"Shout Singing..."

 

Just saw the term “shout singing” in a novel I am reading and wondered why I had never thought to write about that.  I mean – it is a thing that people do – usually when alone – especially when they are not recognized for their singing ability… like me.  It’s versatile… shout singing can be done anywhere, preferably when by oneself in a car or shower, but it can be and has been, in my experience, a fun collective effort as well -- especially in an impromptu situation.

I am a classic shout singer.  I started very young with songs like “You Are My Sunshine” and “Jesus Loves me”.  From there I moved on into the 50’s when “Hound Dog” and “Tom Dooley” were easy to pick up from the radio.  The 60’s offered “The Twist” and “It’s Now or Never” and in the 70’s, I shout sang an impressive “I’ll Be There” or “American Pie”.  Did you know that … a levy is a prom in New England?  Gives “…drove my Chevy to the levy and the levy was dry….” a whole other meaning.  And then – my 70’s fave – “Bridge Over Troubled Waters”.  Now there is a song made for shout singing from the heart.

I liked “Every Breath You Take” and “Billie Jean” in the 80’s, but then I experienced a bit of a drought in the 90’s and the early 2000’s  -- had other things on my mind and reverted to songs like “You Don’t Own Me”.  2018 brought one of my all time faves  in “Uptown Funk” and then with the confinement of the damncovid, I was moved to belt out “Rise Up”, a poignant song that was experiencing a bit of a come back at the time. Still is.

Perhaps the thing I find most interesting about shout singing is that it is multi-functional.  It works to let happiness burst forth and to release sadness, or sometimes even anger.  Like I said multi-functional.  Most useful.

Now in thinking about all those old songs, I realize I may be singing all day – at least in my head.  You?  Not sure I remember shout singing in a while.  It’s time. Actually, the whole world could use a pressure release valve.  What better than a good heart-felt song?

Ah , Northwest Pennsylvania...

 Ah, Northwest Pennsylvania... the land of flame orange in the Fall, lake effect snow in the winter and towns with names like Beaver Dam, Spring Creek, Horn Siding, and Hatch Hallow. It is welcoming. It is hill country where curvy, rough two-lane roads that are chewed on the edges are the norm. There is a certain charm in it all and a certain pride in knowing that you can survive here -- all the while scoffing at those who fret about a mere threat of snow.  Ha.  True grit.  Survival of the fittest. 

This is the time of year when I feel the need to check my sock drawer, and to make sure I have mittens and warm boots at the ready. Time is limited now to cut back plants before Spring when they will be slimy and even harder to deal with. Icky.  It is also a time of vivid blue skies providing a backdrop for leaves that are turning from deep green into vibrant colors... each day becoming a different postcard worthy scene. It is the time when walking paths and sidewalks include the bonus of the sounds of leaves under foot.  It is a time of mums in bloom, squash and pumpkins in all kinds of colors and sizes. It is a time of raking while wearing a sweatshirt and cozy fires. Harvest time is coming to an end. Barns are full of hay. Too bad Fall is so short lived in Northwest Pennsylvania.

The quiet cold grays of winter will be here before we know it. There is a beauty in those days as well.  But for now...

Enjoy these lovely Autumn days.  

What Year is this?

 

·             Americans are craving peace and security.

·         Unrest boils and seethes across the world.

·         People cross boarders illegally – some them with ill intent.

·         A Pandemic reappears - now in its third year.

·         Terrorists abound throughout the world.

R        Racism is a wide spread.

          The government blacklists people in many devious ways to silence.

·         A President, unfit for office, is protected by those around him.

·         Destructive riots cause harm to innocent people.

·         Workers unite and strike across the county.

·         People have become disillusioned.

          The government no longer serves the people.

T

The year described above is 1919.  

Does it sound familiar to you?

Now here’s the thing that is especially hopeful.  In the election of 1920, the American voter all across the country, tired of the “Progressive” Democratic Party, voted a lot of them out of office with a Presidential candidate of the opposing party taking over 60% of the vote. 

It’s time, perhaps, for history to repeat itself.  Sometimes that kind of repetition is a good thing.  

It’s time to start thinking about what you want as a voter and the election in 2024. Think of someone who can do the job you want done. 

 

On Hold...

Am taking a break from blogging as I am currently working on editing the work described in the Preface below.  Looking back through daily writings that began on March 13, 2020  (Friday the 13th) is an interesting journey.  Organizing and editing them is a challenging and time consuming one. Hope to be back at the weekly blog soon or to drop in once in a while here and there. 

