Heather and I are camped out in Ocean City. Well, not “camped out”. robs don’t camp no mo. But we’re staying at Heather’s in-law’s very nice vacation home in the suburbs surrounding Ocean City, MD. It’s quiet. It’s dark. The pines from which the community gets its names are silent in the still air and we’re decompressing after a long drive.
This week has been a hard road of ups and downs, and so I’m grateful that the highway here was relatively uneventful. We’ve had a death in the band family, which doesn’t mean anyone in the band, but in the immediate family of a band mate, and we’re trying to support them* as best we can while changing schedules and continuing communication. I made some pretty heavy decisions about my mother’s house and may be signing some forms with my impressive “power of attorney” signature in the next week or so… a gig we thought was off is on, and a gig that was on is now off.
And Tuesday night at the SPARK was epic and beautiful and has left me glad that I still Do The Work. It reminds me that I believe in it.
As Heather replies intelligently to an idiot’s post online, as the news reflects Trump and his minions’ continued absolute contempt for any form of law, order, or judicial decree, as the skies cloud over and deny me a chance to watch the Perseids, as I fight the good fight against The Real Shit, the memories of Tuesday kind of buoy me a little bit.
I had a hard conversation with someone about their behaviour. I was worried that that was going to really colour the night, but I think the conversation landed and maybe… might… I don’t want to get optimistic… might eventually result in change for the better. I had a hard conversation with another old friend about a hard diagnosis and a prognosis that spells for a long, difficult decline that’s likely going to be horrific for them and their family and friends, but for now they’re the same person I remember… and they’re going to get out and play as much as they can for as long as they can. And I hate that I’ve heard the same story from 4 other people so far this year.
And I guess it’s a reminder to do the same, because honestly, everyone’s got the same prognosis, he’s just got some numbers and complicated causes.
*For any of you who can’t handle the use of the word “they / them” when I’m not defining sex, deal with it. A) it’s common usage now and it’s not THAT hard though and even though *I* have found it confusing at times, as above, I dealt with it and b) it’s something I’ve done for a LONG time – I actually was scolded for using “they” when the sex of the subject hadn’t been defined / revealed early in high school – it just seemed a logical usage when there’s yet some MYSTERY about an individual’s dangly bits. (or lack thereof). C) but that’s really not what any of this post is about, in this case “they” is being used so that I can allow for at least a LITTLE bit of anonymity in our very, very small community!
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