Category: Impacting my Life

Happy Pounds

Happy Pounds

I have gained weight. It seemed gradual. Yet it only took about six months to gain ten pounds! I met someone about the time I moved. Well, we knew each other way back when. So we actually reconnected last summer. Since that time we have grown a deep friendship and romance. It is good!

Apparently, I suffered from a grief diet before that. At least I must have eaten differently. I suppose meals for one and restaurant leftovers were kind to my middle. And I was exercising – a lot! Exercise was an escape. Or rather, provided me with time to think and work through my grief. Walking was a mindless task. Leaving me ample cognitive space.

Since last summer my partner and I spend more time enjoying various activities. We sip coffee, cook meals, and sit for hours talking and laughing. And we enjoy desserts – a lot! I call them happy pounds because I am happier now than I have been for a very long time!

Consequences

It’s a lethal combination. More food, less exercise. Though laughing is good for the countenance, it doesn’t burn many calories. And not just any calories. Sweets! Wonderful sugar-filled frozen cream with plenty of chocolate, fudge, caramel, and – did I mention cream?

Consequently, the pounds. A bit of a rounder face. The tighter fit of pants and shirts. The grimace when looking in the mirror. It’s bad enough to see the aging face, the wider body, the age spots, the wrinkles. And now the mass!

But it’s not just that. It’s a feeling. A little sluggish. Heavier breathing when going up the stairs. It may be my imagination, but I think I can feel it in my muscles and joints. I am still working on a few medical issues that I ignored while caring for my wife. I worry that I might be compounding those problems by ignoring how I eat!

All Things In Moderation

I wasn’t eating poorly before. I vastly changed the proportion of vegetables to red meat. I ate more fruits and drank less alcohol. I have continued that trend. I have not, though, decreased portions nor paid attention to the extra not-so-good foods I’ve added to my diet.

About a week ago, my partner got a wake up call, so to speak. Without any detail, suffice it to say that a change in diet is needed. And I don’t want her to do it alone. Nor will the changes be bad for me.

For the first time in my life I am seriously reading nutrition labels. Fats, carbs, sugars. Even vitamins! I’ve always been a “calculator.” Now I direct some of that energy to meal planning. Healthy proteins. Fewer carbs. Plenty of fiber. It looks like this:

The pamphlet is from NovoCare, an educational branch of Novo Nordisk. I know it’s probably big Pharma, but at least it’s educational. Here is the complete PDF document to download:

booklet-planning-healthy-mealsDownload

I’ve lost two pounds in a week! Most of the loss is from not eating sugary, calorie-laden desserts. But making better food choices and eating in moderation are essential to a healthy diet. I have always told people that almost anything is okay in moderation. Don’t eat too much. Don’t drink too much or often. Okay, just DON’T smoke!

All things in moderation. And for those of you who are of a younger generation, it’s better to realize it now. Don’t wait for time to knock some sense into you. It may be too late!

Compelling Topic

I have been writing this blog for five years now. Consistently for the last three. I have told you about some of my deepest pains, fears, and frustrations. All with the recognition and hope that you, my faithful readers, can relate to my joy and suffering. Or at least empathize with me. My hope is to enlighten and educate. And for us all to enjoy the writing and the reading. I have the same intent with this message.

Be well!

Not In Silence Do I Sit

First Concentration Camp!

This week marked the 80th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz-Birkenau concentration camp in Poland on January 27th, 1945. My family background and upbringing keep me painfully aware of the Nazi Holocaust. Without even having to think of it, the words of this heading came to mind.

My public and private statements reflect my angst during and since the recent presidential election. Rhetoric from our now president and his minions echoed so closely the Nazi propaganda of the 1930’s. Though I tried, I could not contain my concern.

I uttered “The first concentration camp!” out loud when I heard the news that tridiot plans to house illegal immigrants at Guantanamo Bay. Thus elevating my fear, disgust, and concern for our future as a democratic union.

We have not completely devolved into a dictatorial regime. There are many who fight by legal means. There are many who speak up and/or contribute to the cause of freedom from tyranny. As some say, “There are still some guardrails in place.”

