All It Takes Is A Little Love

I grew up with music all around me. I remember accompanying my mother and father on Saturdays when Daddy would purchase new 45 rpm records for his collection. Back then we would go inside a booth to preview the recordings before purchasing them. My father was partial to classical music, so that was what I mostly heard echoing through our house when I was small. 

Each afternoon when my dad returned from work he would take off his suit, replace it with a pair of khaki work pants, put one of his records on the turntable and lie down on the sofa to read. The music of Beethoven and Tchaikovsky and other brilliant composers would play so often that I was able to hum along with the melodies and anticipate the stanzas that I enjoyed the most. After my father died our mother used the music as background whenever we were studying or cleaning the house.

My brothers and I often created skits that seemed to capture the spirit of the symphonies that played on the little RCA Victrola that played each piece. We galloped to the William Tell Overture and rode on an imaginary flying carpet to Scheherazade. We danced our way through the dusting, mopping and folding of laundry without realizing how much more fun the music made our chores. To this very day I work best with music in the background.

As we grew older, so did our tastes in music. We began to purchase our own modern day favorites which often replaced our father’s cherished classical symphonies. The Beatles and the Rolling Stones found a new home on the stereo that our mother purchased to play our long playing vinyls. Our Saturday morning work sessions were more hip than those of our childhood. We no longer pretended to be characters in an operatic play, but only true aficionados of albums like Pet Sounds from the Beach Boys. 

To our great delight our mother appeared to enjoy and appreciate our music as much as we did. Over time she evolved even more by embracing the Bee Gees and Donna Summer. When my little girls spent the night with her she would turn the living room into a discotheques and dance with them for hours. They still delight in the memory of long evenings rocking with the music and sipping on Coke floats during restful intermissions.

In the eighties I adapted to the newer music of groups like Depeche Mode and I evolved into a groupie of all things Michael Jackson. Much as when I was a child I spent Saturday mornings blaring my music throughout the house as I cleaned and did laundry before running my weekly errands. Sometimes I switched to soundtracks from movies or even went back to my roots and played my favorite classical pieces. Somehow the music energized me and made work that might otherwise have been drudgery become almost enjoyable. 

These days most of my music comes from streaming. I listen to hours of traditional Christmas music as I take days to decorate my home. I have preferences for certain styles of music depending on what I am doing. In my mind there are appropriate sounds for painting, writing, studying, cleaning the house, gardening, traveling and going to sleep. I carefully choose great works to accompany me through whatever I may be doing. Music is as integral to my life as eating. It lifts my spirits and comforts and energizes me. 

There are some melodies that remind me of people that I have known or places that I have been. I think of my high school friend Claudia whenever I hear Norwegian Wood by the Beatles. I remember riding to a football game with my friends whenever The House of the Rising Sun plays on the radio. We were almost screaming with delight the first time we heard it. I can picture us all sitting in Eileen’s family Volkswagen bus naively unaware of the many adventures and challenges that lay before us. In that moment nothing really mattered but the joy of music that touched our souls. 

I can’t imagine a world without music and I so appreciate that it is always at my fingertips in ways that people of long ago never had. Music is the captivation of sounds that literally speak to our emotions and our dreams. From the moment our mothers sing to us when we are babies we are soothed by the harmonious combinations of sounds invented by our fellow humans. Just thinking about the process of stringing together notes to create a mood is rather astounding. It is a form of human brilliance that we all too often take for granted. 

I simply love good music and it does not matter what genre it is. The artistry of combining notes to create a theme, an original sound, is testimony to the brilliant ascent of the human mind. I suppose that I owe much gratitude to my father and my mother for introducing me to the wonder of music from the time of the first memories of life that I have. The joy of music combined with books is a great gift from them that I never take for granted. 

The pattern is all too familiar. We know how it works. A mass shooting occurs. Innocent people are killed or wounded by a mad man. We are shocked for a brief time. We offer our thoughts and our prayers. We suggest solutions. The arguments and accusations begin. We get distracted. We change the subject. It’s too difficult to speak about such things without getting emotional, so we create fun diversions to occupy our thoughts. We tune out those who keep babbling about it. We move on. The list of incidents and victims grows, but we would rather think about that tomorrow, or perhaps never again until the next time. 

A celebrity steps up to share his reasonable thoughts. He implores us to think of the real people who have been killed. He makes his arguments very personal. He appeals to our better natures. We can see that he is sincere, that he means well. Some point out that he is only an actor, not a person well versed in the constitution or the anatomy of guns or gun owners. They ask what his real intentions might be. They question his motives and ask why we should even listen to him, even though these same people are devoted followers of another man whose only real claim to fame is that he was and still is a celebrity who became president. We turn away and pretend we did not hear what the honest actor has said. We would rather think about that tomorrow, or perhaps never again until the next time. 

