One Voice

I was straightening up the kitchen and loading the dishwasher when I heard the voice.  Not a personal revelation from a higher being or directions from within my head giving me some new life direction.  Rather the crystal clear voice was that of a soloist with beautiful composition and it was coming from the tv.  I had one of those Sunday morning talkin head shows on in the background mainly to fill the air as I worked.  With this being the close of the year for the show, the producer decided to end on a civil note and hence the song presentation.

Something about the voice I found striking and consuming.  I instantly stopped my chore and made my way into the family room to get a better understanding of where the sound was coming from.

The soloist was in her military dress with her smooth voice filling the cavernous church.

It turns out the voice and subsequent performance was from the United States Airforce Band performing at the National Cathedral.  I was so pleased that the show, rather than showing the typical snippet of a performance, let the whole song playout.

Here is this link to this performance.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q41ctPLDHvU

This the sound of one who makes a choice

This is the sound of one voice

I thought you might want to take a couple minutes and enjoy this performance.

Leave the rest behind it will turn to dust

This is the sound of all of us 

Surrendering to the mystery

Baby Please Come Home

It was the Friday before Christmas 1990 something when I was watching Late Night with David Letterman.  I was staying up a little later than usual given that it was the start of the weekend.  At the close of the show, Dave introduced the musical act talking about the yearly tradition of having this singer grace them with this rockin holiday classic.

That is when the camera panned to Darlene Love at center stage.  That voice belting out joy line after line.  It turns out I had stumbled into Late Night tradition which had started in 1986.  Take notice of the actual album plugged by Dave as part of the introduction.  Here is a link to the first time that Darlene sang ‘Baby Please Come Home’ on Letterman’s show. 

First Love:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L-8ZERV_D_Q

Take notice of the low budget stage, four-man band with a minimal setup.  It is striking compared to the choreographed performances given over the years as the tradition grew.  Sometimes with a children’s choir, one of my favorites is with the singing Sergeants the Christmas prior to the desert storm conflict.

Favorite Love:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o7AKSn9bjuk

As the years passed I would make sure to watch the Friday before Christmas show to catch that year’s rendition.  More than once, falling asleep during the show only to be awakened by that voice.  That soulful voice that was seemingly made for this particular song.  The following is a mashup of Darlene’s performances through the years.  One of my favorite parts of the video is the portion where the sax player comes in.  Through the audience, through a fireplace or flying down from the rafters how the sax player came in was part of the yearly treat.

A variety of Love: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AkJRCeCoCjY

As Letterman had announced his retirement, I made sure to watch her final Late Night performance.  The scale of production now including a full orchestra, backup singers, all dressed to the nines and falling snow, while performing from atop a baby grand piano. 

Final Love:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tsU08y9peZg

I do miss this tradition.

It’s a little Love, Darlene Love at Christmas.

Demented Unicorns

It was a few years ago when I wrote a Friday’ Note regarding the Hillcrest Kickball club.  A short story about the start of a kickball game in the neighborhood as a means of getting my kids out of the house.  Wouldn’t you know their friends came out of the woodwork to join in the game and munch on popsicles (the unofficial snack of summer kickball) my wife supplied.  Most of all it was about kids being kids and having fun.

Fast forward to this week and chatting with a friend who’s daughter is experiencing high school sports for the first time.  Turns out during this week’s game the coach called a timeout.  Keep in mind that their team was winning at this time, but not winning by a large enough margin to satisfy the coach.  So during the timeout, the coach made the players run sprints.  Middle of the game, on the visiting court, while winning, had the team run sprints.  Then after the win continued to yell at the team about their poor performance.  Then left the team with the following, “get ready for a workout tomorrow morning, it’s not going to be pretty!”   I am not a participation trophy kind of person and I firmly believe that if you are going to be involved in an activity to give it your all.  I'm also not against discipline, but this coach and many like her was way out of line.

This ‘all or nothing’ approach and year-round, single sport engagement is killing or has killed kids sports.

It doesn’t matter if it is soccer, volleyball, softball, competitive dance, football, lacrosse, basketball, etc.  What the parents say about their kids is, “This is my son’s/daughter’s last season, they have no interest in doing this again.”  And from the parents, “I’m so done with (insert sport here).  Done with the travel, done with the year-round, done with the coaches thinking all kids are going pro and done with other parents.  Just done.” 

With that as a background, I remembered the Demented Unicorns.  About a decade ago we were at a friend’s house. They have three boys, all of which played select soccer.  Turns out that our friends were looking forward to taking the summer off from being the Team Parent, Shuttle Driver, Manager, etc.  That is when their oldest came to his mother and said he and his gang wanted to play the summer indoor league.  Suzanne was less than thrilled.  She laid down the law.  “I’m not going to do any of the organization.  I will not be the team manager.  I will not do any of the paperwork.  I will not collect the team fees.  I will drive you to and from games, period.  If you want to be in the league you have to do all of that.”  Surely that would be the end of that.   There is no way a middle school boy was going to do any of that.  Summer was going to be soccer free.

