We'll Never Get to Heaven Till We Reach That Day

 I first saw the musical, Ragtime, several years ago at the Dogwood Dell Festival of the Arts. Both my girls were still in elementary school. I had seen the 1994 film, but had not seen the musical. It was an excellent production, but something I remember so clearly was a question both my young girls asked me at intermission. To give you a little reference, Ragtime focuses on America in 1906, and how the lives of three different groups of people (Wealthy white Americans, African Americans and Immigrants) intersect and the challenges and tragedies they face. There is a scene in the show where the young African American couple (Coalhouse and Sarah) are driving home from a picnic with their baby, and they are stopped by three white fireman, and told they are not allowed to pass. Coalhouse sends Sarah and the baby away, and tells the men he is going to get a policeman. When he returns, the car (Coalhouse's brand new Model-T Ford) has been destroyed, and a pile of human excrement has been left on the driver's seat. It's a hard scene to watch. When intermission came, both my girls asked me why those men were being so mean to Coalhouse. I was so proud that they didn't understand hatred and cruelty to someone simply because they were a different race. 

My next experience with the musical came in 2008 when I had the amazing experience of being in the Ensemble of a Staged Concert of Ragtime as a fundraiser for a local theatre company. Ragtime is the kind of musical that's a roller coaster ride. You get strapped in at the opening number, and you just better hold on until the ride comes to a complete stop. The songs will make you feel joy and sadness, anger and triumph. To be able to create the vocal sound with a wonderful group of talented people is still one of the fondest memories I have of my 50 year theatre career.

And the third experience I have had with this awesome work was just 3 nights ago. I love this musical! I have to say it is probably my favorite musical. There are so many numbers in this show that can only be described as thrilling! When I was doing the concert mentioned above, I had never really listened to the soundtrack, but as the concert was a fundraiser, we were all volunteering our time. There was not a lot of rehearsal time, and so my love affair with the soundtrack began as I listened on repeat to familiarize myself with the score. When I heard that Ragtime was part of Arlington, VA's Signature Theater's 2023 season, I really wanted to go! Then I found out that one of my oldest and dearest friends was playing the pivotal role of Tateh, the Jewish immigrant. Ok, now I had to go! Easier said than done. Tickets to anything at Signature Theater are out of my price range. Add to that my trying to finance a wedding. Then add to that needing money for Christmas presents. I was heartbroken! I had only seen 2 other shows at Signature before, and they were stellar! How could I miss what I knew would be a phenomenal production of my favorite musical? My oldest daughter to the rescue! I turned 60 in October, and she gifted me 2 tickets, and so last Tuesday night, we made our trek up 95 North to Signature Theater. When I say that watching this show was a spiritual experience, I am not exaggerating. The cast was superb! As the opening number began to swell to it's climactic ending, my daughter and I were both squeezing each other's knees trying to contain the pure excitement we felt, and those feelings didn't stop until the final bow was taken. I was weeping, sometimes because of sadness, and sometimes because I was so moved by the beauty and the emotion of the music. Both my daughter and I shouted "Whoos!" after almost every number as the packed audience broke into thunderous applause. I had to keep myself from giving a standing ovation all through the show. When the show finally did end, I, along with most of the audience, was on my feet applauding and cheering! There is something about live theatre that just can't be recreated by watching a film or television show. It is the energy in the room, and the collective experience of everyone performing and everyone watching. The other thing about this show is that it is so poignant, and sadly, it is very relevant to the world we live in today. Unfortunately those 2 little girls that couldn't understand why people were being cruel to other people have seen too many examples of it over these past 13 years. There is a moment in the show, the last number before intermission, where something awful and tragic has happened, and we are grieving with the characters, and they sing a song called Till We Reach That Day. The lyrics are:

"There's a day of hope
May I live to see,
When our hearts are happy
And our souls are free.
Let the new day dawn,
Oh, Lord, I pray.
We'll never get to Heaven 
Till we reach that day."

Theatre moves us. Theatre inspires us. It makes us feel and think. This production of Ragtime does all of those things. There is something that happens at the very beginning of the show that I am sure was a directorial choice, and it was brilliant. The set is very minimal, and it uses levels with a sort of balcony and 2 spiral staircases that lead up to it on either side of the stage. There is a banner hung from the railing of that balcony that says "E Pluribus Unum," the motto of the United States of America adopted in 1776. The literal translation is Out of many, One. As the opening number, introducing all 3 groups that I first mentioned, ends, the banner is detached and drops to the stage floor. I loved that subtle statement of foreshadowing. It only runs through the first week in January. I wish it could run for much longer than that because everyone needs to see it. Maybe if more people did, we could all get back to the innocence of those 2 little girls who couldn't understand hatred and cruelty for someone different than themselves. Maybe we could finally "reach that day."

