A Thing I learned (yes I still learn things) while looking up something else. My handy, dandy iPod is full of music. I was having a blast from the past and downloaded the Best of Phoebe Snow, an artist I loved when I was much younger. Her music has held up well over the years. But I learned in addition to other things that she was a Jewish woman, long since passed, and possessed of a great voice. Here is her rendition of the Etta James' classic At Last: Phoebe Snow
The soulful, mournful voice belonged to a Jewish woman...who knew...I always thought she might be African American...who knew? Not that it matters, her race or ethnicity. But who knew?
Also in a fit of nostalgia for my undergraduate self, the long suffering poet and writer of my own soulful songs, I downloaded some Janis Joplin. Who knew Phoebe did one of Janis' songs, Take Another Piece of My Heart and did a great job...Piece of My Heart
James Taylor, Joni Mitchell, both artists I saw live in Detroit as a mere youth of 20. The perfect concerts for the moody artiste I thought I might be, instead of the failure of a history of a graduate student (only getting my masters and failing miserably and drunkenly at the Ph.D.), the work at the library's book binder, getting laid off, finding work as Molly Malone, the Irish songstress at Moriarty's Pub, failing to return to work at the bindery...meeting the foreshadowed failure of a love life...working in a gas station for three years, believing I was incapable of landing a better job only to have a friend who was back in town and working at the library recommend I take the typing test for MSU (which, by the grace of God I actually passed) and getting an interview at the library almost thirty two years ago. And moving up the ranks to my current position as the Authority Czarina. Who knew?
Life takes many twists and turns. I wasted years struggling with psychological issues that were not diagnosed until the ripe age of 33 (significant in a numerical sort of way...who knew?). I look back and see wasted time, wasted life, wasted, and struggles with a number of issues. I look forward and see now that there may not be that many years left. More behind than in front. I now think anyone that dies in their 70s to be too young. Even if I live as long as my aunties, which was 105, that is less time left than I have had. Young people are actually young...my friends now are grandparents, great aunts and great uncles...who knew?
This reflection makes me more willing to take time (which there really isn't a great deal of) to stop and appreciate all I have. Even the psychological struggles and the long tunnel of being bipolar has brought me to this place. I appreciated all that has happened. If, perchance, you have feel injured in some way by this blog, and some do, I actually appreciate all that has happened to me to get me to this point. My home, my boys (actually the cats), learning not to have meltdowns at trivial events and controlling my temper, all this has formed me. The drunken mother, the devoted father to the drunken mother, the loving/withdrawing grandmother, the two "loves" of my life blowing up in my face and so forth...what doesn't kill you only makes you stronger (See good old Fred Nietzsche).
And on that reflective note I bid you adieu.
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