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Posts Tagged ‘Guster’

Andy called me this morning to remind me about Jonah’s glaucoma appointment with Dr. S.  

I’d totally forgotten about it so it’s a good thing he did call.  E and J brought Jonah up and I met them all at the office.  We always wait in the hallway because the waiting room is full of mostly 60-90 year olds, and Jonah could take every one of them down if we didn’t stop him.  Bruce Banner turned into the Hulk; Jonah turns into the Tasmanian Devil.

Wikipedia describes Taz as a dim-witted omnivore with a notoriously short temper and little patience. He will eat anything and everything, with an appetite that seems to know no bounds. He is best known for his speech consisting mostly of grunts, growls and rasps, and his ability to spin and bite through just about anything.

Yeah, that sounds a little like Boo.

He was all ramped up today when I first got there, and I’d already stashed my new glasses in the car, so I was literally going in blind.  Luckily he was lovey, and though he answered “no” when I asked if he wanted to sing a song, eventually he capitulated and took turns singing lines of Fa Fa and Keep it Together with me.

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He wanted to touch and knock at the pictures hanging on the wall.  Quiet hands, Jonah, we told him.

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He sat patiently, for the most part.  Then he’d get up, walk in a circle, and sit down again,

J is holding both of Jonah’s hands and rocking back and forth with him, telling Jonah silliness that Jonah loves to repeat…we had to wait for a little while and Jonah was getting impatient.

When the nurse tested his vision, he held up the little black plastic thingee that covers one eye and read what he could.  He’s fine when he can use his right eye, but his left seems much harder for him.  He gets frustrated and tries to cheat.  When redirected he becomes angry, maybe throwing the plastic thingee or hitting the nearest person.  But today he just gave a half-hearted swat into the air and allowed the doc to examine him.

“Okay, buddy, sit on your knees,” says the doctor.  Jonah just sits there.  J and E try to help explain it to Jonah, who then rises until he’s standing on the chair.  Finally J and E have to help Jonah into a kneeling sit so Jonah can scootch himself up and into the eye machine, miraculously cooperative of bright pins of light, strange machinery, a doctor telling you to look this-way-then-that-way, eye drops, and a gadget that touches your eyeball and take its pressure.

Amazing.

M & I took tomorrow off work to travel downstate and see another Guster show; we’re staying overnight, then M will drop me off at Andy’s on the way back.  After our visit with Boo I’ll hitch a ride back to Albany with my mom.

Sounds like a sweet plan.  I think the amount of times I’ve seen the Grateful Dead and the amount of times I’ve seen Guster must be about the same now.  Something like 18 each, maybe.  I wonder if I’m the only person who was first a Deadhead and then a Gusterrhoid.

The thing is, every show is different – every show a re-energizing.  I’m excited to see them.  And Boo.

(He’s kind of re-energizing too).

O

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“You are always saying something
You swear you’d never say again…”

~ Fa Fa by Guster

Awareness is everything.  I too often play the ostrich, burying my head in the sand.  Not a good plan if you intend to see, or move, or live.  I have turned a corner, maybe, pushed gently but firmly into the light by my amazing friend R.  In part, he wrote to me:

You know damned well it’s the Key to the Garden 
To say, “yes”
To be silent to it, 
And by ‘it’ I mean everything. 
To witness preconceived…
To be the recipient of true mercy,
 
To repent to the beautiful,
 
To witness your own suffering from God’s embrace, 
Rather than punishing that very suffering, 
Locking it in the closet like some kind of monster.
And:
So too do we tend the garden of ourselves, 
We become the fountain
from which beauty becomes.
Open your mouth and pour forth.
The graying thorns push forth new roses.
So seemingly impossible it seems 
To disentangle from their clutch,
Without losing of the flesh, 
When it is merely a step backward,
A patient disentangling,
 
But Jesus H Christ it hurts.
And:
I could write inspiring and encouraging words, a pep talk Chicken Soup For The Soul, 
but I already fell into that trap.
 