There are nearly as many who voted against the destructive power grab. There are more who mistakenly didn’t vote their conscience. None of us know what will come of the next four years. But we cannot let this evil prevail.

That’s all I will say about this now. I didn’t want to bring it up. But I could not stay silent.

Faith Journey – Is God real in my life

I describe myself as having a complicated faith journey. Without going into too much detail, let me give some background for this topic. Until about twenty years ago I was deeply entrenched in the congregation to which I belonged. I was active in its government. Active in worship. Active in relationships. Circumstances began to change as my wife and I started to burn out from commitment. After all, we had given an abundance of time and resources.

When we moved to another city we tried to connect with what we hoped was a similar church community. We also planned to limit our involvement. That didn’t work well. We didn’t connect with people there and they never reached out to us in welcome.

I found myself searching for tangible evidence of God, and found none. I questioned His existence. I even wrote songs about my challenges of belief. When Pam fell ill, I concentrated solely on her and just put God aside. Clearly, if He existed, He wasn’t in my good graces.

After her death, I began to wonder again whether God is real. My logical mind can’t wrap around the concept of an all-knowing, all-creating sentient being. A benevolent yet demanding lord.

Yet I wanted to believe. I still do. I clearly had in the past. There is some comfort in knowing a gracious God who watches over me and mine, who knows what’s happening to mankind (nod to the first topic), and will somehow, some day, make it right.

Recent twists and turns in my life lead me to try once again to reconnect with God. I’ve even been praying a little. I’m attending different churches in hopes of making fresh connection. Though I question the very nature of the God to which I direct my prayers. Yet I hope. I hope my prayers are heard. I hope God loves us. I hope for good things.

I won’t go into any religious dogma or doctrines. Nor will I try to parse the Bible for any reason. Let alone to twist it to my whims. I won’t, in this space, argue the socio-political issues and stances that are shaping our world today.

What I want, what I need, is to understand how God is in my life. I need to recognize His presence. I need some evidence. All the while knowing that believing requires faith. The hope is for things we can’t see. And I’m not talking about heaven or hell. I’m talking about life here on this earth!

I suspect these words will evoke many differing opinions on belief in God. I am aware that my readers believe in different forms of, or faith in God. Some may want to save me or correct my errant ways. Not my problem. Those with true compassion and empathy can accept who I am and where I am in my faith journey.

So comment if you will. But I hope you will be understanding and kind. I suspect I am not the only one with shaken belief. Not the only one with doubts welling up due to personal circumstances and our human condition.

I guess I’ve said my piece. Laid it out for you to “see.” I hope it’s not a mistake. Amen!

Claire – An Inspiration!

I have the pleasure, honor, and responsibility of chauffeuring my stepgranddaughter, Claire, to her eyesight therapy. Once or twice a week I take her to ChildeServe. I have to get up and ready much earlier than normally I would. She is always ready. Her walker waiting outside. Her backpack on as she comes out the door.

We take about 20 minutes to get there. It’s been cold and windy, but no bad weather so far. We are both still waking up as we make the trek across town. Some conversation, but mostly it’s me sipping coffee and she telling me what’s up for the day.

Wednesday she shared that the family is going to Florida in March. She and her siblings just found out about it this past week. We talk about what we’ve been eating, what’s up for the weekend. Ben and Emily took their permit driver’s tests on Saturday. It’s a big deal.

Claire is eleven. She has Cerebral Palsy (CP). She has trouble walking. She wears braces. She uses a walker, though not around the house. Claire has survived several surgeries attempting to correct the combination of variations in growth of bone, muscle, and tendon. She works hard to take care of herself and contribute to the shared needs of her family of seven. I have had the privilege of being a part of her extended family for several years. I have watched her grow.

The first time I was at their house, Claire came bounding down the stairs head first. She moved in a controlled, bumpy slide. A huge grin on her face. I’ve rarely seen her without that grin since. But now she walks, with effort, up and down those same stairs.

I have other relatives with disabilities. I’ve seen the challenges families have caring for a child with mental or physical limitations. So I was not taken aback by Claire’s condition. But I’m sure that others’ reactions and responses are different. I know that Claire is painfully aware of how others look at her.

