SHE WHO LAUGHS

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SHE WHO LAUGHS

My stomach hurts.  It’s been hurting for three days now, but that’s not a bad thing.  It hurts because I laughed so hard with Gail on our road trip this week.

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I’ve shared this picture several times before, and it bears repeating once again.  Mom saved calendar pages, quotes, clippings and other small ditties that spoke to her in this box, with the drawing from one of her favorite artists, Mary Engelbreit.

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If this is true—which we wholeheartedly believe it to be so, then Gail, Suzanne and I should last a long, long time.

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Gail and I took a road trip last week.  Suzanne, while she enjoys—and often creates– raucous laughter just as much as we do, doesn’t enjoy live music as much as Gail and I do.  This time, it was a repeat for Gail, but a new experience for me. 

We took a look down this eastbound road,

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and right away we made our choice.  East to Columbia, Missouri to hear one of Gail’s favorite rock-n-rollers:  Bob Seger.

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He played in the Mizzou Arena to us, and approximately 14,998 other fans like us.  And by that, I mean I saw no one in the arena who appeared to be under 40 years of age.   

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29535.jpegGail saw him last May in Tulsa (Concert Quests and College Towns, May 5th), and when he added more dates to his farewell tour, she talked me into the 4 ½ hour trip  (almost 8 for her).  How do you say no to that?  Quite simply, you don’t.  While he was not technically on my Bucket List, how could I resist such an excursion with Gail?  Gail, who has enjoyed Bob’s music for years, Gail who makes any event—sometimes even funerals—an occasion to have a good time, Gail, my dear, one-of-a-kind big sister.

Of course, without hesitation, I said “yes.”

She took a look down her east-bound road early Thursday morning, and arrived in Abilene to pick me up when I finished up my day early. 

Because if you are Gail’s friend, then you are her friend for life, she had the occasion to renew an old friendship when she arrived at the Abilene Hospital.

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Gail and Katie were roommates in college in 1978, and hadn’t seen each other since 1983.  Katie has been a nurse here for 25 years, and I have had the pleasure of working with her for almost six years.  When we realized this was the perfect opportunity, Gail and Katie had a brief, but meaningful reunion.

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We arrived in Columbia with a little time to spare, so we made ourselves at home.

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We planned to walk the short distance to the arena from the hotel, but when a mini-van taxi had only two people in it as we stepped out, we asked if we could split the tab.  They hesitated a bit, but then agreed.  In the four minutes it took to get us to the show, the passengers and driver were laughing too, courtesy of Gail.  Walking the rest of the way through a parking lot, we saw this:

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I thought Gail was a diehard fan, but I think this fan has the edge over her.

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I’m pretty sure that the best wordsmith around couldn’t come up with words to describe the show, because there are none.  It was, perhaps, a life-changing experience—at least for the night.  Bob still rocks with all of his “Old Time Rock and Roll,” doesn’t miss a note on the piano or the guitar and played so many memories for us, and everyone else too, I’m sure. 

He introduced The Silver Bullet Band toward the end of the show, with each one taking a bow—most of them were well over forty as well, and had been with him for most of his career.  When his drummer stood up, his T-shirt caught my eye.  In July, I wrote about the classic car show that came to our small city (Travel Therapy, July 28th 2019).  His shirt was a souvenir tee from that show, the “Leadsled Spectacular,” with “Salina, Kansas” printed below that. 

It made me smile, and so did this, when I found it on the step as I approached my seat at the show:

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As the really good ones always are, the show was over too soon, and we made our way back to the inn.  It was later than my bedtime (which doesn’t take much), but we stayed up later than that, because it is impossible to sleep while one is laughing so hard.  We traded banter using Bob’s lyrics, twisting them into jokes, most of which could be understood only by us. 

We thought about going out and making it an even later night, but we decided that Betty Lou’s not  getting’ out tonight.  We weren’t up for a Shakedown, even though we could still feel The Fire Inside.  Call us losers, but deep inside, we were fulfilled from the show, and felt like Beautiful Losers. 

It was time for sleep, so we got some.

The morning came too soon, and we were forced to take a look down this westbound road.  We had no choice; duty was calling at home.

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About an hour into the trip, we couldn’t help but notice this license plate, jumping out at us on I-70 as we passed it:

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As you can imagine, we got a little excited, feeling sure there was a kindred spirit inside that Jeep.  Gail promptly rolled down the window and waved with three fingers, and she waved back. 

We kept pace with her for about half an hour, but the ebb and flow of traffic eventually separated us.  We had hoped for the slim chance at an opportunity to meet this woman who obviously was one of three sisters, but we let that hope go.  Apparently, it was not meant to be.

At our next pit stop, however, I came out and there she was, filling up with gas.