I don’t have a fucking clue what it feels like to be you. 
 
Not a clue.
 
What the fuck do you know, R? 
You don’t know shit. 
That is so, that IS so.
 
I DO know that walking towards life is at once the brave path, 
And yet the only one that brings relief.
 
I do know that fucking much.
That much I do know. 

And so I answered “yes,” and something inside me woke up, and I am walking toward life, toward embracing life – all of it, even the suffering and pain – the helplessness and disorder.  At Four Winds they call it “radical acceptance.”
Because one of the things I never say here is how close I have been at any given moment to turning away from life completely.  How my bones feel like bars of a cage… how often I want to crawl out of my skin… how I feel utterly uncomfortable inside my body.  How close I come to running away in a literal sense – to driving until the gas is on empty and then curling up in a ball in a forest somewhere.

Yes, I know how ridiculous I sound.

I can change all of these things.  What you focus on expands.
It shall be an amazing, healthy, happy 2013.

And as if to drive this all home, Jonah was wonderful yesterday.  My mom and I risked the snow we knew was coming and drove down to Rhinebeck, luckily before any weather had started at all.
Jonah wanted grandma in the backseat and he proceeded to steal her gloves and wear them quite happily (which is funny because he won’t wear his own. Maybe we’ll get him a similar pair as these, which he loved and laughed about having “stolen” from grandma):
The satisfaction of a heist well executied:  pulling them on...

The satisfaction of a heist well executed: pulling them on..

Looking over to see her reaction...

Then glancing over to see grandma’s reaction…

I love how he looks like a little guru here, or as if in prayer...

I love how he looks like a little guru here, or as if in prayer…

Jonah sang and laughed and ate tune-fish-sandwich and chips and cranbewwy soda.  He took his bath and we went for car ride to transfer station (where you recycle).

My mother and I breathed a collective sigh of relief when we started home in the snow…we thanked God, almost in tears, for another good day, for a happy boy.

And later, having arrived safely home, I took a few pictures of the beautiful snow falling on my house and lawn.  I put Knockout Ned out there for the ScareMeNot Facebook page, so you’ll see him hanging from our lamp post:

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“And what you wished for could come true;
You aren’t surprised, love, are you?”

~What you Wish For, Guster 

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Usually I know how to calm him at first, to get him used to being with me.   Singing softly.  Today I try Guster and The Beatles but he gives me a no to both of those.  I’ve Been Working on the Railroad it is.  We take turns with the lyrics, me singing a line or two, then pointing to him, he picking up tune & rhythm without breaking tempo.

It’s a complicated song as children’s sings go, but he prefers complicated songs with distinct bridges into all-new musical directions, and back again.  Keep it Together by Guster, for example.  I should turn him on to Bohemian Rhapsody or A Day in the Life.

He asks me for hug and so I slide over to him, and he wants kisses on his head, and I wrap my arms around him gladly, taking advantage of this somewhat rare physical closeness I get with my son.  More kisses? he pleads, giggling.  I kiss him all over the top of his sweet little head and then lean back to face him for a kiss on the lips.

SLAP his hand flashes out and catches my upper cheek and eye.  SMACK comes the other hand, fingers now curled to grab and pull at me, though my glasses are off and I’ve tucked my hair under a hood, so contact is minimal.

I caught his wrists after that, and we got him to the apartment okay.

I forgot my camera; this picture is from another week.

When I got home, I did laundry and dishes and raked my whole front lawn, stripping off layers of sweaters and zip-up fleeces until I was wearing just a t-shirt.  I moved in hard sweeping lifts, leaves clinging to the rake, my clothes, my gloves.  The sun and the cool and the wind-less day made for ideal raking conditions.  I felt strong: alive and focused.  I shoved the leaves down inside the bags with one leg, my foot stomping hard, compacting – my nose filled with the almost-decayed smell of fallen leaves.