Is it Love that Brings You Here or Love that Brings You Life?

I haven't written in over 2 months, and there's a reason for that. I've been a little busy. I have been planning a wedding. No, not for myself, "It's not for me. It's not in the cards." (random Gilmore Girls reference) It was for my youngest daughter. I have written about my daughters before. They are the bright spots in my life. It has been the three of us most of their lives, as I have mentioned in several posts before. I am a single mom and have been for the last 25 years. Their father left when they were 5 and 2. We have been a household of 3 women for a good portion of those 25 years until about 5 years ago my youngest brought a young man into our lives. Georgi is very much like me. She knows what she wants, and once she decides that's what she wants, nothing will change her mind, not even when it seems that every force in the world is fighting against what she wants. She will not be shaken! And so it was in the journey of her relationship with Scott. There were many ups and downs and trials and struggles that they both faced together and apart, but through it all Georgi knew that she loved Scott, and nothing in the world would be right unless they were together. Two days ago they were married. Anyone who knows me well would probably make the observation that I am a true romantic at heart. Some might even say old-fashioned. I believe in true love and soul mates. I have watched Georgi and Scott's relationship from the beginning, and I truly believe that they are each other's person. There was a lot leading up to this wedding. Georgi and Scott are both creative artists, and they wanted to have a DIY wedding. Everything for this wedding except for 2 food items for the reception was implemented, made, baked, cooked, carved, painted, decorated, etc. by Georgi or Scott or someone from one of the two families. This was not a "Secure a venue and caterer, and show up on the day of" wedding. Work, and I mean hard work, went into making this day possible, but it could not have been more beautiful or suiting for these two wonderful people! When they set the date of the beginning of November and said they wanted everything to be outside, I was anxious about weather. It could not have been more perfect than it was on Saturday! They were married in a small clearing in the woods on Scott's parent's property. We were surrounded by trees and autumn leaves that had fallen to the ground. It was magical! The two people officiating were a husband and wife that are 2 of Scott and Georgi's closest friends, and it made the ceremony so intimate and personal. Of course, that meant needing more tissues. I was really glad my mother of the bride dress had pockets! I watched them exchange their vows as they were both overcome with true emotion, and I just knew that I had been blessed to see one of the great love stories from the beginning. Given my history, I could have been cynical about love, doubtful that true love even really exists. I'm not that way, but if I was, seeing Georgi and Scott together would change my mind. I did not give a toast at the reception yesterday, but if I had, it would have gone something like this:

" Georgi and Scott - I thought this day would never come, but as we got closer, I found myself wishing for more time, mainly because I didn't think we could get everything done in time. I worried and fussed right up until the minute I walked up the stairs to get ready for today. Everything had to be perfect, but what I was failing to focus on, and, once again, as she has done so many times in the past, Georgi reminded me of what was truly important. If literally everything about today had fallen through, it still would have been perfect because I am looking at a married couple right now. That was the goal. That was the focus. Everything else was just window dressing. When Georgi and Scott had been together for a "few" years, we were wondering if there was going to be a proposal and when. They just seemed perfect for each other. I knew engagement rings were expensive, and I knew Scott well enough that he would want to give Georgi the best. I decided to text him and tell him that I had the diamond from my engagement ring, and he was welcome to have that if he wanted, but how do you do that without sounding pushy? [In my best "Fiddler on the Roof" matchmaker voice, "So, are you going to marry my daughter or not?"] On March 6, 2022, I took the plunge, with my ending words being "if this text was weird, no need to respond , and we never have to speak of it again." He responded with a very sweet text ending with, "I guess this means I have your permission." And now a year and 8 months later, here we are. To Scott - I could not ask for a better man to be my little girl's partner in life! You are loving and respectful and so kind, but most of all, I know that you will be there for Georgi no matter what. You encourage and support her. Her dreams are just as important to you as your own, and that is so important in a marriage to lift each other up and believe in each other. Thank you. And to Georgi, my baby girl, my little me, stubbornness and all, my cheerleader and friend, my voice of reason, my inspiration to be a better person - you are so wise beyond your 27 years. I will miss our late night talks and hearing you sing as you are doing some task or working on your latest project. I will miss talking all evening in whatever random accent we have chosen, or watching "our shows." But even as much as I will miss you, I know that this is exactly the way things are supposed to be, and your life is going to be so amazing because of who you are, and because the man you have chosen to go through life with is the man that was always chosen for you. It just took some time for all of it to work out perfectly. I love you both, and I am so looking forward to watching your love grow through the years. 

