11.22.2009
11.17.2009
Trombone + Vocation
In a few days, I will play the trombone in public for the first time in eleven years.
When I was very young, I fell in love with the trombone. I even made my own little plastic version out of a sock hanger and a hair roller, and would march around the house pretending to play. When the time finally came that all the fifth graders got to roam through the Echo Hills gymnasium and try all the different instruments out, I halfheartedly blew into the trumpet and clarinet until it was my turn at the big brass.
I loved playing trombone. I rarely had opportunities to feel cool in elementary and middle school, but being a girl trombone player was one of them. I never practiced much, and any success I had at the instrument was due to my musical genes. But hanging out with the other trombone players was always so much fun - especially when I finally got to be in band with Helen and Joy, the super-cool girl trombone players a year older than I.
All that being said, after my last Wind Ensemble concert my senior year of high school, I did not really expect to play the instrument again. By that point I had figured out that guitar or piano were more legitimately cool instruments. (None of my singer-songwriter albums featured trombone.)
And then in July, I received an unexpected gift in the middle of our Joys and Concerns time at church: a brand new silver trombone.
The gift came from a formerly homeless member of the congregation who plays trumpet. After he was ticketed for playing on the Redondo Beach Pier without a permit, our former music director invited him to play his trumpet in worship (we knew him because he was a regular at our weekly free breakfast). A year or so after he began playing in worship, he decided he wanted to get off the streets, and as part of that process he wanted to formally join the church. We quickly helped him find a great program, and he has been living in a safe and stable environment ever since.
His roommate's family had owned an instrument shop, and still had a treasure trove of inventory that they had never sold off... including a silver trombone.
G. presented it to me in worship just before my birthday over the summer, and after some dusting up of my embouchure, we're playing We Gather Together for the offertory on Sunday.
I'm not a huge fan of the "everything happens for a reason" theory of the universe. But I do think that the disparate strands of our lives can be woven together into discernible patterns, and just as patterns create beauty in music, they can illuminate the beauty in our own lives. My background as a trombone player now feels like a part of my vocation, and playing trombone will be, for the first time, part of my ministry.
(And no, I still don't sound very good. But I'm practicing!)
When I was very young, I fell in love with the trombone. I even made my own little plastic version out of a sock hanger and a hair roller, and would march around the house pretending to play. When the time finally came that all the fifth graders got to roam through the Echo Hills gymnasium and try all the different instruments out, I halfheartedly blew into the trumpet and clarinet until it was my turn at the big brass.
I loved playing trombone. I rarely had opportunities to feel cool in elementary and middle school, but being a girl trombone player was one of them. I never practiced much, and any success I had at the instrument was due to my musical genes. But hanging out with the other trombone players was always so much fun - especially when I finally got to be in band with Helen and Joy, the super-cool girl trombone players a year older than I.
All that being said, after my last Wind Ensemble concert my senior year of high school, I did not really expect to play the instrument again. By that point I had figured out that guitar or piano were more legitimately cool instruments. (None of my singer-songwriter albums featured trombone.)
And then in July, I received an unexpected gift in the middle of our Joys and Concerns time at church: a brand new silver trombone.
The gift came from a formerly homeless member of the congregation who plays trumpet. After he was ticketed for playing on the Redondo Beach Pier without a permit, our former music director invited him to play his trumpet in worship (we knew him because he was a regular at our weekly free breakfast). A year or so after he began playing in worship, he decided he wanted to get off the streets, and as part of that process he wanted to formally join the church. We quickly helped him find a great program, and he has been living in a safe and stable environment ever since.
His roommate's family had owned an instrument shop, and still had a treasure trove of inventory that they had never sold off... including a silver trombone.
G. presented it to me in worship just before my birthday over the summer, and after some dusting up of my embouchure, we're playing We Gather Together for the offertory on Sunday.
