Chance Encounter with American Idol, David Cook

Olivia and I have been HUGE AI fans for the past 3 seasons - and HUGE HUGE David Cook fans this year. I had to share this story...

We were at the Indianapolis airport - very early - Sunday the 8th of June. Because of the severe flooding going on, both of our normal routes to the airport were closed. We had to take a LONG detour and we weren't even sure if this route was open. Information about road conditions was very sketchy at that point, but that's another story...

Anyway, we arrived at the airport way early, and I was trying to catch a cat nap at our gate while we waited for our plane when my husband said, "that's David Cook." I was like, "yeah, very funny, is the Easter Bunny here too?" Then he said, "No, really." I bolted straight up and fumbled for my glasses and SURE ENOUGH - I saw THE HAT - and it was HIM - being escorted by an airport person into a restaurant for breakfast. My heart started POUNDING. Olivia and I started jumping up and down. I was freaking out because literally if someone had asked me to pick which celebrity I would most like to meet it would have been David Cook!!! I know that might sound shallow, but it's the honest truth. Yes, I'm letting my inner teenager out! Totally seredipitous....and it just so happened that I had purchased a copy of the June 16 People Magazine when we got to the airport - the one with a nice photo spread and article about him - but little did I know I was going to have it autographed!!!

The waitress told the small group of fans gathering that DC would meet with us when he was finished (he was sitting at a secluded table out of our view). So we waited patiently and I gathered a SHARPIE and my camera and we went back down about 30 minutes later. The crowd of fans had grown, but was still not too large - thankfully our gate was at the end of a wing, so there weren't a lot of people around, and it was only about 6:30AM. I noticed a flight to LA was departing at 7:00 and knew that must be his (we were going to San Fran). So then, (I apologize if this is too long, I just don't want to leave anything out) he came out and said, "how's' it goin" to us and we all laughed. Then he proceeded to sign autographs and pose for photos with every single person who requested them. He was wearing his hat, as I mentioned, and a t-shirt with a really cool vest, and of course, the boots. Someone asked how Adam (his older brother who is undergoing treatment for a brain tumor) was doing, and he said great, and the had been in IN visiting family for a birthday celebration. The fangirl in me wanted to go up and hug him and have my photo taken with him,but I decided to restrain myself and take Olivia's photo with him instead. When it was our turn, a lady pushed in from the side, saying "would you pose with an older lady?" And here is a testament to DC's character: he said he sure would, but this young lady was next in line. And he motioned for Olivia. And I snapped the photo. Then I asked if he would autograph my People magazine and while he did, he joked about how his dad had been giving him a hard time about the article. Very humble about it. And finally, I congratulated him on his AI win. It was really great to be able to tell him that in person, because his performances were very inspiring to me. We were floating on Cloud 9 - I couldn't believe how fortunate we had been. What a thrill.

Then, part 2 of the story is....when we got to our hotel in San Fran, we realized we had lost our camera - the one with THE PHOTO. I was heartbroken. I started thinking that this was a sign that I was too old for this kind of nonsense and I should start acting my age. But I kept hoping and praying it would turn up. We got hotel security and the taxi company involved, and sure enough, three days later, the taxi company called and said they HAD MY CAMERA! I immediately checked, and yes, THE PHOTO was still on there!!!!

I hope you enjoyed this rather long account of the day my daughter and I met David Cook. And yes, we purchased our tickets for the Idol concert in Indy - before the finale was over! Have a great day, and keep the faith. Have a question in mind for David - or whomever your favorite celebrity is - you never know when you might get the chance to meet him or her!

Scarecrow

The show is over. For two full months, I was mother to The Scarecrow.

Olivia did a great job. She had over 80 lines to memorize! We spent many days at home practicing with the script in hand. We even recruited one of Olivia's closest friends to help out by reading Dorothy's part (She thought she was coming over for a playdate). It takes a village to learn a script!

I wanted to post this photo from her first scene, before Dorothy comes and releases her. (This photo makes me wonder if Scarecrow symbolized a Christ figure in the story??? Maybe I'm getting too deep here.)

After the show, we had lots of family join us at our house for dinner in our partially-finished kitchen. Everyone marveled at the new openness, space, and light. It was very reinforcing for all our efforts - and encouraged us to move forward.

Today, Trent is hoping to hang the pendant lights we picked out this week. I'll post a photo soon to show our progress.

"Electrical Over Peninsula"

We’re remodeling our kitchen.