We hear about a deadly gun that makes wounds so horrible that they destroy soft tissue, organs, bones upon entry into a body. They are so destructive that they are capable of decapitating victims with their impact, making them unrecognizable. Some insist that such a gun should banned from society save for use in the military or for policing. Others protest that they are necessary for hunting deer, or raccoons, or gophers or feral hogs. The most honest admit that they want them for protection and that the second amendment gives them the right to own them. We hear the different sides with an unbending determination to win the debate with our own views. We are thinking of our personal rebuttals even as the sounds of differing views are echoing in our heads. We would rather think about that tomorrow, or perhaps never again until the next time. 

We are a nation rent in two, so divided that our only goal seems to be to prevent the other side from accomplishing anything that might actually help all of our citizenry. We seem to just want to be left alone, to be able to enjoy our way of life and what we see as our freedoms without too much sacrifice or responsibility. It is too painful to dwell on the horror of the realities in the world. It makes us feel bad, and we don’t want to feel bad. We would rather think about that tomorrow, or perhaps never again until the next time. 

We are like a couple whose relationship has been fractured. We are no longer able to talk, to hear and understand each other’s feelings and ideas. When we try to discuss our problems we always end up in a fight. We find it impossible to comprehend how the other can actually have beliefs that are so contrary to our own. Are we not friends? Have we not loved each other? When did we grow so far apart in the way we see the problems that are tearing us assunder? We stop talking because it is too painful to do so. We would rather think about that tomorrow, or perhaps never again until the next time. 

 We are the United States of America and yet of late we seem to be heading for a divorce. We the people appear content to watch our grand experiment of a democratic republic divide us rather than unite us. We are avoiding truths and problems and solutions. We have become a nation of bumper stickers, flags, soundbites, and allegiances, rather than one dedicated to the proposition that we can work together to solve the problems that only grow with our unwillingness to endure the pain of facing them head on. We no longer have the luxury of thinking about that tomorrow, or perhaps never again. This is the next time and this time should be the last time that we allow our elected representatives to only spar with each other rather than attempt to actually change the dangerous course of politics that has left us reeling in sorrow and anger again and again. 

I am angry and weary of sacrificing one million people to a virus because we can’t agree on how to protect one another. I am angry and weary of sacrificing innocents to mass shootings and violence because we can’t agree on how to protect one another. I am angry and tired and weary of sacrificing our very democracy because we can’t agree on how to protect our freedoms and our votes without justifying treasonous acts. I am angry and tired and weary of the sound and fury of our political views because the noise signifies nothing but the slow and continuous demise of our country. We must think about that today, lest there be no tomorrow.  

There are a number of popular memes bemoaning the behavior of today’s young people. They all suggest that modern day kids are spoiled and without the positive character traits of youngsters of the past. I’ve seen such pronouncements both on Facebook and Twitter. They insinuate that parents are not teaching their sons and daughters to be independent, hard working or grateful for the lives that they have. I cringe when I see them because my continued interaction with youth ensures me that they are very good souls who will do a wonderful job of taking on the problems of the world when the time comes for them to step up to that responsibility. 

I’m not naive enough to deny that there are indeed some not so nice youngsters among us, but such lost souls have always been around since the beginning of time. For the most part the children and teens of today are not much different than we were when we were the same age. In fact history and literature tell us that youths have always been searching for identities and appearing to be irresponsible in the process. It is a natural phase of growth that ultimately passes into maturity. I’ve seen it over and over again.

The first students that I ever taught are now in their mid to late fifties. Some of them already have grandchildren. Even the once most mischievous trouble makers are working to earn livings and provide for themselves and their families. They served as doctors and nurses during the pandemic, often risking their own health for the sake of others. Others became teachers which was a kind of karma given that a few knew how to push the boundaries of conduct when they were in a classroom as students. There are engineers, business executives, lawyers, ministers, builders, real estate moguls, coaches, artists, soldiers and even a talented tenor who recently sang in Carnegie Hall. Many of them once struggled with getting lessons turned in on time or they seemed to be continually filled with angst. They all turned out better than just fine, as will the kids who are coming along in the present. 

We sometimes forget how challenging it has been for our young people during the last couple of years. We have tended to focus on adults who have been sick or who lost their jobs or homes. We forgot that the children were enduring all of the anxiety along with the adults, often without any outlets for their fears. They spent a great deal of time learning remotely from their bedrooms, a situation that seemed to work with the students that I taught save for one little boy who was unable to handle learning from a computer screen at all. He may have appeared to be rude and a bit arrogant but I understood that he was having difficulty follow the lessons even though he is exceedingly bright. I was not present in person to keep him focused on learning. It was painful for both of us, but I would never presume that somehow he was a bad boy. His struggles had more to do with the impersonal nature of the environment than any kind of character flaw.  