I'm not a huge fan of the "everything happens for a reason" theory of the universe. But I do think that the disparate strands of our lives can be woven together into discernible patterns, and just as patterns create beauty in music, they can illuminate the beauty in our own lives. My background as a trombone player now feels like a part of my vocation, and playing trombone will be, for the first time, part of my ministry.
(And no, I still don't sound very good. But I'm practicing!)
11.15.2009
Facebook Update Update (3)
(circa 10/21-11/12, oldest to newest.)
Katherine...
Katherine...
- had forgotten that dangly earrings are a marvelous mood enhancer.
- had such a long day that 8:45pm feels more like midnight. Off to get some sleep.
- preached about plastic forks, among other things. Thankfully we used real silverware for the potluck after worship.
- planned to spend the morning reading Wuthering Heights and making a chairs & blanket tent with Juliette. Instead: scooping & vacuuming up the entire container of dry laundry soap she clumsily dropped into the washing machine, and hoping the subsequent rinse cycle doesn't result in a soap -looded garage.
- likes that her mother just sent her a letter full of makeup coupons and a $20, "to update your cosmetics in case you might have been using something too long."
- is continuing her week of abject clumsiness: this time, she dropped a gallon of whole milk in the driveway. Yes, it exploded. And yes, it was at least partially The Toddler's fault (with some blame reserved for The Mama, who probably shouldn't have been carrying so much).
- is regretting leaving a library book next to a pile of crayons.
- fondly remembered her Collegeville pals when 100.3 played "Margaritaville" on the way to church this morning.
- is about to leave for the Over the Rhine concert, with great thanksgivings to Ben who will be home with a cranky and sick toddler.
- does not have a black eye from the glass wall she walked into last night. At least not yet.
- is sick and tired of being sick and tired, and having a sick and tired child, who is also sick and tired of being sick and tired.
- barely understands a word of the pneumatology paper she wrote in seminary.
- is very excited and not a little daunted that her book proposal was accepted. This means she has to, um, write the book. Two chapters down, a whole bunch to go.
11.11.2009
Remembering a Veteran
This afternoon, I received an email through a Disciples of Christ listserve with this photograph, taken today in Arlington National Cemetery:
It caught the emailer's attention on account of the Chalice (Disciples of Christ) symbol on the gravestone. I didn't know that there are quite a few religious symbols that are authorized to be used on the stones - a staggering diversity, from Methodists to Muslims to Mormons.
Someone else emailed the link to the Arlington National Cemetery Website page for Gregroy Anthony Wright, the fallen soldier whose stone bears the Chalice in the photograph with the President.
He was an immigrant from Jamaica and the father of a three-year old daughter. He died in Iraq, from a roadside bomb attack.
He has become the face of Veterans' Day for me.
It caught the emailer's attention on account of the Chalice (Disciples of Christ) symbol on the gravestone. I didn't know that there are quite a few religious symbols that are authorized to be used on the stones - a staggering diversity, from Methodists to Muslims to Mormons.
Someone else emailed the link to the Arlington National Cemetery Website page for Gregroy Anthony Wright, the fallen soldier whose stone bears the Chalice in the photograph with the President.
He was an immigrant from Jamaica and the father of a three-year old daughter. He died in Iraq, from a roadside bomb attack.
He has become the face of Veterans' Day for me.
God of hope and peace, God of life and love, [Presbyterian Peacemaking Program] | |||
11.09.2009
Unexpected Glass Doors, Over the Rhine, Etcetera Whatever
Last night Over the Rhine played at the Largo in West Hollywood. It was hands down one of the best venues I've ever been to - a theater with a red velvet curtain, comfy seats, and excellent sound. I'm still kicking myself for not being irresponsible and going to the Saturday night show as well, as is my usual practice when OtR is in town. Ordinarily, they play the same setlist -give or take a couple - both nights. This time around, it was two entirely different shows. Saturday was cabaret night, Sunday night was church.