I’m amazed at how my kitchen being in disarray affects my mood. I am off center, grouchy. I think my inner compass must be aligned with my kitchen.

The finished product seems very far off. I miss my husband; it’s hard for him to be a husband and a drywaller, painter, and contractor. He enjoys the work; he never complains; he just quietly and steadily gets it done. I find myself struggling with balancing the long term goal of a beautiful kitchen with the need to sacrifice the short term (instant) gratification I receive when I have his undivided attention. In other words, I miss him.

I don't know if I'm being helpful or controlling sometimes. I feel it’s necessary each weekend morning to write down a master list of items for him to do. For example, today’s list says 1. Hang cabinet on fridge wall, 2. Bust out wall, 3. Electrical over peninsula, 4. Trim opening – 2x4 framing, 5. Shop for lights, countertop, 6. Install lights, 7. Patch floor. My list could probably be thrown in the trash, but Trent never says a word. I miss him. When he’s occupied with the kitchen, he doesn’t pay attention to me. I feel disconnected like the wiring in our dining room.

Gifts and Fog

It's time to shake off the holiday fog.

I had a really, really good holiday break. The family get-togethers were spaced out more this year, so I had a chance to catch my breath in between each one. I had quality time with my husband and daughter, too, even though I can think of many more things I wish we had done. We did manage to play a game of "Horseopoly" that spanned over the course of two evenings at our card table in front of the fireplace. I won, mostly due to the acquisition of "Thoroughbred" and "Saddlebred," the Horseopoly equivalent of Boardwalk and Park Place, then gradually developed them with "stables," (the Horseopoly equivalent of hotels). Olivia, our horse lover, was just happy to have the opportunity to buy horses, playing out out in fantasy what she has been asking us for ever since she began riding lessons in August.

On New Year's Eve, we attended the local professional theatre production of Oliver! which was truly wonderful. What a gift to see such a high-caliber production in the local, intimate setting of the Buskirk-Chumley theatre. We waited until the day before to buy our tickets, so we were in the back row on the bottom level. At first I grumbled about the seats, but they were unobstructed, and because the performers were miked, we could hear just fine. I have to admit I was losing my patience with a boy in front of us whose family allowed to leave his seat several times. He had lights on his shoes that flashed every time he ran past us to the door, which he opened noisily as he ran back and forth between the lobby and his seat. He also was allowed to talk and whine during the performance. Out of my frustration, I shot a "shhhhhh" in their direction a couple of times, but it didn't seem to help much. Then, during the climax of the show, he surprisingly called out, "run, Oliver!" which revealed he must have been paying attention after all, at least enough to cheer for the hero. Somehow it was sweet, and several of us chuckled as we cheered for Oliver along with him. He redeemed himself (and his caregivers).

My family and I also received a gift from nature this holiday season. Toward the end of one of our family gatherings at a retreat center in southern Indiana, we decided to take a walk before the sun completely set. As we made our way down the road, we heard an owl call. Olivia quickly identified it - a barred owl, with its distinctive "WHO COOKS FOR YOU?" sound. We looked at one another in amazement. This was no small deal. You see, we have been trying to hear owls for well over a year now, ever since Olivia became fascinated with them in third grade. We've attended State Park and local Parks and Recreation naturalist programs. We've listened each time we visit my parents in Brown County, but to no avail. Until this time. The practicing Olivia had done on her owl calls paid off, because she was able to call back and the owl responded to her call. I marveled at this brief, amazing conversation between my daughter and an owl. 

So the gifts came, some in packages, some in loved ones' responses to gifts given, some in community, some in private. Some with a human touch, others with no effort made. No effort other than being in the right place at the right time. And now, it's time to transition back into my life routine, the routine that involves packing lunch each morning, getting to the bus stop in time, working, securing work projects, making space for writing, school events and meetings, and yearning for the next vacation. It takes a vacation to make me appreciate my routine, and it takes my routine to make me appreciate a vacation. Most likely a universal thing on this human plane.  Happy New Year everyone!

Off Duty

It's December 19th and I cannot put off posting for another day. (My apologies to my readers for the lapse.) I've been cranky as a result of trying to juggle my life responsibilities along with the added list of holiday preparations. The other day I was on my way somewhere and started fuming that the off-duty ambulance in front of me was driving too slowly. An unusual switch - usually I'm swerving to get out of the ambulance's way. Then the brakes lights and turn signal went on and I noticed they were turning into the fire station. Probably where they park the ambulance when it's not in use. 

