Resonance

Los Angeles, California

I thought to call this post Sarah, Part Three, but I frankly couldn't remember if there was a Sarah or a Sarah, Part Two. And, resonance fits here, so that's what it is.

Cin and I went to see Sarah McLachlan last night. It is the second time we've seen her this year, and the third time I have seen her in the past year. This concert was at The Greek Theater which is such a lovely venue tucked into the hills of Griffith Park, LA's largest park and nothing whatsoever like Central Park in Manhattan. It's wild, mountainous, and topped by the famous Griffith Park Observatory featured in films like Rebel Without a Cause and La La Land.

We had amazing seats, fourth row of fixed seating, in the center, on the aisle. And we were just coming off of a heat wave so evening temps were comfortable without sweaters or jackets.

Before the concert started, we conversed a bit with the couple who were seated next to us. He asked me if I had seen Sarah before and I told him, rather sheepishly, that it was my third time seeing her this year. So you're a big fan, he stated. I told him why. There is not an emotion nor an issue that I have ever experienced in my life that isn't expressed in her music. I asked him if it was his first Sarah concert and he said it was. So what brings you here? He told me that he works with substance abuse patients and her music often resonates with what his patients are experiencing, especially Angel. I can see why. She speaks to wounded souls. He replied that there are a lot of wounded souls out there. We're all wounded souls, I said.

Turns out that he is a psychiatrist who runs substance abuse as well as related programs at UCLA. Since Cin is a psychotherapist, they connected and after the concert, he offered his card to her In case I can help in any way.

So the evening with Sarah's music was a lot about touch, connection, emotions of joy and remembrance. And just to recap, Cin and I have known each other since 1977 and have been through a lot together: Divorce; deaths; aging, and a separation when we put our friendship on hold that grew to fifteen years. So when Sarah sang I Will Remember You, the song that used to remind me of my dad but now is only about my late husband, Tom, and I wept again as I had in the other two concerts this year, she put her hand on my arm. By the time Sarah came back out to sing Gravity and Angel in her expected encore, we both cried through both songs and made a stack of our hands on top of each other's.

I was reminded of a concert I attended with my friend, Holly, in San Francisco. She lost her husband, Doug, the same year that Tom died. Neither of us were prepared for James Taylor singing Fire and Rain, with the lyric: But I always thought I'd see you again. We ended up in each other's arms, tears streaming, by the end of that plaintive song.

The thing about last night's glorious concert on such a lovely Los Angeles night, is that we both knew that we were willingly and wantingly walking into that experience. And yet, we also sang Ice Cream with the entire audience, and rocked to Building a Mystery. Her concerts span the spectrum of emotions and as I write this listening to a scramble of her music from my iTunes library, I feel the resonance of what her music means. What it means to me.

In the years before Tom died, I noticed that he was flat. We could be doing or experiencing the most joyous activity or event, and he was just emotionally flat, no matter what. I am someone who über-experiences my emotions. Dancing brings me joy, but occasionally it tips over into rapturous joy. I felt the same after seeing Candide at LA Opera, or after my one and only Rolling Stones concert in 1975 (Tour of the Americas, I still have the T-shirt) attended with my great love, David, who was (is?) the biggest Rolling Stones fan ever. One night after attending a screening of Ken Burns' newest documentary at the Museum of Motion Pictures in Hollywood, I was so elated at the surprise of Ken Burns showing up and speaking (and doing a Q + A afterwards!) that my friend, Karen, remarked to me the next day that she was surprised that I was so hyper after the event. I guess elation can come across as hyperness. For me, it is that unexpected joy that can possess you when you experience something truly special. It doesn't happen often. But, truthfully, I have always lived for those stellar moments.

And the thing is, that it seems to always happen when I see Sarah. Something about the music, especially about the lyrics, and her distinctive voice. I texted Cin this morning that we should see her every time she is touring. It can be our thing, I wrote. She texted back I love it!!! And maybe that's the biggest thing. That hearing and feeling the love on that stage and in that audience. You just knew that everyone was feeling it. And it is something we need so much in these terribly dark and corrupt times. So today, I am listening to her and it is bringing me the resonance of last night's concert of tears and joy. And I just cannot wait till she comes back to town again.