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I was supposed to meet my friend Sara at Real Food Daily a little after six 'o clock. I parked in the Largo parking garage and headed to the nearest stairwell. Let me add that I was walking quite purposefully at this point; even though it was only six in the evening, it was dark out, and parking garages + darkness = me nervous. So I'm walking along, again, quite purposefully. You might even say quickly. Suddenly I was no longer walking but was reeling, and trying to figure out how the glass wall got there. I'm surprised I didn't break my glasses, and I have a very, very tender bump by my eye that has thankfully not blossomed into a full-fledged shiner. Yet, anyway.
No one saw me crash, which is a good thing. Although it wouldn't have been a good thing if I'd passed out or, because as it turns out my stairwell wasn't a stairwell at all, but an entrance to a closed business. It may have been awhile until someone found me.
As it was, I had to call Ben as soon as I could to tell him that I'd just run into a wall. I am not the kind of person who can just run into a wall and let it pass. When I run into a wall, I have to tell someone. Immediately. (I apparently also have to tell lots of someones, hence this post.)
Head injury dramas behind me, I went to the restaurant. Sara was running a little late, so I got to hang out and watch Over the Rhine come in and sit at the table right in front of me. It totally reminded me of sitting in close proximity to them during dinner before their show at Brady's Cafe, all the way back in 2001. Except that we weren't at a smoky coffeehouse in Kent anymore, but a vegan cafe in West Hollywood. Oh, life.
Dinner was great (collard greens, soba noodles, and tempeh... yum!). The opening act, Katie Herzig, was great. (You can download an acoustic album free at her website, and it is well worth the space on your hard drive.)
And then, Over the Rhine.
I have tried and failed repeatedly to put into words what this music means to me. A couple years ago some Apples (i.e., mega fans who frequent the Orchard, OtR's message board) invited fans to contribute writing or art about OtR. I couldn't do it. I couldn't find the words to match the words this band has put into my life. Words like
They started the show with Latter Days. I've heard shows start or finish with Latter Days before, but this time it really got me. That's the first song of theirs I ever heard, back in March of 2000. Almost ten years ago. The band had already been around for ten years at that point, but their second ten years amounts to almost a third of my life. A proportion that will continue to grow as this band continues to be my favorite band into the foreseeable future.
As I mentioned, Sunday night's show was as churchy as church. Jesus in New Orleans, Angel Band, Changes Come, Long Lost Brother, etcetera whatever (the phrase, not the song. They didn't play Etcetera Whatever, which is indeed a lovely OtR song).
They really know how to take it to church.
What always sort of floors me about my entirely serendipitous discovery of OtR those ten years ago, is that I knew they would be my favorite band before I knew they were deeply spiritual, before I knew they were from Ohio, before I knew... well, much of anything. I heard ten bars of one song, and essentially made a commitment. This is and will be my music. And the music has carried me so well through so much. Faith, doubt, marriage, childbirth. Etcetera, whatever.
Oh, I need it all right.
Thank you, Over the Rhine.
(And thanks a lot, invisible glass door.)
But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I was supposed to meet my friend Sara at Real Food Daily a little after six 'o clock. I parked in the Largo parking garage and headed to the nearest stairwell. Let me add that I was walking quite purposefully at this point; even though it was only six in the evening, it was dark out, and parking garages + darkness = me nervous. So I'm walking along, again, quite purposefully. You might even say quickly. Suddenly I was no longer walking but was reeling, and trying to figure out how the glass wall got there. I'm surprised I didn't break my glasses, and I have a very, very tender bump by my eye that has thankfully not blossomed into a full-fledged shiner. Yet, anyway.
No one saw me crash, which is a good thing. Although it wouldn't have been a good thing if I'd passed out or, because as it turns out my stairwell wasn't a stairwell at all, but an entrance to a closed business. It may have been awhile until someone found me.