So....I was thinkin': Falling Angels

So....I was thinkin': Falling Angels: Today is Friday, September 13 th , but I am not going to write about black cats crossing my path or walking under a ladder being bad luc...

A Year Ago Today

 A year ago I was sitting at my desk at work, and my cell phone rang. I saw the display name that it was coming from Beth Sholom, the home where my mother lived. I had not been happy with something that had happened when I had visited her that previous Sunday. I thought they were calling to discuss the situation with me. I got up to take the call in private, and, for someone who usually can remember everything, I can't really recall the words that were said, but the call was to tell me that she had passed away. I knew that she was probably not going to live much longer, in fact I had prayed for God to take her if he couldn't find a way for me to move her out of the home and in with me, but I was still shocked when the call came. I don't think we're ever prepared to hear that we've lost a loved one. I wasn't prepared. In my way, I held it together while the nurse was talking to me. I asked the questions I thought I needed to, and then I went out to tell my supervisor that my mother had died, and I needed to leave. She hugged me, and I fought it, as I usually do, because I always have to hold it together. She didn't let go of me, and I started to sob. I collected myself pretty quickly because I was the resident grown-up now, and I had to start making some plans and taking care of things, make arrangements. A year has come and gone, and so many things have happened. Some days have been worse than others. It took me a while to pull myself out after Mom first died. For a while, I really didn't care about anything. I had never experienced that in my life before, not even when my husband left me and the girls. I did finally come out of it. I'm not really sure when or what caused it, but I started to feel "normal" for lack of a better word. That's not to say that I don't still miss her, I do. I'm sure I always will. Heartland Hospice had a memorial service in May for all of their patients who had passed away in the previous year last May. It was a beautiful day, and the setting was a gorgeous chapel on a hill. It had been 10 months since Mom had left us, but I cried as if it had happened the day before the service. Sometimes I still cry, but now I laugh too when I think about different times we had together. Oh, and that piece of coconut cake..it still sits in the freezer uneaten, and it probably always will. 

It's not a matter of "IF." It's a matter of "WHEN."

 