                                    A View from Two Porches

     Preface

When researching the history of the small parcel of land on which I live, I found myself in the 1700’s where personal accounts in letters and journals offered the most realistic details of the times.  Ordinary people writing their impressions of their world and stories of their day-to-day lives offered the clearest picture of the way of life, family, and good times as well as of the challenges, stresses, and unexpected hardships.

Fast forward a few centuries and what you will see in this work is a bit of the email exchange over time of two cousins living only about 20 miles apart in two adjoining states, each caught off guard by the pandemic and each determined to come out on the other side a better, more compassionate, and stronger woman… both determined to keep their families together in the face of something no one anticipated, but all had to navigate. They wanted to do it well.

One wrote at night, the other in the morning – each responding to the other. What had been an open line of communication for many years became a lifeline to each – a way to vent, to sort out difficulties, to encourage, to plan and to share the frustrations as well as the good things. Not only do the emails selected here give you an idea of their way of surviving in a Covid world, but also of life in rural America during these times.  They began to save and print their emails as sort of a lark  -- thinking that someday, in years ahead, someone would find their account in a dusty attic bin and wonder who these two "Nanas" were who, so long ago, wrote to preserve their tale of surviving what they came to call the damncovid – uncertain and unsettling times for sure.

Like all journeys this one has its bumps, stumbles and even a fall or two along the way.  In particular you will see mistakes in judgement  -- most easily seen in believing that authorities knew what they were talking about and that those trusted authorities were telling the truth.  There were painful lessons to learn.  Perhaps still are. As we look back, we try to hang on to the belief and the hope that most people were doing the best they could with what they knew at the moment and that most had good intentions – even if that were not the case. Little did we know. We made mistakes, but we always had good intentions and were trying our best. We still do and still are. 

In the words of Isabelle Allende: "Maybe the most important reason for writing is to prevent erosion of time, so that memories will not be blown away by the wind.  Write to register history and name each thing.  Write what should not be forgotten."

Oompa Loompas, Selfies, and Eco-terrorists...

 

It seems to me that as far back as Socrates, we have a written record of the elder generations being critical of the younger ones.  Perhaps it is a side effect of age? Now that I am a septuagenarian, I am a member of this latest elder generation and I really think that I am less ornery and cantankerous than many of this group… although I do mute annoying commercials without guilt and in a rather short-tempered manner.  The thing is – I am thankful to have reached this point. Many friends and family did not. Further -- I find that …most often… I actually enjoy that the generation after me is in charge and get to make all those scary and difficult decisions.  We septuagenarians have done our time there. It’s their turn now. (Ah... remember the days when we thought our parents knew everything? Ah... the blessed ignorance of youth.)

In looking back though – at the same time as trying to keep up to date on the ways of today’s world - there are things that I find amusing in sort of a peculiar way.  Take today’s eco-terrorists for example.   They look surprisingly like many of the great American unwashed hippies of the 60s… same dirty, stringy hair, unruly beards, and frowny and sometimes self-righteous faces.  Sometimes there is even a similar tendency to move toward general irresponsibility and destruction of others’ property as their wishes take priority over everything. A major difference is the lack of Peace and Flower Power signs. I am thinking that they smell the same.

I also must admit that I find cell phone and selfie addiction to be amusing in a twisted way.  Perhaps it is because I, personally, shy away from photos.  It’s bad enough to see myself in the mirror in the morning and wonder who is looking back at me. I haven't changed my profile picture on Facebook in years. That speaks for itself.

I listen to members of two younger generations talk of concerns, of work and school and wonder if they could understand my world of yore. I think back to my Dad telling me about his younger days and wonder if I understand his.  I am not sure I ever thought a whole lot about the life my parents had before I arrived.  There were stories- highlights really, but not the day to day details... at least not enough to piece things together into a complete picture.

I find today's world to be nuts a lot of the time. One thing I know for sure though is that ... I have never ever wondered about the gender of the Oompa Loompas. In fact, I have serious concerns about those who do and about those who find it necessary to declare Oompa Loompas to be gender neutral. Who are these people who want to change the words of others or to ban books? Talk about the height of hubris and "know-it-allness". More fundamentally -- who are these people who think that the Oompa Loompas are real and would therefore be sensitive to such things? It's concerning. Rampant Ridiculosity is alive and well.  Personally I feel like just stepping over it, and moving along my way.  I have more important things to think about. As each day goes by, I am more and more sick of weirdos, no matter their chosen pronouns, trying to push their agendas in my face and down my throat. I am losing patience with all of it. You live your life; I will live mine. Personally... it would be nice to live in a less nutty world.  I am thinking that a lot of elder generations have thought that. They got by. Maybe I am more of a crabby old fuddy-duddy than I would like to acknowledge after all.