I’m just a hair shy of the kind of OCD that would have me picking up stray leaves one by one from the lawn.

It felt so good to work fast and hard, to know what to do to complete a task, to literally bag it all up, and to have a different result than when I started.  Anything I can do that brings with it a logical beginning, middle, and end is good.  These blog entries are vital.  Making a difference somewhere, somehow, any way I can.  Even if it’s just clearing a scattered gathering of autumn leaves.  The leaves aren’t going to pretend to go willingly into the bag and then suddenly stage a coup and escape, attacking me with their sharp pointy stems and edges.

Work is important. Tasks are vital.

Otherwise I would go mad.  Mad madder maddest. 

Keep it together;
Can we keep it together?
We’re singing a new song now…
and everything starts today.”

~ Guster

My friend D send me a coloring book in the mail, and I’m about to go have brunch with two other wonderful friends, after which I will take a walk in the sunshine to the park. Maybe make some nature art with what’s left of the colorful leaves.  Or break out the crayons and play in my new coloring book.  Play UNO with M’s kids.  Play with my dog, pet my cat, send out some cards, maybe a package.  Perhaps I’ll even call someone I haven’t talked to in a while.

Just to pass the time away.

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Those of you who can find the thread in the midst of all my tangents and ramblings may be wondering what is happening with Jonah’s eyes.

Two or three blog posts ago (the eyes have it) I said:

“What’s keeping me from freaking out entirely is that God has gifted me with doctor number three, brilliant and kind, who lets me cling to him…all during breakdowns, emergencies, and these kinds of what-the-hell-do-we-do-now decisions.   He’s going to help us get to the bottom of all this.  He’s my ace in the hole.”

Luckily, before I needed to ‘play my ace,’ the doctors decided to talk to one another.  For now we’ve all come to the conclusion that the Reticert implant is best left in place for now, even though the thing is nearing the end of its efficacy anyway. 

Plus now there is all this concern about the “activity” in his right eye.  The new drops have mitigated it so far, we’re told.

Next we’ll go back to the pediatric rheumatology doc and find out about another drug she may want to try.  I like her; she’s cool, knowledgeable, and kind with Jonah.

Still, I feel like we’ll never get to the bottom of so many things.  But maybe that’s all right.  It has to be all right.  I don’t have any choice but to learn what I can comprehend and weigh options with Jonah’s dad and all the endless scads of doctors. 

It’s like looking at my boy through the water, all refracted by light and liquid.

Boo likes to be underwater

Jonah likes deep pools best where he can swim to the bottom and ‘merboy’-himself along as if finned. 

At the bottom of all this is Boo.  It’s always been Boo.  Like Mitch Albom, Jonah tells his mama:  We’re not a wave.  We’re part of the ocean. 

But whales live in the ocean, Boo.  Ones that swallow Jonahs who’ve been insubordinate. 

“…(and) you can’t hide; standing under these stars
They know everything… they know where you are.
You’re in your head, you’re all turned around with it
And they’re shining down their light to bring you back again

~ Careful by Guster

So soon we will know more, about both Boo’s eyes, and maybe try harder to get him to wear sunglasses for his light-sensitivity.  And I keep files and notes during doc-conversations so I don’t forget details.  If I cannot parent him I can advocate for him.  And others like him. 

I miss him so much tonight, though.  Usually I don’t let myself think about it, about him not being with me.  But sometimes because of a scent or a sound, all at once I have a punched-in-the-gut feeling, and I miss him like the day we dropped him off.  My God, it’s been almost a year. 

He has made a lot of progress.  He is toilet trained nearly completely and his language and social skills are coming along.  You can ask him a question now and usually he’ll answer it. 

“How is your sandwich, Jonah?”

“Good.”

It used to be more like:

“How is your sandwich, Jonah?”

“How is your sandwich, Jonah?”

