washwords

Today is Yom Kippur, the day of atonement for my faith, the closing of the 10 day period of the new year, of reflection for the year behind, of looking to the year ahead.

Truth be told, I love this time of year. I love the rituals of cleansing, purifying,  the haunting melodies,  the looking ahead and celebrating first so that filled up with love and hope and promise, you can more properly atone for sins, and reform into someone better, stronger, more authentic.

I especially love the poetry, the music of our services. I sing “Avinu Malkeinu” to myself throughout the year (no doubt especially annoying friends and neighbors this time of year) and unlike my favorite songs in English where it’s the lyrics I most connect to, focus on; in prayer, it’s the melody - the haunting beautiful notes that express better where my heart is dwelling then the actual words sometimes can.  “Our Father, Our King” the literal translation of that prayer’s title, isn’t what the song speaks to me.

Rather, it says loudly, softly, heartfully, tearfully, pleadingly, “I’m sorry.”

It says: I’ll do better. I’m working on it. I do have love in my heart of hearts, I do appreciate the riches I have.

It says: I am joyful, exhuberant, warmed by this community, even when they are strangers. I am home here with this familiar melody I seem to have always known, by the ability to sing fully, forcefully, till I’m dizzy and hoarse.

It says: Thank you. Thank you, God, if that’s what you believe in. Thank you friends and loved ones. Thank you strangers for forgiving me the sins and offenses I don’t even know I’m committing. Thank you love for finding me, thank you world for recognizing the talents and strengths I have.

And it says this: There’s going to be hurt, there’s going to be mistakes and pains and some of them are going to be your fault. And

Today’s guest blogger and guest photographer is the lovely and talented Cheryl Nichols.

I saw George Michael on Tuesday night at the Verizon Center in Washington DC.  He had as much, if not more, energy that night as he did when I saw him 20 years ago!  I saw GM my freshman year of college at the Tacoma Dome in the 2nd row on the side of the stage.  For fun I pulled out my scrapbook to dig out my ticket stub.  I saw GM on 9/23/1988 in the 2nd row for $20!!!!!  This time the Ticketmaster “Unservice” charges were more than my ticket 20 years ago.

Hi Cheryl of the 2nd row, Tacoma Dome, 1988!

I could have been on the floor, but am very happy with my decision with the 5th row on the side of the stage.  GM was constantly coming over to my side of the stage.  He was about 25 ft away from me at times.  Incredible.

He looked fabulous and sounded great.  GM’s voice was definitely in good form, although he eschewed the high notes, letting the eager audience (attempt to) hit them instead.

And he can still SHAKE THOSE HIPS!  He was a dancing machine!  He didn’t stop moving on the fast songs and sat down in a chair on a couple of the slow songs.

The stage and lights were incredible and it was like we were in a dance club. By the end of the night, I felt like I had been to aerobics.  :)  Everyone was dancing and had a great time. Read more »

Old friends, Old friends, Sat on their park bench, Like bookends.
A newspaper blown through the grass Falls on the round toes On the high shoes, Of the old friends.

***

Time it was, and what a time it was, it was A time of innocence, a time of confidences Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left of you, they’re all that’s left me to.

-Simon and Garfunkel, 1968

A month or so ago, no, undoubtedly it was longer now, an unknown number showed up on my phone. As is my practice, I didn’t answer. I often don’t answer the phone even when I know the caller- it scares me, disrupts my rhythm and flow of my days, or, in the case, quiet, writing evening. I especially don’t answer when I don’t recognize the number.

A minute later an email came through. This time from a name I DID recognize. “Just looking up old friends. How are you doing? Call me!” said the message from indeed an old friend, an old friend I hadn’t heard from in years, an old friend I once thought I loved, desparately, painfully, though now I know that feeling was just Read more »