Mom

I find myself sitting at my desk crying at the moment...moved to tears by the pain of a dear friend, who lost his mother a few days ago. She was about the same age as my own parents. I've been incredibly lucky to still have both of my parents at 83 and 81, who celebrated their 60th anniversary 2 days ago, and who are both doing well.

My friend David, one of the sweetest guys I know in the world, wasn't so lucky. Although I didn't know his mother personally, I know the results of part of her work in this world, in the form of her son. He always has a smile on his face and a kind word for people, and he gives an incredible amount of time and energy to anything he gets involved in. He handles responsibilities well, without letting it affect the way he treats people he has to deal with to do it. He has a great sense of humor and a great outlook on life. And he's been very good to me in many many ways.

From that, I know that his mother did a heck of a lot of things right in this world. I know he is hurting and is really going to miss her and my heart goes out to you David. If there's any way I can help....

What a waste of talent!

Question of the day....have I wasted my God-given talent?

Here's the situation. From the time I was a very little kid, it was obvious that I had some musical talent. I had a lovely soprano boys voice and I was singing solos in church by the time I was 5. I had three older sisters who were in high school, and when they needed a little kid to play a part in the high school musical, it was usually me. I played the young son in the main family in Bye Bye Birdie, and although I don't remember details, I am told that I sang at least one solo, had a bunch of lines, and sang my individual part in a quartet (and that 2 of the other members of the quartet could barely handle their parts and would instead follow me)....and this was in 2nd grade. In third grade I donned blackface and played a young black kid in Finian's Rainbow. (we had no African Americans in our small town....and trust me, I didn't know there was anything wrong with it at the time.) They also had variety shows at the high school, but somehow I was always in them....once singing three songs from Oliver.

When I was old enough to play an instrument....I chose trumpet so that I could be like that gorgeous red-faced 1st chair trumpet player (named Roll Shepherd) that sat in front of my sister Monya in band. I couldn't take my eyes off him.....and this wasn't lust cause I was about 8....I wanted to BE him.

This was when my problem first reared it's head....as a singer everything came naturally to me. Now I suddenly had to learn something completely different, and commit to it. I played on a hand-me-down trumpet that my Dad played in high school, then two of my sisters played it. By the time I played it, there were holes in the lead pipe and it was on it's last legs. At the end of my 5th grade year (first full year of playing the horn) each student had to get up and play a brief solo in front of parents and friends, etc to show what they'd learned. I had really struggled and had procrastinated and not practiced, so I knew I wouldn't be good. I got up in front of what seemed like the whole world, couldn't get a note to come out of the horn, and ran down off the stage crying. I gave up band completely then and there. Luckily a very astute teacher knew my background and refused to let it happen. She convinced me that the problem was physical, that my lips were too big for trumpet, and I should try other instruments. When I asked what ones, she said perhaps French Horn (already had two sisters playing that one so I knew what it was) or Baritone. I had never heard of it, so she showed me one and I blew on it. Almost instantly I was 100 times better, so switched on the spot and kept playing it through college.

I guess I practiced some in middle school, but found I was ahead of most of the rest of the people and didn't need to practice much to play my parts in band well. By 7th grade I had a big solo in band.....guess I'd improved quickly from running off stage crying. In high school, my band director recognized that I had talent and put me in a small ensemble. Although I rarely ever practiced, I played a lot and got pretty good. I didn't have much to compare myself against, so I had no idea how good until I got 2nd chair in an all-state band. Still, I never took it seriously and didn't practice much.

In college, I expected to be way down the list of players, but found that I was the best euphonium player on campus as a freshman. This is not bragging...it's just how it was. There were only 3 other euphonium majors and they were mediocre. (But I went to Miami of Ohio, which was not known as a music school.) Now in college I tried to practice more....but next to other students, I just never put in the time.

Still, I was the best euphonium player and one of the top musicians in the school as a senior.....and this without really practicing much.

Somewhere along the way, I just never learned to commit to practicing, and got by on raw talent. It's still true today. In DCDD I've played several instruments, and some would claim that I pull it off quite well. But I know the truth. I get by because I learned to be a reasonably good musician over the years, but I've never truly been good on any one instrument because I'm constantly switching around, sometimes performing on more than one at a time.