I sit in the waiting room at ChildServe. I am stunned at the number and myriad challenges of the young people and their parents. They come for different, often multiple, kinds of therapy. Claire also receives physical and occupational therapy on a weekly basis. She has most of her life.

(I should probably explain something here. Claire’s eye work. Her eyesight is okay. She has a visual processing disorder. Her brain decides to offer a narrow window of vision. It, for instance, limits her peripheral vision. Unfortunately, the brain decides when and where to concentrate that narrow window. Thus, she is working with a therapist to retrain the brain to increase that window and help her control it. Claire is also challenged with fine motor skill difficulties. Further complicating how she learns in school. Tough stuff!)

Claire is not afraid to stand up for herself. I don’t think she’s always been that way. Wednesday she took her school work to share with her sight therapist. She wants to show her therapist what she is doing in a specific class. She also wants to share the challenges she has with a teacher. This teacher seems not to know how to accommodate her. Unlike a physical disability, a processing disorder is not noticeable to others.

Claire expressed anxiety as we rode from ChildServe to her school. She planned to confront her teacher, armed with the guidance given by her therapist. Claire had written an email to her teacher and received a reply. She recognized that her teacher had good intentions. But she also feels that her teacher’s solutions are not responsive to her needs. Suggestions to use a typing device to take notes or speech-to-text options are not effective. Claire still can’t keep up.

I don’t know yet how that conversation turned out. I’ll try to follow up in a future post.

Which brings me around to the inspiration. As I said, Claire has grown. Physically, sure. But also in maturity. Most notable in our car ride conversations is her vocabulary. And she uses it well. Claire is articulate and expressive. She knows what she wants to say and explains herself well. Sometimes it takes time to process how to respond to a question. I love that she does. She thinks before she speaks. Something we should all aspire to.

Anyone who spends time with Claire surely can see past the physical appearance brought on by her CP. It is still a tragedy to judge a book by its cover. Claire’s looks are maturing. Her radiantly smiling face is transitioning from that of a child to one of a young woman. She carries herself, both physically and mentally, with dignity and confidence. She is not afraid of who she is. She embraces her qualities. She wants, needs, and looks for acceptance by others. Not so different from everyone else.

I am so impressed with Claire. I am a better person for knowing her and sharing her life – with all of her struggles. I hope by writing this message that I can expand people’s understanding of living with disability. People’s acceptance of everyone for who they are. Whether their challenges are physical, cognitive, or emotional. Claire reminds me again that we all are human. We all have worth. We all deserve respect and understanding. I hope you understand me. I hope you join in recognition and acceptance.

Claire, atop Rendezvous Mountain, 2023

Singer/Song Writer – More Past, Present, and Future

Continuing, somewhat, on last week’s theme, I have had hopes and dreams for my music for many years. My writing and composing flourished in the early 2000’s. I recorded some of the early music in 2013, creating the album Catching Up On Life.

During and since that time I have written a plethora of lyrical poems. For many I have composed guitar accompaniments. Subjects for these songs include close family, people I worked with, acquaintances, and personal experiences. Most have not been recorded.

I’ve always wanted to share my songs with, well, anyone who would listen. I hoped, and continue to hope, that the lyrics evoke memories and/or emotions for at least some in an audience. My music, though simple, has evolved into an easy-listening style. I admit that I like my songs and poetry. Some have told me they enjoy it and relate in some way.

But I never gave my hobby my complete attention. I never committed to learning enough or practicing enough to get really good – good enough to go professional. I have dedicated time over the last two and a half years. However, that time was not enough for me to feel comfortable going on the road. Sure. I am comfortable playing for small groups of mostly known people. But I am not “good” enough to play public venues. Now I am convinced that I never will be.

Which brings me back to the link with last week’s them of past, present, and future. My hopes and dreams are evolving. I am still creating. I still believe in my music. I like most of it and believe I have something to say and a way to share it.

Now, though, I have a new dream. Some day, someone with professional knowledge of music will listen and say, “This is good stuff. I think I can get ? (unknown artist) to record this and get it distributed for the public to hear.”