A couple of days later her son had the team paperwork complete.  Entry form, player waivers, fees all collected and submitted.  They were in the league.  The team roster consisted of middle school dudes who just liked hanging out together.  Two kids who played select soccer, three kids who had played soccer years before, one kid who was a basketball player who never played soccer and one kid who had never played in an organized sports league in his life.

Suzanne said, so do you have a uniform?  Her son smiled and said, “Wait a minute” running up-stairs.  He came back down dressed in the team uniform.  Pink Socks, pink shorts and a pink shirt.  On the shirt was a Unicorn with googly eyes and the words “Demented Unicorns”.  Suzanne just shook her head, “Ok, when does the season start?”

Off they went to the first game, no coach and 7 boys head to toe in pink, like an oversized collection of Pepto-Bismol bottles with acne.  Someone stopped them saying, ‘Where is your coach, you have to have a coach’.  Her son replied, “That isn’t a rule of the league.” He was right.  This self-managed collection of pink bubble gum pieces went on to win their first game.  They went on to win their second game.  For the third game, Chris and Suzanne both attended, fully content to sit in the stands with zero responsibility other than enjoying the action.  Early in the game, the ‘basketball player’ team member scored his first goal, turned, pointed at the kid who had never played a sport before and yelled, “You have got to score, it is such a blast!”  I believe that was the same game that the opposing coach (a select soccer coach) left without shaking hands after the Demented Unicorns racked up their third victory. 

These kids, playing for themselves and having a 14-year-old boy snickering pink humor moment had a season to remember.  It wouldn’t have mattered if they won or lost.  They were playing because they wanted to hang out together and have fun.  But they did win.  The Demented Unicorns won the summer indoor soccer league. 

They won it all!  In so many ways they won it all.

Note:  Characters in this note were based on real life humans and any resemblance of actual occurrences is more than a coincidence.  Some of the names may have been changed because I have difficulty spelling. 

Post-it Note Planning

We were munching on onion rings at Scotty P’s, our go-to hamburger joint, when Sarah asked, ‘Dad, can I see the where we are going next year?’  What she was asking for was the yellow sticky note listing where we planned to travel to each year.  I reached into my wallet and pulled out the note, crisply folded in half with my microprinting and handed it to her.  Just scanning through the locations listed by each year gave us a sense of being closer to our next adventure and inevitably would bring up stories from the past trips.

I don’t recall the specific conference call I was on, but I do recall my mind wandering to faraway places with dirt trails and scenic vistas.  Places I wanted to introduce my girls to and expand their horizons.  The previous year we had journeyed through Yellowstone, Mount Rushmore, the Badlands and my favorite park, the Grand Tetons.  I had placed an emphasis on introducing them to these iconic parks and seeing the wildlife, mountains, and beauty of too many sunrises for golden hour pictures.

Grand Tetons circa '08

As the conference call went on I was thinking of all of the possible places we could go and then the project management side of me kicked in.  I thought about how old the girls were and how many summers we would have for family escapades before college and grown-up life gets in the way.

USS Arizona '12

What I had on hand during the call was a yellow sticky pad.  I started to doodle out ideas of what national parks to see and when to see them.  I organized my thoughts, jotting down the years on the left side of the note, then the age of the girls at that time, followed by the places I hoped we could travel to.  The last column listed which holiday, Thanksgiving (T-day) or Christmas (C) we would spend in Pittsburgh.

Yosemite Stars '14 ~ 1:00am

Zion NP '15

I’ll admit the yellow sticky travel planner was as much a selfish wish list to see some of these places (Yosemite, Sequoia, Volcano National Parks) as it was a core feeling of wanting to share former adventures (Grand Canyon, Zion, Glacier NP) with the girls.  Over time the order of trips shifted around as family schedules often do under the principle of ‘best-laid plans’.  The vision and the purpose of the yellow sticky note stayed the same, to have a family fandango through parks that offer wide-eyed, never-ending journeys.

Yellowstone NP '16

Havasu Falls GC '18

Over time the yellow sticky travel planner has turned into the national park pinboard collection in our family room.  A collection of park pins reminding us of where we have been and hope to visit again.

The pinboard is nice, but I still keep the yellow sticky in my wallet.  During some conference calls, it comes back out .......  and I smile. 

Come to think of it, this note is full, where is that Post-it Note pad?  It's time to make some plans.

That’s not my mom.

If you’re looking for the feel good, light-hearted, quirky Friday’s Note or a set of scenic pictures then this edition is not for you.  You might as well turn back now until my next posting.

I'm sure what I'm about to share isn't a unique experience to me or my family.  Truth be told, I'm just writing this for myself.  Perhaps trying to make sense of the senseless. 

For the last couple of years, my mother has been getting forgetful.  Given that she is 89 and lived on her own until this past January. She was still doing well.  She had her weekly pattern of laundry on Tuesday mornings, card games Wednesday afternoons and Mass every Sunday.  Each time I called she quickly recognized my voice and would engage Jill and the girls in conversations as well.  Sure, some stories would be repeated occasionally, but by and large, she was doing well. 

