Thursday is again upon us. Time for another entry of Three Things Thursday, the purpose of which is to “share three things from the previous week that made you smile or laugh or appreciate the awesome of your life.”
Two or three months ago Tacoma Metro Park District put out a notice that they were thinking of starting a singing group for their 50 and Over activities program. I was in one community chorus or another for several years back in St. Louis. After moving to Tacoma I had looked around casually for a singing group but didn’t find anything in my league. What I mean by that is: if the group requires an audition, it’s out of my league.
I finally got word that there was enough interest in the Park District’s group that they were moving ahead. I attended my first meeting on Monday. There were about seven people there, plus two employees of the Park District. One of the women had brought some printouts of popular old songs such as Let Me Call You Sweetheart and Mr. Sandman. We sang through a few of those songs, without accompaniment. There is no money in the budget to hire someone to play the piano, but there may be a possibility of finding a volunteer.
The choruses that I participated in before sang in four-part harmony accompanied by an accomplished pianist. We prepared real music such as Handel’s Messiah, Vivaldi’s Gloria, and an assortment of popular tunes, and we performed twice a year. Therefore, what I found on Monday isn’t exactly what I was expecting. But I’ll give it a few more weeks to develop. As the group’s existence gets publicized more widely, maybe more people will show up and a more formal structure will develop. I don’t play to stay if it remains just a few people getting together once a week to sing old songs without any accompaniment, not even a pitch pipe.
But the experience did remind me how much I enjoyed participating in a community chorus. I should probably start looking again, more seriously this time, for one that’s appropriate for my level.
Return of the Writing Mojo
I’ve been having a hard time with my writing lately. I’ve been at it long enough to know that the creative process ebbs and flows, and a writer has to be prepared to soldier on when the going gets tough and trust that the mojo will return. I’ve been gritting my teeth and continuing to type, even though only pretty pedestrian prose was showing up on my computer screen.
But a couple of days ago, the mojo finally returned. It always shows up in the same way: I wake up at about 4:00 AM just full of ideas. Then, whole passages of perfect prose begin to form themselves inside my head. In the past I’ve told myself that those passages would still be in my head later, then turned over and gone back to sleep. But I’ve learned that the passages will, in fact, not be there later, and I’d better get up right away and write them down before they evaporate.
It’s an exhausting process, but also heavenly.
It’s my favorite time of the year: baseball playoff season.
Wrong. They came up against their archrivals, the Chicago Cubs, who won the wild card spot. The Cardinals and the Cubs have been playing since 1898, so this rivalry has had lots of time to fester. In a short series, any team might be able to beat any other team. That’s what happened in the best-of-five division series: The Cubs beat the Cardinals. And that’s why they play the games instead of just figuring the whole thing out on paper.
But in the next round, which is a best-of-seven series, the New York Mets swept the Cubs to win the National League pennant. I find some consolation in that, but not much.
The American League is still working on determining who will meet the Mets in the World Series. Right now the Kansas City Royals lead the Toronto Blue Jays by three games to two. If the Royals win tomorrow, they’ll advance to meet the Mets. But if the Blue Jays win tomorrow, there will be a winner-takes-all game on Saturday.
The World Series is an anxious time if your team is playing. But when, like this year for me, your team is not there, the Series takes on a kind of Zen aura. Then I can appreciate the game for its own sake. There’s a purity in being a disinterested observer watching the game unfold, a purity unsullied by the ecstasy of victory or the agony of defeat. Such a moment elevates my appreciation of the essence of the game.
And of course I’m only writing all that purple prose because this year, my team won’t be there.