And still he parrots, but he can make his needs met and now he will initiate conversation.  He says hello to teachers and the nurses, and his caregivers too.  Now he is so much better at communication.

shoes on please?

He’s independent, too.  His life has routine, and ritual, and he’s surrounded by people who know how to teach kids like him.  I don’t know what I’m on about.

Off I go to breathe and eat.

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“We must be willing to get rid of the life we’ve planned,
so as to have the life that is waiting for us.
The old skin has to be shed before the new one can come.”

~ Joseph Campbell

Me & Boo

Window

by Guster

A gaping wound tells the story of it all
A man lost only to find
What was left of his mind
With no hope of a scar at all
You say, “Go slow”
But something’s right behind me
I can run away for only so long
It will not stop
I will come down
Oh no
Let me find my way
I’ll take you to the edge
Go across that window
And I’ll carry you there
Oh when nothing goes right
Oh when days don’t come tonight
Oh when all I see is the error of my own enemy
A man alone and cut and torn for it
His whole life friend after friend
They’re all a flash in the pan
With no hope of rejoice at all
Let me find my way
(Don’t be scared of what you might be thinking)
I’ll take you to the edge
Go across that window
And I’ll carry you….

I love how you can see his reflection in the car window here

What a beautiful weekend this is.  What a happy boy was Boo yesterday.  He is the dawn after my darkest.   Jonah is such a joy…clever and curious…a mischievous boy with a sometimes silly, sometimes subtle, sense of humor.

And this time when we visited the river/train he really wanted to dip his feet in the water.    (The whole thing was my fault because I took off my sandals and dipped my feet in, and then he wanted to also, so we both did).

We splashed around together and giggled and got pretty wet – the kind of wet you don”t worry that much about because it’s sunny and warm enough to dry you pretty quickly.

Jonah, splashing around with Knockout Ned

Captain Jonah surveying the land

for Boo there’s nothing better than water

A patriotic Jonah sports a shirt from “Pa”

Jonah, watching them take a boat out of the water near the dock where he usually sits

After my mom and I left, Jonah stayed with his dad and they likely played some more, hit some of Jonah’s favorite hot-spots.   Again today Andy went to pick up Boo, bring him back to his apartment, give him lunch, a bath,  and spend time with him.

Maybe he will be able to take him overnight some day.  It is enough to have small steps.  It is enough.  Seeds, sprouting slowly, but sprouting nonetheless.

Jonah meditates under his daddy’s careful watch

Today I gardened and gardened and gardened.  I found all the little pots I could and filled them with soil and impatiens, and I dug in the earth and planted some.  Things are about as pretty as they’ve ever been in both my front and back yards.  I weeded as much as I could, and M mowed the front and back, and then we were hot and tired, so we came in and I decided to sit in front of my fan and blog.

My lovely flowers…the key to flowers is perennials, I think.  More perennials.  I am so not a gardener, but when I garden I feel joy.  I don’t use gloves…I need to feel the soil and let the earth move through my fingers.  (You get very, very under-the-fingernails dirty and usually a whole lot of scratches this way, but still it is the only way I can do it).

I’m going outside to take pictures of the friendly flowers and prickly plants and prickly flowers and friendly plants I played with today.

somehow the focus is on that bud off to the right…

I think Emily was correct:

“Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without words, and never stops at all.” ~ Emily Dickinson

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front & center

There is a lot to say but this is our annual convention weekend at work and I’ve been too busy.  I’ll come back soon enough to blather on, not to worry.

…but I gotta tell you.  Last night?  Guster at the Egg.  Sold-out acoustic show with an amazing violinist, spectacular cellist — and my favorite band closer than I’ve ever seen them before. 

I overdressed.  I loved every moment. 

Front row center. 

Bliss.