I have a hope that I can find someone to help me make demo recordings. I don’t have the means to hire a bunch of studio time. Especially considering I lack professional vocal and musical skill for a finished product. As I’ve said before, I can’t seem to figure it out for myself.

My voice and my hands have limited time to produce the songs I want to sing. I do not read nor write music. I just play it. So I don’t have hard (or digital) copy. My lifespan is uncertain. But certainly shortening. I know my songs will be my legacy to my family and close friends. I had hopes for more. I guess I still do.

A few years ago I looked into software that would transpose my guitar notes into sheet music. I was not impressed. I am taking another look for newer, more user-friendly options. If anyone knows of one that is worth paying for, please let me know. Thanks.

Short of that, I have to find a way to record. I think it needs to be better than my phone (sound quality issues). But less sophisticated than a mixer (unless someone wants to help me out 😉 ).

Well, this post has certainly turned into a personal muse and plea. But it does reflect some looks at the past, realities of the present, and views of a possible future. I wonder what it will bring. I wonder if I will dedicate myself to fulfilling more of my hopes and dreams. I suspect all of you have similar questions about how you will fulfill yours. I hope you are successful!

Past, Present, and Future

Read if you will. Or just accept my wishes that you have had a good holiday season, and for a happy, healthy new year!

This contemplative message comes to you as we transition from religious and national holidays of the season to celebrating the beginning of a new year. I am unsure of its edifying value. Mostly I muse and wander, skirting around feelings that have emerged as another post-Pam holiday season approached. Read if you will. Or just accept my wishes that you have had a good holiday season, and for a happy, healthy new year!

Past
Present
Future
Living in the Past, Present, and Future

Past

Youth have no past of their own. Few, if any, memories to dwell on. They learn of their past from those within their circles. Family, family friends, school, religious affiliations. Youth develop a past as they age. They typically become aware in their teens. And while learning their past, they start to question. Some learn life’s lessons early through both happy and tragic experiences.

Adults carry their past with them as they bound along life’s highways and byways. All the while adding to the volume and depth of past experiences. The past molds their outlook on life. It impacts their decisions. It is integral to their thought processes. Their past is both a blessing and a curse.

Later in life our early past often lies latent. Only surfacing when reminded. More recent past begins to emerge as repeat experiences. Sometimes melding and becoming confused as intermingling fibers of new and well-worn clothing. The past continues to guide us. And yet we have forgotten so much!

The past is both a teacher and a burden to the aged. Wisdom comes from how we reconcile the past. Yet its weight is always upon us as we navigate what’s left of our lives.

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Present

We live in the present. Or do we? We meet each day anew. Yesterday is in the past. Tomorrow is unknown.

Youth experience each day with little expectation. Their limited past is of little help for the day. They rely on their wits and those whom they accept as having wisdom enough to guide them. Parents, siblings, peers. At the end of the day, they have added good and/or ill experiences to their past. Youth have yet to deeply contemplate the future.

Adults navigate life’s trials and tribulations. Relationships, work, family, social interactions. Though somewhat guided by the past, they are enough to fill the day. The past can straighten life’s paths or obscure roads from vision. The past can lift up or bring down. It does both from time to time. Each day’s decisions are based on past experience and hopes and dreams of the future.

The past envelops us as a binding or a blanket as it becomes the greater part of our life span. More of the day is spent remembering. We can be suffocated by it. We can embrace it. But we can’t escape it. Days are filled with memories. We remember past hopes and dreams for the future. We are on a destiny train to the future.

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Future

Youth do not understand the future. They have no experience to lead them on. Their concept of the future is forever. Their view of the future is couched in their learned past. They start to look to the future as they gather past experience. They develop a concept of what life will bring.

Adults look to the future from instinct. The drive to survive presses notions of sustenance, shelter, procreation. Adults develop plans. Some detail their every move while others press on with vague notions of direction. Aspirations. Hopes. Goals. Wishes. All are looking to the future.

Aging changes future perspective. The future is shorter. It is finite. Aspirations, hopes, goals, and wishes are either fulfilled or lost in the past. The future looks more toward legacy. What will be left behind to lend wisdom to others’ pasts? There is both fulfillment and emptiness as we contemplate Days of Future Past 1.

