The Banal Chew

Linda Lou Cobb (nee Conquest), 1942-2022

I didn't know Mom Lin from 3 to 33.

Such an acrimonious divorce.
Photos were burned.
Names were forbidden.
Love survived.

If, following our reconnection, there was one thing I never felt, it was alone. Mom loved me unconditionally. I felt it then, and I miss it now.

Rest well, dear mother.

Sweet Suomi

I am a little obsessed with Finlandia by Sibelius right now. Maybe it's in my Nordic blood. According to some saliva that I spat in a tube, I'm nearly 20% Scandinavian. 

The live performance below, by the Helsinki Philharmonic and Sibelius Academy Choir with Jukka-Pekka Saraste at the podium, is nearly perfect. Sibelius originally wrote the piece for orchestra in 1899, conceptualising a musical narrative of Finland's history and natural beauty. It has since been arranged for many ensembles. Reportedly, the composer wasn't always happy about that, but he did sanction the arrangement for choir and orchestra featured below. 

I am currently arranging the Hymn from the work for woodwind quartet (2 flutes, 2 clarinets). The composer probably wouldn't approve. Sorry, Sibelius. 

 

 

Quotes for the Journey

Monday Smile

Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Little old lady.
Little old lady who?
I didn't know you could yodel!

 

I'm Calm. (Really I am.)

Extended lockdown.

[heavy sigh]

At least it gives me time at home to unpack this sea of boxes still sitting around since my move last month. Given my age, I don't have all that much stuff. That's an advantage of being a vagabond. But it's enough to make me a little crazy. Mostly, it's all music books and scores. So many scores.

It's likely I am subconciously putting off unpacking all these, because chances are good that weepy, nostalgic Sandy will come out of hiding during the process. Thank goodness he stopped drinking.

Wait! Am I now really, publicly narrating about myself in the third person?

I'm calm. 

(from Essgee Productions 1998 revival of A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum)

The Happy News

I recently subscribed to this print newsletter and received my first copy in the post today!

I have been craving a simple print publication I could touch and read...and something that wasn't full of sad, troubling or triggering news. Just goodness. 

The Happy News is published in the UK by Emily Coxhead, who, along with a few other cheerful folks, authors, edits, illustrates and generally oversees the production of the quarterly publication (ISSN 2632-7260). 

 

 

My Joy of Cooking

While unpacking in my new place, I opened a box marked "Kitchen". To my joy (pardon the pun), I found my very old and weary copy of the 1973 reprint of Irma S. Rombauer's fundamental cooking text, The Joy of Cooking. Rescuing it from storage, where it has slept for over 10 years now, I am eager to get stuck into some cooking. Many editions of this book have updated the original over the 80+ years since it was originally published, thereby modernising the recipes and instructions substantially. But I love this edition. Essentially, it taught me how to cook, something I've always enjoyed doing--and I nearly made a career of it, had I not decided to pursue a doctorate in music instead. A decade-long stint as an ovo-lacto vegetarian during the 1990s also helped. (I mean, you can only have so much yogurt and peanut butter in a day.) Hmm, where to begin?

Grateful

Each morning, I pull a card from a box that lists an emotion or feeling that I reflect upon over breakfast. Sometimes I even act out the word in front of a mirror, a technique I use as an icebreaker activity for music/rhythm workshops I have facilitated in mental health settings. I love it when I get "grateful", because there's so much I have to be thankful for.

The Tussle of Life

One evening in the not too distant past, I stood inconsolably weeping on the mezzanine of an old Melbourne townhouse, teetering over the edge of the shoddy railing and wondering if slamming my body against the many furnishings below would sufficiently break my neck and put an end to the chaos, or simply leave me in a similar vegetative state through which I’d watched my wide-eyed grandmother suffer during the last 20 years of her life. At that point, my partner at the time, estranged but caring, thrust a piece of paper toward me. It was a printed checklist of signs and symptoms of Borderline Personality Disorder.

I fell to my knees, then and there, and read the list. Ticking all nine boxes, I was left reeling. My tears stopped abruptly. My shaking diminished. The violently floating Tetris blocks crashing about in my head began to slow and settle against each other, perhaps not fitting properly, but coming to a rest.

