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Open Thank You Letter to the Dixie Chicks

/ autumncircles / 4 Comments

Natalie Maines.

Emily Robison.

Martie Maguire.

Three women I have never met yet who were instrumental in my survival during some dark days in my marriage and life.  Their voices and words from three albums in particular – Wide Open Spaces, Fly, Home – were on constant repeat mode in my iPod with my headphones plastered to my ears for nearly a year or longer back in late 2002 and all of 2003.

IMHO, Marriage is a journey with two people who at the base of their relationship love each other in such a profound way as to commit to share the rest of their lives together.  Sometimes the journey takes the couple to exotic locations where their minds and bodies become like intensely familiar entities who have been connected long before they met in this life.  Other times, the road darkens and couples get separated and lost in a dense jungle of terrifying emotion and doubt.  Mostly, I have discovered, the path is more like a hike up a favorite mountain trail – a bit rocky and steep at points but with long stretches of open terrain where we simply walk together holding hands, and now, leading our family.

It was during one of our trips to what seemed like the deepest part of the Congo where even breathing was difficult that I discovered the Dixie Chicks.  I had not previously listened to them, but heard a song on the radio and knew they understood what I was feeling.  So I bought the CDs in quick succession and played them over and over again alternately weeping, singing at the top of my lungs alone in the car, and dancing with my children in the living room.

It was as if their music was sent to me specifically at that time as an outlet for all of the unexplainable emotions my heart was breaking from.  They let me sing with them even though I had no idea how to join in a harmony or even match their melody.  When I sang with the Dixie Chicks, I was singing pure emotion and it was perfect.

I was reminded of this time in my life when I recently rediscovered my long forgotten, battery impaired iPod.

I was also sent others in this sisterhood who were not abstract voices purchased at the music store, but real women who had been to similar jungles, loved and survived their own harrowing trips and clung to my side, holding me up until I once again believed I could stand on my own.

I am still married and am grateful for it. I love my husband and am so glad we both decided to come out of the jungles together to proceed on our trek through some wondrous countryside that we might have missed had we given up.

I am, also, grateful for all of these women, their voices, and my ability to join them in this life.  I continue to meet more amazing women who share my joys, struggles and general love of the whole spectacular rave.

‘Cuz some days you gotta dance…

What does “cool” really mean?

/ autumncircles / 1 Comment

I’ve looked it up and it is officially an adjective ranging from the obvious of “moderately cold” to “calm” and “under control” to “disinterested” and “unaffected by emotions”.  It makes a slang reference to meaning being “socially adept” and “highly clever.”

Most of us cannot define cool into words such as these – we just know “cool” when we see “cool.”  For example, Matt Damon in the Bourne movie series, walking around all brooding and mysterious – COOL.  A guy throwing shoes at our President – not cool, even if you didn’t vote for the man or cannot wait until the new President’s inauguration day.  Michael Phelps winning eight gold medals in one Olympics – awesomely cool, whereas the previous record holder, Mark Spitz, not even showing up to congratulate or cheer him on – unequivocally not.   Parachute pants and black checkered vans in 1980ish- very cool.  Try wearing the same thing today and it would very UNcool.  Ed Hardy t-shirts or perfume – cool; Ed Hardy purses – not so much.  Linus’ speech in A Charlie Brown Christmas is sincerely cool in a sentimental way.  TV preachers hacking their wares heavily in order to make their mansions larger off true believers, wretchedly opposite of cool.

I’ve always attributed the word to something deeply existential within that cannot be specifically delineated into a tried and true formula for determination.  It is a either cool or it is not.

As far as my generation is concerned, the word can no longer be classified as slang.  It is part of our vocabulary when describing almost anything or even for simple interactions between folks.

“Wow – that’s a cool car,” the mother of two said as she walked past a Mini Cooper convertible.

“I’m going to order pizza tonight – cool with you?”

“Hey, please don’t take my kid’s bike – that’s uncool!”

The trick tends to be that in most cases, one needs to be cool in order to differentiate cool.