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Living in the Past, Present, and Future

Personally, this year’s season is a true mixture of the past, present, and future. I am aware of the weight and the wisdom of my past. Memories of holidays from my youth and adulthood mingle with my recent past. They include loved ones who are either gone or far away. We can no longer celebrate as once we did. Decorations, cards, and gifts now recall those memories. Memories of what was and is no more.

At the same time I feel excitement and contentment for what is now my life. New love, new friends, new surroundings add to the joy of being closer to family. Each day is new unto itself. Retirement affords me to choose to do, or not do, the daily tasks before me – within reason. I am thankful for the day.

As in the past, my present hope for your future is a happy, healthy new year!

Past
Present
Future
Living in the Past, Present, and Future

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  1. Album by the Moody Blues ↩︎

More Musings…

Word of the Week – Confabulate
Music – The Other Non-addictive, Mood-altering, Non-substance

Word of the Week – Confabulate

Let me first say that I tried to guess the meaning of confabulate before looking it up. I thought it meant something along the lines of blowing something way out of proportion. I thought my definition was a stretch. The “con” part seemed contradictory to making more out of something. But I took a shot. I wasn’t close!

According to Merriam Webster, confabulate is “to exchange viewpoints or seek advice for the purpose of finding a solution to a problem.” Synonyms include consult, confer, discuss, talk. It’s so common it seems we do it all the time!

Some confabulation is short. Like attempts to bring someone’s words to the surface – like an emotional response. Other confabulations, it seems, try to help develop a theme or a plot, or even a memory.

I can relate to confabulation with my age peers. Like me, they are having difficulty with recall of names, places, and people. We laugh at the effort it takes two or more people to remember any particular thing. We laugh to mask the fear that we are no longer at the top of our game. The reality of the effects of aging.

We often confabulate about where to go or what to eat. We confabulate to figure out how to deal with the weather. I am particularly honored when I get a text or a call from a friend or relative asking for my opinion or to help work through a difficult decision.

But I think I’m making light of the term. Webster’s explains the use of confabulate in much more serious context. Go there to find in-depth understanding. I just like the word as either a verb (confabulate) or a noun (confabulation). And thus ends the discourse on The Word of the Week.

Music – The Other Non-Addictive, Mood-altering, Non-substance

This image arrived in my text threads this week:

I take issue with the first descriptor in the above list. I believe I am addicted to music! Not just making it. Also listening. Music is so ingrained in me. Typically, I am silently (or not so silently) humming or singing a tune in my head. I wonder how I would get along without music!

Lyrics constantly pop into my head as I am listening and talking with others. Sometimes they are completely out of context. The topic of the song and our discussion are not close to the same. I blare out the lyrics in tune. Often they become a play on words. This also leads to research and confabulation to figure out the title and/or artist.

Music is definitely mood-altering. Again I say, “I wonder how I would get along without” it! Religious music had an early influence on my life. That influence changed with the works of Bob Dylan. The Beatles, Simon and Garfunkel, The Moody Blues, and many more also shaped it. It is often the music of my teens and twenties that come to mind in any given situation. Music of the 80’s and 90’s bounce around in my brain. Though I am less influenced by their genres.

Where would I be without my music?! I wrote my earliest, simplistic song while still in high school. I’ve written for and about women. I’ve written about family and friends. I’ve written about dreams and real experiences. Writing and playing my lyrical and/or instrumental music is cathartic! Music has seen me through some of my most difficult times. Aided my recovery. Given me purpose. It is a non-drug medicine!

Common side effects include but are not limited to uncontrolled head bobbing, toe tapping, finger snapping, selective hearing impairment and persistent melody flashbacks

I may have already covered “persistent melody flashbacks.” The rest is soooooo true! You know it is. Sing along. Even out of tune. Out of range. Out of time. You know you do it. It can’t be helped. Music is likely the most potent, readily available panacea for emotional injury. It requires no prescription. You need no insurance. If you are like me, you might not even need a fix. It’s just there!