As it was, I had to call Ben as soon as I could to tell him that I'd just run into a wall. I am not the kind of person who can just run into a wall and let it pass. When I run into a wall, I have to tell someone. Immediately. (I apparently also have to tell lots of someones, hence this post.)
Head injury dramas behind me, I went to the restaurant. Sara was running a little late, so I got to hang out and watch Over the Rhine come in and sit at the table right in front of me. It totally reminded me of sitting in close proximity to them during dinner before their show at Brady's Cafe, all the way back in 2001. Except that we weren't at a smoky coffeehouse in Kent anymore, but a vegan cafe in West Hollywood. Oh, life.
Dinner was great (collard greens, soba noodles, and tempeh... yum!). The opening act, Katie Herzig, was great. (You can download an acoustic album free at her website, and it is well worth the space on your hard drive.)
And then, Over the Rhine.
I have tried and failed repeatedly to put into words what this music means to me. A couple years ago some Apples (i.e., mega fans who frequent the Orchard, OtR's message board) invited fans to contribute writing or art about OtR. I couldn't do it. I couldn't find the words to match the words this band has put into my life. Words like
What a beautiful piece of heartache this has all turned out to be.
Lord knows we've learned the hard way all about healthy apathy.
And I use these words pretty loosely.
There's so much more to life than words.
Lord knows we've learned the hard way all about healthy apathy.
And I use these words pretty loosely.
There's so much more to life than words.
They started the show with Latter Days. I've heard shows start or finish with Latter Days before, but this time it really got me. That's the first song of theirs I ever heard, back in March of 2000. Almost ten years ago. The band had already been around for ten years at that point, but their second ten years amounts to almost a third of my life. A proportion that will continue to grow as this band continues to be my favorite band into the foreseeable future.
As I mentioned, Sunday night's show was as churchy as church. Jesus in New Orleans, Angel Band, Changes Come, Long Lost Brother, etcetera whatever (the phrase, not the song. They didn't play Etcetera Whatever, which is indeed a lovely OtR song).
They really know how to take it to church.
What always sort of floors me about my entirely serendipitous discovery of OtR those ten years ago, is that I knew they would be my favorite band before I knew they were deeply spiritual, before I knew they were from Ohio, before I knew... well, much of anything. I heard ten bars of one song, and essentially made a commitment. This is and will be my music. And the music has carried me so well through so much. Faith, doubt, marriage, childbirth. Etcetera, whatever.
When it comes to wanting what’s real
There’s no such thing as greed
I hope this night puts down deep roots
I hope we plant a seed
‘Cause I don’t wanna waste your time
With music you don’t need.
There’s no such thing as greed
I hope this night puts down deep roots
I hope we plant a seed
‘Cause I don’t wanna waste your time
With music you don’t need.
Oh, I need it all right.
Thank you, Over the Rhine.
(And thanks a lot, invisible glass door.)
11.03.2009
I Yes You
Whenever we ask Juliette if she can say something that she hasn't learned to say yet, she says yes. But if we ask her if she can say something she has learned to say yet, she says the word.
Example:
Juliette, can you say I?
I!
Can you say love?
YES!
Can you say you?
YOU!
Example:
Juliette, can you say I?
I!
Can you say love?
YES!
Can you say you?
YOU!
11.02.2009
Hall-o-ween-o-nine
Juliette was a little lady bug. Again. Last year's oversized costume still fit, so two years for the price of one!
We had a playdate at the park on Sunday, but most of the day it was too hot to actually wear her costume. But when the sun started setting a little after 4pm (!?), it cooled off enough.
Remember this?
What a difference a year makes...
We thoroughly enjoyed our (last-baby-doesn't-have-a-clue-that-it's) Halloween.
We had a playdate at the park on Sunday, but most of the day it was too hot to actually wear her costume. But when the sun started setting a little after 4pm (!?), it cooled off enough.
Remember this?
What a difference a year makes...
We thoroughly enjoyed our (last-baby-doesn't-have-a-clue-that-it's) Halloween.
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