Children sense the worry in the world even when they appear to be innocent and unaware. Their thoughts about the nature of our society are often far more profound than we give them credit for having. They hear about school shootings even when we attempt to shelter them from such things. When teachers do their best to be lighthearted in active shooter drills the kids pick up on the hidden fears that prompt such things. When doors are locked and fences are built around campuses they wonder what the adults are attempting to do. They know and understand so much more than we think they do, but they don’t always tell us how they are feeling about such things. It’s up to us to observe when they suddenly become angry or sad.

When I was a child I remember witnessing the panic in our neighborhood when a man two doors down shot and killed his wife. I recall standing outside on our driveway while everyone on the block waited tensely for the police and an ambulance to arrive. I saw the woman’s children crying in terror behind the picture window in their living room. I was only eight years old, but I have never forgotten how frightening the situation was. That house remained abandoned for years after that and I would always cross the street and go to the other side rather than walk in front of what seemed to me to be a scene of horror. It brought panic into my heart just thinking about what had happened there. Think of children and teens who are attempting to process the last few years and how deeply they have been affected. The fact that they are doing as well as they are is a testament to both them and the adults who care for them.

I am a cheerleader for our younger generation. I not only have great faith in them, but I also believe without reservation that they will be outstanding leaders and workers who will take on the jobs and problems of the future. When I hear the passion in their voices as they analyze the challenges that we all face and make suggestions as to how to unravel them, I am impressed with their determination and good will. They are incredibly kind and thoughtful, often more so than the adults. 

I’ve begun immediately hiding or blocking the kind of posts that demean the young. I think that they are short-sighted and presumptive. I just wish that every adult had the opportunity to interact with children and teens and young adults as much as I do. They would be filled with optimism just as I am. Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn were mischievous fellows, but I am certain that they one day became very fine men. The vast majority of our children will be okay if we just have some patience and love them.

I have to admit to total ignorance when it comes to seriously investing money to increase my net worth. Years ago my brothers were buying up Apple stock at bargain basement prices. I suspect that if had purchased as little as a few hundred dollars at those low prices I would have made a remarkable profit. I just never got into the game. I have not ever made much more than just enough to go beyond setting aside the bimonthly investments into my teachers’ retirement fund and saving to send my two daughters to college. Only at the end of my career did I even hear about a mutual fund that my district matched with a small percentage. I have done rather well with that and wish that other schools where I worked would have had a similar program. 

Things have changed a great deal over the years. My first teaching position paid eleven thousand dollars per annum and after more than twenty years in the profession I was still only earning a salary in the mid-twenty thousands. I remember when the Texas legislature raised the beginning teacher salary to forty thousand dollars and gave those of us who had been around for a time a whopping five thousand dollars more than the rookies. I finally hit the big time in my final years when I became a Dean of Faculty. I had a more comfortable income that allowed me to end up with a reasonable pension and begin actually investing even though I was rather late in the game. 

I’m happy that today’s teachers are doing way better than I ever did. Most of the school districts around me offer between fifty five to sixty five thousand dollars a year to rookie teachers and are even more generous in the ensuing years. There are also number of stipends offered to those who teach mathematics, science or special education. Of course additional duties like coaching or helping with after school programs can also add to the eventual take home pay. Sadly about the time that such increases occurred inflation followed, so I’m not sure how much better off our teachers actually are.

I suppose that my best investments have been in my home and in education for myself and my daughters. Along with my husband I have now helped pay for his bachelor’s degree, my bachelor’s and master’s degrees and bachelor’s degrees for both of my daughters. I have always believed that there is no way that I might better have used my money than in education. Learning provides individuals with independence and happiness. 

These days I am more and more appreciative of my home as well. I purchased it for a price that would not even provide me with a vacant lot these days. It is worth well more than twice its original value and the evaluation seems to be rising by the month. More importantly is the comfort I feel inside my rooms. I sometimes pinch myself and wonder how I got so lucky that I have a lovely, comfortable place in which to live, surrounded by the best neighbors that anyone might want. I am in my little castle with conveniences that my own ancestors would never have dreamed of owning. 

Beyond the treasures of education and home, I most value the investments that I have made in experiences. When I think back on my life I remember vacations and concerts and special occasions with family and friends. I can still feel the exhilaration of hiking to the Boulder Field on Long’s Peak or marveling at the mountains in the little ski town of Soll, Austria with my friends Monica and Franz. I think of touring London and the Cotswolds with my brothers and sisters-in-law or visiting Maine with friends Egon and Marita. I smile at the thought of the many camping trips we took with our daughters to Colorado, Wyoming, Utah, New Mexico, North Dakota, Arkansas and Louisiana. I can still picture walking along the narrow streets of San Juan, Puerto Rico with my mother-in-law and father-in-law. I think of Seattle, Los Angeles, the Grand Canyon, New York City, Washington D.C., Boston, Niagara Falls, Savanah, Disneyland, Disney World, Yosemite, San Francisco, Philadelphia, Albequerque, Santa Fe and so many other glorious places that I have seen and enjoyed. There is really no amount of money that seems adequate to replace the joy that I found in my travels.