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It is Jonah Russell’s 10th birthday today, and time itself must be bending and twisting and teasing me, because I just can’t wrap my mind around that.  I’m off work from noon today until next week.  I was going to drive down to see Jonah after I got off work, but I’m recovering from an ugly stomach bug (I didn’t go to work at all Monday) and don’t want to bring it to him (if he didn’t bring it to me). Plus, I don’t want to upset his special day with an unexpected visit – he won’t comprehend why I’m there.  They’ll have a pizza and cake party for him tonight — and he even gets a present or two.

We had our own birthday party for him at grandma’s house on Saturday; Andy drove him up and grandma had gotten him balloons, all his favorite foods, and cake with chocolate frosting.

Tomorrow morning M and I are flying to Denver, Colorado to see Guster play with the Colorado Symphony Orchestra.  Then back home for two more acoustic shows before (sob) the tour is over.  There is a reason my son learned to sing one of their most complicated songs.  If you click on –> Keep it Together you can see a You Tube video of him singing it, and in pretty good tune & rhythm, when he was 7 — at a time when his verbal language consisted entirely of two-word phrases. (Sorry to long-time readers who’ve heard me say this a dozen or so times).  I guess I brainwashed the child; he was certainly unresistant.  And so together we live happily ever after in Gusterland.

I just sent their album Keep It Together, in fact, to the awesome nursing staff who drive him to doctor appointments.  It was their idea; they said they’d play it in the van for him.  I’m so grateful for the kindness of those who have my son in their care.  There is no better gift to me than to nurture, teach, play with, care for, and maybe even love my little Boo.

PAUSE

At that moment the nurse at his school called to tell me Jonah required another two-person takedown today, after it happening twice yesterday.  I called his glaucoma doc yesterday to ask if the new meds he’d given him (eye drops) could cause pain or increase aggression but they told me no.

I don’t know if I believe this.

I’m going to ask a good doc I know, though, and look into it some.  I don’t want my boy to be in pain, or feeling this compulsion to aggress anymore.

What is it, bunny?  What can I do to make this world softer, better, more tolerable for you?

Sometimes I get mad.  It’s like that scene from Rainman where Raymond’s younger brother Charlie, played by Tom Cruise, loses it while driving in the desert and Raymond insists on purchasing underwear at a K-Mart 5 or 6 states away.  Charlie screeches the car to a halt, throws himself out onto the empty road, and paces wildly, ranting to the desert before returning to his brother, screaming, “You know what I think, Ray? I think this autism is a bunch of shit!  Because you can’t tell me that you’re not in there somewhere!”

It’s the whole theme of the movie, and sometimes the theme of the frustration I feel when I can’t communicate with Jonah the way I wish I could.  Our bright, amazing, incredible little boy has such violent aggressions – and now juvenile arthritis and glaucoma to boot.  It ain’t fair.  He’s so brave.

Despite everything, little Boo, you are ten today — and I love you more than the earth and sky.

Baby Jonah, 2002

Happy Birthday, Sweetheart…

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I find it difficult to believe I am thinking to myself, How terrible.  There was another school shooting today.   It’s that one word:  another.  It was not so long ago when the idea of a school shooting was truly unthinkable.  I am lucky to be Generation X, the last generation to live without the ridiculous worry that someone will shoot and kill you.  In school.

How quickly we adjust, we humans, to every new normal with which we’re presented.  Some of the things we adjust to should never be adjusted to.  Like school shootings. 

How is this okay?

In my own life I’ve adjusted to Jonah living an hour and a half away from me, in ‘the house of the rotating caregivers.’  Is it bad that I have adjusted to it?  How is this okay?

I am free of the violence, yes,  but also a huge amount of responsibility has been lifted from my shoulders:  don’t think I don’t realize and am grateful for that.  There hasn’t been this much freedom in my life in a long, long time.  And yet I am still so tight, my body bow-strung.  Shoulders raised until I bring my awareness back to them, over and over, purposefully dropping them, my neck aching, bones cracking and creaking.  Maybe I should start getting massages again.

At any rate it all fades when I listen to my breath, become mindful and quiet, know there is a lifetime of joy in every now, no matter what the now.  The operative word in that sentence is when.  It isn’t often, but more than before.

