It's been a week since my last post. I was on a roll then faltered in late February. Sometimes life is like that; you move forward at a quick pace only to realize that you need a breather now and then.
I celebrated March 1--the first day of the new month I was looking forward to--by attending a Billy Joel concert in Atlanta with my sister. It wasn't planned that way, but my sister called the week before to say she'd won free tickets on a radio station to the concert. Believe it or not, I turned her down when she offered me the ticket. I didn't think I could get away; I had a work-related meeting on March 2 and wondered how my busy husband could juggle taking care of our client with giving guitar lessons at his music store. It was my husband who said "You're going, you need a break," and called back my sister to say his wife would take that ticket after all. He is a smart guy, I'm so glad I married him. When I mentioned the concert to my program manager, she said "You'd turn down a Billy Joel concert for a stupid meeting?" What meeting?
I drove to Georgia with Emerson along for company. We drove through heavy fog and rain, but safely arrived at my sister's home. The concert was that night and it was outstanding. I haven't been to a concert in two decades, but from my foggy memory this was up there with the best. He played most all of his hits; I forgot how many Billy Joel tunes I had known, listened and danced to over the years. There were even a few that I didn't know like "Vienna" from 1971 (when I was all of nine years old).
Emerson, now 11 1/2, had no clue who Billy Joel was and asked about him. I couldn't describe him nor his music, just that he had 30 hit songs. Emerson had never heard of him since they don't play much Billy Joel on NPR. When I want to hear something more upbeat, I turn the dial to 98.7 (Simon). Their motto is We Play Everything, except they've never played a Billy Joel song now that I'm thinking about it, so they aren't really playing everything, are they? They play a mix of popular hits from the 60's through today and put together a random shuffle of songs you'd never hear anywhere else. The songs that you forgot you used to like; songs from your high school and college days, and when the boys were toddlers, and all the years in between and since. But no Billy Joel.
Emerson and I had a lazy Friday in Georgia with my sister (his Aunt Laura) going out to lunch at my brother-in-law Steve's restaurant and a low-key night at home having dinner with my niece and nephews. Emerson had big fun playing hide-and-seek and other games with his cousins who are still the age that they enjoy playing games. This isn't to say that Emerson's older brother, Spencer, is a big poop at almost-17, but it is true that he has moved beyond playing hide-and-seek. It happens.
On Saturday, we woke up to a rooster's crow. My sister and brother-in-law live in a new subdivision in Gainesville, but their property has a farm (of sorts) behind them. The guy keeps cows and several roosters; apparently one of the roosters was kicked out of the rooster clan and now resides in my sister's back yard. Hearing the crow reminded me of our beloved rooster, Fox, who died last May and lived on our farm for three years. After a while you tune out early morning crowing as it becomes something your brain accepts as normal and you sleep until the alarm clock turns on. This day, the rooster's crow was a natural wake-up call. Emerson and I got ready to leave as my sister and her family got ready to drop off my nephews at their Tae Kwan Do class.
It was a brief visit and we were ready to get home. The drive was uneventful, we had great weather, and Floyd County's hills never looked so good--not to mention my husband's handsome face.
[Sorry, I blew it. Didn't take pictures the entire trip. Billy Joel photo courtesy of:
http://pomomusings.com/2007/03/02/billy-joel-at-atlantas-philips-arena/]
When the war began, Spencer (the oldest son) had just turned 13. He was a young teen with lighthearted hopes and dreams. He recently celebrated his 17th birthday. I never would have dreamed that this ugly war would have been going on four years later...with no real end in sight. The war has subtly, and quite boldly, colored his thoughts, his dreams, his future.
Tonight I learned that someone named Emerson lost his life. Not my son, but someone else's. It's not a name you see every day, it caught me by surprise and made me catch my breath. Tonight I learned that two men who were 39 and 41 years of age recently died in Iraq. I don't know what hurts more; learning that a young kid of just 19 died in the war or the adult near my age who died and probably left behind a wife and children.
