Okay, I've been tagged by Mando to reveal my top seven albums. I asked myself what seven I would absolutely have to replace if all my music were destroyed and this is what I came up with. Reading through it I can see why I no longer hit "all-play" on my I-Pod.
Top 7:
Billy Joel's Greatest Hits - Volume 1 -
Listen to Piano Man and see why I think he is the worlds greatest songwriter. The other songs are icing on a very delicious cake.
Simon & Garfunkel - Bridge Over Troubled Water - There's a reason everyone knows this album. Love Paul Simon's Graceland as well - but did not upgrade it from tape to CD, which tells me something.
Loreena McKennitt - The Mask and The Mirror - A poet and a siren. The best of her albums.
Eric Clapton - Unplugged - A sucker for Clapton, a sucker for acoustic blues - Clapton doing acoustic fills a need I didn't realize I have.
Eagles - Live. Oh come on, you know deep in your heart the Eagles are king.
Bonnie Raitt Collection. The blueswoman at her folksiest. Love the live stuff, love the older stuff. Adore Angel from Montgomery with John Prine.
Eddie from Ohio - This is Me. Had a hard time deciding between this one and Quick. Julie's emotion on Independence, Indiana decided it.
Mr. Ipsissimus' Top Seven.
Since Mando already tagged all the bloggers I know: I tagged Mr. I. and am posting it here:
So - Peter Gabriel
First album I bought as a CD. Fitting for the "new" medium.
Kind of Blue - Miles Davis
On many such lists, and rightly so. Simple, approachable, or as deep as you want.
Bargainville - Moxy Fruvous
Most of their best a capella hilarity, plus the Gulf War song which aught to seem dated but doesn't.
Moving Pictures - Rush
Perfect 80's rock songs. Especially to a teen-age band geek.
Escape - Journey
Perfect 80's pop songs. Neal Schon's solos are definitive.
Bring on the Night - Sting
Great jazz fused with great pop, better than either alone.
Cake - Brian Kelley
Unaccountably obscure and vastly under-appreciated.
As stated here are the rules of this venture:
THE RULES:
1. Post your list of the seven best albums, the seven bloggers you will tag, a copy of these rules, and a link back to this page.
2. Each person tagged will put a URL to their Blogger Album Project post along with a list of the seven best albums in the comment section HERE.
3. Feel free to post the “I Contributed to the Blogger Album Project” Award Graphic on your sidebar, along with a link back to this page.
4. Post a link back to the blogger who tagged you.
Shadow - even though you aren't a blogger - I'm tagging you!!! Post your seven here!
Monday, November 24, 2008
Friday, November 21, 2008
odd things
I'd almost forgotten - there was an odd incident at Grandma's calling hours. We'd been there a couple hours and were sitting in the back people watching. A youngish man came in alone - which caught my attention, since we knew all the relatives there, and most of Grandma's friends were in the ancient category. My sister and I watched as he attempted to go up the center aisle, which was blocked by conversing people. He went around the outside, stopped at the pictures we had set up, read the book, looked over the flowers and eventually made his way to the coffin. I felt kinda bad, that this guy was here alone and no one seemed to be greeting him. He turned away from the coffin, wiping his eyes and as he exited, I followed, intending to ask Dad (who was just outside the door to the room, in the hallway) if he knew him.
The man walked out into the hallway, hesitated a moment. He was suddenly greeted by a group of people who DID know him - people who were going to a different room, for "Daisy's" calling hours. He went with them into that room, and I didn't see him emerge.
I told Dad, and everyone he was talking to, what happened and we all got a good laugh. Dad said, "Poor guy, he went up to the casket and thought 'Dear god, they did a terrible job - it doesn't even LOOK like Daisy!' No wonder he was crying."
We considered going over to peer in Daisy's coffin to see if she looked anything like Grandma, but some people felt that it might be bad taste (spoilsports!).
The man walked out into the hallway, hesitated a moment. He was suddenly greeted by a group of people who DID know him - people who were going to a different room, for "Daisy's" calling hours. He went with them into that room, and I didn't see him emerge.
I told Dad, and everyone he was talking to, what happened and we all got a good laugh. Dad said, "Poor guy, he went up to the casket and thought 'Dear god, they did a terrible job - it doesn't even LOOK like Daisy!' No wonder he was crying."
