We had a wonderful time last evening watching a live production called "Civil War Voices". It was compiled from the "True stories, real words - the people and the music that shaped America". Two characters portrayed the love between a husband and wife in the letters they exchanged during the war. Their musical duets were thrilling. Another was a former slave who worked for Mrs. Jefferson Davis, and then spent several years in the White House as a close friend and worker for the Lincolns. Her book was the source of much of the dialogue, but the actress was gifted both in drama and music, and her songs were show stoppers. Yet another portrayed Joshua Chamberlain from his book about his life and the Civil War. The gifted actor looked like Chamberlain, and his music was wonderfully poignant and powerful. Another actor read from his great-great-great uncle's diary.
But it hit me this morning, that the best part of the wonderful production was that these people had left their words and stories for us. If we didn't have those letters, those diaries, those books, we would know so little of the real people involved. When we visited Gettysburg last month, I was assigned a woman who wrote a book about her experiences as a 15 year old resident of Gettysburg during the battle. And it was her accounts which made those frightful days much more real to some of us. That human connection was so precious, and it was only made possible because she had written down her story.
Now here I am writing furiously at my sometime blog. I am writing because once again we are reminded that it is our stories that will last. The stories we tell, and the stories we write, are the stories that will live. And I am happy that I have this way to leave a small legacy to my grandchildren, and their grandchildren. I wonder what future generations may read these words and wonder about life in these times, yet know a little of what it is like here and now, and what it has been like in the past. I realize that I need to write, not in the book my kids gave me, but in this blog where it may be more likely read. I will print these words and put them in that book, but they will also be "in the cloud" for my nieces and nephews and their children, for my students and their children. They will be here for YOU. And I am reminded again that I need to do this in order to share furiously the awesome love that God has overflowed to me. I give it now to YOU. And that is my story.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
A Charlottesville Kind of Day
John and I frequently are amazed at our life near Charlottesville, Virginia. Living at Lake Monticello is wonderful. . . it's a mixed in every way community. Because it's only 40% retired folks, there are families and kids around. . . I can always find someone to play with!!!
But some of the most amazing things happen when we go into Charlottesville, and yesterday was a Charlottesville kind of day.
I hadn't planned to go to Charlottesville, but John had switched our phones and it was imperative I retrieve my old phones number list. . and learn a little bit about how to use the new phone. (I still didn't know quite how to hang up a phone call. lol) So I stopped and saw Mom (John's Mom), grabbed a bite of lunch, fixed the phone, talked quite a while with my favorite geek nephew about the phone and other things, and headed to my lovely hairdresser for a quick trim. As I sat waiting for Quanisha (who is the best hair dresser in Charlottesville if anyone asks), the lady next to me started talking.
The gist of her story was: "I'm dying. . there are chunks of my body missing because of my cancer. But I was raised with Don Henley, the drummer of the Eagles. I helped him write lyrics of. . oh, I think, over 20 songs. He loves poetry, you know, and writes in iambic pentameter. He offered to put my name on some of the songs, but I told him, 'Don, you are famous right now and everyone wants a piece of you. I want you to always remember that we will always have the relationship we had as children. I will never take from you like the others. Our relationship is a special friendship.' They wanted me to travel with the band, and one of the other band members pursued me, but there was too much drugs, and too much pressure. And horses are my love." And she talked of her life a hundred miles north of Charlottesville, of her love for horses,and of the mare she had that injured a tendon in Spain and dashed her chances of a gold medal in the olympics. And she poured our her affection for Mr. Henley. . and her angst over whether to try to contact him.
True? I have no reason I have no reason to believe or to doubt her. I suspect she may have been in Charlottesville to see the wonderful UVA doctors about her cancer. But if her story is true, I sincerely hope she will find Don Henley . . or that he will find her so they have a chance to say goodbyes to each other. Her name? We were at the beauty shop. I have no clue what her name is. If you saw her on the street, you'd see an ordinary looking lady, with very ordinary clothes, but a beautiful, blue-eyed smile.