I’ve done my share of drugs, drunk my share of spirits. Now I do yoga from time to time. I exercise often. Music may be addictive, mood-altering, and sometimes without physical form. But it is clearly one of the most valuable manifestations of human endeavors. If by some chance you are not hooked, I urge you to listen. Take it in. Let it flow through your veins. I doubt you will be disappointed. It may help you heal.

Word of the Week – Confabulate
Music – The Other Non-addictive, Mood-altering, Non-substance

In My Dreams

Old Abodes and Broken Highways tells the story of a recurring dream mixed with real experience. I find myself in a low-rent tenement area of some unknown yet large city. I don’t know how I got there. I fear unfamiliar and antagonistic people. The area is under the complicated structure of a highway mix master. This structure includes elevated, unfinished highways. High up in the air, they simply stop. They evoke an image of cars driving off the end. I have seen such highways in the Dallas Texas area. They are familiar. That angst is real.

Other recurring dreams find me trying to get somewhere, probably home. Sometimes I’m traveling across multiple states on unknown highways trying to figure out the map or GPS. Other times I try to find the right bridge. I need to get onto it and then off to reach the parking lot at an airport. Often those include images of waiting anxiously for flights that don’t take off. Or, worse yet, I am trapped inside. The prop-jet climbs from the terminal. We are in the midst of giant jets that nearly knock us out of the sky.

I am not alone. Sometimes I recognize people around me. Often I talk with people I don’t know. In living rooms, lobbies, terminals. All strange and uncomfortable.

In this particular dream, the discourse turns philosophical as I share my thoughts with a total stranger. “What if we lived forever? Would it not be better to be completely open with everyone we meet? Should we keep our innermost secrets to ourselves for eternity? Or would we all be better off just being real?”

“On the other hand”, said the stranger. “Would it not be better to keep those very personal thoughts to yourself? Everyone would see you differently with the knowledge.”

“Think of it like heaven”, I said. “In heaven, we are told, there is no fear, no anger. There are no tears. There is only happiness, peace, and joy. How can it be that we hold secrets from each other? Should they, would they, not be known?

“Would we even have dark thoughts? Things we want to hide or not share? Why must we wait for heaven to be real, to be whole, to love unconditionally?”

Waking up, I could not shake these thoughts. Surely, I am not alone in keeping thoughts to myself. It’s not that I have bad thoughts to hide. Though sometimes I am less than kind in my view of others. Often I feel that I would hurt this or that person by sharing what I am thinking. “If you can’t say anything nice, then don’t say anything at all.” My parents used to say.

But we spend so much energy trying to say the right thing. In fact, our whole society has devolved into forming our discourse to avoid any potential criticism, abuse, or defamation. I certainly don’t want to offend, just as I don’t like others’ offensive characterizations.

Obviously, this is only a mind exercise brought on by an unreal dream. Yet it does make me ponder life better lived if we just accept each other as we are. Surely someone will say, “In your dreams!”

“Welcome Back My Friends..

Three completely different musical events. All amazing. All exciting. All, literally, sensational!

To The Show That Never Ends…”

I keep thinking of Karn Evil 9 1st Impression, Pt. 2, by Emerson Lake and Palmer, as I contemplate my three-week absence from blogging. Even then, it was a desperation post coming before the election. That post was preceded by a one-week lag due to travel.

Well, welcome back. I kind of hope you missed me. None of this rambling has anything to do with the topic of this post. Except, I saw one of the performances I am about to discuss while traveling.

I have had the pleasure of attending three completely different types of musical performances over the past few weeks. I attended the first performance with my friend Cathy and two of my three sisters while visiting family in the Atlanta area. My younger sister bought tickets for a Judy Collins show at Byers Theatre in Sandy Springs for Jan’s and my birthdays.

We had months to anticipate the music she would play and the nostalgic feelings we would have while listening. Though the theatre is relatively new, it has the look and feel of a much older traditional venue. Judy walked onto the stage where her 12-string guitar and piano/pianist accompaniment were waiting. She entertained with a combination of songs and stories that did not disappoint. I closed my eyes and listened. I thought of the places and times I associate with the music. Her one-woman show exuded peace and serenity. It was delightful and fulfilling. Judy Collins is truly an icon of our time!

