The frantic pace of life....
I am scrambling to finish the day and get to bed....tomorrow starts with a 7:30 meeting an hour (God willing) from home. A lot like every other day.
But I'm not complaining. I get to do interesting things. Almost too many.
So tonight I had a call from a friend who goes back all the way to High School. He's just had quadruple bypass surgery and is now recovering nicely thank you very much. I was so glad to hear from him. That--frantic pace-- has not given either of us much time to share in the past three or four years. I was happy to hear the good news-that he was on the road to recovery.
I was sad to think that he'd been in surgery ten days ago and I didn't know.
Sunday's obit included the life history of Pat Carr, my football coach in seventh and eighth grade. I was not a good football player. In fact I was terrible. I thought about how many years ago that had been. I think I only was on the field for one play in two years. I ran laps more than anything else. My dad and Pat Carr went to school together though in different classes, so I was Dave Porter's kid....always. It's probably unfair but I associate this with the fact that my father was quoted, on the occasion of my birth, as saying I was a sturdily built child and "he'll play football". That seemed like a curse on my head for years since I was terrible at football and most other sports. I was not a coordinated child. (In fairness to the adult me, I am still capable of extreme clumsiness without provocation).
What's funny is that I did turn out to be a 'football' player. Heading toward 30 years playing the other football- soccer. I love it. I wonder what Pat Carr would think. It's not that I'm a good soccer player, but I play that game because it gives my heart and soul joy. And keeps my cardiovascular system working...
So in a strange seque, I was thinking last night that I needed to do a post on the subject of funerary music. I have always been very interested in thinking about what music should be played at my funeral. Largely, I think, because I've been at funerals where the music was TERRIBLE. I think music has such a profound spiritual power. So I was in Eugene last week to hear Kaeli's Spring Concert and the choir performed "In Paradisum" by Fissinger, an American composer and I was very moved. The work includes a middle passage in which the harmonics (don't make me go technical) of the voices create a set of overtones which is ethereal and angelic. It's beautiful work. I add it to Pie Jesu by Andrew Lloyd Webber as a must for my final ceremonial passage. But...there's more. Just not in this posting.
And going one more step. I read a column by George Will yesterday, Monday, that impressed me. George Will and I don't often agree though I feel immense civility toward him because his opnions are rooted in observations and facts not in personal assaults on his critics. The content of yesterday's column made sense to me. Truly, I would never pass muster as a conservative. And I am uncomfortable with the sadly perjorative elements stuck into the word "liberal", but I try to always agree with someone who comes even slightly close to making sense. I'm inclined to invite them over for a glass of good red wine. Or beer if they prefer.
Enough. The frantic pace sweeps me into the maelstrom again.
But I'm not complaining. I get to do interesting things. Almost too many.
So tonight I had a call from a friend who goes back all the way to High School. He's just had quadruple bypass surgery and is now recovering nicely thank you very much. I was so glad to hear from him. That--frantic pace-- has not given either of us much time to share in the past three or four years. I was happy to hear the good news-that he was on the road to recovery.
I was sad to think that he'd been in surgery ten days ago and I didn't know.
Sunday's obit included the life history of Pat Carr, my football coach in seventh and eighth grade. I was not a good football player. In fact I was terrible. I thought about how many years ago that had been. I think I only was on the field for one play in two years. I ran laps more than anything else. My dad and Pat Carr went to school together though in different classes, so I was Dave Porter's kid....always. It's probably unfair but I associate this with the fact that my father was quoted, on the occasion of my birth, as saying I was a sturdily built child and "he'll play football". That seemed like a curse on my head for years since I was terrible at football and most other sports. I was not a coordinated child. (In fairness to the adult me, I am still capable of extreme clumsiness without provocation).
What's funny is that I did turn out to be a 'football' player. Heading toward 30 years playing the other football- soccer. I love it. I wonder what Pat Carr would think. It's not that I'm a good soccer player, but I play that game because it gives my heart and soul joy. And keeps my cardiovascular system working...
So in a strange seque, I was thinking last night that I needed to do a post on the subject of funerary music. I have always been very interested in thinking about what music should be played at my funeral. Largely, I think, because I've been at funerals where the music was TERRIBLE. I think music has such a profound spiritual power. So I was in Eugene last week to hear Kaeli's Spring Concert and the choir performed "In Paradisum" by Fissinger, an American composer and I was very moved. The work includes a middle passage in which the harmonics (don't make me go technical) of the voices create a set of overtones which is ethereal and angelic. It's beautiful work. I add it to Pie Jesu by Andrew Lloyd Webber as a must for my final ceremonial passage. But...there's more. Just not in this posting.
And going one more step. I read a column by George Will yesterday, Monday, that impressed me. George Will and I don't often agree though I feel immense civility toward him because his opnions are rooted in observations and facts not in personal assaults on his critics. The content of yesterday's column made sense to me. Truly, I would never pass muster as a conservative. And I am uncomfortable with the sadly perjorative elements stuck into the word "liberal", but I try to always agree with someone who comes even slightly close to making sense. I'm inclined to invite them over for a glass of good red wine. Or beer if they prefer.
Enough. The frantic pace sweeps me into the maelstrom again.
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