Yesterday taught me that no matter how much I am learning to value the beauty of days with loved ones, I still have a long way to go to fully grasp the value of each day the way dad (Greg) has. I never realized a birthday could be such a major milestone. Yesterday, June 29, 2005, dad turned 56 years old.
Before I was headed out at 6AM for a brief appointment, I kissed my wife goodbye, then walked upstairs to check on dad expecting him to still be asleep. In fact, he was deep into a book from the library.
I looked at him and said "Happy Birthday dad". He looked at me, smiled and said, quite simply, "I made it".
You are my hero dad.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Monday, June 27, 2005
To Play for the Maestro
Another breakfast at Britta's, another visit or two with Greg at the home of his son James. The days go by, and even though each one is so precious, I still get them mixed up when I look back. Kind of like a kaleidoscope, shattered and changing, but colorful and so compelling to look through.
We have such fun when we go to that lovely cafe in Irvine; we've decided it takes the place of the European trip we didn't take together! But I've heard the tales of Coleman and Mark Westling careening through Spain, buying guitars, cherishing a glass of wine where flamencos whirl about the white-clothed tables, making their own requerdos of the real Alhambra.
Greg has been feeling well enough to play guitar a little bit. But back from Britta's he needed to rest, so I played the banjo for him. I brought my oldest banjo, a Fairbanks and Cole circa 1890's with 12 inch pot, skin head and nylon strings which I keep tuned very low. I played some classic banjo pieces for him by banjo composers Vess Ossman and Herbert J. Ellis, and had him help me with the timing on a piece I'm working on by Joseph Morley. Those tunes are very much a part of the Ragtime Era, and people played them in their parlors around the turn of the century. Then I just played some of the old Southern Mountain tunes in clawhammer style, slow and easy, as if I were sitting on my wide, shady porch in Appalachia. The sound of the banjo has been described as "that half-barbaric twang." I believe it is an elemental sound, as natural in the hills of Irvine as it is in Appalachia, or its original Africa. Greg said, only half in fun, that if he had his life to live over again, he would learn banjo at a younger age.
Another night, my husband Greg and I brought mandolin and guitar, and played some American tunes, both old and new, for Coleman. (Since both are named Greg, our quarter-century convention is to call them Coleman and Mirken when they are together.) He particularly loved the waltzes. He surprised us by saying that only we and Mark Westling play music for him. I can see how a mere mortal would be nervous to play for the master, but Mirken, Mark and I are certainly mere mortals. Coleman truly loves all music; if you are a student of his and think of playing for him, please know he is not listening for your errors! He is listening for the music of the spheres, for the language of the soul which no words can say. And if you think back through your lessons with Maestro Coleman, in between talking about which note to play on which string, how loud how fast, etc., what he was always teaching was to play the music. The heart and soul of the music. I will bring my banjo again.
We have such fun when we go to that lovely cafe in Irvine; we've decided it takes the place of the European trip we didn't take together! But I've heard the tales of Coleman and Mark Westling careening through Spain, buying guitars, cherishing a glass of wine where flamencos whirl about the white-clothed tables, making their own requerdos of the real Alhambra.
Greg has been feeling well enough to play guitar a little bit. But back from Britta's he needed to rest, so I played the banjo for him. I brought my oldest banjo, a Fairbanks and Cole circa 1890's with 12 inch pot, skin head and nylon strings which I keep tuned very low. I played some classic banjo pieces for him by banjo composers Vess Ossman and Herbert J. Ellis, and had him help me with the timing on a piece I'm working on by Joseph Morley. Those tunes are very much a part of the Ragtime Era, and people played them in their parlors around the turn of the century. Then I just played some of the old Southern Mountain tunes in clawhammer style, slow and easy, as if I were sitting on my wide, shady porch in Appalachia. The sound of the banjo has been described as "that half-barbaric twang." I believe it is an elemental sound, as natural in the hills of Irvine as it is in Appalachia, or its original Africa. Greg said, only half in fun, that if he had his life to live over again, he would learn banjo at a younger age.
