Crawling Down the Coast

Who knew that it could take 3 hours to go 95 miles?

I crawled down the coast yesterday to La Jolla.

The "freeway" slammed shut in San Juan Capistrano and never opened back up.

I was 15 minutes late to my destination, and I am never late.

Oh well. Once there, the occasion was sun kissed and serene after the pounding rain of the night before. I wish I had been able to snap some pictures of the breathtaking scene. That desire, however, was thwarted by the tardiness of the photog.

On the way home, the same distance that had consumed 2 hours of my Saturday afternoon was covered in 20 minutes. That seems wrong somehow.

Note to self: next time allow 4 hours for the drive south.

Broadcasting Peace

It's a beautiful morning.

The sky is blue, the air is cooler, and the promise of fall is in the air.

It's a perfect morning to go outside and enjoy the peaceful sound of...hip hop being blasted from an SUV illegally parked in the alley behind our home?

I do not share a similar taste in music with my neighbor to the south. By that I mean I don't enjoy anything being blasted into my home at 100db no matter who the artist is.

I have a word for everyone who wishes to share in that manner: HEADPHONES

What is the knee-jerk reaction to an invasion of aural space? I confess, my strong desire is to blast the artist of my choice in the direction of the offending concert.

I was considering the effectiveness of that approach this morning when an entirely new idea burst into my consciousness:

What if we could broadcast peace?

What if we could aim total, blessed silence at the source of disruption?

What if that peace could utterly cancel out the racket?

I vote for that.

Meanwhile, I have the peaceful music of my choice quietly playing on my i-pod through my headphones.

And while I do that, I'll work on broadcasting peace.

I'll start with myself.

Peace be with you!

Good News, Bad News

Bob had some bad news when I got home from a long day of teaching this evening.

Bob's birthday is in a couple of weeks. I made reservations for lunch at the Blue Bayou Restaurant at Disneyland months ago. We were going to spend his birthday at The Park.

He was informed earlier today that his 4 night out of town job in Lancaster got pushed back a week to, you guessed it, his birthday.

Bummer!

We thought about it for about two seconds. Then I hopped on line to see if the hotel we stayed in for our anniversary had any rooms available for the Sunday and Monday night before his birthday.

We got a great AAA rate!

Now all I have to do is see if I can get reservations for lunch at the Blue Bayou on that Monday.

Even if I can't, we'll still be visiting the happiest place on earth.

That's good news!

UPDATE: Success! Our Blue Bayou reservations have been changed.

Vintage Disneyland at Daveland

I'm not exactly sure how I stumbled onto Daveland. Maybe it was through BlueSkyDisney.

Anyway, Daveland certainly resonates with me.

I grew up in Whittier, California. In fact I went to elementary school, junior high and high school with (gulp) John Lasseter (he was two years behind me).

Disneyland has a huge place in my childhood memories.

Mom and Dad frequently loaded the family up into the station wagon and set out down surface streets (in the days before the 605 freeway which is now 3 blocks from our house) to the Santa Ana Freeway. That meant one of two things; we were going to the beach (Pearl Street in Laguna) or we were going to DISNEYLAND.

I loved, loved, loved those trips

I loved the E ticket rides.

I loved the Flying Saucers even though I was too little to make them go anywhere.

I loved the Indians in Frontierland doing sand paintings.

I loved the mule ride and the Grand Canyon Mine Trains.

I loved the Carousel of Progress.

I loved the Rocket to the Moon (my mom had to carefully explain, that no, we had not really just gone to the moon, that at that time no one had actually been to the moon. I didn't believe her. I saw people going to the moon in the movies on T.V. all the time).

I loved the House of the Future.

I loved the People Mover.

I loved the Journey Through Inner Space.

I loved the 360 Theater.

Where is all that stuff now anyway???

That's why Dave's blog trips my trigger. On any given day I can take a stroll down memory lane.

This week he's starting a series Disneyland's Tencenniel in 1965.

That's just about the time those trips in the station wagon were in full swing.

If you need me, I'll be at Daveland...

Changing Season

Have you noticed?

The days are getting shorter. The sun is lower in the sky. The shadows are longer.

The season is changing.

I love the fall. I don't know why.

School starts in the fall. I hated going back to school. I hated school...except for band. I loved band.

Somehow, though, when the frost is on the pumpkin I feel the most alive.

I was thinking on this long and hard the other day, just before the season in my life changed.

I have been teaching one day a week at a university that will remain un-named for the last seven years. Even though the instrumental music department is small and I only had a few flute students, I continued making the trip down the freeway week after week. I love to teach and I cared about the students.

Things started going south last fall. The details are not important. It started to become clear, though, that the season was changing.

Sadly, this semester, try as I might, change teaching days though I might, a studio schedule could not be resolved. I regretfully notified the music office that I would be unable to continue teaching on campus.

30 seconds later another person had taken over the teaching position.

Hmmmmm...was that a set-up?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Does it matter?

No.

I feel better than I have in years. I am grieving the loss, but I am rejoicing in the freedom. I feel as if a huge weight has been lifted from me. I have one less day on the freeway. I have one more day to practice, clean house, work out, stop to smell the roses, go to Disneyland...

Seasons do change. It is right and good for them to change. Each season brings its own special purpose.

Meanwhile, I think I finally might have figured out why fall is my favorite season of all.

Fall is the time of harvest.

May your harvest be rich and pletiful this fall!

New Year

I wished myself Shana Tova as I started my new teaching year at APU on Wednesday, Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year.

Some would question my Jewishness.

I had an Orthodox conversion in 1984. I was assured that no one was to speak of my conversion from that time forward, that I was fully and completely Jewish. My rabbi often commented that I had a "Jewish Soul".

I was completely, utterly content worshipping Adonai Elohenu,
the L-rd our G-d.

Then I met a Rabbi who turned my world upside down.

I wasn't looking for Him. In fact I was doing my very best to avoid Him. He, however, was looking for me.

And "suddenly", I was one of them. Those Christians. Yes, I became a Christ follower. Believe me, that definitely wasn't in my plans.

Does that make me any less Jewish?

I don't feel less Jewish.

I do, however, feel Christian.

I guess I could say I'm a genuine Christian.

Why?

Because when I married my wonderful husband 2 years ago, I got a new last name:

Christian.

Banner at the Bowl

Six years ago I was still living in Seal Beach. I had no TV reception. I am grateful for that. I was spared the endless loop of horrific images re-played endlessly until viewers were numb.

It was years before I actually saw video of the events of September 11, 2001.

I was scheduled to play in a concert with The American Winds Concert Band at the Hollywood Bowl 11 days later. Interestingly the concert, programmed months earlier, was a tribute to patriotic music.

There was a real possibility that the concert would be canceled. In fact, I believe ours was the first concert at the Bowl following the attacks.

I remember sitting on the stage at the rehearsal on the morning of the concert, still feeling shell-shocked and dazed. The conductor called the first piece; The Star Spangled Banner.

I get choked up even now remembering how it felt to play our National Anthem that beautiful morning in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

The experience was even more intense that evening. Thousands of people emerged from their homes, possibly for the first time since the attack, to gather in a large venue for an evening of entertainment.

It was far beyond an evening of entertainment.

I wish you could all feel what I did that night, sitting on that stage playing The Star Spangled Banner, listening to thousands of voices raised in harmony and unity, singing the words loudly and clearly. It was electrifying.

What a privilege.