And then, at strange intervals of time and in unpredictable instances, it hits me anyway:  I am not raising a child anymore.  And yet I have a child, this innocent boy, and with Andy I must love him fiercely…help shape his future…nurture him as best we can.  I only see Jonah for a few hours every week.  Sometimes it doesn’t go well, and I don’t write about it.  While I try not to sugarcoat this blog, I do, on occasion, commit the sin of omission.

I forgot my camera this weekend but I got to see Jonah twice, Saturday and Sunday, which was cool.  Jonah was nutty – all hyper; crying for no reason one moment, laughing hysterically the next.  A random attack at grandma, and a time out on the stairs, him shrieking boobie!  boobie!  boobie! joyfully.  Moe samwich? A bath.  M & M? A ride to see train.

The soft request:  home?

…and, week after week, our eventual, deliberate surrender to a state of denial about this plea, pretending that by home he means Andy’s apartment.  Pretending he is asking for something else.  Anything else.  Pretending, lest this whole thing break both our minds and hearts.   We never bring him to the house or even near it.  He’s too geographically savvy and always has been.

Strange things are entering my life lately, and I’m just going with the flow of the river and having some fun swimming along.  My path has crossed with some really interesting people, these wonderfully philanthropic souls who truly restore my faith in humanity.  They have no idea what they are to me; they are literally my saviors.   They don’t realize I need to know that good people are out there doing good things.  I have to believe that human hearts are still generous and human kindness is not extinct.  My dad feels this too, I think, for he needs to volunteer and has done so his whole life.  Right now he volunteers for the Red Cross as a driver; he is a giver, a man who wants to do the right thing.  A man with a heart.

They are my heroes.  (They, and Guster, who honestly deserves a huge chunk of credit for keeping me afloat).

I don’t know what I’m so worried about.  The good guys always win in the end.

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It was crappy, very cold, fine-snowy weather when my mom and I left early this morning to meet Andy at his apartment and then collect Jonah.  The kind of weather where if you just avoid the first few hours of driving in it, you’ll be fine.  Well we were the ones on the road during the slippery beginning of the storm.  My mother wanted to drive us down in her car so that’s what we did.

Nothing can stop her from visiting her grandson.  Nothing.

I believe she’d trudge through a blizzard in boots all 90 miles if she had to.  I was laughing to M about how this would be my death day, walking around the house singing “and when I die…and when I’m gone, there’ll be one child gone in this world, to carry on, to carry on…”

“Stop that,” said M.

But we survived the small storm and got our visit with Jonah.  I brought Fearless Fred, one of my Scare-Me-Nots, down with me.  He wanted to serve and protect us on our slippery way – I imagine because he’s not afraid of anything;  he really is aptly named.

Here are some pictures from our adventures today:

First Jonah got his boots and coat off, and jumped on daddy’s bed.  When he’d calmed down enough to sit, I brought in Fearless Fred.

I handed him to Jonah.  Jonah pulled Fearless Fred’s face in to his own and gave him kisses!

Jonah and Fearless Fred, making friends…

Then it was — you guessed it –bath time!

…and more fun with Fearless Fred

Then lunchtime.  (Fearless Fred tries hard to look busy while stealing a wedge of orange with his tail).

Jonah wanted to take Fearless Fred on our snowy walk.

Then Jonah and Daddy started to run ahead, but Fearless Fred didn’t mind so much.  He wanted to play in the snow,

and hang from branches…

and climb twisty vine-embraced trees.

Show off!

I love my boy so much.  I just want to turn the heated blanket up and crawl into bed.  I have all my adopted Scare-Me-Not “kids” to tend to (only someone as kooky as I could pretend to believe that I mother plush monsters).

No, there is work to do.  And I’m fighting the urge to completely abandon reason, geek out, and send a care package to Guster.

Then again, there’s always tomorrow.