It's come back to bite me this past year because for the last 10 years or so in band, I've been playing French Horn. This is not an instrument that you just pick up, usually. It's got to be one of the hardest instruments to play and certainly the hardest brass instrument, because its partials are so close together. I always say that it barely matters what valve you put down on horn because you can get any note to speak with almost any valves (rotors) down. So for 10 years, I got by again on raw musical ability.....and I almost never practiced it. Yet somehow I managed and was usually playing the first parts (helps that I'm musically fearless too.) For 10 years I've felt largely like I was faking it, successfully. This past year, suddenly I feel like I've lost it. I no longer am playing it well and everything I do sounds crappy to me. The only way to get over it is to practice....so since our last concert, the horn has sat in the bathroom waiting for a bath....and not even getting THAT much attention. I can't seem to face the horn to fight through it. Instead, I'm ready to switch instruments again.

Why is this? I seem to have been born without the practice gene or the committment gene. Practicing for me is torture. I like to PLAY, not practice. It's weird and I'm ashamed of it, but can't seem to change it, because it is who I am.

Many people probably believe that I've wasted the talent I was given. I'll never be well known (deservedly so) for playing. The main place that I play is a gay community band, for usually very small audiences. I've never achieved a high level of success on any one instrument.

I could be GOOD, damnit.

But the truth is....at least I was smart enough to know myself at a fairly early age. I knew my limits in high school, and even while I was considered one of the best in my college, I knew I was not achieving the level I could...and why. And I made a decision at some point that I was going to have music play an important role in my life, without it becoming my career.....and that was a very smart decision.

Music is my hobby and my passion. I love it and I love playing in groups. I wish I was more committed and wish I felt like I did more than get by. I'll always wonder what I might've achieved if I had been a little different than I am. But I don't sit around worrying about it (much), and I'm happy with the amount of it I have in my life.

Wasted my talent? No...I just used it in a different way than other people might've. Regrets? sure...but not many. I'm mostly happy with what I've done with music in my life. I'm proud of the little successes I've had, and proud to be a part of my little band, DCDD. That organization is much more than just a community band...it's the source of most of my friends, and most of my social life as well.

Big Sis

I have three older sisters, nine, seven and four years older than I was. Each time my mom was pregnant, she and my dad were convinced it was a boy and picked out boy names, etc. Each time, they got a girl. When I came along, they'd sort of given up on boys and decided I was a girl (My name was to be Melanie.)

In any case, I ended up in a family dominated by women....my mother was always more strong-willed than my father, and all my sisters were older than me....so women ran the house, pretty much. This may be one reason my dad and I are still pretty laid back and not very assertive.

My oldest sister was born on March 3rd, 1952 and was named Monya Ellen. It's pronounced like Tanya with an M. (I think my Mom knew someone named Monya in high school and just liked the name.) She was a great baby, rarely crying, beautiful in looks, inquisitive, etc. My mom said the only time she cried much was when she went in the car.....ironically, my middle sister Genilee was constantly crying her first two years....except when she went in the car, where she would stop (and Monya would take over.)

I wasn't there for her first 9 years, but she was also a very smart kid, and grew up to be the beauty in the family. By the time I got there, she was definitely running the non-parental part of the family. Monya was very strong-willed, and quite clever, so she was the one that got the kids to 'do things'....some fun and productive, but also the one who caused the kids to get in trouble when they followed her lead in the wrong direction. I can remember her leading us to do an elaborate Christmas play every year for our parents....can remember her being the one who got us to play 'horses' every night after dinner, where we retired to the living room and two of us (and sometimes my dad) were horses, and the little ones rode them around. I can remember her making all four of us run away at least once or twice together. (we usually went to the garage and hid...lol.)

My biggest memory of Monya from my childhood was the respect she commanded from all of us. She was smart, beautiful and just seemed to always have it completely together. Because she was the oldest, she probably also had it the toughest from my parents. She had to fight to extend curfews, come home from dates to my Mother waiting in the living room, and live with all of the things that over-protective parents often do....then relax some with the younger kids.

Another very important memory was that she told me that I had to do only one thing for her in my lifetime....and that was to grow taller than her because she was the tallest on in my family by several inches (still only 5'7" and 3/4). I made the promise, and eventually followed through at a HUGE 5'8". It was 1/4 of an inch, but enough to satisfy us both :).