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Meet our new BFF Irma from Alton, Illinois, sister to Velda and Robin.  Not surprisingly, we had no qualms about introducing ourselves and sharing our story.  She already feels like an old friend. 

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Music can be a healing balm.  It certainly is for us.  We felt fulfilled, and I know we are both still a little high from the show.  The pounding rain on the last half of the trip home didn’t dampen our spirits, even though we had to drive Against the Wind, then say goodbye too soon.  I had to pay all my attention to the road as we passed through downtown Kansas City as it rained, so Gail fed me my Burger King lunch.   We thought we had laughed ourselves dry, but not so. 

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In three weeks, she will accompany me on a westbound road, making our fall trek to our Rocky Mountain High.  Suzanne is planning on joining us this time, and we are counting down the days. 

Just as with this trip, we will tell some, but not all. 

“Laughter is the best medicine.”  This idiom is so true, literally and figuratively.  I’m pretty sure one could never overdose on it. 

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Unless something begs to be written, I am taking a fall break from writing.  I will be back with another travel story if, and when, we return from Colorado.  Until then, keep laughing. 

We parted ways back in Abilene.  We got out and went to the back of the Outback to get Gail’s stuff out of the back of the Outback.  We backed up to the Outback, and snapped this parting shot after she emptied out the back of the Outback.

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There.  We made you laugh, didn’t we?  Keep it up. 

 

 

 

WHEN COUNTRY WASN’T COOL

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WHEN COUNTRY WASN’T COOL

I couldn’t play a musical instrument to save my life.  Yet, every day, music saves my life.  Every day, at almost every moment when I can, I have music playing.  It fills me up, calms me down and transports me to magical places.  Very simply, it makes me happy.

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When my stepson was in college, he came for a weekend visit.  As he drove up the driveway, his music arrived before he did.   I was standing outside with my firstborn; he was about 12 years old.

“Wow, his music is loud,” I said.

“Mom, that’s what it sounds like when you pull up, too,” he said, in his usual poker-faced style.

I was busted.  I didn’t deny it either.

I’m pretty sure I still sound like that when I pull up, and it’s worth it to me.

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I am writing at 8:00 p.m., Saturday, March 30th.  Happy Birthday to our dad today; he would have been 85 years old.  Last week, I posted that I wanted to celebrate his birthday in a big way:  by going to the Willie Nelson concert in Newkirk, Oklahoma, a mere 2 ½ hour drive from my home.  However, since it is now 8:11 p.m., and the concert started at 8:00, clearly, I will not be going to the show.

I went to the website to check into purchasing tickets, and the show venue reported the bad news:  SOLD OUT.  The secondary sellers had some left, but for their inflated cost worth a month of groceries, I decided having had seen him three times already would have to suffice—for now.    The iconic Willie is one of my all-time favorites—obviously.

So, in his honor, I loaded up my five-disc CD changer with Willie CDs—I own eleven—all day.  I had my own concert in my home.

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Gail is the CD queen.  In her CD-purchasing heyday, she built her collection up to about 700 CDs.  I may own perhaps 200.  Suzanne—ever the minimalist– said she owns only enough to fit into a shoebox.

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Gail stores most of the CDs in old suitcases…

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Gail has vinyl too–this was her first purchase, followed by this sampling:

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Our oldest brother got his first turntable in the early 70’s, and Gail reports she was hooked.  It was a top-of-the-line Pioneer system.  T-Rex and Badfinger were the two bands she remembers most clearly from those early days of her newfound love of music.

Gail kept most of her vinyl, even replacing some of her favorites with the same one on CD.   She began her CD collection sometime in the late 1980’s, I think.  Several years later,  needing an adventure, I spent 1990 in suburban Philadelphia as a nanny.  Gail, Suzanne and I were not as close then as we are now, but we were still tight.  We kept in touch by phone—the land-line kind—and I recall very clearly a phone conversation Suzanne and I had, I think in the fall:

“I’m kind of worried about Gail,” Suzanne said.  “ I think she’s gone off the deep end with this new country music thing.  There’s this guy, Garth Brooks, and she listens to him all the time.  He has this song ‘Friends in Low Places,’ and she just loves it.”

This was the beginning of “New Country,” and Gail’s tastes were obviously on the cutting edge.  Suzanne and I just didn’t know it yet.

We have our favorite country artists, both new and old.  You know who my “old country” favorite is already.  Suzanne doesn’t have a clear favorite, old or new.  Gail also had a spell of Kenny Chesney fever, having gone to several of his concerts.

Being Gail, she found a way to express herself, even among thousands of other fans.  She and a friend saw him in Kansas City, and made a sign that read “KC in KC.”  They followed him to Oklahoma City, and made a sign that read “KC in OKC.”