So anyway once again I ask you to make Fearless Fred and his friends go viral by LIKING the Scare-Me-Nots’ facebook page.  I am the cartoon Mommy cyclops monster with dual-lensed glasses, who administers the page and occasionally holds contests with cool prizes.

Should I organize a Scare-Me-Not flash mob?

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I love Guster in the same inexplicably passionate way I love very few other things.  Laura Ingalls WilderElfquest.  My beloved books, some that I’ve read dozens of times.

I’ll never forget the winter of 2002-2003, the first time I heard Guster – in the car, rounding the bend of Buckingham Pond, on EQX: the song was Barrel of a Gun.  I forgot about wherever it was that I was headed and went straight to the closest music shop.  I didn’t know the name of the band or the song, so I sang it to the guy behind the counter.  “I have to have this,” I demanded.  He nodded in an okay, just please don’t hurt me way and, luckily, knew just what I was singing, so was able to provide my first Guster CD:  Lost and Gone Forever.  I’ve been hooked ever since and have, quite unapologetically, seen 9 or 10 shows now.

My ability to expound on Guster in an uncool fashion really warrants its very own blog, so I won’t torture you too much about it here.  Suffice it to say that I was incredibly excited to be able to see them 2 nights in a row, on Black Friday and Whatever They Call The Saturday After That, in Montclair, NJ at the Wellmont Theatre.

First, though, was Thanksgiving.  My mom, God bless her, made a whole dinner – some for M and me and some for Andy.  We drove down together to see Boo and bring him to Andy’s apartment, where we all had turkey sandwiches and black soda for lunch.  Jonah took his usual two baths while we were there…

Jonah, of the water

…and then we took Boo for his regularly requested car ride? and came back to the apartment.  My mom and I left after Jonah’s second bath and another request for car ride.  During car ride I asked Andy to put Guster’s Easy Wonderful in the CD player, and Jonah and I sang songs in the backseat, moving our clasped safe hands up and down to the rhythm, singing the oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo-oooo part of Architects and Engineers like two little grinning goofballs… Jonah bursting out in a laugh every so often.  He loves Guster too now.  Score.

I like to joke that I have a bachelor’s degree in Guster and am working on my Master’s.  I know to bring canned food and ping pong balls to their shows, and I know better than to try to win the “meet and greet the band” prize after the show.  One time when I set out to win (and did win, by bringing box after box of food) the opportunity to meet and greet the band, I brought them a gift bag full of cookies and goodies, a mix-CD, and a letter that undoubtedly said something very very geeky.  Brian-the-drummer came out first after the show, and tears came to my eyes.  I was barely able to choke out “Your music makes me so happy” before I abandoned all hope of appearing normal, shoved the gift bag at him, began to cry, and ran away.  Fail.

But the shows were both fantastic, each featuring a different song off their first album, Parachute.  They almost never play songs off Parachute live, and they said it had been something like 18 years since they’d played either song.  To those of you who may be reading and knew me in high school:  nothing’s changed.  I’m still the geeky girl.

So here are some pictures of the shows.  At one point Ryan put a disco ball on his head; all the lights hitting it made the whole place a big disco – always the whole band and crowd laughing, dancing, joyful, energized by some cool twist on every song.

Adam on the horn

Ryan singing and jamming

All the Gusters

…and Ryan with his disco ball head.

I want to bring Jonah to a show.  I hope someday I can.  If not we’ll just keep on singing Guster songs.

While I was in New Jersey I was contacted by A.H., another beautiful singer from Shaker High School.  She said that a group was getting together that night (Saturday) to reminisce about Mr. Fleischer – but I was a state away.  Shit.  I would’ve loved to see everyone (and beg two or three people to sing).  I am so touched by the comments my old peeps, and Ned’s old peeps,  have left me.

Lives intertwined.  It’s all so amazing, this world and how it works.

P.S.  Jack and Almanzo are buddies now.

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