I was incredibly proud of my oldest sister....she was in high school plays and musicals, was in a singing group, was 1st or 2nd runner up in at least 3-4 beauty pageants like homecoming queen. She should've won too. She was the head majorette, which meant she lead the marching band around town....played French Horn in band. To me, she was amazing.

She also offered me a lot of first experiences. She was the first person I knew who left home and went off to college, first one I knew to fall in love, get married, have children, etc.

I remember the day she came home from college (Soph year I think) talking about her three current boyfriends (she'd always had a lot of them.) One of them was a guy that she talked about in reverant terms almost, how gorgeous he was, how exciting, how he had a MOTORCYCLE, etc, lol. His name was Jim Sauernheimer, and I think I was seeing a first glimpse at new love. She married him less than a year later and they are still together after 35 years.

The marriage was planned and executed in under 3 weeks because they became pregnant early. It was a HUGE scandal to my mother and it was awhile before they got past it, but they somehow pulled off a lovely wedding in 3 weeks. I was 4 days shy of 12 and it was my first wedding and my first champagne (hated it).

So 7 months later, I also had my first niece, Sondra....and my first experiences holding a baby, changing her, babysitting, all that. Two years later, they had Tara....both girls are lovely (and now Tara is about to hit 30 and has a great son of her own, CJ.)

For about 5 years, Monya and Jim lived about 30-50 miles from us, so we saw them a lot. I babysat a lot and spent lots of time with them in general. Then they moved away to Texas, where the girls grew up and they stayed until about 5 years ago when they moved to Chicago. By the way, I've always loved Jim too...he and she were the perfect match. He was able to rein in her strong will when needed, but they appear to always compromise and truly enjoy being together after all these years too.

Now Monya and I know and love each other as adults. We see each other on average probably only about once a year, but she and I relate well to each other and never have awkwardness from time apart. She's still beautiful at 55 and I still consider her the 'class' of the family. She raised two great kids (with Jim of course), travels quite a bit, and still comes off as completely 'together' and is someone I admire a lot. I found out over the years that she, like many folks, doesn't have much confidence in herself. That was a shocking revelation. She doesnt' see herself as I always have.

I feel like this blog entry isn't doing her justice at all...sorry Monya! (she'll never read it.)

One of Bush's more intelligent moments....

President Bush was briefed on Iraq this morning and was told that three Brazilian solders were killed.

To everyone's amazement, all of the color ran from Bush's face, then he collapsed onto his desk, head in hands, visibly shaken, almost whimpering.

Finally, he composed himself and asked, "Just exactly how many is a brazillion?"

OMG, I'm an old CAT lady!

I grew up with dogs....our family always had one, and only one dog at a time. I was 100% a dog person in my mind. My mother tells me that before I was around, the family also usually had a cat which ran the house (as well as the dog.) She tells me stories of her cat that taught itself to use the toilet rather than a litterbox, and of the cat that had kittens in the doghouse, and wouldn't let the dog near its own house again. The last cat we had was supposedly wonderful until the day that one of my sisters shut her up in a room all day, forcing it to break it's litter habits. And from then on, it would never go back to the box and ruined the house. That was it for cats for our family and all before I was even 2.

So I never had a cat other than one VERY wild kitten that 'followed me home' one day. (although I don't remember it, my guess is that I was extremely encouraging to the kitten to 'follow me'.) That cat was nuts and was extremely wild and unfriendly. I eventually became it's enemy and it mine....and my Dad eventually dropped it off at a farm to live as a barn cat.

That was it until I became an adult and wanted 'an animal'. I wasn't settled enough yet for a dog, so instead I got a cat. I named her Scheherazade after one of my favorite pieces of music, and called her Shay. My sister also got a cat, Winston (after George) and they grew up for 7 years together while we lived together. When we split, we weren't splitting the cats up, so she took them both.


This was Shay in her twilight years


After the boys were 5 years old and George and I were on our own, I decided I was getting a cat. I was going to get an Abbysinian until my sister ended up taking in a cat that was pregnant. She had 6 kittens, 3 matched pairs. Two were pure tigers, two were tigers with white paws and the last two were golden tigers (ok, orange tabbys but gold sounds classier!) She convinced me of course that I HAD to take more than one. When they were born and were about 3 weeks old, I went to see them for the first time. They barely had eyes open or were walking, yet one of them split apart from the rest and came directly to me....one of the gold ones. He had apparently picked me and I was happy to take him. I really didn't want twins so spent the next 4 visits trying to decide on a second one. The original gold one ignored me from there out, but the OTHER gold one kept showing an incredible personality.....and I just had to have him too. That's how I ended up with two that look identical to most people (not to me at all.)


