This Day In History!

The Japs got back on our trail today.  Had about 5 ginbows and saw 4 planes flying back.  We powed every time and missed quite a bit of language work.  Washed my head + dried it outside it was that warm.  This evening Clary + I started out reading, but Doc came over and we played bridge.  -  Annette, February 4, 1941

Tonite was Chinese New Year's Eve, so we had to have a pinochle game and more ice cream.  Our ice will soon be gone and our maple flavoring is going too.  Ta Wei is such a little pest.  He drives me too distraction - he gets into so much mischief and is always so dirty and gets his clothes and sweaters so messed up.  Guess he's just a real boy.  -  Annette, February 4, 1943

 

Ever since I started this blog, I've wanted to do a "This Day In History" post!  Annette's diary is the most regular, so here's what she was up to on February 4.  I was planning to just do one entry, but I couldn't choose between these two - I liked them both!

In 1941, Annette and Clary were still settling into their roles in China.  Annette had time to wash and dry her hair in the sun, and to play bridge in the evening - clearly there were no kids in the picture yet!  All the while, they spent that lovely day running to and from their bomb shelter cave.  As they watched the planes zoom overhead, I'm sure it was starting to sink in - the war was their new normal.  At least there was time for a card game.  

Fast-forward to 1943, when she was chasing around a wild toddler!  Ta Wei is my uncle, the first of Annette's three sons.  From her diary, she sure had a time keeping up with him!  I love that, again, she mentions the ice cream.  That special occasion treat on the eve of Chinese New Year kept her connected to her American life.  Now I find myself craving vanilla ice cream with maple topping!  Of course, no celebration was complete without a card game.  She had such good friends in China, and I love reading about their social card games.

I wonder what will happen on February 4, 2018....

I Can Barely Take Care Of Myself

I am selfish.  I'm worried about having to take care of Daddy, and then Mama if she gets sick.  I can barely take care of myself.  If something happened to me, if I couldn't play, if I got hurt - I'd be lost.  I'd have to find something else.  But I can't support my parents.  I can't even support myself.  - Miranda, February 2007

 

At 25 years old, Annette and Frances were worrying about their children.  I was worrying about my parents.  

Daddy was somewhere in the middle of his radiation treatments when I wrote this entry.  His first round of tumors responded well to chemo, but when the brain tumors showed up, he had to do a round of targeted radiation, which required him to stay for a month in Tampa.  He was staying at a 'Skilled Nursing Facility' that was just awful.  The brain tumors made it difficult for him to walk, and since the 'Facility' didn't have bathrooms in each room, he had to walk down the hall to get to the bathroom.  Well, that didn't go very well.  The staff made him wear diapers, in case he couldn't make it in time.  That happened during one of my visits.  I think that was the first time I ever changed a diaper.  And it was my dad's.

Being a caretaker is such a huge job.  Daddy had so many people helping him, but it always felt like the big tasks fell to his children.  At 25 years old, while my friends were planning weddings and tracking their ovulation, I was helping my dad use a portable urinal.  I couldn't even think about children.  It's like my brain just couldn't process the thought.  The only references I found in my journals were more along the lines of "If I never find someone and have kids, who is going to take care of me?!"

It seems like people always have opinions about a woman's reproductive status.  No one ever really knows what people go through, or what struggles they endure.  No one knows their past experiences.  No one knows their current situation.  We are all just doing the best we can - making the best choices we can at the time.  And hoping it all works out.   

All Through Life

It is Sunday + we keep reminding our boy he is one year old.  May God watch over our darling boy all through life.  And each successive birth-day find him as pure + sinless as he now is.  And may God help us to live right + train our little darling up to be a noble christian man.  - Frances, April 1891

 

Birthdays are a cause for celebration, but particularly so in the 1890s.  Frances had 6 children - one little girl died as a baby, and from what I can gather, she had a stillborn or miscarriage as well.  Birthdays were a celebration of life - and survival.  People didn't talk much about the losses.

Even today, miscarriages are considered a taboo topic.  I have had friends and family members go through this terrible loss, and each one of them has said how lonely it felt.  They felt they couldn't talk about their experience.  

Who do we turn to in the horrible times?  What about the joyous times?  Frances's faith in God was central to her identity.  On her son's birthday, she offered up prayers to God to help her protect, teach, and care for her young child.     

What helps us through the celebrations and and the sorrows?  How do we connect?  Or share?  Or ask for help and guidance?  Some people choose religion.  Others a network of family and friends.  Some have faith in something else altogether.  I don't believe that there is a right answer.  I do believe that sometimes the hardest thing in the world is feeling alone.  What if we all took a moment to share in someone's joy?  Share in their tears?  Share in their anger?  Share in their fear?  Share in their hope?   