Last night I did something on Facebook I thought I would never have to do. I marked myself safe during a shooting in Richmond, VA. Was I present at the shooting? No, but friends on Facebook who live outside of Richmond do not know that, and all they know is that I live in Richmond, and there was an active shooter situation where people were injured and killed. I can't say I'm shocked. I can't even say I'm sad. I'm numb! What will it take? Really, what will it take? This particular shooting, and I need to clarify because there are so many, took place last night outside of the Altria Theater just blocks from where my daughter works every day, a place I have attended several events and was just there on Mother's Day at the very same theater. They had just had a graduation of a local high school in the theater, and people were streaming outside to find their loved ones, take pictures, hug friends, happy moments and memories to last a lifetime, and shots ring out. This story from ABC's Good Morning America shows footage of the actual shooting. A friend was their with her daughter for her graduation. Happy pre-graduation photos in cap and gown in front of the theater, and in just a few short hours the same space would be sectioned off with yellow tape as a crime scene. This is my city. This is where I grew up. This is where I live, and now I can say this is where a mass shooting took place. Woo Hoo! Not a distinction I'm thrilled to claim. The local radio station I listen to on my way to work was inviting people to call and talk this morning, a sort of open forum. This grandmother called, and one of the things she said that really stuck with me was "We just need to keep praying. That's all we can do." All due respect to her, but I'm sorry, I'm sick of that trite, unhelpful response to this happening over and over again! Now before you Christians come after me, I wasn't taking issue with praying. I pray, and I'm a Christian, but I am feeling more and more like Ghandi as time passes when he said, "I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ." If we are praying people, should we pray and have empathy for their loss, fear, anxiety, absolutely Yes! However her second statement is what riled me. "It's all we can do." Sorry, but it's not all we can do. It's all we've been doing, but it's not helping. We are the only nation that this is a massive problem. Pun intended. As a follower of Christ, and a believer in God, I search for guidance when I am troubled or have a problem that needs to be solved. I do not sit back and pray and expect God to magically fix it. Frankly, that's a little naive at best, and at worst, it's lazy expecting God to do the work, and when something fails, you have a convenient excuse that "it wasn't God's will." I love this old joke. You may have heard it: A man is in his house and a raging flood is causing the waters to rise up to his front door. A man comes by in a rowboat. "Get in," he yells to the man. The man responds, "God will save me," and waves the row boat on. The waters continue to rise, and the first floor is flooded. From the second story window, another rowboat goes by and yells for the man to get in. "God will save me," the man replies and, again, waves the row boat on. The waters continue to rise, and the second floor is now flooded, and the man is standing on the roof. A helicopter hovers above him sending down a ladder and motions for the man to climb up. "God will save me," he yells up and waves the copter away. The waters continue to rise, and the man drowns. He finds himself face to face with God in Heaven. Incredulously he asks, "God, why didn't you save me?" God looks straight at the man and says, "I sent you 2 rowboats and a helicopter." When all we're doing is praying to God and not listening to Him, we're missing our rowboats and helicopters. Solutions to this problem of mass shooting are all around us. Other countries don't have this problem. Why aren't we doing what they're doing? Why aren't we even trying to do anything? I'll tell you why. No one cares! The first mass shooting in the US occurred in 1982, according to this data from Mother Jones webpage In Miami, FL, in August of 1982, Carl Robert Brown methodically shot and attempted to kill everyone in a welding shop after having an argument the previous day over a $20.00 bill. 8 died, 3 others were injured. He purchased 2 shotguns and a semi-automatic rifle the morning of the shooting at a gun shop near his home. Since then, there have been hundreds. In 2023, alone, and we are only half way through, there have been 279 mass shootings in the US, that's including yesterday's in my hometown. And in case you're trying to make yourself feel better, and say, well, how many people died in all of those shootings? It doesn't f*cking matter! Someone opened fire into a crowd of people. A mass shooting is defined as 4 or more people shot at one time in the same relative area. I know there are people who will try to re-classify the shooting here in Richmond because the shooter knew the victim. "Well, that was personal." "That person had a grudge against the victim." And on, and on, and on. SHUT UP! That's the problem. it didn't affect them, so they don't have to worry about it. If they had been standing on Laurel street yesterday and had to run for fear that the pops they were hearing would possibly result in them being shot, they wouldn't be asking any clarifying questions. IT HAS TO STOP!!!!! There is no excuse. We can do something! Other people have done it. Hell, we've done it. The number of deaths caused by mass shootings and the number of shootings overall dropped from 1994 - 2004 when the US had a ban on Assault type weapons. Did you even know we had one? It was only signed into law if it had an expiration date, so it lasted 10 years, and the clause to make it expire would have had to be repealed by congress. That didn't happen, and it expired in 2004, and guess what happened in 2005? There was a steep and almost immediate rise in Mass shootings and deaths in those cases. From The Oregonian, average number of deaths per year from mass shootings went from 5.3 during the ban to 25 after the ban expired. Numbers do not lie! Why do we let it continue? What will cause this country to get it's act together and do something to stop this massacre? Until they start caring about people more than money, nothing will be done, and then you can plan on the fact that it won't be "if" you have some connection to a mass shooting, it will be "when"

They Died for This?

 I have not written in a while, but today I want to say something. We are approaching the Memorial Day Weekend. First, let me clear up a common misconception. Memorial Day is to honor service men and women who have died. Think about a Memorial service. That is a service to honor the person or persons who have died. This holiday is often confused with Veteran's Day, which is always November 11th, which honors anyone who has served or is serving in the U.S. Armed forces - Army, Navy, Air Force or Marines. I want to talk about Memorial Day specifically. No one in my immediate family has ever served in the armed forces. I have friends who served and a great uncle that I never met, but the impact of losing someone in battle has never happened to me personally. I do know, for lack of a better resource, through movies and television, the horrors of combat. I am specifically thinking of the beginning sequence of Saving Private Ryan brilliantly shot by Steven Spielberg. I have posted the clip before, and I won't post here again, but if you haven't watched it, you need to. This post is not about that day. This post is about the fact that people died fighting for FREEDOM! Not just ours in America, but to liberate other people from oppression. Yes, over the years the question has come up of whether we should be in a war or going to war or stationed in a country to protect others from cruelty and injustice, and the abolishment of their rights as fellow human beings, but regardless of what people thought at home, men and women were dying for FREEDOM. Let me stress that again in case you didn't catch it the first time. DYING for FREEDOM. 

