didn't!!

She informed us that she wanted to create when she felt the urge to do so, not when some faculty person told her she needed to create for a grade. It sounded logical. But then her creative juices seemed to die out and she wasn't really doing much in the way of art for a couple of years.

In the last four months she has begun to create jewelry and make it available for sale on the Internet. Earrings, necklaces, bracelets, rings, headbands are all included in her catalogue. And I am telling you, they are truly beautiful!

Now tonight she decided she wanted to make a gift for her boyfriend's grandmother. She had previously taken a number of photos of flowers and had these photos printed and mounted in a frame. I was stunned!! Where did she learn to shoot photos like that??

I guess I did not understand her talent at all. Being an artist does not mean that one can create fine paintings or lovely drawings or amazing sculptures. Being an artist is a way of thinking; a manner in which we see the world. Julie sees the world in such a beautiful way and she is so dynamic in her awareness and ability to share her view with the rest of us.

I am deeply moved by her profound awareness of life, beauty and things that truly matter in this life. God Almighty, you have blest me beyond my understanding!! And I bow before You in gratitude!

Becoming Papa Pat

About four and a half years ago I became a grandfather. Because of that blessed event I immediately became Papa Pat. I couldn't have been prouder! As I took on the name of Papa Pat, I wanted to know my responsibilities. What was I to do. Who was I to be? Must I always be 'wise'? How would I get them to love me?

As it turns out, I had the questions all wrong. My granddaughters, Bailey, 4 1/2 and Madison, 2 are not so much the receivers in our relationship. I am! They give love, they give laughter, they give reality and they give themselves. All of these things come from them freely! I don't have to ask them.

I guess I am simply an extremely blest father because my own children were exactly the same; they were very giving and loving. They always were respectful and wanted to please both RaeLyn and I. As much as I tried to teach them, I ended up being the one who was learning and they were my teachers.

Bailey and Madison are the sweetest little girls. They tease and laugh and wrestle and shout and cry and dig in the dirt and name trees and see bees and pick flowers and cheer for their Daddy's team and tickle their Papa Pat!!!! I couldn't be prouder! Isn't life good??? No, really, isn't it good?