We attended A Motown Christmas the day after our return to Iowa. Hoyt Sherman Place is truly the epitome of a traditional theatrical venue. It is housed in the Sherman mansion built in the 1850’s.

In total contrast to the calm, soothing sense generated by Judy Collins, this was a high-energy, multi-sensory experience. The band was good enough to perform on its own. It featured horns, strings, drums, and piano. It was the perfect complement to four incredibly talented performers. They dazzled with flashy apparel, amazing harmonies, and wonderfully synchronized dance.

The concert was billed as a Christmas event. Still, most of the two plus hour show was filled with hits from the sixties greats. Songs of Dianna Ross and the Supremes and Michael Jackson accompanied hits from the Temptations, Contours, and Miracles. The plethora of medleys was intermingled with jolly holiday hits from our younger years. If they come back next year, or you see that A Motown Christmas is coming to your town, I highly recommend it!

Linda Robbins Coleman was a classmate of mine in high school. I did not know her well. She was always upbeat and smiling. I did not know her artistic genius even if she, at that time, did. You absolutely MUST visit her site. Linda also co-wrote the book Boyhood’s End with her late husband William S. E. Coleman.

Last Sunday I had the chance to watch and listen. The Des Moines Symphony played The Celebration: A Symphonic Jubilee composed by Linda. It has been played, along with her other works, all over the world. Linda’s piece was between two performances. Pianist Jon Kimura Parker played Gershwin on the piano with the orchestra. Then, the orchestra played Beethoven’s 8th.

We were thrilled to have a chance to talk briefly with Linda before the performance. It was the first time her music was played with this symphony. She was ecstatic. Her energy, contagious! So much fun. Her composition was excellent and expertly played. In fact, the entire concert was phenomenal!

We were further blessed with being invited to an open house in Linda’s honor at yet another alumnus’ home. Barbara Beatty M.D. is the President of the Des Moines Symphony board. Conductor Maestro Joseph Giunta, as well as several musicians from the orchestra, were in attendance. Several fellow alumni were also there, giving us a chance to have a mini-reunion.

Linda is 2nd from the right. Barbara is behind and to Linda’s right.

We enjoyed excellent refreshments and socializing with those we know, and with new acquaintances.

Three completely different musical events. All amazing. All exciting. All, literally, sensational!

It is nice to be back. I am happy to have an uplifting, enjoyable topic to write about. I’m still not sure what direction Wut Javia should go. But…

Welcome back my friends!

Crunch Time 2024

I have heard that some staunchly conservative churches, or at least their pastors, describe the choice for “Christian” voters as between the lesser of two evils. That the choice is policy over personality. Important policies like a total ban on abortion influence “real” Christians. Inclusive sexual orientation also influences them. These issues drive them to vote for the lesser of two “ungodly” persons for our next president.

Granted, I am not a religious person. But I have been around the block a few times when it comes to deities, dogmas, liturgies, and interpretations. Based on everything I have heard and seen during this election cycle, here’s my interpretation of their message:

I’ve tried really hard to keep my political opinions to myself. I share them only with those who most likely agree with me. They believe, as I do, that the former president is an existential threat. This threat is not only to our democracy but also to our very freedom. In some cases, potentially, our lives!

It is more evil to vote for a person who embraces individual freedoms. This includes how we take care of our bodies and who we can love and marry. It is even worse than voting for someone who is a proven habitual liar, philanderer, and thief – at best! One who not only blows with whichever wind will keep his ego inflated, but demands loyalty as to a god!

This perspective irks me in several ways. It assumes that true Christians support a total ban on abortion. It also assumes their narrow definition of relations between consenting adults. They say “The Bible clearly says.” But, several major Protestant Christian denominations support a woman’s right to choose. These denominations also recognize the science of gender variance.

The Bible clearly states many things (tongue in cheek). The interpretation of its statements are as varied as the people who wrote the words and all who read them. Many books have been written to parse the meaning of words, phrases, and entire sections of the Bible. Authors strive to decipher verses, chapters, and whole books. Many claim to know or to have been shown by God, the correct meaning of God’s biblical message. Thus, making them right and everybody else wrong. I also fear for those who sit before the pulpit. They believe they are hearing the Word of God. As a result, they vote based on the narrow interpretations of their church leaders.

