Reset

In the late 1980s, my partner Michelle was mastering a choir in the Anglican church in which we'd been married.  To spend more time with her, and because I have a fair baritone voice, I joined the choir though I'd long since ceased believing in god.  We practiced twice a week and of course we sang during services.  I was 25 or 26 and Michelle was 28.

We got along very well with one choir member, Kathleen, who came from Aberdeen Scotland; she was 64.  We'd have her around for dinner every other month, talk about music and plans, and listen to her talk about things she'd done.  The music discussions were wide-ranging.  Kathleen had performed in numerous choirs in Great Britain and Canada, while Michelle had a degree in music composition and theory.  There were many stories and music ran through many of them.

I don't remember the context, it was so long ago, but somehow the name Annie Lennox got mentioned in relation to music, probably a reference to her singing voice or style.  Kathleen perked right up; she'd known a little girl in Scotland by that name.  She'd never heard of the Eurythmics, so I found my tape of music videos that I'd built up during the 1980s and we found a video we could show her.  I think it was Would I Lie to You.

Kathleen was gobsmacked.  It was the very same 8-9 year old girl she'd known; the one who played the violin so well; the one who was such a sweet child.  I'll never forget how Kathleen's voice cracked just a little bit as she remembered "Little Annie."

We so easily forget that every famous person in the world, every artist and politician, every journalist, every commander, leaves a train of people who still remember what that person was like as a little girl or boy, running around, getting their face dirty, slopping food on their shirt, falling down, being trouble.  It doesn't matter who it is ... once upon a time, that person is remembered for whom they used to be.  As children.  As teenagers who believed in themselves.  As young married couples with plans.  In exactly the way we no longer remember ourselves.

I'm sorry to walk the reader down this path.  I haven't written anything in quite a few days and I felt I should take up something.  I crashed and burned over the weekend, after all those committed statements about work.  It happens.  First it's work and then a sick day, then it's a crisis happening to a family member and the next thing, it's excuses and self-betrayals and six days go by.

Just now, having been thrown from the horse, I'm essaying to get back in the saddle again.  Pun.  Many years ago, I'd be furious at myself ... but really, it's just normal life.  Gotta dust myself off and get started again.  Much more to write.