There must be a bell here somewhere. I am sure of it! This is Cinque Terre, taken when my daughter and I were hiking last September. It was a beautiful and fabulous day! We hiked the trail for three towns and that was enough. I thought my legs might fall off.
My mother taught us the tongue twisters that she learned growing up. My favorite is “the mistle thrush whistles in the thistle bush”. There are mistle thrushes in Europe but not in the United States. It is also found in temperate Asia and North Africa, here.
A counting rhyme that we learned is this: “Intry mintry cutetry corn Apple seed and apple thorn Wire briar limber lock Three geese in a flock One flew east, one flew west one flew over the cuckoo’s nest Sit and sing, by the spring One, two, three Out goes he.”
Saturday my daughter was still here and we hiked the smaller loop at Palisade. It is about 3.5 miles. Coming down, the soundtrack in my brain was “She’ll be Coming Around the Mountain”. I did not sing it to my daughter. One person with an earworm is enough!
My brain definitely plays music. I’ve had 24 years in Rainshadow Chorale and hope for quite a few more. Sometimes in clinic, quite inappropriate music plays. Everything from children’s songs to Bach to Blues, Rock and Punk and various oddities.
Have you ever started talking to someone, only to find out that they throw amazing accusations and lies at you? I have had a patient say “You are FORCING me to use heroin.” It’s a bit disconcerting.
Imagine this in a debate. I can leave the room and end things in clinic. I can ignore family members that tell made up stories about me over and over. They want to believe what they want to believe. They don’t fact check. Aren’t you glad I don’t do that with people in clinic? Make stuff up? I don’t want a doctor who does that nor a president.
I don’t find it “presidential” to spend an hour and a half snarling lies, false blame and accusations. That is not leadership.
I am not voting for the biggest liar on the block.
Rocks! I have more pictures of rocks than you can shake a stick at! Double meaning here: those rocks are at my home and the rock is home to barnacles and all sorts of other creatures. The seagulls like it too.
If I lose my memory, at least, if it’s Alzheimer’s, it’s like a trip back through time. People seem to lose recent memory and then they are in past memories, which burn out like small fires. Like matches, taking the neuron with it.
I have joked that if I was in memory care, I would be singing. I know 9 verses of Clementine and I would sing and sing and sing, because my earliest happy memories are singing.
I know the silly add on verses.
“Now all ye boy scouts, learn a lesson
from this dreadful tale of mine
Artificial respiration
would have saved my Clementine.”
“How I missed her, how I missed her, how I missed my Clementine ‘Til I kissed her little sister And forgot my Clementine.”
“In my dreams she still doth haunt me
dressed in garments soaked in brine
In my life I would have kissed her
Now she’s dead, I draw the line.”
Here is Pete Seeger, banjo and all.
The words change. Second verse for me is “Light she was and like a feather”. His version is “like a fairy”. It’s lovely to see how the versions change over time. I did not learn the churchyard verse, and he does not sing the three verses that I add above.
Meanwhile, Steeleye Span did not do Clementine, at least not on Youtube. But this is my favorite moral song from their albums. Would you run as, well, you’ll have to listen to the ending to hear the three seven year penance punishments.
Anyhow, I learned to sing at the same time that I learned to talk. Singing was the happy and safe part. That is where I will go if my memory fails me.
The photograph is from my father’s 70th birthday, in 2008. He is the one with the guitar. Andy Makie is on harmonica and CF is in the back. I don’t know what song this was, not Clementine. My friend Maline took this photograph. She died in 2023. My father died in 2013 at age 75. He was not confused when he wore his oxygen. Without it, he sounded drunk.
I am practicing the soprano part of the Brahms Requiem to sing in early May.
The second movement is amazing. It is in 3/4 time, waltz time, but slowed to a dirge, a march, a crawl. And by adding movement on the last 16th note in a three beat sequence, so the 11/12 beat, it sounds threatening and frightening. It builds and builds and then quiets, only to build again. It is terrifying. What an amazing piece of music!
And the words, too. “For all flesh is as grass, and all the glory of man as the flower of grass. The grass withereth, and the flower thereof falleth away.”
At last it opens into a fugue and glory, but still with intensity. “But the word of the Lord endureth forever. And the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs and everlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, and sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” There is still the undertow of grief and confusion and fear.
The building is at Fort Worden and is certainly falling away.
Discover and re-discover Mexicoβs cuisine, culture and history through the recipes, backyard stories and other interesting findings of an expatriate in Canada
Engaging in some lyrical athletics whilst painting pictures with words and pounding the pavement. I run; blog; write poetry; chase after my kids & drink coffee.
Refugees welcome - FlΓΌchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflΓΌchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
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