Rachi is nearer and although looks bigger is, actually the smaller one.

I decided to keep with the musical cats theme and named them after two of my favorite composers, Copeland and Rachmoninov (who I call Rachi, pronounced Rocky.)

I'm not sure how often I was told, 'what are you NUTS? You have three Jack Russels and you're getting a cat.....those dogs will kill that poor cat!'. I read that JRs don't do well with cats too, so I was nervous. The boys had never been around one other than at my sisters house, where they would spend the whole day nervous wrecks because they smelled CAT.

I'm either crazy or smart....not sure which, but I wasn't really worried. The day I brought the kittens home, the boys were very happy.....Daddy brought us SNACKS! They didn't attack, but they were nervous wrecks, were very interested in these furry things and wanted to be in their faces. We had a very nervous first week and George and I slept in different rooms to make sure that when animals were together they were supervised. Spike was the worst, looking like he really wanted them for dinner and just being very nervous. But Spike was also my smart one....and figured out that they were not to be touched. After 3-4 days, he relaxed and his brothers relaxed with him, and we had harmony in the house from there out. The dogs have never so much as snarled at the cats, and the cats thought they were good friends from the get-go.

Rachi (front) Copeland, Spike and Skippy....obviously we get along now.


I got SOOOOOO Lucky with these cats as they have personality out the ying-yang. Copeland, the tiny kitten who broke out of the pack at 3 weeks old to claim me, still does the same thing to this day. Every time anyone comes to the house, that cat is IN THEIR FACE immediately. He greets everyone and won't leave them alone, acting like he's their best friend. If they don't pay attention to him, he insists....and has scared a few non-cat people because of it...lol. Now have you ever heard of a cat that acts like that? Most cats disappear when a stranger walks into the house.

Copeland....Mr Laid back...and he's usually ON his back asleep
Copeland..... doing his CAT Scan impression.

Now Rachi, if Copeland weren't around, would be considered one of the friendliest cats you've ever seen. He also comes out to greet strangers, just isn't as insistent that they PAY ATTENTION to him...lol. But he never hides, and comes out immediately to say hi. He's just not as likely to be in your lap because he's more of a Daddy's boy. That cat spends about half his life lounging on me....on my lap, on my chest, next to me. He's almost as equal with George too, but isn't as likely to be like that with people he doesnt' know.

Rachi in his usual spot
To demonstrate how outgoing these cats are, I'll take you back to our last party (may have been the millenium). All 5 of my animals were out at the beginning of the party because I had no shrinking violets. But the dogs eventually got bored and left, going upstairs to find a quiet spot. Whereas my cats were out in the living room during the ENTIRE party. In fact, Copeland fell asleep in a drunken slumber and will never live it down.

I adore my cats. Rachi became my special one when Bruiser left me. he was already special, but he's the only one who really filled the hole in my heart because he's equally special. he talks to me....he'll meow and I'll answer (also meowing) and he'll answer back...we can do it for 5 minutes. I dont' understand a word he's saying, but he still says it with a very earnest look on his face and acts like he understands me. He's the lickingest cat I've ever seen.....licks anything and everything including cleaning up Skippy. If I put a finger up to his face, it'll be licked inside 2 seconds every single time, even if he's nearly asleep.


The ONLY time he ever pulls back from me or acts like he doesnt' want me to pick him up is in the morning when I'm about to leave for work. he'll be friendly and in my face all morning, but once my shoes go on and he knows I'm leaving, he'll act like he's disgusted if I touch him at all. He's obviously pissed cause he knows I'm going.

Copeland is a great cat too, and both of them are even better than Shay was.....she was special, just different, and eventually not mine anymore. But Rachi is my constant companion, and is also an incredibly beautiful animal. I do apologize to my friends and relatives with allergies, but I have to have my cats.

Although I still love dogs and consider myself still also a dog person, I guess I'm officially a cat person now too. I doubt that I'll ever be without one again....not so sure about dogs. I will try my best not to have 9 cats at one time though (or 200 either).......then I would have to declare myself a 'crazy old cat lady'. (old cat man just doesnt' sound right!)

I don't feel like writing today

So I won't!

What is this place??