After fuming more about slowing down MORE so they could turn, I experienced a split second opening of my cranky thoughts, a tiny slit that allowed a better thought to flow in, and I realized the importance of the work the ambulance drivers do. I was glad to see they were heading back to their bay rather than out on an emergency run.

I'm ready to head back to my bay for awhile. I need the rest and the break from my juggling of roles. I need some time to just be...

The Final Box

We moved into our current home two years ago. Yesterday I unceremoniously decided to unpack the last remaining box in our bedroom closet. I knew there was something in there that I must have been avoiding. That’s why it sat there for two and a half years. Laziness hadn’t kept it there. Avoidance had. I excavated through layers of Olivia’s old baby toys, her wooden bear puzzle with the interchangable facial expressions and outfits, her very first cloth book, her original “Po shoes,” the sandals with the Teletubbies characters she walked in during her second year. This box also held some my old belongings from high school that Mom gave me: my senior year concert band program, buttons I pinned on my competition jacket, rusted now around the edges. But that wasn’t the stuff that got to me.

It was the photographs. Of course there were photographs. I found the first ultrasound images of Olivia, made around ten weeks’ gestation, probably at the first appointment with my OB. She was just a little lump inside the gap which was my womb. But she was so much more. This must be what my other two babies looked like when I lost them around this same stage of gestation. The questions came up again: why did I lose them? What went wrong?

There were more photos of me and my family taken during those difficult three years, from miscarriage to miscarriage. I looked fine – my hair was nice – Jane in Columbus was my stylist then. I had a stylist because I worked full time and made good money, so I could afford a stylist. I was exercising twice a week. The classes were in a facility right down the hall from my office. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do: push aside my maternal instincts in order to work a corporate job. I did it to support my family and my husband through his career change. It forced me to work on those parts of myself that resisted doing what I hated doing.

Looking at these photos now, I deeply fear that this work-filled period of time consumed my last years of opportunity for having another baby. I wasn’t fully aware of it at the time. I was too busy loving the child I had. And working. For some damn reason the embryos just didn’t hold on. I will be forty two years old soon, and the option of a full term pregnancy becomes less likely with each passing day. This is a reality that is so, so hard for me to accept. I’m the kind of person that likes to keep all my options open. But it’s starting to look like I have to decide if it is time to give in to my body’s failings and call it quits on childbearing.

My friend Iva does spiritual readings. She sent me a message recently that tells me I am not a failure for not having another child, and asks me to release that falsity. She relays to me that after I have moved through this letting go, there will be a gift; a surprise.

I like surprises, but I think I’m going to need a lot of help with this. Time to tap my resources.

Dear God,

HELP!!!!!!

I’ll think of a more refined prayer tomorrow. Although I don’t think that’s a requirement, is it?

The Results are in

Drumroll ......... My daughter will be the Scarecrow.

Have you seen those cute clay jars with phrases on them like "Cruise Fund," or "Dreams," or "Shoulds & Oughts?" They've been around for awhile. Well, I need one right now that says "Things to Let Go Of." That's where I can neatly put any suspicions I have regarding the politics involved in how the roles were assigned. Then I can put the lid on the jar and place it neatly on the shelf next to my fireplace.

Elaine Mellencamp wrote a guest article for the Herald Times on September 9 about the politics involved in her boys' sports program. I could write a similar article about the politics I suspect are involved with children's performing arts. But I think I will stick to my little jar this time. My little jar and this blog forum.

That leaves me lots and lots of room to feel very happy, because the Scarecrow will be a very fun part for her. It suits her personality very well. She's goofy. I can totally see her pretending her legs are made out of straw. She's bright and loving. She wouldn't be happy running around in a gingham checked dress all day.

I am actually very excited that she continues to earn lead roles when tons of kids are auditioning. That's pretty cool. I'm a proud Mom. But I can't help wondering if there was anything more I could do to give her the best opportunity possible to win the role of Dorothy.

The larger question here is this: What is within my control? What I can do to ensure that my daughter's light isn't overlooked in this world (or at least in this community)? At what point does that responsibility shift from me to her? I'm forty-one years old, and it feels like I am just now starting to take responsibility for shining my own light. I think she'll get it before then. She probably already has it. And "it" overrides politics, doesn't it? It's too wonderful for the pettiness of politics.