We considered going over to peer in Daisy's coffin to see if she looked anything like Grandma, but some people felt that it might be bad taste (spoilsports!).
Saturday, November 15, 2008
dates
Doing a bit better now. Looking forward to Shadow coming into town and perhaps having a Polaris spree. I spent a day reflecting on the hurtful things Grandma did when we were growing up (she had her favorites and did not hesitate to let people know it. I was not a favorite). Which was good, because the next day I was able to reflect on all the lovely things and the good things and the beautiful things I loved about her. I'd rather it that way, which leaves me fondly thinking of her, than flipping the order and feeling angry.
Grandma had a very strong personality, but she did love us all, in her own way. But what a life she had! Surviving it must have taken a very strong personality - she was born way out in the hills of Pliny, West Virginia. My Great-Great-Great (and perhaps one more great on that) Grandfather was a surveyor with George Washington in what was then Virginia. As a result he was granted 1005 acres of good, tillable land in what is now West Virginia. My Great-Great Grandfather had three sons - one who went off to fight for the Confederates in the Civil war and never came back. He split the land between his remaining two sons. The one son invested in Confederate money and lost his land. My Great-Grandfather sold his land for money and a lesser property that he thought could be mined for shale. My Great-Grandfather's house burned down with all that money in it and the land wasn't mineable - was barely even tillable. He had 21 children from three wives - 18 of which survived childhood.
My Grandma was the last of the 18 children - born when Great-Grandfather was 67. She had a very poor childhood - and loved school because it was the only time she wasn't being worked hard (and could get away from her viciously nasty father). She and her sister had to row their boat across a river and walk two miles to get the the schoolhouse. Her mother died of a goiter when she was 14, at a time when her father was going blind and only she and her sister were left on the farm to take care of him and do the plowing and planting. When we cleaned out Grandma's room we found a tiny old box labeled "goiter remedy." Inside was a lock of hair and a scrap of brown fabric - obviously from Grandma's mother. She'd kept it all those years. We also found some surprisingly passionate love letters from Grandpa to her - surprising because Grandfather was almost as hard as her father had been. My Dad and Aunt were amazed and touched by the feeling in those letters - a different side of their father than they'd ever seen.
Do we ever really know our parents, until it's too late? My parents are celebrating their 45th anniversary today, and sometimes, seeing how terribly the communicate - I wonder how they ever got together. And stayed together. And somehow still seem to need each other even when I'm not certain they enjoy each other. Oh, well, relationships are mysterious things. Most of the time we don't get letters from the past showing that irresistible side. Most of the time we are left to wonder.
Grandma had a very strong personality, but she did love us all, in her own way. But what a life she had! Surviving it must have taken a very strong personality - she was born way out in the hills of Pliny, West Virginia. My Great-Great-Great (and perhaps one more great on that) Grandfather was a surveyor with George Washington in what was then Virginia. As a result he was granted 1005 acres of good, tillable land in what is now West Virginia. My Great-Great Grandfather had three sons - one who went off to fight for the Confederates in the Civil war and never came back. He split the land between his remaining two sons. The one son invested in Confederate money and lost his land. My Great-Grandfather sold his land for money and a lesser property that he thought could be mined for shale. My Great-Grandfather's house burned down with all that money in it and the land wasn't mineable - was barely even tillable. He had 21 children from three wives - 18 of which survived childhood.
My Grandma was the last of the 18 children - born when Great-Grandfather was 67. She had a very poor childhood - and loved school because it was the only time she wasn't being worked hard (and could get away from her viciously nasty father). She and her sister had to row their boat across a river and walk two miles to get the the schoolhouse. Her mother died of a goiter when she was 14, at a time when her father was going blind and only she and her sister were left on the farm to take care of him and do the plowing and planting. When we cleaned out Grandma's room we found a tiny old box labeled "goiter remedy." Inside was a lock of hair and a scrap of brown fabric - obviously from Grandma's mother. She'd kept it all those years. We also found some surprisingly passionate love letters from Grandpa to her - surprising because Grandfather was almost as hard as her father had been. My Dad and Aunt were amazed and touched by the feeling in those letters - a different side of their father than they'd ever seen.