I’ve always wanted to be cool.  I have had times in my life where I think I’ve come to the precipice of cool and almost crossed into it for a time being.  Unfortunately, something usually snaps in my psyche and I lose all ability to allow myself the misconceived honor of being cool.

Believe it or not, I do feel as though I am getting closer to this mercurial veil of comfort in my own skin the older I get.  I am intimidated less, not nearly as afraid as I was even as recently as a few years ago and I find myself worthy to wear a leopard print faux fur coat even if someone laughed at me while I was wearing it.  I don’t care – I find it to be wonderfully cool.  I love writing haikus and know that if Bascho’s spirit is wandering around somewhere, he would declare them ultimately cool concise flashes to whisper inward expressions.

My whole point to today’s blog is that I am still unable, in some areas of my life, to adequately know whether or not I am “cool” or down right “goofy.”  In many cases, I still check with my friend and fashion expert (IMO) on what I can and cannot wear together as an ensemble.  I give my kids’ teachers space so as not to appear like I’m one of “those kinds of parents.”  And I am not able to respond if someone by chance asks me if “I’m cool” with something if the question’s base resides in one of the few remaining areas of anxiety for my brain.  I might be “okay” without reaching the same level of “enthusiasm” that someone else might.  But does that serve as an equal to “being cool?”

This is the question that has haunted me today and nearly brought me to my proverbial knees…fun, huh?

P.S.  Blogging on the human condition with an honest attempt to connect with others and include a bit of humor – hopefully cool.  Unable to answer a simple question without taking the entire day to ponder it and then end up vaguely responding under a pseudonym in a blog read by about three people tops – not necessarily.

Waiting – meant to post Monday…

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My Dad is 72 years old and has suffered hearing loss for more than a decade, and maybe closing in on two.  He had had always had that “selective hearing” but he also had something called Meniere’s Syndrome.  Meniere’s consists of vertigo, tinnitus, hearing loss and inner ear pressure.  He had surgery years ago to try to mitigate the symptoms, but it actually resulted in the total lost of hearing in his right ear.  He has worn a hearing aide in his left ear for a while now, but it has never given him quite the boost to hear anywhere close to normally.

This has taken a toll on my Dad.  He won’t admit it, I don’t think, but I can see the disappointed look in his eyes when he sees the whole family laughing at something that he has no clue about because he couldn’t hear the conversation.  I can hear his frustration when he is unable to carry on a telephone conversation with any type of success and his heartbreak is palpable when he struggles to understand what his grandkids are saying when they visit.

So, today, after finally qualifying as a good candidate, my Dad is receiving a cochlear implant.  I still don’t understand all of the surgical details or how it will actually work once it is “turned on,” but I am grateful and excited for him to get this new opportunity to restore at least some of his hearing.

I have entered the phase of life where I have begun to swap care-giving roles with my parents.  Don’t get me wrong, my parents aren’t living with me and I am no where near becoming a nurse-maid.  They are still young enough to get by just fine without my help both physically and economically, but feelings have begun to sprout in me more in the parental role towards them instead of coming from them.  Not sure if it’s their age or mine, but I am definitely growing up.

The old triggers of feeling like I’m sixteen again and have done something to get grounded for or receive the “I’m disappointed in you” speech are practically gone.  So too, are the urges to call “mommy and daddy” when I’m in trouble or sick.  I haven’t asked for money in nearly twenty years and major decisions are made with my spouse, not my parents.

Now I’m the Mom my kids look to for love, care and guidance.  I pray every day that I provide more than just the grownup who fixes them the food that they almost always gripe about having to eat or who orders them to clean their rooms or who force feeds them the medicine when they are sick.  I know in many ways I am a pretty cool Mom who lets our daughter dress however she chooses (for now, while she is still extremely modest) and who tries to explain to our son that it is okay to have feelings even ones of anger towards me.

It is not easy and there are many challenges we face and will come across, I’m sure, over the years – both with our kids and my parents.

Hopefully, I’ll continue to be up for the ride.