Coming from Gail, this shouldn’t surprise you.  She finds a way to express herself, and it usually draws positive attention.

I am a concert goer, too.  Having been bitten by the bug with the Beach Boys live as a teenager, right here in my small city, I have always loved to hear my favorite musicians live, sometimes more than once.

None of us knew at the time, but the woman about my age singing with her family band at a wedding dance I went to with my college roommate when I went to her southern Kansas farm home with her in 1985 would become famous.  She was Kansas’s own Martina McBride.  Obviously, some wonderful women came from that neck of the woods; I credit Marilyn as my inspiration to become a speech therapist.

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I have seen Martina McBride two other times, and she has the biggest, most beautiful voice I have ever heard coming from such a tiny woman.  I am biased, but I think her version of “How Great Thou Art” is the best recorded version of all time.  If you haven’t heard it, check it out.  You won’t be disappointed, especially when she hits the high notes at the end.

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I have seen Phil Collins twice, and I would love to see him again.  Mary Chapin Carpenter is another one I have seen twice, and will drop everything when she comes around again.  I have about a dozen CDs from each of them.

Having crossed Billy Joel, Jon Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen off my ‘Buffet’ list, that leaves Van Morrison and Jimmy Buffet as must-sees.

Our small city boasts a beautiful art-deco theater in its downtown, offering unparalleled acts like The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band from just ten days ago.  Among the other stars I have taken in there include:  Steve Winwood, Dave Mason, Jackson Browne, Lindsay Buckingham, Jewel, The Mavericks, Cheap Trick, Rob Thomas, Weird Al Yankovic, George Jones, Don Williams, Phil Vassar, Rick Springfield, Willie Nelson once, as well as his son Lucas Nelson in a separate show, and Martina McBride one of the two times, then again down the road a few months later in Manhattan, Kansas.

Music is a healing balm, providing the brain with stimulation that cannot be achieved in any other way.  In my work with stroke patients, I have encountered several talented, certified music therapists who provide musical stimulation to the injured brain.  The results are always positive.

Music—specifically special songs—have the power to transport us back in time to a place filled with memories, as if we are returning there physically.  Every time I hear Boston singing “More Than A Feeling,” I am immediately transported back to May, 1982.  And that’s all I am going to tell you about why I remember that song.

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Our living room remodel that I recently wrote about cramped my style in several ways, chiefly the loss of my in-home CD player.

Our five-disc changer, along with the rest of the components sit in this Hoosier cabinet that my husband refinished.  It sat in our grandmother’s garage for years, having been carted from one home to another after a previous resident left it in their newly-acquired home years ago.  Wanting to pass it on, and knowing my husband was the man for the job, she gave it to us.  It began as a dilapidated treasure, but he restored it to its present state of beauty:

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The components are in the bottom,

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And the CDs are in the top.

I had to suffer through several months without my CD music, but mercifully, I was able to play Amazon music through my Kindle.  It is now back where it belongs.

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We even have speakers wired through to the back porch so we can enjoy the music when I am tending to my redneck clothesline,

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Or when we are enjoying our redneck backyard pool.

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I remember Mom and Dad’s vinyl.  I wish we had kept some of their records, but it simply wasn’t practical then.  With Gail’s help, we recalled a few of their favorites:  Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, Eydie Gorme, Eddie Arnold, Mama Cass and Helen Reddy.

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I didn’t question this cover as a child, but perhaps I should have.  I do now.

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Suzanne, ever the one who is happy with simple, doesn’t have a Buffet list for concerts.  She is simply happy listening to her 70’s and 80’s music on Spotify.  Having Sirius satellite radio in my car, I find my favorite stations are the 70’s and 80’s songs as well.  Those songs are the soundtracks of our youth.

Bruce Springsteen, “The Boss,” is one of Gail’s concert quests.  Having seen him once, he is the one show I would choose to see again if I could.  He delivered three hours of non-stop rock with every ounce of energy he possessed in his early sixties, pausing only for ten seconds of silence to honor his recently deceased saxophonist, Clarence Clemons.  Perhaps we should make that a priority for us to see him.

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I have the Bruce station on preset in my car.

As well as Bruce, Gail has always wanted to see Bob Seger.  Sadly, for us, he recently announced his upcoming retirement from touring after 56 years.   Perhaps it’s not too late to work on that dream as well, as he still has a few dates left.

Music.  Live or recorded, let it fill you.  Let it move you.  Let it be a part of your day, every day.  It is a gift to be opened and enjoyed.  Whether it’s Bruce or Willie, Bob or Martina, or whoever you enjoy, their gift to all of us is their musical talent.

If you possess a singing talent, or perhaps you can play a musical instrument, then please share your gift with the world.

I’m always available for a private concert.

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Happy Spring from the April Fools!