Another night, my husband Greg and I brought mandolin and guitar, and played some American tunes, both old and new, for Coleman. (Since both are named Greg, our quarter-century convention is to call them Coleman and Mirken when they are together.) He particularly loved the waltzes. He surprised us by saying that only we and Mark Westling play music for him. I can see how a mere mortal would be nervous to play for the master, but Mirken, Mark and I are certainly mere mortals. Coleman truly loves all music; if you are a student of his and think of playing for him, please know he is not listening for your errors! He is listening for the music of the spheres, for the language of the soul which no words can say. And if you think back through your lessons with Maestro Coleman, in between talking about which note to play on which string, how loud how fast, etc., what he was always teaching was to play the music. The heart and soul of the music. I will bring my banjo again.
Thursday, June 23, 2005
Venti mocha frap, add shot, no whip.
If you're one of those anti-big-corporation pundits out there who are philisophically opposed to a coffee company that has thousands of locations worldwide thanks to a repeatable model, too bad. I like Starbucks. And one drink in particular plays a big part in making each of dad's days better.
One of the problems that cancer patients fight is the side effects of the drugs that fight the cancer. And so the docs prescribe medicines to counter those side effects. But those have side effects too, and so the docs prescribe meds for that. Guess what? More side effects- and on and on. The massive volumes of medications for pain and nauseau that dad takes have one major side effect- exhaustion and fatigue, unlike anything I've ever seen. And anyone who knows dad- a man who climbed the Matterhorn and scaled El Capitan, just for starters- knows he's a pretty high-energy guy.
So about several weeks ago when I was at Starbucks, I thought, hey, coffee drinks have this wonderful tendency to make you perky and keep you awake. I ordered a Starbucks Mocha Frappucino for dad- he liked it. It didn't have the effect I was searching for, so I did the natural thing.. I asked for two "add shots" (espresso) blended in to the next one. ET VOILA. Dad was back to reading books on French history, walking a mile or two, and actually able to enjoy giving the occaisional guitar lesson.
And so we do 1-2 of these a day. And what's better? We can get the same drink, made the same way, at any Starbucks. The caffeine inside this magic elixir gives dad more hours in the day. And if there's one thing I've learned from my dad in the last few years, every hour of every day is precious. So my thanks go out to Mr. Schultz & Starbucks for making this little bit of happiness possible. Don't run out of coffee. I'll be back in later today ;)
P.S. I told the docs at USC Norris about the add-shot mocha fraps. They said, "wow, cool" (yeah, literally) and suggested I keep it as part of the pain management protocol.
One of the problems that cancer patients fight is the side effects of the drugs that fight the cancer. And so the docs prescribe medicines to counter those side effects. But those have side effects too, and so the docs prescribe meds for that. Guess what? More side effects- and on and on. The massive volumes of medications for pain and nauseau that dad takes have one major side effect- exhaustion and fatigue, unlike anything I've ever seen. And anyone who knows dad- a man who climbed the Matterhorn and scaled El Capitan, just for starters- knows he's a pretty high-energy guy.
So about several weeks ago when I was at Starbucks, I thought, hey, coffee drinks have this wonderful tendency to make you perky and keep you awake. I ordered a Starbucks Mocha Frappucino for dad- he liked it. It didn't have the effect I was searching for, so I did the natural thing.. I asked for two "add shots" (espresso) blended in to the next one. ET VOILA. Dad was back to reading books on French history, walking a mile or two, and actually able to enjoy giving the occaisional guitar lesson.
And so we do 1-2 of these a day. And what's better? We can get the same drink, made the same way, at any Starbucks. The caffeine inside this magic elixir gives dad more hours in the day. And if there's one thing I've learned from my dad in the last few years, every hour of every day is precious. So my thanks go out to Mr. Schultz & Starbucks for making this little bit of happiness possible. Don't run out of coffee. I'll be back in later today ;)
P.S. I told the docs at USC Norris about the add-shot mocha fraps. They said, "wow, cool" (yeah, literally) and suggested I keep it as part of the pain management protocol.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
A grand day out
A leisurely Sunday brunch at Britta's in Irvine has for dad (Greg) become a very much looked-forward to event. Today's outing was no different, with the exception of beautiful blue skies and warm, gentle breezes that seemed to have pushed the June gloom away.
And yeah, today is Father's day, thanks to an official presidential proclamation by former President Johnson in '66 (yay Google). The calendar reminds most people that it's that one day a year to remind their dad that they appreciate him. But for me, this normal day with a special title and purpose was a great reminder of how lucky I am to spend time with my dad- not just on father's day, but every day.
Happy Father's day dad. I'm looking just as forward to another beautiful day together tomorrow.
