Fiends:

I wrote not a single word to you in January, letting an entire month go by while the dust bunnies gathered here (only the second time that’s happened since I started this little circus way back when). It wasn’t on purpose, but I guess it was meant to be. I suppose I just didn’t have much to say.

But life indeed does go on, and I’ve experienced some beautiful joy amidst the heartache. My family and friends have been constant sources of comfort. My fears about intense loneliness have been calmed by activity and new adventures. I’m grateful to my wonderful Thriller for being so attentive to detail so that this transition could be as minimally painful as possible.

I’m thankful to — and this will surprise some, I’m sure — the Social Security Administration, the VA, and the Navy for processing Michael’s information so quickly. They took care of me within a week of my submitting documentation. They made it easy for me to tie up loose ends, enabling the Texas loved ones to make plans to travel north in April for his memorial.

Christmas Eve seems forever ago. There’s still a big hole in the house and my heart and life, but from everything I’ve heard and read, that’s to be expected. I know he wouldn’t want me to mope around; I’m working on that with some success lately. Lots of new feelings and experiences.

Do you believe RtB will be starting a new decade this month? Holy cats. I must come up with something fun to celebrate my 10th birthday. Maybe a neat giveaway or a contest. Or I’ll mail you all a pony. So many possibilities.

But now, alas…the shower, the road, and the school house. Back at it. Much love to you all this first day of RtB’s birthday month. Finkuary.

RF

I’m supposed to go to the band concert this afternoon. Honestly and truly, I can’t pull the trigger. I can’t get out of my jammies. I have no will power. I’m a useless blob. Call me Jabba the Hutt.

I texted my band guy and said I wasn’t going to make it today, and I am already consumed by guilt. I never miss concerts — even when I don’t feel the greatest. What’s different about today? I know not. But the thought of getting dressed and ready and driving 19 miles is more than I can bear. What gives?

Today, we need to go to the dog park (even they are lazy and listless today). I need to think about other things and move this bod. I need to write rhythm section charts and parent letters. I need to shake this fog and get ready to be brilliant at dinner tomorrow.

Who knows…maybe I’ll change my mind come 1:00, when it would be time to get ready. It won’t kill me to try.

Try…hmmm. What’s to “try” about getting dressed and cleaned up and in the car? What am I, an invalid? Recently, someone told me to just “unplug” and think about me for a change. Gotta say, as nice as that sounds, it’s not how I was raised, and not how I raised my kids, for good or ill. You always think of others before self. Maybe that’s what’s got me feeling so guilty about being a lazy dog today, all curled up in a ball, feeling sorry for myself. Can’t run away from my nature/nurture.

Do you ever do that? Decide to put yourself first, then end up changing your mind anyway?

Greetings, my long-lost fiends.

Looks like we all will survive another school year in Paradise. It’s been a tuffy for your old pal Rat Fink. However, even an annus horribilis can have its sunny points, and this one most certainly did. Kids made some nice music, and it helped me to feel not so adrift.

I saw this on Facebook this morning:

(I especially liked the “10 yrs.” fact. )

This graphic lists the benefits of children studying music, the effects of which purportedly last far into adulthood. I love that. But for all its excellent science and obvious positive results, I’d like to examine things in reverse:

What does performed music do for other people?

I often tell my students (they could likely quote me, chapter and verse, while rolling their eyes at the same time) that this whole choir thing isn’t about them, or me, or satisfying the content standards set down by the Ohio Department of Education. Rather, it’s about our audiences. We do this for them. We sing to bless people; for 45 minutes in an evening, we will strive to help people forget the stress of the day, or the argument they had with someone, or the bill collectors calling. For one shining moment, we create art and recognize beauty. (Hopefully.) What other class in school allows you to do that?

Sure, our rehearsals serve to make the kids better singers, better team players, and encourage working together for a common performance goal, but I desperately wish for them to view it as something far more important. I want them to make their audiences feel comforted, exhilarated, entertained, happy — whatever they need at the moment.

To extrapolate even further…I think it’s something we’ve lost as a culture: doing something purely for the benefit of others. Putting others first; deference. Many say the 1980s was the “me” decade. Perhaps. But if the 80s were focused on “me,” then the 2nd decade of the 21st century (the “teens?”) is most assuredly focused on “mine.” Don’t take anything that’s mine. I’m not sharing. Get away from my things because you didn’t work for them. Don’t say anything to my kid that doesn’t ooze admiration. I’ll insult you because I don’t like what you do/think/are/believe, but if you have a divergent opinion, shut up, because you’re stupid.

Where’s the focus on blessing people and being helpful and supportive and kind? And make no mistake: I’m not giving the Sermon on the Mount, here. I’ve been guilty of it all as well at times. It’s just that with the political (and I use that term loosely, given the current circus) climate encouraging those who kept their hate and selfishness heretofore somewhat hidden to now extol it in plain view, I think about it more.

Thoughts on a busy Saturday morning. I should be grading music history exams. Time to get to work. Happy weekend — I hope the sun’s out where you are! But for us, up here in the 40-degrees-and-pouring…

It kind of just flew out the window, I think. I didn’t even get to comment on the bizarre weather the last two months.

Last time I wrote to you, I was celebrating my ninth birthday here at RtB, back in February. Then I woke up this morning and it was 7th of April. How’d that happen?

As I sit here with the space heater blasting my tiny frozen feet at 6:40 on a day when I should be getting ready for school, but instead I’m “enjoying” another snow day (seriously, 5 inches, hello spring), I wonder how, with eight remaining rehearsals, my high school choir will sound on our upcoming concert.

I know, first world problems and quit complaining. Still, while many would say they’d be rejoicing if they got a day off work, and teachers have it so easy and stop with the feigned frustration, the frustration really isn’t faked. It’s April, and for public schools in the US, that’s testing month. There was a big test scheduled for today, which sounds simple enough to reschedule, but when you examine the intricate ballet of assigning laptops, rearranging testing spaces, closing off certain sections of the school, changing the order of classes and generally upending the entire day so the Ohio Department of Education can administer yet another in its long line of expensive tests designed for kids to fail, well…it’s a bit of a mess, and that’s not even considering the actual material on the exams, to wit:

A teacher friend told me that some of her students had to interpret Othello and glean aspects of the character of Desdemona based on a conversation with her father, while others had to write a comparative analysis of symbolism in Shakespeare’s sonnet #54 and Edmund Waller’s “Go, Lovely Rose.” Still others were asked to analyze two arguments about whether bus or plane transportation was better. All of this on a standardized test, written supposedly to measure mastery of a standardized benchmark. And of course, when the students fail, it’ll be the teacher’s fault. Insanity.

Anyway…

To say that March crashed in like a lion is pretty accurate. Both the Thriller and I had major health issues in March. Mine are on the mend, but he still has some mountains to climb. Sister Mavis also had some surgery and complications. But we’re all doing better, so no complaints here.

I still don’t know where the lamb went.

RF, in the April blizzard