Ok, so that didn't work.. but it was still kind of fun.....

I commute about an hour and 15 minutes to and from work Monday through Friday.  My drive is, for the most part, pleasant.  I live in New Hampshire; we don’t have the horrendous traffic that other states have, generally speaking.   But saying this, I do hit a little pocket of traffic each day, more so at night than in the morning.  It is the kind of traffic that even with you anticipating it; you still go from a healthy 55 mph to a screaming stop in 2.4 seconds. And I hate it.  And every day I grumble about this inconvenience and vow to figure out a different way home that won’t take me too far off course. 

But am I in that big a hurry?  No, not really.  Some days I am rushing to get home to run someone somewhere, but most days I am just driving to get home, nothing more. And am I tied up for ½ hour or greater?  Honestly, no, not even.  It might be a 15 minute delay, that’s truly it..  So why does it annoy me so badly?  Thinking back on it, I can only assume that it is because it is something that I don’t want to happen and when it does, I get annoyed and yes, sometimes I pout.  I had a plan laid out and this was a deviation from my “perfect getting home for the night plan”.  

Something as simple as traffic patterns made me realize how many times we lay out a plan, perfect in our mind and then how often something happens to derail us from our anticipated completion.  As adults, we normally have to smile and move on, maybe sometimes we hide in the bathroom and throw a minor tantrum..  How many times have we had a perfect birthday party, outing, or even holiday mapped out and then the reality is anything but.  We are disappointed.  Sad.  Sometimes angry that the pieces didn’t fall into place the way we WANTED it to be.  And rather than stop and think, wow, even though today might not have been great, it wasn’t horrible; we tend to focus on what went wrong.  Not: Gee, I did still spend time with people I love and that’s alright in the grand scheme of things. That even when it all and out SUCKS, it was still time spent with family, with friends, with a roof over our head, etc.  That, wow, our “failure” (our word) is still better than other’s “successes”.  We don’t do this.  We are disappointed; we let it ruin the event, the day, the situation. 

Yesterday Gabe had to come to my office as he didn’t have school.  At almost 8 years old, he’s easy to have at work with me.  I can plug him into a computer and he gets free reign at his games without having to share with his sister.  I don’t bother him.  I leave him alone for the most part and he loves it.  Once in a while I feed him.  People come into the office and coo over him as some of my employees have been a part of my world since before Gabe was a baby and they remember him.  Sometimes I stalk him and take charming pictures of him in his awesome office swivel chair.  He tolerates my interruptions and the day goes on. 

He, like most children his age, is obsessed with Minecraft.  Digressing a bit from my original point, I have to share a lunch outing we just had.  I met a friend with a 13 year daughter for lunch.  As we sat at the table waiting for our food to arrive, Gabe and this young lady had a full on conversation, one people who finally meet after chatting online for months would be jealous to have, about Minecraft.  They volleyed back and forth, sharing information, secrets, tidbits, and any other little nugget of excitement that only a true fan could appreciate.  My friend and I stopped talking and watched, amused, at their exchange, one that erased an almost 5.5 year and gender difference.  And while, yes, Minecraft is screen time, I am realizing that it is oddly social as well in that they ALL talk about it.  Even shy children have something to say, to add to the conversation, something others WANT to hear.  It’s kind of cool..  It lends to the ability children have to see past obstacles and find a common happy note and run with it.

Back to my original point---Gabe has been asking for a box over the past week to make something to put his Minecraft books in.  He wants them to be showcased in a special manner, away from the other items in his bookshelf.  These books are with him all the time.  They are, I’ve learned, a MUST have item, well sought by his peers.  

I found a small box in the office and he happily set to work cutting it apart to create what he had in his mind’s eye.  He conquered my horrible office shears (NOTHING like the awesomeness that my sewing shears are) and taught himself how to successfully manage my tape dispenser (the end is sharp!  And the tape can bounce out…something I take for granted having used it for years).  He pieced his project together for about 45 minutes.  When he was finished, he proudly showed me and went to get a book to demonstrate how it works.  His creation was not only too narrow, it didn’t hold due to the scotch tape being too weak for the cardboard.  

It collapsed.  He looked at me, devastated.  Truly disappointed that this masterpiece he designed in his head didn’t work.  He grabbed up the pieces of cardboard and threw them away.  He gave me back the scissors and tape.  He looked at me, and although he was clearly upset and wiping his eyes a bit (oh, pierce my heart!  Honestly, he tried so hard), he says, OK, so that didn’t work…but that was still kind of fun.  I can see what I can do the next time, let’s figure this out.  Can you help me?  