This was me. This was my head. This was my life, and it had been for countless years. I wasn’t nuttier than squirrel shit after all. I wasn’t simply a “spoiled brat”. And I wasn’t just a drunk. I was sick. I was treatable. Moreover, I wasn’t alone. Through some strange alchemy of the human condition, my hot tears of anguish became cooling tears of relief.

Any so my journey to mental health recovery began. To this day, it continues, as it will for the rest of my life. It isn’t easy, nor did I expect to be. But just as there are pitfalls and slippery rungs on the ladder to light, there are also a great many celebrations. Most days, I find beauty and belonging in everyone and everything I see in this slice of heaven on the far South Coast of NSW. Some days it’s hard to scrape aside the muck and let that heavenliness shine through. Eventually, however, it always does. And I relish every second of it.

I am grateful to my ex-partner for bringing about the awareness. I am thankful for the prayers, light and goodness sent upon me by friends far and wide. I am forever in awe of the pragmatic and (relatively) drama-free folks in AA, who serve as endless inspiration to me. I am especially full of gratitude for the medical staff who have worked tirelessly and endlessly to look after me. You are my tribe, and I love you all.

My story isn’t over, so don’t leave your reading glasses too far behind. There are many exciting ventures ahead, and I’ll be sharing them little by little.
Sandy
Ver5.8

Photo by Jeremy Perkins on Unsplash

Sweet Snail Mail

This arrived in the post yesterday.

It's only Tuesday, but my week has been made.

Again?

I feel like blogging.  And not just any blogging, but the sort I did years ago, during the hey-day of the genre.

The topic? Romantic inclination. (See those seatbelts? You may want to buckle them.)

So it turns out that I'm seeing a guy. Yes, that's right. I am *seeing* him.

Who knew? I spent three years in a gay mecca after the split with my ex, and no one paid much interest.*  And now that I've moved south to an exceedingly rural (albeit LOVELY) location, I have a suitor.  Go figure.

To be honest, I like this man.  I like him a lot.  We knew each other a couple decades ago in Arizona, but we never had a chance to foment a friendship. Now, however, all that has changed. Thank you, Facebook.

I don't know what the future brings. I do know that as of a few weeks ago, we at least Viber (free texting) each day. And we also Skype. A lot. (In fact, a helluva lot.) I'm not complaining. 

Wait! Skype, Viber? Why not just meet up? While that is an awesome question, dear Reader, it is also one I hate to answer. 

He lives in the US. I live in Australia. Math, anyone?

He and I don't talk much about the elephant sitting in the corner. (I think that creature must migrate easily, because sometimes she haunts me and sometimes him. I keep meaning to ask her how she travels so readily.)

I only know that I am very fond of this beautiful, beardy, smart, funny man. I will attempt a mindful approach to this burgeoning [whatever]. If it works, you know I'll be dancing. If not, then I have known a man who helped me transition from nothing to something. Oh, okay, much more than something. So much for playing it cool.

___________________

* Except for the occasional 18 y/o on Grindr. Really?

Renaissance?

(Firstly, apologies for the sketchy commenting interface lately. I'm switching to Disqus, and it takes a day or two to settle down and play nicely.)

Did anyone notice that this is the fourth blog post on consecutive days?  This may not be all that substantive a post, but I think it calls for a squirrel dance.

 

(More later today, perhaps something for Cogitation Tuesday.  It is only 5am, after all.)

Shirts for Sweeties

My sweet, handsome and charming buddy, Sean in NY state, received the Australia Day cum Superman t-shirt I sent him. Yep, that's an Aussie-flag cape that attaches to the back with velcro tabs. 

Sean has a delightful preoccupation with superhero clothing.  

Enjoy, my friend!

Missing Dad

Today is the three-year anniversary of my father's departure from this world. In his memory, I helped my housemate build some fence, something Dad did often. Every time I look at my vegetable garden, I think of him. I could use his advice.

I really loved my dad, and I'm glad that he and I were able to spend a fair amount of time together during his final years. 

My advice:  do all that you can to reach out to the ones you love, to whatever extent you are able. All too soon, they are gone from your lives. 

Happy Valentine's Day

...especially to a certain someone.