Entries from May 2009 ↓

As I pay attention to what is going on, I fall in love with everything

Duty called today.  I drove to four different events, took pictures, hugged, talked, told stories, saw people I have not seen in a long, long time, saw people I see all the time.

Tim Wilkerson, who is in a band called “Last Resort,” sang to me song lyrics I wrote 24 years ago.  That’s almost half my life ago.  He didn’t even know me when I walked up and asked his name, but as soon as I told him who I was, he started singing to me from “Crafted With Pride,” and “Cotton Mill Mama.”  He sang lyrics I don’t even remember, which I hear is not that uncommon for people who write songs.  There is a great story of Groucho Marx and T.S. Eliot meeting for the first time.  They started quoting back and forth to each other, each from the other’s famous material, but neither recognized his own work.  When they finally figured out what was happening, they laughed and just began to have a conversation.  Life lesson: we are not our work, sometimes we are just doing whatever we’re doing at the moment.

Met Mike Marlow’s daughter, Taylor, a delightful 10-year-old with plenty of spirit and dancing eyes.  Hung out with my dad’s classmates from Mt. Vernon High School, Class of 1938. Again lots of spirit and dancing eyes.  Ruth Jones and Evelyn Feree are particular favorites, but all six of the gathered classmates were perfectly delightful.  The other four were Lillian Hedin, Max Edwards, Hubert Atchley and my dad, Allen Jobe.

Ended up at Tanner’s Grove, the United Methodist church where I worked for ten years from ’93 to ’03.  There the hugs and kisses were the best, and the food was the best and the smiles were the best, and my beloved friend, Elaine Clark, asked me if I were really, really good, not just saying I was good.   Elaine and I have now had this running conversation for 16 years.  We want to know, really know, how the other is doing.  But Elaine has forgotten.  It doesn’t matter how I may hate to watch my parents age, or grieve the loss of daily contact with Luke, or wish things were different in a half dozen ways.  What matters is the basic glory of being in the mix, living, breathing, eating, sleeping, dancing (which I also got to do todaywith my sweetheart, Gabriele) what matters is being.  If I am paying attention to what is really going on, I am in love with everything.  That is so wonderful.  Thank you.  I love you.  Good night.