YES..  yes, dear child.  We can figure this out.  We can regroup, come up with a plan, and try again! 

And so, tonight, while I sit in my traffic, rather than find annoyance that my plan was changed, I will accept and be happy that it gives me a few more minutes to listen to the radio and sing loudly and horribly to my favorite songs.  The next time I plan it out perfectly at work, for a birthday party, for a holiday, for my day off; I will remember that some of the best things in the world were a result of a “mistake”, a deviation off the plan.  And I will say, OK, so that didn’t work.. but that was still kind of fun. 

Happy Feets

Driving home from work last night, I was playing my favorite driving game.  It’s called Scan.  I scan the dial, find a good song, camp there for a while until they no longer play music I like and then scan again.  I try not to play this game with a passenger next to me, they seem to get agitated and stare at me until I give up and settle on one station for the duration of the trip, good music or not.  The only rule of Scan is to sing, loudly and with purpose so that the music will know that you approve of it existing.

I love music.  I don’t play any instruments and my singing is really not something that should be heard outside of my shower or sanctity of my car, but I do love it.  I cannot think of a time, place, or event in my life that was not punctuated by music of some sort.  

Growing up I was given the fundamentals; Allman Brothers, Doobie Brothers, Crosby Stills Nash (and sometimes Young), Jethro Tull, Beatles, Moody Blues, Led Zepplin and The Who… My mom and dad agreed on some, not so much on others.   But it was always playing.  Later on in my childhood, maybe not as much, but those really early years (when my parents were probably all of 28 years old), music was a staple to how life was lived.  

I remember sitting looking the album covers, spread out on the floor (although I believe story is that I once danced on them, maybe shattering a few, I might have blocked that from acceptable memory).  They were so cool, opening up, lots of graphics, designs and color.  To this day, there are a few that stand out in memory—Songs from the Wood, Jethro Tull scared me to my core.  I do not know why looking at it now, but it freaked me out something fierce.  Eat a Peach, I loved it.  Question of Balance, I could stare at for hours.  

 

When I was in 7^th grade, we drove down to Florida in a motorcamper--  I don’t know if there were any other tapes or if my father only played Abbey Road because A: he really liked it or B: because my mother really did not like it, but when I think of this trip, I will always think of Abbey Road.  Over and over and over again.

A trip up to Long Lake in Maine years later, my father discovered Graceland by Paul Simon.  I can remember getting stuck on the high bridge in Portsmouth in traffic for what seemed to be hours.  We sat there in the back seat of my grandmother’s car (borrowed for the weekend because it had Air Conditioning!!), singing the “Uwhat uwat” parts of Diamonds on the Sole of Her Shoes-  for the first time on that trip, I think my brother, sister and I were in sync and not fighting over who touched whom. 

Billy Squier will always make me think of the dances at the Greenville Legion or Fire Station.  We were little kids then, but we thought we were so very cool.  Metallica, my entire 10^th grade  year of high school and my trip to France where I found French magazines with them plastered all over the covers (Lars Ulrich was my reason for being back then).  Rock Lobster; my summer at St. Paul’s School doing Shakespeare with the ASP.  Toad the Wet Sprocket, Phish, Grateful Dead, Tori Amos, Fleetwood Mac; my soundtrack to Keene State- 

Think of some of your favorite movies….what did you hear in your head?  For me, I heard the music that accompanied the movie.  In fact, I’d be hard pressed to find a movie where there isn’t some musical imprint that stays with me, popular or scored, it’s all there-  it builds that memory you have when you think of the movie. If you are like me, you go a bit further as to where you were when you first saw the movie, first heard the music.  I suppose this is why there are Oscars given out for Best Song/Musical Accompaniment, nail hit head, it’s valid, it matters.  

I love having music in my life, I can’t imagine how quiet and boring it would be without it.  I love passing my love onto my children, much like how my own parents did for me.  It warms my heart to hear my 3 year old belting out the words to Master of Puppets or listening to them fight over which song is “theirs”, much like how my brother, sister and I once did.   My friends and family all bring a wonderful and wildly eclectic musical arrangement to my world; I can see their faces when I listen to songs that are their songs.  In those images, I truly am happy in my soul all the way down to my feets..