Daily Dose of Bach

For the past several years, instead of making a New Year's resolution, I've chosen a word as sort of an overview of what I want for the year. One year it was "health"-much too broad-and last year it was "open." Being in a new state, new town, new church, etc., I thought it would be a good idea to be open to the way things were done instead of bringing in my own ideas right away.  That actually worked very well, unsurprisingly.

For 2017 I wanted to change things up a bit.  As I said farewell to the old year I felt great anxiety and fear for what was coming in our nation. I knew I had to "do something"-sign petitions, contact my congress persons, advocate for the refugees-but I also felt I needed to take care of my own frazzled soul.

So, I've chosen to either play or listen to Bach every day.  Why Bach? Simply put it's because of the deep peace and joy I feel from his music. Whether it's a complex, dense fugue of many voices or an elegantly ornamented melody, his compositions take me to a place I want to be.

It is really not so hard to do, this daily dose of Bach. So far I've listened to the entire Christmas Oratorio, consisting of six cantatas, while cooking several weeks of dinner. For years I've brought out that recording at the beginning of Advent and only managed to hear the first few tracks! I've already discovered that listening to Bach is a much more calming influence that the afternoon's All Things Considered.

If it's a day when I'm not working and I want to play my daily dose, the Goldberg Variations are sitting on the music rack of my piano.  These 30 variations of the exquisite Aria have long been my go-to in times of personal upheaval.  But I've never played them-only listened. Now I'm trying to wrap my fingers around even a few of them.

Then if it's a working day I play some Bach on the organ- a real no-brainer, right? I could play a page a day for years and never repeat but I've decided to work and get to the nitty gritty of what makes this composer great. For years I've programmed his chorale prelude Schmücke dich, o liebe Seele and have always been dissatisfied with my performance. It is dense, the pedal is hard and there are ornaments galore, yet the organist must make it sound easy! This has been my daily dose while at church and it has been a gratifying step-back, start again experience.  Maybe I will finally play it well.

So far, so good... I will keep you posted. Thank you, Bach.

Remembering Dad

Last week was the 5^th anniversary of my dear dad’s death. Not a day goes by that I don’t miss him from the deepest part of my being.

Our house on the Eastern Shore is across the street from a cemetery.  Despite the expected jokes about the neighbors being quiet, it is a lovely location, sort of like having a park nearby. Perhaps this cemetery is special, being in a small, family-type town, but the thing that has most caught my attention is how people adorn the graves.

Especially now, in the Christmas season, there are hundreds of wreaths with red bows, fake poinsettias and all other sorts of decorations set out on the tombstones. Some of the wreaths are individualized with photos of the beloved or trinkets that give me a good idea of the deceased’s personality and interests.  For example, one extra-large wreath for a man who was clearly a hunter is laden with bird calls and empty cartridge shells, complete with red bow, of course.

Early on a cold morning last week while walking Prudy in the cemetery I passed a woman sitting in her SUV-she lowered the window, we exchanged pleasantries and then she said I’m just waiting for my daughter. From my front porch I watched the daughter arrive- she and her mother embraced and then took a beautiful garland of pine boughs and magnolia leaves out of the trunk and together laid it on a grave. Husband and father, I’m thinking.

I wish I could do that for my father, and in a way I guess I could. But as I live 1700 miles away from Lubbock TX I’d have to call a florist and arrange to have one delivered.  Yes, I could do that and I think next year I will.  But what I really want is to lay it down myself and tell Dad and the world that he’s not forgotten.  Despite the gaping hole his death has left in my life, his spirit lives on, within me.