Some say our nation was founded on tenets and beliefs of Christianity. Others believe that those who came fled religious and economic persecution. I haven’t read the entire constitution for a long time. But from what I remember, this country was built on the concept of freedom of speech and religion. It is a country where anyone willing to abide by basic social rules can live and work for a livelihood. These rules are loosely based, I think, on the Ten Commandments. This is regardless of race, religion, ethnicity or country of origin.

Have we attained a panacea? Have our leaders always done what is right? Have our citizens always chosen well who will govern? Nope. Not even close. Does that mean that our democracy is wrong? Should we discard it? So many have fought and died for democracy. Should we allow a person or power brokers to abolish it? Please say no! ( Can I get an Amen? 😉 )

I am writing this uncharacteristic post because I am afraid for our freedom. I am afraid that some people don’t see the danger. One candidate stated outright that he will reign as a dictator. Sure, he is doing things some want for now, but he will eventually dictate everything even to them. Whether we be Jews, Hispanics, Muslims, Blacks, Straight, or Gay, we all will lose! Eventually, anyone who disagrees with those in power will also lose! Bottom line – the man for whom some will vote to save them from what they perceive as the evil conduct of pagan heathen, will bring an evil. This evil is something our world has seen before. We had to fight against it and lost millions of lives to overcome it.

Sadly, these words will have no impact on the outcome of Tuesday’s election. Both sides realize that few minds are changed with political rhetoric. But if you think that what I am writing is worth sharing, please do so. Either copy and paste, or share the link to this page. I am Keith A Jaben. I am Keith Javia. I am the author of wutjavia.com. I am finally speaking out.

Renaissance Man

The grandson of a friend of mine recently referred to me as a renaissance man. I had to look it up to confirm its meaning, especially since he was referring to me!

It seems to be an apt description. I have had three distinctive careers, construction, project management, and teaching. I have dabbled in several trades and hobbies that may qualify me as one proficient in several areas. Thus, I take his reference as a compliment.

I was immediately reminded of one of my songs, Chameleon, in which I refer to myself thusly, “Jack of some trades, mastering none. Reds and purples hide your fear. Talk a good game for all to hear.” A rather different introspective that seems less flattering or reassured. It got me thinking again about how we perceive ourselves versus how others perceive us, and how our lives affect, and are affected by those we meet along the paths we walk.

Having returned to the area of my upbringing I continue to reconnect with those I know, and who know me, from my teenage years. I hear comments, both directly and indirectly, about what my peers thought of me then. Far different views than what I thought of myself or any notion of what they thought about me.

A friend reminded me that it was/is not just me. We were all trying to navigate the insecurities of our youth. Though some showed it less than others. I suspect that even they, with no outward admission, dealt with the challenges of budding maturity.

Last evening (Thursday) I was with a small group of people, three of which were actually high school classmates of mine, discussing the challenges of parenting adult children. Our guide recommended keeping our mouths shut, reinventing our relationships with our children, and learning to be mentors and coaches rather than being do this or that parents.

We compared generations. Our relationships with our parents – both directions. Relationships with our own adult children, and what a different environment our grandchildren live in today. They have never lived without the Internet and the plethora of technology.

Looking in the mirror, I see no resemblance to the boy in my high school picture. Nor can I point to many similarities in my new/old acquaintances from my past. We have all gone through changes and challenges. We have nearly all dealt with parents and children who aren’t what we thought or wanted them to be. Our grandchildren live in a world that we, being older, are little equipped to guide them. Though we want desperately to save them from the mistakes we have made.

How does one end up a renaissance person?! What combination of talents, skills, parenting, personality traits, and social interaction leads to a life of diversity that gives the perception of wide-ranging ability? I don’t know. I realize now, though, that our perceptions of ourselves are not necessarily how others view us. I realize, also, that perceptions of ourselves and others change as time marches on.

I am thankful for the positive contributions I have made to our lives, and rue the negative impacts I have had. I am thankful for how those with whom I have interacted, have impressed me, and for how most perceive me in a positive way. These are good aspirations in life to achieve – at least for me.