When I got home, I did a quick change and we headed for Charlottesville again. John cleaned up from a fun day playing golf, and my friend, Rose, was having an art show downtown. Rose is one of my Charlottesville friends. She's the program director for a wonderful nonprofit that tests the water quality of the streams in the Rivanna River watershed by collecting and counting the bugs that live in them. (No, I didn't make that up. Nothing in today's blog is made up. . this is all a true story. . it should be a movie, I think.) She also does beautiful pen and ink drawings which she was showing at her friend's massage studio. On the first Friday of the month, Charlottesville has "First Friday" and the various venues for art hold receptions for the artists, have openings, etc. You can roam Charlottesville for a few hours just munching, drinking, and enjoying the wonderful talent of the city. (It's a Charlottesville kind of thing,) Rose is also known as "Recycling Rose". She's been featured in one of the local papers several times for her ability to avoid any type of trash. Her average trash output in a year is half a pound. If it can't be recycled, or reused, or composted. . she doesn't get it. One of her biggest horrors is Christmas (well, that part may be made up). You get what I mean. But she is among the sweetest, nicest, least trashy friends I know and I love her dearly. (In a motherly/friend sort of way.)
After enjoying Rose' company, her delicious homemade cheese and bread and hummus, and the company of some of our mutual friends, (ie: the lady in charge of the VA master naturalist program and her husband, the guy who monitors all the county trails, a medical software tester, and one who monitors erosion and sediment control in Albemarle County. . I did say it was a Charlottesville kind of day. . ) we decided to go to the public radio station and view the art which our church supports, knowing we would be seeing friends from church. And indeed we did see friends from church.
As we arrived, they were having a drawing. "Oh," says I, "Is it too late to put my name in?" Since they had just drawn several names unsuccessfully, no, it was not too late. So I scribbled my name in red ink and folded the paper once (to make it easier to grab, of course) and several names unsuccessfully called later, voila!! They drew my name! The prize? Complimentary tickets to a show at the beautiful and historic Paramount Theater. . that evening!! We had half an hour to grab a bite to eat, and get there. Fortunately, since we were in downtown Charlottesville, it was all within walking distance. Gotta love our favorite, buy it by the slice, pizza. John got the BBQ chicken and I got the whole wheat crust, pesto sauce, artichoke heart, avocado, tomato, basil, goat cheese wonder. Mmmm. I did say this was all in Charlottesville, didn't I?
We settled into our seats to watch "Civil War Voices", a wonderful live production by the Barter Theater. There was wonderful period music intertwined with excerpts from the diaries, letters and book of the characters on stage. There was an emphasis on Joshua Chamberlain, the Gettysburg hero. . and we had just a month ago spent three days at Gettysburg. Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln were movingly portrayed to the words of Elizabeth Ackley's book about them. . we met 'Father Abraham' at Gettysburg as well. It was absolutely wonderful! And free, and totally unplanned!! And we knew our friend, the Appomattox historian, whom we had invited to go downtown with us to begin with, would be utterly jealous. But as the game show hosts say, 'And that's not all. . '. I spotted a friend in the audience with her husband and stopped to say hi at intermission. It turns out their son was shot at Gettysburg. (I'll let that sink in for a minute.) He was in a 1998 reinactment, and someone did not check their gun carefully and got him in the neck! He survived, but. . .it makes a Charlottesville kind of story.
John and I just shook our heads all the way home. It was an amazing evening. Just another "Charlottesville kind of day".
PS God has been so good to us, blessing us in so many ways. That wonderful evening was just another showing off of His good Grace. It had nothing to do with any good on our part. . only wonderful blessings from HIM.
But some of the most amazing things happen when we go into Charlottesville, and yesterday was a Charlottesville kind of day.
I hadn't planned to go to Charlottesville, but John had switched our phones and it was imperative I retrieve my old phones number list. . and learn a little bit about how to use the new phone. (I still didn't know quite how to hang up a phone call. lol) So I stopped and saw Mom (John's Mom), grabbed a bite of lunch, fixed the phone, talked quite a while with my favorite geek nephew about the phone and other things, and headed to my lovely hairdresser for a quick trim. As I sat waiting for Quanisha (who is the best hair dresser in Charlottesville if anyone asks), the lady next to me started talking.
The gist of her story was: "I'm dying. . there are chunks of my body missing because of my cancer. But I was raised with Don Henley, the drummer of the Eagles. I helped him write lyrics of. . oh, I think, over 20 songs. He loves poetry, you know, and writes in iambic pentameter. He offered to put my name on some of the songs, but I told him, 'Don, you are famous right now and everyone wants a piece of you. I want you to always remember that we will always have the relationship we had as children. I will never take from you like the others. Our relationship is a special friendship.' They wanted me to travel with the band, and one of the other band members pursued me, but there was too much drugs, and too much pressure. And horses are my love." And she talked of her life a hundred miles north of Charlottesville, of her love for horses,and of the mare she had that injured a tendon in Spain and dashed her chances of a gold medal in the olympics. And she poured our her affection for Mr. Henley. . and her angst over whether to try to contact him.
