Monday, July 25, 2016

Live Music Calling

Smooth silk pajamas, high thread spring green sheets, a one hundred per cent cotton throw in aqua for when the night chills, a nice cup of tea with toast, and a DVD, or the internet spells a sweet night. In recent years it’s all too easy to be seduced by the comfort of the bed and interesting internet.
Let’s face it; who in their sixties wants to go out like you did in your twenties? You’re young and healthy with energy after work to party; who didn’t enjoy that, ah, the twenties. My fondness for live music grew during that decade.
It birthed as Elvis rocked and gyrated on the rooftop stage at Ponchatrain Beach Amusement Park in New Orleans; who had ever seen a young man so wonderful?
A weird thing I remember about live music; I felt like a drop of energy in a solid world. Everything was out there; I felt separate, in here. I guess it felt egocentric; it had to be the booze or whatever. That feeling happens when I’ve been sick or after surgery.
That alone in a crowd feeling happened to me frequently in my twenties. My relationship with alone changed, so did my perception; what hasn’t changed is my love of live music.
Senior years may require a kick in the fanny to not allow yourself to become a victim of comfort, as I heard a singer in New Orleans croon.
Brenda Hopkins Jazz Band
The young jazz artists’ compositions today are hard driving and multi layered here in Puerto Rico. Young and old jiving to the beat in the Caribbean is Latin jazz on adrenaline. Yep, that’s what it takes to get me out of bed at night. 

Sunday, July 24, 2016

Alive Needs A Goal

Remember the story of Mark Harmon’s parents? His dad died and later in the day his mom had a heart attack and died; I thought I’d die the day my husband died or within the first few months, but I didn’t.
A stroll through the valley of the shadow of death tore me apart; hard earned healing comes with each trudging step. Does this sound like I’m being melodramatic? F’ing wait ‘til you loose the love of your life, and then tell me about it.
I felt sad for Mark Harmon’s loss, but his mom got to go with her love. To this day I’ve wanted nothing more; who’d think someone would envy the dead woman?
But I’m alive and three years later ready to ask the question; what do I want?
Being a goal setter for years, this isn’t unfamiliar; only this is the first time the answer excited me, since I lost my husband. Everything thing I’ve done since 7/14/13 has been palliative; stop the pain became my imperative, so this time when I thought about it and got excited is huge!!
Before the Great Recession complements of George W. Bush, Kirt and I planned to spend our summers in Europe. Lost my husband, lost my nest egg and a good bit more, but I asked myself the same old question and this year I got the same answer.
I want to experience the parent culture of Latin America; I want to live in Spain for the ninety days I’m allowed. Can you believe it? I’ve wanted to go to Spain since my junior year in high school, when a priest from Spain, who taught my boy friend, hung out with us at the museums on weekends. He told the most wonderful stories; be still my heart.
I have a goal.

Friday, July 22, 2016

What Do I Want

Every day can’t a shoot myself up with joy day; some days you just have to stay home and clean the house. You can’t imagine how glad I am that today isn’t one of those days. The gym calls with promises of endorphin release.
Yesterday began with a new battery. My mechanic got it in, and out in a flash leaving me at loose ends early. I thought about going home to do that house cleaning. A trip to San Juan of less than a hundred miles to go to the Museum Las Americas became an all day adventure equipped with a hearty breakfast like I only have on blue moons.
In fact the trip lasted all day; I arrived late at the museum, so only toured the courtyard. Visitors to Puerto Rico must check this out. Buildings that give a glimpse of the past resonant with me, so standing in the courtyard center of vibrations, I tingled. Since I blew the tour time, I’ll return. Smile.
A walk along the ocean at sunset does wonderful things. Beyond my search for peace and learning how to live without my love hovers the question, “What do I want?”
Face it; we don’t have forever, so making each day count has become personal. What do I want?
If I’m planning something very cool, will my drudge days be better? Okay, what do I want?
That’s something to think about; huh?

Thursday, July 14, 2016

I Remember You

Happiness, a college course, has helped me overcome my sadness. I do things for others, both human and canine; I release endorphin at the gym three or four times a week. My participation in shopping therapy causes excitement in big box stores on Puerto Rico. Managers of local movie theaters smile and nod to me; music under the stars on a lush tropical island is mine to enjoy each month. My next vacation is currently under construction. What is wrong with me that I hurt so badly?
My whole life I’ve been a hard worker. Now, at this ripe age I don’t want to work anymore. Anyone who knows that if you want something, you must make it happen, knows you don’t want to be depressed!
Nobody wants to be depressed, but I’m one of the people who actively endeavor to be better. I try so hard, I’m tired of trying.
To lose the great love of your life pokes a hole in your heart. For some it’s a mortal wound; I’m a survivor, but just barely.
To a battered pup love and kindness means salvation. With him in my life, I blossomed in more ways than one. He appreciated me, wanted to be with me above all else; how can I live without his love?
My darling,
 Clure Kirt Carr, died July 14, 2013 

My Honey

Your merry blue eyes my bliss
Deep, slow, Southern voice
Whiskers tickle my nose
The soul sucking kiss
To be without you not my choice
You Dear, I fucking miss
Down to the tips of my toes