Chord Progression

On Sunday, at choir rehearsal, I was learning the alto part to “O Holy Night” for our Christmas program. Suddenly, my throat seized and tears welled in my eyes. I couldn’t sing.

I try not to be noticed when I cry. But my friend, Christy, noticed and whispered, “Are you okay?”

Afterwards, I told her, “Sometimes the music just hits me.”
“Isn’t that why we do it?”
“But it makes it impossible to sing.”

What are those harmonies? I took a music appreciation class in high school, taught by my beloved orchestra conductor, Mr. Ragno. He was a true mentor and friend to a group of us students. We would sit in his office for hours, talking  with him. He was genuine, compassionate, and took us seriously. But that was 45 years ago, and how much knowledge could he have poured into my brain in one semester?

I just googled 'Ragno Westfield NJ' and found his obituary. He died two years ago, at the age of 86. Jim and I met him on the sidewalks of Westfield back in the early 1980s. He was as gregarious and Italian as ever. I'm glad we saw him. I wish I could tell him that I still think about him. He's a real-life Mr. Holland.

Yesterday, my friend and piano teacher, Cami, helped me pick out the chords in "O Holy Night." E-flat major, c minor, g minor, f minor. Chord progression: I-vi-iii-ii. Intense. I feel pierced and vulnerable.

“Isn’t that why we do it?”

Goofing off!

I promise, next week I'll post!

On Vacation!

Thanks for checking in! We're in Provo, Utah, with Annie and Shawn. Saturday evening we'll attend the Johnston Extended Family Pre-Thanksgiving dinner in South Jordan. Four out of five years running!

On Being Mortal and Hallowe'en

Jim, Matt, Xiomara, and I attended the Good Shepherd Institute dinner, with Atul Gawande as the keynote speaker. His book, On Being Mortal, should be required reading for every American over the age of sixteen.

We heard about the dinner through the Good Shepherd Hospice newsletter. Our son, David, was a hospice patient with them for two weeks before he died. They took good care of him and of us. Their grief counselor helped us through the first year after his death: I still think about things she said.

When introductions were being made around the table, I mentioned David and our connection to Good Shepherd. I also said I had read On Being Mortal when David was sick. A woman remarked that I was very brave to read it in those conditions. But I was grateful for the insight Atul gave me. It strengthened my resolve to have David die at home.

Lori, a friend of mine, told me she hates Hallowe'en and the way it makes death terrifying. I agree to a point: I don't put up scary lawn decorations or dress like a ghoul. But I like the costumes and candy and the chance to meet young neighbor kids.

We live on a busy street at the edge of a commercial district and have rarely had more than two or three trick-or-treaters venture up our long driveway on Hallowe'en night. This year I got proactive: I created a living room in the front yard, setting up chairs and a table with a dark burgundy tablecloth and a stuffed fabric pumpkin and jack-o-lantern my mom made forty years ago. Jim brought out a floor lamp and I mulled 2 gallons of apple cider and dressed in the dirndl I just bought at a second-hand shop in Munich. We handed out full-sized candy: Snickers, Skittles, and Starbursts. (The latter two were MUCH more popular than the chocolate Snickers). About 40 kids visited: quite an increase over former years.

Jim just came home from church in Belmont. In the time it took to drive home he listened to WCRB play Albinoni's Adagio in G minor. A peaceful ending to a rainy autumnal evening.