I'm not a very good wife of a musician. I hate the mess that the instruments make. I've looked at that mess on and off for forty-seven years. I call my recreation room a wreck room. But, I also have known marriage is not a one-way street. It's not 'all my way or the highway'. The give and take is an important part of marriage.
In the early years when you start making a home together, it's not always easy since you're both use to things your way. The give and take was a battle at first. I will say, I was kind of spoiled and naive thinking marriage was a fairy tale where you set up housekeeping and all goes smoothly. It doesn't. We made messes and there was no mom there to clean them up. It was up to us to do housekeeping, pay the bills, provide food.
I learned over the years that I make messes too with my hobbies, and he has to look at my mess. Life is not always neat and tidy. Marriage is not always neat and tidy. It is a continuing growing process. If you love someone truly then the give and take isn't so bad once you get past the spoiled part of youth. It's not always an uphill battle, and you learn that giving is more rewarding than taking and always getting your own way.
The instruments that I look at now bring back all the memories of a man's life. The music he made as a young traveling musician. The music he made when he came off the road and formed his own band. The music he made when the children were old enough to pass the talent onto whether they choose to use it in life at all, and the music that his life has given us in all our married years together.
I learned that I hate the mess the instruments make when spread all over a room, but the sound when all played together is worth it.
Loving a musician can be an awesome adventure.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Summer was over and it was time. Some new clothes were bought, which I always had to share with my older sister since we were about the same size. It was kind of ‘one wardrobe for all’ in my family. Still though, it was exciting to think I would be going to the school with my sister who was two years ahead of me. It would be her last year of Jr. High and my first.
The school year started out great. The first day we had beautiful weather so that meant walking to school with friends and home again. Of course, beforehand, I didn’t know that everyone always stopped and had ice cream and cokes or food at the local after school hang out so I didn’t stop there the first day. I was excited to walk home with my sister and her boyfriend. I also met his friend that day who later became my boyfriend.
The school year progressed wonderfully; I met all kinds of new kids, but kept a lot of the kids I’d grown up with in the neighborhood. The year went all too fast. That summer though was the first time ever that I was allowed to have a birthday party. It would be my 13th birthday right at the end of my 7th grade year, and amazingly my step father had agreed with my mom and allowed me to invite friends and have an outdoor party just before the end of the school year.
I remember pop beads were in style and I’d so wanted some and one of the girlfriends gave me those, but one of the presents from that party that I would save and would become my most cherished would be from the boyfriend of my older sister. His name was Teddy, and he gave me a strand of beautiful blue beads. I loved them even more than the pop beads that I’d so been wanting. They were just unusual because usually beads are white but these were an awesome powder blue color.
The birthday party ended as well as the school year. I passed with flying colors to the eighth grade. The summer flew by and it was time again to return to Junior High. My older sister would be entering her first year of High School. She still had the same boyfriend named Teddy and was learning to drive now that she was sixteen.
Teddy, however, wasn’t doing as well and hadn’t passed the 9th grade and was held back. To this day, I’m not sure anyone knew all that troubled this wonderfully kind young man. He was kind of on the wild side, but was always so sweet. We weren’t very far into the school year when Teddy went to his sister’s house and committed suicide. His sister had no clue as to why nor did his family. Sadly, he hadn’t confided in anyone what was bothering him, not even to my sister.
So, the blue pearls that he gave me that 13th birthday, I still have and whenever I open my jewelry box and look at them, I remember the cute, sweet 16 year old Teddy that I hold in my heart to this day. But when I think of him, I also feel sad for the life he never experienced. And I still have to wonder why?
on May 17, 2011