I’m off to Canada tomorrow. I know you will miss me. Gonna be rough, so many fond memories with Lynn. However, I am taking two friends. Seth Harp, in the form of his book, “The Fort Bragg Cartel: Drug Trafficking and Murder in the Special Forces”. And James Rebanks, in the form of his book, “The Place of Tides”.
Maybe I won’t run to Oak Bay. Maybe I won’t swim in the salt-based 25-meter pool underneath the hotel. Maybe I won’t sit in the steam room after not swimming in the pool. Maybe I won’t go to my fave restaurants or Victoria’s REI, MEC—Mountain Equipment Coop. Maybe I won’t go to “our” theatre. Maybe I’ll just cocoon with Harp and Rebanks. No outdoor equipment required for that. You know, just lean into the grief and Howard Hughes it.
If the Canadians look at my application for asylum, and conclude, “Oh, they don’t send their best.” I’ll be back midweek.
If I do have to return, I hope you will have used Monday to rethink your plan to completely disrupt the global world order and Tuesday to put it back together. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.
Baby (whoo-hoo), where the hell is my husband? (Whoo-hoo) What is taking him so long (whoo-hoo) to find me? Oh, baby, where the hell is my lover? Getting down with another? (Whoo-hoo, yeah) Tell him if you see him, baby, if you see him, tell him, tell him (He should holler)
Why is this beautiful man waiting for me to get old? Why he already testing my patience? I only fear he’s taking time with other women that ain’t me While I’ve been reviewing applications Wait ’til I get my hands on him, I’ma tell him off too For how long he kept mе waiting, anticipating Praying to the Lord to give him to my loving arms And despite my frustrations
And he must need me (he must need me) Completely (completely) How my heart yearns for him Is he far away? (Is he far away?) Is he okay? (Is he okay?) This man is testing me, uh-huh, uh-huh Uh, help me, help me, help me, Lord I need you to tell me
Baby (whoo-hoo), where the hell is my husband? (Whoo-hoo) What is taking him so long (whoo-hoo) to find me? Oh, baby, where the hell is my lover? Getting down with another? (Whoo-hoo, yeah) Tell him if you see him, baby, if you see him, tell him, tell him (He should holler)
I’m doing lonely acrobatics, unzipping my dress at 2 a.m. And I’m tired of living like this He must be out there getting ready, tryna fix up his tie Uh, huh-huh, uh, hello? This where your wife is Wait ’til I get your heart going, I’ma turn it up too For how much I’m ’bout to love ya, no one above ya Praying to the Lord to hurry, hurry you along Baby, I intend to rush ya
And he must need me (he must need me) Completely (completely) How my heart yearns for him Is he far away? (Is he far away?) Is he okay? (Is he okay?) This man is testing me, uh-huh, uh-huh Uh, help me, help me, help me, Lord I need you to tell me
Baby (whoo-hoo), where the hell is my husband? (Whoo-hoo) What is taking him so long (whoo-hoo) to find me? Oh, baby, where the hell is my lover? Getting down with another? (Whoo-hoo, yeah) Tell him if you see him, baby, if you see him, tell him, tell him (He should holler)
T-t-t-t-tell him I’m mm, tell him I’m mm with the mm, mm, mm Tell him I’m kind, tell him I’m 5’5″ Tell him I got brown eyes and a growing fear That if he doesn’t find me now, I’m gonna die alone, so can he Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, hurry up here, sir? Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh, uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh, huh I want it, want it, want it, want it, want it
I would like a ring, I would like a ring I would like a diamond ring on my wedding finger I would like a big and shiny diamond That I could wave around and talk and talk about it And when the day is here, forgive me, God, that I could ever doubt it Until death, I do, I do, I do, I- Is he about it, ’bout it, ’bout it? This man is testing me, uh-huh, uh-huh Uh, help me, help me, help me, Lord I need you to tell me
Baby (whoo-hoo), where the hell is my husband? (Whoo-hoo) What is taking him so long (whoo-hoo) to find me? Oh, baby, where the hell is my lover? Getting down with another? (Whoo-hoo, yeah) Tell him that my grandma said it, tell him grandma said it (Your husband is coming)
I would like a ring, I would like a ring I would like a diamond ring on my wedding finger I would like a big and shiny (ooh) diamond (yes), diamond (yes) Diamond (yes), diamond (yes), diamond (yes), oh Where is my husband? (Ah)
Yes, of course I’m all caught up on the Taylor Swift-Travis Kelce engagement story. Here’s my fave part of the paper of record’s story of the impending nuptials.
“I’m just there to support Travis,” she said of her trips to the games in the interview with Time. “I have no awareness of if I’m being shown too much and pissing off a few dads, Brads and Chads.”
“Like the first film, the sequel proves moronic, witless and relentlessly vulgar. Which is to say, Happy Gilmore fans will love it.”
Believe it or not, I have not seen the original, but being in desperate need of comedic relief, I’m in no position to be finicky. So go ahead, queue it up.
Postscript. Approximately 6 minutes of the first 60 were smile, if not, laugh inducing. After that, it became unwatchable.
Zachary Woolfe, the classical music critic of the New York Times, offers this enticing invite. “In Just a Few Minutes, This Music Will Change Your Day“. The subtitle reads, “Calm and graceful, this cello piece by Bach slowly dances through hopefulness, longing and introspection.”
Is there anyone in more desperate need for calm, grace, and hope than me?
I listened. And I don’t know if it changed my day, but it did make me think that classical music could be a pillar of my eventual recovery.
Dig Woolfe’s conclusion.
“The cello suites were probably written around 1720, when Bach was employed by a German prince. He spent much of his career working for churches, so this was a rare period in which he got to focus on secular works. There was no need for his music to be about anything, to have any practical use. He could simply celebrate instruments and the full range of what they could do, quietly pushing them to their limits.”
Beautiful. Bach’s sarabande and Woolfe’s framing of it.
“There is so much to tend to, hold, be with, feel. May you find so much gentleness for your own process. May you let your humanity unfurl, over and over again. May the grief and hurt wrapped up in facing the world be held by your own willingness to look. May love soften the hard edges. May light soothe the dark places. May you return to your own heart’s knowing and trust what it whispers to you. May you let yourself do all of this so imperfectly, that imperfection a reminder that you are a human being, figuring it all out for the first time. I’m with you.”
Early evenings, like a lot of the time that I care for Lynn, I’m on the move. Making dinner, getting her fed, eating myself, doing dishes, cleaning the counters, taking out the trash, vacuuming the hardwood floor.
Activity blunts the grief. But I pressed pause Monday evening and it rushed in.
I stopped cleaning to dance. In the reflection of the oven, I saw the real dancer watching me. When I try dancing, she just smiles.
And now, the dancer pushes her wheelchair away from the table so that she can move toward the pretend dancer.
“You want to dance, don’t you?” Bigger smile. I expedite things by wheeling her into the kitchen. Where I help her up and embrace her. We slow dance like first-time junior highers slowly swaying back and forth.
But dammit, it’s The National singing “I Need My Girl”.
The refrain rips through. “I need my girl. I need my girl. I need my girl.”
My girl has no clue I’m crying.
May love soften the hard edges. May light soothe the dark places.
Pressing Pause 