No Problem

Los Angeles, California

For the first, what, fifteen-plus years of blogwriting here, I ended each post thanking whoever was reading my posts. And people were and are reading it. I have the stats to prove it. But I've never been quite sure of who I was thanking. I haven't had a comment left in years, and that's ok. I was never much for interacting in that way. And, just between us, I'm not really sure that my gratitude was genuine. I mean, did I need to thank people for reading, when I truly wasn't writing it for anyone to read? Granted, it is different than my journal, where I do write the most intimate things. While I shudder at the thought of anyone reading what I write there, my blog is more or less public so I do acknowledge that there are readers. But in 2022, I stopped ending my posts with that grat note to them.

I hoped that leaving off that polite, grateful acknowledgment didn't mean that I had become part of the rude group. Gratitude is important. Manners are important. I will once again touch on the No problem response to Thank you. When I hear this, my brain still echos: I didn't ask you if there was a problem. I said "Thank you." Growing up, we were instructed in the niceties of Please and Thank you, as well as the responses of It was my pleasure and YOU'RE WELCOME (shout intended)! But life changes and change succeeds. Joel says that No problem in business means It's my job, you don't have to thank me. In other words, we shouldn't be grateful for someone who is just doing their job. But, I think we should. Granted a thank you is not a given. But I think that saying it's not a problem somewhat negates the expression of gratitude.

I'm rather certain we have all noticed that the attention of customer service has become very unfocused. A while back, I had two delivery services who actually did damage at my home. And I tipped the first one, discovering the damage after they left. That was on me. But they knew when they left that they had not fully assembled the item of furniture they had delivered, and that they had rammed the furniture into a freshly painted wall several times, leaving two 4x6" scraped, black marks on the wall.

On the next delivery, I advised a delivery truck that I had a large tree above my driveway and a tall truck would not be able to access the top of the driveway, so the product, an appliance, would need to be dollied the last few feet. Instead, they backed up the driveway, slamming into the tree and severing a very large branch. It sounded like they had hit the house! They did not receive a gratuity from me. In fact, they received a claim against the company they worked for. The owner actually called them stupid when I relayed what had occurred.

I suppose the worst offenders are the package delivery people. I can't tell you who is the worst. For a long time I thought it was Amazon, especially when they were utilizing gig economy (I like to call this gag economy) people driving their own cars or rental trucks. But, while I seldom utilize Amazon, the problems with deliveries continue. The USPS is not great with packages. They no longer ring doorbells, and packages delivered by them, as well as by the other delivery companies, are left wherever, even in downpouring rain. At the present time, UPS seems to be the most conscientious in my neighborhood, but this can change at any time as route drivers change. I suppose these are first world problems, but having grown up at a time when people took more pride in their work responsibilities, I find it quite frustrating. When my sister's boyfriend, Jim, was in the army and stationed in Vietnam during that scary time, our regular US postal carrier would sometimes find a letter from Jim's APO address when he returned to the post office after his rounds. He would make a special trip to deliver it to my sister on his way home. A big difference from what we now get from the postal service at twenty times what we were paying for postage back then.

I think expressing gratitude is a fundamental first step in courtesy and social discourse, and is important when dealing with anyone in the workforce. My late husband used to say that he wouldn't give panhandlers any handouts, but was happy to generously tip workers, especially the busboys, car wash workers and others who were clearly at minimum wage. While he was a generous tipper, he didn't approve of the abundance of 'tip cups.' He said that no one tipped him for doing his job. He wasn't happy that I was paying more to my hairstylist for an appointment, than to our doctor. But he strongly believed in rewarding people who worked hard for little money. So I continue that by tipping workers and delivery people. Just not when they take out a tree on my property.

Still, gratitude and gratuities aside, I did decide to forego the message of thankfulness at the bottom of each post. Actually I didn't really decide, I just stopped doing it. After all, I am providing something by writing. If that is appreciated, fine, but I don't expect to get thanked. But if you are feeling grateful and want to say thank you (or even send a tip my way - I'm joking!) for whatever my posts might provide for you, I will respond, just this one time: No problem.