True? I have no reason I have no reason to believe or to doubt her. I suspect she may have been in Charlottesville to see the wonderful UVA doctors about her cancer. But if her story is true, I sincerely hope she will find Don Henley . . or that he will find her so they have a chance to say goodbyes to each other. Her name? We were at the beauty shop. I have no clue what her name is. If you saw her on the street, you'd see an ordinary looking lady, with very ordinary clothes, but a beautiful, blue-eyed smile.
When I got home, I did a quick change and we headed for Charlottesville again. John cleaned up from a fun day playing golf, and my friend, Rose, was having an art show downtown. Rose is one of my Charlottesville friends. She's the program director for a wonderful nonprofit that tests the water quality of the streams in the Rivanna River watershed by collecting and counting the bugs that live in them. (No, I didn't make that up. Nothing in today's blog is made up. . this is all a true story. . it should be a movie, I think.) She also does beautiful pen and ink drawings which she was showing at her friend's massage studio. On the first Friday of the month, Charlottesville has "First Friday" and the various venues for art hold receptions for the artists, have openings, etc. You can roam Charlottesville for a few hours just munching, drinking, and enjoying the wonderful talent of the city. (It's a Charlottesville kind of thing,) Rose is also known as "Recycling Rose". She's been featured in one of the local papers several times for her ability to avoid any type of trash. Her average trash output in a year is half a pound. If it can't be recycled, or reused, or composted. . she doesn't get it. One of her biggest horrors is Christmas (well, that part may be made up). You get what I mean. But she is among the sweetest, nicest, least trashy friends I know and I love her dearly. (In a motherly/friend sort of way.)
After enjoying Rose' company, her delicious homemade cheese and bread and hummus, and the company of some of our mutual friends, (ie: the lady in charge of the VA master naturalist program and her husband, the guy who monitors all the county trails, a medical software tester, and one who monitors erosion and sediment control in Albemarle County. . I did say it was a Charlottesville kind of day. . ) we decided to go to the public radio station and view the art which our church supports, knowing we would be seeing friends from church. And indeed we did see friends from church.
As we arrived, they were having a drawing. "Oh," says I, "Is it too late to put my name in?" Since they had just drawn several names unsuccessfully, no, it was not too late. So I scribbled my name in red ink and folded the paper once (to make it easier to grab, of course) and several names unsuccessfully called later, voila!! They drew my name! The prize? Complimentary tickets to a show at the beautiful and historic Paramount Theater. . that evening!! We had half an hour to grab a bite to eat, and get there. Fortunately, since we were in downtown Charlottesville, it was all within walking distance. Gotta love our favorite, buy it by the slice, pizza. John got the BBQ chicken and I got the whole wheat crust, pesto sauce, artichoke heart, avocado, tomato, basil, goat cheese wonder. Mmmm. I did say this was all in Charlottesville, didn't I?
We settled into our seats to watch "Civil War Voices", a wonderful live production by the Barter Theater. There was wonderful period music intertwined with excerpts from the diaries, letters and book of the characters on stage. There was an emphasis on Joshua Chamberlain, the Gettysburg hero. . and we had just a month ago spent three days at Gettysburg. Abraham and Mary Todd Lincoln were movingly portrayed to the words of Elizabeth Ackley's book about them. . we met 'Father Abraham' at Gettysburg as well. It was absolutely wonderful! And free, and totally unplanned!! And we knew our friend, the Appomattox historian, whom we had invited to go downtown with us to begin with, would be utterly jealous. But as the game show hosts say, 'And that's not all. . '. I spotted a friend in the audience with her husband and stopped to say hi at intermission. It turns out their son was shot at Gettysburg. (I'll let that sink in for a minute.) He was in a 1998 reinactment, and someone did not check their gun carefully and got him in the neck! He survived, but. . .it makes a Charlottesville kind of story.
John and I just shook our heads all the way home. It was an amazing evening. Just another "Charlottesville kind of day".
PS God has been so good to us, blessing us in so many ways. That wonderful evening was just another showing off of His good Grace. It had nothing to do with any good on our part. . only wonderful blessings from HIM.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