Then there are the concerts and visits to local museums that brightened the routine of my days. I suppose I understood how important they had been to me when those kinds of things were cancelled during the worst times of the pandemic. I missed the sights and sounds and camaraderie with my fellow humans. I wanted to be on the road again with Willie Nelson serenading us as we traveled along new highways toward new adventures. 

I suppose that I might have done better at investing my money for a more comfortable future but I think I did fairly well given the choices that I made. I found great satisfaction and joy in the things that were most important to me. I suppose that one can’t ask for much more than that when it comes to plotting a pathway to the future. Life is good for me. My memories are so wonderful that they sustain me in even the toughest of times. I can’t think of anything more that I might want.

I love taking personality tests. I don’t know why they fascinate me so. Perhaps it’s because they generally seem to be spot on when it comes to describing me. I’m definitely an introvert, but only in the sense that when I become exhausted I have to refuel by spending quiet time away from people. Otherwise I really enjoy time with others. About once every three months my mind and body tell me that I have to become a hermit for a day or so and then I’ll have all of the energy that I need to be the life of the party again. 

I also appear to have a dual brain. My thinking is almost evenly determined by rational research and emotional experiences. I’m the kind of person who spends a great deal of time studying a situation before acting, but when I reach a decision I become passionate to the point of extremes. My teaching style was to be methodical in delivering lessons but aware of the socio-emotional needs of my students almost to a fault. Having such a nature can be demanding, which is why I need my quiet time as often as I do. 

I just experienced a death in my family. I carried on with my stoic side in full view until the day after the funeral when I literally became physically ill. My body shut down with so many symptoms that my daughters urged me to take a Covid test. Since I have several at home now I willingly subjected myself to the hated nasal swab. The result confirmed that I was Covid free but I still wondered why my symptoms were like a checklist of the virus’ signs. 

I sometimes have seasonal allergies and I suspect them as a culprit, but I rarely get as sick as I did after my emotional bout. It is as though my psychological pain made me hurt all over with headaches, nausea, chills, a runny nose, achy joints and assorted digestive distresses. The power of the heart side of our personalities can be overwhelming and I seem to be particularly prone the being often ruled by the right side of my brain. Eventually the left side notices and pulls me back to a steady state. 

I sometimes wish that I were either one or another, someone who exclusively makes decisions by either head or heart. Because my nature is to use a combination of both I am often confusing to the people around me. Just when they rely seeing on my usual logic I become impassioned about something and they can’t decide who I really am. I am that person who holds together like Spock in the most challenging times and then completely loses all sense of rationality once the danger or the test is over. 

I don’t cry at funerals. I never have. I suspect that people have noticed and wondered if I have any feelings at all. What does happen with me is that days or even weeks or months after the burial of someone I love I will totally fall apart, sobbing and shedding tears until my body aches. My left brain keeps me in control but the right brain suddenly kicks in and says that it’s time for a whole lot of heart. To keep things even the left brain then rescues me again just at the moment when I appear to be on the brink of falling off of a precipice. 

In a sense the battle between head and heart is a constant one for me. I rarely just buy into political personalities or charisma. I don’t care how boring someone may seem to be or even which party is their home. Instead I study their moral courage, their integrity and their concern for the health of our nation and its people. Once I have chosen sides based on an analysis of character I delve into facts and I am never ever willing to vote for anyone based on a single issue unless that issue is the preservation of democracy. Nothing makes me more wary than a galvanized party that covers up lies and punishes those who speak the truth. 

I was a mathematics teacher in both private and public schools. I taught the algorithms and processes but I also understood that I had to teach with heart. I understood that many students came to me with deep fears of math. I more often than not heard my new students say, “I’ve never been good in math and never will be.” I had to help them to overcome their relentless fears of numbers. I had to learn when they first began to believe that somehow their ability to comprehend that many facets of math had become broken. Then I had to repair the damage. That took appealing to both their hearts and their heads. Anyone who thinks that learning mathematics is only about getting the right answer has never worked successfully with students. Sometimes the route to knowledge travels right down the right side of the brain rather than the left. 

I appreciate those who are all logic as well as those ruled by emotions. We need both sorts in our world. I’m the person who like Goldilocks doesn’t like anything that is too hard or too soft. I look for that sweet spot that combines both features and feels just right. It’s been a wonderful way to view the world albeit tiring at times. It’s who I am and I have learned how to live with it and maybe even understood the people around me a bit better than most because of who I am.