For me that changed in a measurable way this past Thanksgiving as we visited for the holiday.  While still engaging with everyone and knowing Jill, the girls and me she often struggled to come up with names of other family members.  It just so happened that her condo building was replacing the elevator this January. Living on the third floor, she would physically not be able to climb the stairs multiple times a day. Thus, my sister and brother-in-law had my mom move in with them just after Christmas.  When speaking with her on the phone after that I noticed she had more trouble coming up with names of my brother and sisters.  She would eventually get the names, but it required effort.  

It was even more pronounced when talking with her on my birthday in February.  It was then I decided I needed to visit again.  Waiting until the next Thanksgiving would simply be too long.  As I was trying to find a time to go to Pittsburgh for a visit, my sister texted the sibling gang and asked who might be able to stay with mom when they were going to visit my nephew in Virginia.  My other sister was going to be out of town on business and work had my brother swamped as well.  I figured I could work remotely and visit with my mom at the same time.  So, I talked to Jill who encouraged me to go and I booked a ticket that very night.

My brother-in-law and my siblings filled me in on incidences showing mom’s progression. For instance, at times she believes she is staying at a boarding house.  Her great-grandchildren who live on the same street are two little boys that she often can’t name.  And most days start as Sunday with her getting dressed up and waiting for my brother to take her to Mass.  A real-life groundhog's day. 

So now being in the ‘burgh again and seeing first hand her memory decline was real and pronounced from just this past Thanksgiving, the last time I was with her.  I took over the duties my sister and her husband had been performing. One was to remind her to take her two eye medications, one for both eyes twice a day and one for left eye two times a day.  I had to reminder her again and again that she already did her drops earlier. 

Then there were two observations I made that really showed the impact of the memory loss.  The first was when I was sitting in the sister’s dining room (my office for the week) and I was on a conference call with my headset on.  Just prior to the call mom walked in with the mail. Nine pieces of mail: 5 letters and 4 cards (it was special election nightmare time in western PA).  During the next thirty minutes of my call I watched as she studied each piece of mail and then set it aside.  Then as she worked through the last piece she would start over again, rereading each line of content on each letter or card and creating a new stack.  Again and again, she would do this through my half hour call.  


That is when it hit me.  


That's not my mom.

The same woman who balanced her checkbook to the penny every month of her life was now befuddled by the daily mail.  "No mum, you already put your eye drops in this morning."  So I settled into the pattern of the week.  “No mum, today is Wednesday. Rob will come on Sunday to take you to Mass.”  I would then make the two of us breakfast, then jump on my conference calls, then take a break for lunch.  

Here is a picture I snapped of my lunch buddy for the week.  “No mum, you already took your eye medicine earlier today.”

As I would work, mom studied the newspaper, never seeming to get to the end of the paper.  “Brian, I don’t understand these directions. They make no sense,” she said as she was looking at the eye drops again.  “Mum, you put in the eye drops earlier today.”

The second observation came when mom and I went out to dinner Saturday night.  She studied the menu intently as if she had to. As if without reading every word describing the dish she wouldn’t know what it was.  The waitress came asking what drinks we wanted.  That question threw my mom.  The waitress looked at me as if to ask, ‘is everything alright?’ and my return nod responded, ‘please be patient.’  After having the waitress come back I ordered for the two of us to help both mom and the waitress.  When waiting for our dinner we were talking, and I was telling a story and mentioned Jill.  Mom said, “Jill?” with a quizzical look.  I could see her working on the name as if she was parsing through each letter one at a time.  I said yes, Jill, my wife.  She then responded, “Your wife?”  She then asked, “Well who am I married to?” My Dad passed away in 2009. I said “Bob.  Robert Steele.”  That was met with the same quizzical look.

I said, "It's ok mum."

"No It's Not" she sharply said in frustration. 

This was the low point of the trip. 

Later that night we got back to the 'boarding house.' "Yes mum, it's time for your eye drops..... that's ok, I'll help you with the directions."

A little later on she then shuffled over to me and I looked up.  She cupped each side of my face and saying, “I love you. I wish you didn’t live so far away.”

Now that is my mom!

My sister and brother-in-law got back from their trip.  I was then helping to move the family room couch.  When we tilted it back my mom sitting across the room gasped, “Oh… pick up that hundred-dollar bill under there!” and I looked under the couch at the two dust bunnies and otherwise bare floor. When I looked back at her, she had that wry ‘made ya look’ smile on her face.  She is still in there.  Somehow age has just put a cloud over the memories… or as they say in Pittsburgh ‘It's partly cloudy in Allegheny county.’ Sometimes the sun comes out and the memories and thoughts are there and sometimes they are not. 

For those of you now needing a more uplifting story of my mom feel free to read this older post.

                            http://fridaysnote.blogspot.com/2013/03/bracketology.html

My sister called last Saturday.  She said to me, "Guess who picked UMBC (16 seed) over Virginia (1 seed)?" 

Yep – my mom!