Do we ever really know our parents, until it's too late? My parents are celebrating their 45th anniversary today, and sometimes, seeing how terribly the communicate - I wonder how they ever got together. And stayed together. And somehow still seem to need each other even when I'm not certain they enjoy each other. Oh, well, relationships are mysterious things. Most of the time we don't get letters from the past showing that irresistible side. Most of the time we are left to wonder.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Hard time
Boy, this death is hard. We have a pretty large extended family and she was the center around which we'd gather. Growing up, the best thing I could imagine was family reunions at Grandma Grant's house in Lakemore. All the cousins would gather and we would play volleyball and feast on the various potluck everyone brought. Christmas was crowded and noisy and fun as we all tried to catch up on each other's lives in just a couple short hours. I don't know that there will ever again be such a gathering of Grants without Grandma around to be the center, the cornerstone of the family.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Luella Grant, May 10, 1915 - November 4, 2008
This it the eulogy I wrote for Grandma - I read it at her funeral:
A group of us were at Copeland Oaks with Grandma, wandering around the pond, and a woman passing by told me "your Grandma is such a sweet little old lady."
My first thought was an incredulous "Really?!?"
I looked over at the scene the woman saw: Aunt Sharon bent over talking to Grandma who sat on her red scooter. It did seem very sweet, serene - unless you noticed the stubborn set to Grandma's chin, the way it was jutting out slightly. Aunt Sharon was telling her something she didn't agree with and wasn't about to do. Sweet little old lady my foot, I thought. Try offering her a rocking chair to sit in, go on, I'll stand back. The family tried that at her 80th birthday party. She was only moderately polite with her refusal. She was just as irritated about it at her 90th birthday party - mostly because this time with her heart problems she actually had to sit in it - she was more frustrated with her own weak body than with us for offering it.
My brother visited Grandma shortly after she got her red scooter. They went into the hall to go to dinner. "Look at this," she said. She opened the throttle and sped off down the hall. When Chris caught up with her at the elevator she laughed and said proudly "Gee-o, it really picks up speed doesn't it?" That's my Grandma.
And that was probably what Aunt Sharon was scolding her about that day. Earlier she'd almost run over a man in the hall who was going too slow for her. Her doctors' biggest complaint was they couldn't get her to slow down enough to heal. She wasn't about to have people waiting on her hand and foot when she felt she was perfectly capable of doing things herself.
Now, I picture sweet little old ladies sitting on their flowered settees waiting for someone to solve their problems. That wasn't Grandma at all. For Grandma, difficulties were challenges to be faced and you faced them with God at your side and your family at your back. And if family was the difficulty she didn't hesitate to let them know it. Grandma wasn't the type of Christian who said "God will provide," and sat back to wait for that to happen. She felt that God had already provided and if you were too lazy or blind to harvest what he'd given and make it work for you she didn't have much patience. She used her generosity, her love and kindness for the people who truly were in trouble, who truly needed a hand up, rather than those who just didn't appreciate what they had.
And gee-o was she stubborn. Grandma was a woman who knew what she wanted, and knew what needed done - and there was no changing her mind or turning her back. That stubbornness and tenacity got her through the hardships of her youth and losing her mother, through the joys and frustrations of being a wife and mother and especially through the trials of age as her body began to fail her and her mind stayed as sharp as ever. That tenacity helped her adjust to a new home in Copeland Oaks, that stubbornness got her walking again after a broken hip, kept her going through the many bouts of pneumonia that laid her low. Through sheer willpower and love she kept enjoying life even as her body became frailer, her world smaller.
But more than stubbornness, more than tenacity, Grandma had a certain quality that defined her, more than any other. She had that quality called grace. Through the years, through all her hardships she had a beauty and courageousness that she never lost, not even in the worst of times. These past few years her world became more and more constricted - but she never lost that grace. She kept her cheerfulness and optimism even in the most trying illnesses. Though she was hurting and weary and sick - she never turned that pain on her caretakers, she never became bitter or angry. Indeed, she accepted her failing health, in a way, with better grace than those of us who watched her decline. While we were looking for more ways to fix her, she was looking ahead, preparing herself for the next journey of her life with the same optimism she lived this one.
I learned a lot from Grandma, growing up. I learned to be stubborn in doing what's right, tenacious in following my dreams and gracious even in difficult situations, with difficult people. I watched her these past few years and learned more, that you can be dying but still be hopeful for the future; your body can wither and sicken, but you can still remain beautiful; and every stage of life should be greeted with hope and generosity and should end with grace.