And yeah, today is Father's day, thanks to an official presidential proclamation by former President Johnson in '66 (yay Google). The calendar reminds most people that it's that one day a year to remind their dad that they appreciate him. But for me, this normal day with a special title and purpose was a great reminder of how lucky I am to spend time with my dad- not just on father's day, but every day.
Happy Father's day dad. I'm looking just as forward to another beautiful day together tomorrow.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Coleman Coins The Next New Food Fad
By what do we measure our days? Small things can give such pleasure, and I'd like to share with you the great time Greg and I had this morning. We started at his favorite breakfast place, Britta's Cafe in Irvine. Considering the sophisticated and unbelievably expensive medications Greg's been taking to fight cancer for the last few years, it's amazing how much benefit he derives from plain ol' caffeine. Well, not exactly plain. For most of the meal he was putting cream in his coffee, but later picked up my pot of maple syrup (Britta's has great French toast!) and poured it into his coffee. I thought it was a chemo-brain error, or even just a Coleman-ism and called him on it. No, he laughed, he LIKES maple syrup in his coffee. Will this be the next big food fad?
Britta's is the kind of cafe you can't confuse with a corporate coffe shop. We sat for two extra cups, talkng companionably at our cozy indoor table, watching others doing the same at garden tables, despite the drizzle. Our exit from Britta's was much snappier than our entrance, and the coffee gave us energy for several errands. Finally, at the library, not only does the professor check out The Three Musketeers for entertainment, but also French history books to read concurrently, for enlightenment and education. Perhaps it was the French charm of our bistro breakfast . . .
Tomorrow we'll visit the Mission San Juan Capistrano, then enjoy more stimulating beverages across the street at the Diedrich's coffee. (I wonder if they've gotten the memo that maple syrup is the new hot trend for coffee sweetening?) Greg's most recent recording, Isla California, was recorded in the Serra Chapel at the Mission, and it is a very important place to him. Part of the Serra Chapel is a smaller chapel-let (you French speakers probably know a perfect word for that) dedicated to St. Peregrine, the patron saint of cancer patients. After the candle-heated air of the Peregrine chapel, the mission gardens are truly paradise, especially at this time of year.
Greg has been teaching a few lessons each week, so we always talk about teaching music, a subject that takes us far from daily problems. You students who have been wondering if Greg is still teaching, now is a good time to book a lesson with the Maestro. Send him an email, get on the schedule. (Send him a gift certificate for Britta's or Starbuck's if you want him to be more awake and caffeinated!)
Britta's is the kind of cafe you can't confuse with a corporate coffe shop. We sat for two extra cups, talkng companionably at our cozy indoor table, watching others doing the same at garden tables, despite the drizzle. Our exit from Britta's was much snappier than our entrance, and the coffee gave us energy for several errands. Finally, at the library, not only does the professor check out The Three Musketeers for entertainment, but also French history books to read concurrently, for enlightenment and education. Perhaps it was the French charm of our bistro breakfast . . .
Tomorrow we'll visit the Mission San Juan Capistrano, then enjoy more stimulating beverages across the street at the Diedrich's coffee. (I wonder if they've gotten the memo that maple syrup is the new hot trend for coffee sweetening?) Greg's most recent recording, Isla California, was recorded in the Serra Chapel at the Mission, and it is a very important place to him. Part of the Serra Chapel is a smaller chapel-let (you French speakers probably know a perfect word for that) dedicated to St. Peregrine, the patron saint of cancer patients. After the candle-heated air of the Peregrine chapel, the mission gardens are truly paradise, especially at this time of year.
Greg has been teaching a few lessons each week, so we always talk about teaching music, a subject that takes us far from daily problems. You students who have been wondering if Greg is still teaching, now is a good time to book a lesson with the Maestro. Send him an email, get on the schedule. (Send him a gift certificate for Britta's or Starbuck's if you want him to be more awake and caffeinated!
Tuesday, June 14, 2005
An update from Greg's son James
I've been getting email from friends and students of dad (Greg), and so I decided to post a quick message here to give everyone an update. Dad's taking a combination of two medicines that together act like a kind of chemotherapy. The combination of medicines and dad's continuous fight against the cancer make for some pretty tough days. But it's great to see him gather up enough strength to talk with friends and teach when he can. Feel free to leave comments, questions, ideas, love or any other positive note by clicking on "comments" following this or any other post.
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