I listened to an audiobook not long ago, The Lilac Girls by Martha Hall Kelly. It takes place during World War II. It is a work of historical fiction. It is told from the point of view of 3 women, all affected in different ways, by the war and the aftermath. They are all connected in some way to Ravensbrück Women's Concentration camp. If you are not familiar with this particular camp, as I was not until listening to this book, it is where medical experiments were done on the women there. I also listened to The Tattooist of Auschwitz by Heather Morris. This was a true story. In both these books, one of the hopes the prisoners hold onto through the terrible torture they are forced to endure each day is that the Americans are close. They will be rescued soon by the Americans. I focus on World War II because I think most people have more than a general knowledge of what we were fighting for, but all service persons who have died no matter what, are important and we owe them a debt of gratitude. Hell, we owe them our lives which brings me to my point. Looking at the state of this country today, what did they die for? And before you come for me with both guns blazing - sadly that phrase is all too literal these days - this is not about the Left or the Right. This is about FREEDOM. Those men and women died so we could be FREE, ALL OF US, NOT JUST WHITE HETEROSEXUAL MEN! I watch the things that are happening in this country on a daily basis, and I can't believe the reports I'm seeing are about THIS country, the United States, and I leave out America, because even that carries a negative connotation these days because of the people that wave the American flag with pride while they're spewing hate. On May 21, 2023, the NAACP issued a travel warning for the state of Florida, following closely after The League of United Latin American Citizens and Equality Florida stating that Florida "has become openly hostile toward African Americans, people of color and L.G.B.T.Q.+ individuals." I'm sorry, WHAT??? I am reading a warning from all 3 of these organizations that if my oldest daughter, who is proudly Pansexual, wants to visit her aunt, who lives in Florida, and by the way does not agree with the state's policies or the hate their Governor is spewing, it could be dangerous for her to do so. This is not what those men and women died for. I am ashamed of the country we have become. My daughter posted a very scary map of states that are already dangerous to live in if you are part of the Trans community, and the ones that in a matter of 2 years could be enacting laws that would pose a danger. Virginia is one of those 2 year states. I live in a state that could possibly pass laws that say it is illegal for people to be who they are!

What is going on? We are better than this! You know what? Maybe we're not. Maybe this is always who we were, and now we've been given the "permission" to show it. I would be embarrassed, no, ashamed, to stand in front of any of those soldiers who died on the beaches of Normandy, or on the battlefields of Korea, or in the jungles of Viet Nam, or in the desert in Afghanistan or on and on and on, and show them this country and what we have become, what we are letting happen. That we have turned the freedom they fought for into hate and outlawing individuals. Really? They died for this?

Hurry Up and Grieve!

 In a few short minutes it will be midnight, and the date will be October 18, 2022. What's special about 10/18/22, you say? Well, really nothing special, not to the world anyway, but to me. The 18th of any month is going to be a day I remember. The 18th will mark 2 months since I received a call at work at 2:45 in the afternoon telling me that my mother had passed away, Today has been hard, my friends! That is difficult for me to say, and even worse for me to feel because I have always been the one to "hold it together." I fall apart at movies, TV shows, even commercials, but real life? Not this gal. So today, the 17th, I have been crying on and off all day, and I'm not just talking about shedding a tear or two. I'm talking weeping, audible, can't catch my breath, sobbing. It started this morning as I looked out into my backyard while I was eating breakfast. I just started to cry. Then all day, at random times I would start to cry again and have to pull myself together. I kept thinking, Stop! This isn't me. I don't do this. You're the rock, Terri. You keep yourself together," but I couldn't today, no matter how hard I tried. Now, people will say, it's ok to cry, and I know that, but I am a person who needs to know why so I can fix it. The problem is I can't fix this one. My mom is not coming back, and I can't change that. Now, I have been through a lot of shit in my life, if you follow this blog, I've written about a lot of it, and people have always said, "You're so strong!" You start to believe the hype, ya know? I'm not saying I'm not strong, I am. If not, I'm not sure I would have survived, but being that strong person made me feel like I couldn't break. Forget break, I don't even allow myself to bend. Here's the thing. I'm putting all of this on myself. I'm setting some time limit on grieving like there's a cutoff. I talked a lot today to both of my girls, and they were both wonderful and supportive as they always are, and I realized something. In the last year that I was able to actually see my Mom in the nursing facility, she really didn't talk all that much, so I would go visit and just tell her about life for the week we'd been apart. That's gone now, and I think it really hit me today how lonely that makes me feel. I was just telling her stupid stories about work or some idiot on the highway, but she listened to me and sometimes offered an opinion, or I'd say, "remember that time we...., "and she might smile and add a little to the story. All of that's gone, and I find that incredibly sad. I guess I'm not at the "memories comforting me" stage yet, and I might not be there for a long time, and today I might have taken the first step to tell myself that's ok. No little quips or sarcastic remarks today, just straight up what I'm going through. I'm going to really try hard to give myself some time, and stop saying, "stay strong" all of the time. For now, I think "fall apart" will do me more good.