Suddenly I found myself at the base of an enormous tree, or perhaps tree city is a better description. As I stared towards the lower branches of the tree some 20 body lengths above me, I spotted several hanging bridges going from that tree to other similarly huge trees nearbye. I could see platforms resting comfortably in the trees and buildings on the platforms.

To my amazement, a platform directly above my head lowered towards me and as it reached the ground, I saw a beautiful woman...no wait, a beautiful ELF?! step off the platform and go past me. 'What the'.....I thought, and stepped onto the platform she had vacated. As the platform rose into the tree I found myself nervous, but excited by what this strange new place might have to offer.

Arriving on a much larger platform, I stepped into what was indeed a large city. Many creatures were all around me, mostly elves, but also a few humans, dwarves, gnomes and a few other types. I tried speaking to some of them, but no one seemed to understand my words....until one kind elf took pity on a poor inexperienced boy and offered me some advice on how to get around and communicate in this world. Eventually I thanked him and left the tree city to explore this world further.

This was my first experience in a massive multiplayer on-line role-playing game....and it was truly stunning to feel like you have walked into an alternative universe for the first time. The game was called Everquest, and I was hooked quickly. Yeah I was staring at a computer monitor, but I found myself completely immersed in this world. I've always been a game player, and I've always loved Fantasy books and anything involving magic and magical creatures.

I had played a game called Diablo for almost a year before this, and although it had a bit of interaction and involved magical worlds, it was really a simple game where you took a premade character and directed them through a world, killing skeletons and other creatures and picking up loot to improve yourself when they died. I had a lot of fun with it, but finished the game about 15-20 times and got pretty bored. I was waiting around for Diablo 2 when I heard about this MMORPG phenom....and thought I'd give one a try.

When Diablo 2 came out....I was already completely hooked and never really played it. It was a children's game in comparison.

Everquest was the first of these kinds of games to really take off, and I know why. The world was beautiful and interesting, and gameplay was fun (although pretty repetative.) It has it's problems, but they did enough things right to truly capture people for the first time in this sort of environment. I played that game for about 5 years total....I eventually was playing 4-6 hours a day every day, and it was never enough. In order to make it to the top guilds (groups of players that raid together) you had to play more than that. There were days where I would play upwards of 18 hours in ONE day....call in sick and spend the entire day at the computer. It sucked away all of my extra time, and I'm not quite sure how I managed to have a life during that time.

I know it annoyed George at times, but he was always wonderful about it, and I took advantage because I loved it. This was finally Dungeons and Dragons come alive! (almost.) I had three Everquest accounts so that I could play on at least 2 computers at once with more than one character. I had about 10 characters that made it into the 60s in levels (tops at the time.) My first main was called Dalomir and was a male wood elf ranger. The city I described was the Wood Elf main city, and of course they live in trees. When Dalomir got to about level 15, a friend started playing with me and I changed to a female wood elf druid named Kolina. She remained my main character until I got into the 50s and into a guild that needed warriors. (poor Dal never made it to level 50 even.) At that point I switched to Berg Gerr.....a HUGE Ogre warrior who was one of the main tanks in our guild. It was fun role-playing an Ogre, but I always felt like I was really that female wood elf druid.

I was one of those crazy people who spent real live money on virtual items for my characters in the game once in awhile. People think you are nuts, but I was feeding a habit that I loved, and it was worth it to me. (and it took even more hours than I was willing to put in to get some of that stuff yourself....there are people who formed companys with several employees who worked full-time to get the items that people like me purchased on ebay with real money.)

I got to the 4th biggest guild on the server, and basically burned out. After 5 years, i finally gave it up. In the 3-4 years since, I tried a few similar games but mostly stayed away until this past year when I started playing World of Warcraft. That took the Everquest idea and made a ton of improvements, and far surpassed EQ in numbers of players. I've been playing it nearly a year (and again have a druid named Kolina and a warlock named Kolrama.) I again love playing, but I've not let myself get swallowed by it this time. I play an hour or two average a day, and although I'm in a guild, don't do many of the raids (which means I'll never get the best gear in the game.)

I hope that I continue playing MMORPG games until my cold dead hand can't click a mouse. They take the best of two of my favorite things to do (play games and live in a fantasy world) and meld them together in a fun, interesting way. They are definitely not for everyone. But for silly boys like me who intend never to grow up....they are perfect.