There is a lot I don’t understand, but I get by.

Out of step? Maybe.  Don’t care. (I know I am in good company. Go Boomers!)

So I can breathe...

 

In my home I have a small office that I often refer to as The Book Room.  3 of 4 walls are, at least in part, composed of overloaded book shelves. I became annoyed a few months back that the books are two-book deep on many of the shelves and it is hard to find what I am looking for. So… I called upon a local wood working genius to build additional shelves  -- small ones that wrap around three sides of my living room couch. The shelves are the same height as the couch so the two of them on either side can double as side tables. They match the dark woodwork of my home. They are outstanding.  I love them and my granddaughter tells me that sitting on that couch is now extra cozy.  Good enough for me.  Anyway – in sorting through books in order to rearrange them, I have discovered that - naturally over time - several books moved to the bottom of the must read pile, and I now have no idea why I bought them. Obviously I need to move them from the unread category to that of the read.  It’s what I do. "So many books; so little time."

Anyway -- my next soon to be read is a book about a woman’s journey through life in the early 1900’s and her ability to understand her place in her world. Of course reading that on the book jacket got me to thinking (for a few moments) about what I personally understand about myself and my life’s journey. 

The following brief comments are the result of that "scattered thought process”. I also think that I am not alone in this kind of "thing". Am I correct in this?  Here goes...

In a world that at times seems upside down to me, I am the kind of person who:

• has a brand new coffee maker in the basement - still in the unopened original box.  I think of it as the "stand by" coffee maker – waiting in the wings – essential and ready to go. I like knowing that it is there.
• makes notes in books even though I know I will most likely never go back to them.
• keeps all necessary ingredients for homemade Monkey Bread on hand -- always. You know ... in case of emergency hankerings. (Thanks again, PB, for the recipe!)
• if I sleep-in past 5 AM, feels like I am moving through the day with my shoes on the wrong feet.
• has wondered at times if Santa is ever overwhelmed by the flood of greedy letters.

Then on the more serious side... I am the kind of person who:

• wonders sometimes if raving environmentalists know that they “come off” as fascists and then wonders if they care.
• knows that all fears need to be handled carefully.
• when holding things inside wonders if it is obvious from the outside that inside my head I am screaming.
• thinks that it is never “Good-bye; it is always “See you later”.
• is amazed that life can be both simple and complex within the same moment. 
• carries a small notebook around with her most of the time -- just in case I need to write down some idea that I don't want to forget.     

And finally…. I am the kind of person who knows that writing may not solve anything, but it helps me breathe in this world that at times seems upside down to me.   

It's time...

 A few words on cancel culture.

It seems that cancel culture may have run its course, inflicted its pain, enjoyed its fifteen minutes of fame. Sometimes it even seems to be turning in on itself (... interesting). Don't let the door hit you on the way out. Oh -- and feel free to take your woke friends with you. It seems that people are finding their voices again.  This, in my opinion, is way past due.  My voice counts and ...  so does yours ... whether we agree or not ....      

                            Freedom. Above. Everything.

Now and then during the past couple of years I have been disappointed in people - just like I was back in the days of the Vietnam War Moratorium when I thought I should be able to attend my college classes if I wanted to. Others thought they could deny me this right to an education, so I had to attend underground classes in the private homes of professors. I was also held captive for over an hour in an elevator by privileged, screaming, and hysterical, young women overcome with self righteousness. All of this because they saw that I was carrying text books ... but ... that is a story for another day and one that I don't like to think about. It was not a high point of my college days, but I stood my ground. I am still standing today. I have no idea where those people are now and... don't care.

I know that I am not alone in this feeling of disappointment and isolation in these times, but it feels that way sometimes ... and it is not a good feeling.  As Martin Luther King said: “In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.” I can't help but remember what this silence feels like. I caution myself never to go to that world of cancelling others who may disagree with me. That is not who I want to be… ever. I think I tend to build protective walls instead. Not sure that is always a good thing either. It works for now.

One more thing... it seems odd to me that the most vocal of the past few years have become the most silent. It is a stunning and unusual silence of those who were so sure that they were right about everything... those who felt that had a right to impose their will on others including those who wished to mandate an experimental drug they called a vaccine .... They now have little or nothing to say.  No one is forcing their silence though they tried to silence others and to make them comply to their will. Some still try, but it is not working out too well for them. I am not holding my breath for any expression of regret on their part. I just wish they could at least make eye contact with me when I happen to meet them along the way. I don't have cooties, after all. I never did. They don't either. They never did.

I did not understand this "need" to try to silence and to control others back in the days of the Vietnam War Moratorium, and I don't understand it now. Not sure I want to. It's ugly.