A group of us were at Copeland Oaks with Grandma, wandering around the pond, and a woman passing by told me "your Grandma is such a sweet little old lady."
My first thought was an incredulous "Really?!?"
I looked over at the scene the woman saw: Aunt Sharon bent over talking to Grandma who sat on her red scooter. It did seem very sweet, serene - unless you noticed the stubborn set to Grandma's chin, the way it was jutting out slightly. Aunt Sharon was telling her something she didn't agree with and wasn't about to do. Sweet little old lady my foot, I thought. Try offering her a rocking chair to sit in, go on, I'll stand back. The family tried that at her 80th birthday party. She was only moderately polite with her refusal. She was just as irritated about it at her 90th birthday party - mostly because this time with her heart problems she actually had to sit in it - she was more frustrated with her own weak body than with us for offering it.
My brother visited Grandma shortly after she got her red scooter. They went into the hall to go to dinner. "Look at this," she said. She opened the throttle and sped off down the hall. When Chris caught up with her at the elevator she laughed and said proudly "Gee-o, it really picks up speed doesn't it?" That's my Grandma.
And that was probably what Aunt Sharon was scolding her about that day. Earlier she'd almost run over a man in the hall who was going too slow for her. Her doctors' biggest complaint was they couldn't get her to slow down enough to heal. She wasn't about to have people waiting on her hand and foot when she felt she was perfectly capable of doing things herself.
Now, I picture sweet little old ladies sitting on their flowered settees waiting for someone to solve their problems. That wasn't Grandma at all. For Grandma, difficulties were challenges to be faced and you faced them with God at your side and your family at your back. And if family was the difficulty she didn't hesitate to let them know it. Grandma wasn't the type of Christian who said "God will provide," and sat back to wait for that to happen. She felt that God had already provided and if you were too lazy or blind to harvest what he'd given and make it work for you she didn't have much patience. She used her generosity, her love and kindness for the people who truly were in trouble, who truly needed a hand up, rather than those who just didn't appreciate what they had.
And gee-o was she stubborn. Grandma was a woman who knew what she wanted, and knew what needed done - and there was no changing her mind or turning her back. That stubbornness and tenacity got her through the hardships of her youth and losing her mother, through the joys and frustrations of being a wife and mother and especially through the trials of age as her body began to fail her and her mind stayed as sharp as ever. That tenacity helped her adjust to a new home in Copeland Oaks, that stubbornness got her walking again after a broken hip, kept her going through the many bouts of pneumonia that laid her low. Through sheer willpower and love she kept enjoying life even as her body became frailer, her world smaller.
But more than stubbornness, more than tenacity, Grandma had a certain quality that defined her, more than any other. She had that quality called grace. Through the years, through all her hardships she had a beauty and courageousness that she never lost, not even in the worst of times. These past few years her world became more and more constricted - but she never lost that grace. She kept her cheerfulness and optimism even in the most trying illnesses. Though she was hurting and weary and sick - she never turned that pain on her caretakers, she never became bitter or angry. Indeed, she accepted her failing health, in a way, with better grace than those of us who watched her decline. While we were looking for more ways to fix her, she was looking ahead, preparing herself for the next journey of her life with the same optimism she lived this one.
I learned a lot from Grandma, growing up. I learned to be stubborn in doing what's right, tenacious in following my dreams and gracious even in difficult situations, with difficult people. I watched her these past few years and learned more, that you can be dying but still be hopeful for the future; your body can wither and sicken, but you can still remain beautiful; and every stage of life should be greeted with hope and generosity and should end with grace.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Monday, November 03, 2008
Going out of my mind
PLEASE LET OBAMA WIN!!!! AAAAARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH - I can't take the stress anymore. We can't survive another four years of Republican rule!!! Why can't people see that?!? They laid off 10% of my husband's department last week - we can't hand the presidency to McCain who spent until September with his head in the sand saying the "Economy is sound." The same day he ended up suspending his campaign to "help" fix the economy he'd said two hours before the economy was doing great.
AARRRGGGHHH - someone knock me out until Wednesday, please. Just let Obama win, c'mon, something has to go our way this time, he just has to win. . .(whimper) please. . .
AARRRGGGHHH - someone knock me out until Wednesday, please. Just let Obama win, c'mon, something has to go our way this time, he just has to win. . .(whimper) please. . .
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