But That Can't Be

Well I guess I just can't take it.  Tonite after supper I started to hemmorrage and really have a time of it.  We called the Doctor over about 10 o'clock and he gave me 2 shots of urgut then it stopped.  Dr. said it was a bleeding uterous + that I aborded - but that can't be.  We made ice cream tonite - tasted swell.  - Annette, January 1943

 

Annette was exhausted and struggling to keep up.  All the while, she was pregnant and didn't know it.  In the days after this post, she stayed in bed as she suffered through intense abdominal pains and a fever of over 104 degrees.  She thought she had malaria, but the Doctor confirmed that she was suffering from metritus - an infection of the uterus.  The shots of 'urgut' must have been ergot, a natural remedy used to treat excessive menstrual bleeding, and before or after a miscarriage.

Annette doesn't acknowledge the miscarriage in her diary until a week later.  She couldn't believe that she was pregnant again.  Her body was in survival mode, so maybe she couldn't process it until then.  She was working so hard to take care of everyone that maybe she couldn't take care of herself.  In a later post, she wrote "I sure have one dopey system."

I can't imagine the difficulty of that loss.  Or the difficulty of enduring such a complication with limited access to medical treatment.  And what did she include in that post?  Ice cream.  When our worlds get turned upside down, we turn to what we know.  Food is comfort.  Annette needed healing and reassurance and love during this time - which sometimes appears in the form of ice cream.

Not A Single Minute To Spare

I had an awful time today.  Not a single minute to spare.  Tried to iron but didn't get very far.  Tried to wash too today and only got the diapers finished.  Goodness but cooking + cleaning + minding the kids is some job.  I wouldn't like to do it all the time.  - Annette, January 1943

 

Sometimes, the daily chores of life just pile up.  We feel like we can't get ahead.  Annette had several entries like this during the first week of January.  She was feeling exhausted and overwhelmed - and she was nursing a sore thumb and twisted ankle.  Normally, she had a servant helping with the cooking and cleaning, but when the servants didn't show up, she was left on her own, having to wash and iron every day, plus cook all the meals and take care of 2 babies.

Sometimes, when we are stressed, our bodies struggle to keep up.  It can be hard to stay on top of things when we are fighting an illness or trying to heal.  In Annette's case, she had more going on than just a bum foot.  More to come in the next post... 

Time To Let Go Of Old Things

It's a new year.  New possibilities.   Time to let go of old things.  Old thoughts.  Old habits.  Sad to see so many things end this year.  But think how different things were last year.  I was about to start school.  Dad was still sick in the assisted living place.  Those are my measuring sticks for the last 2 years.  How sick was Daddy.  Where was he.  What hospital were we dealing with.  He's not struggling anymore.  He's not in pain.  I don't want to struggle anymore.  Goodbye 2008.  -  Miranda, January 2009 

 

I've always had a hard time with New Years Eve.  There's this pressure to dress up, wear silly hats, use paper noisemakers, and drink/eat a lot - all to celebrate the passing of a year.  I've always preferred spending New Years Eve alone.  At the stroke of midnight, I like to be at home, writing in my journal, making a list of resolutions and remembering the year.  Definitely an introvert, right? 

Some years we don't want to remember.  2008 was one of those for me.  It's strange, because so much of that year was a blur - what gigs I played, who I spent time with, what I wrote for my Comprehensive Exams.  Then again, there are moments that I remember so very clearly, like going to the grocery store right after Daddy died because there was no food in the house and we would need to make quesadillas.  And this entry.

Reading back, the end of this entry sounds a little harsh, if not outright depressing.  But that's not how I felt.  I felt free.  After a year (plus) of fighting to help Daddy, fighting to finish school, fighting to keep my gigs so I could pay my bills, I felt like I could let go a little.  I could give myself permission to walk away from the pain and the hurt and the anger and the tears from 2008.  Of course, it's not like I was 'cured' of my grief - those feelings would certainly return now and then - but on that New Years Eve, I was able to step back from my grief and say out loud - I don't want to struggle anymore.  Whatever this new year brings, I don't need to fight anymore.  Clean slate.  One day at a time, and that's enough.  

After the ups and downs of 2017, maybe we can all start fresh and take things one day at a time.  Cheers to 2018.  May it be filled with joy, compassion, and love.

A Grand Day

Merry Christmas!  Tawei + Deedee sure had a grand day.  At first Tawei was afraid of some of the cars, but soon he got acquainted with them.  Clary + I played with them all afternoon.  Then we had our own dinner - not much but we did have pineapple + chicken + stuffing.  Clary opened his bottle of gin and it was really smooth.  It was grand and we sang all the Christmas carols in all the books we could find.  -  Annette, December 1943

 

Annette's entry reminds me of how the simplest things can be the best things.  From her words, you would never know she was living in a war zone.  You would never know that the presents they gave the kids were discovered in the attic of their new house, left behind by a previous missionary family.  Tawei was afraid of the cars, because, in his young 2-year-old life, he had seen very few cars!  You would never know that Clary had figured out how to make his own gin (as well as beer), because it was too difficult to get alcohol.

All you know is that they were happy.  They played and ate and sang carols and loved each other.  That's all they needed. 

Deep down, we are more similar than we are different.  It's not about elaborate celebrations or complicated dinner menus.  Basically, it just comes down to sharing and connecting with one another.  So this year, whether fancy or simple, I wish you a peaceful, joyous holiday.  

Christmas Day I Was Mad And Worried

Christmas day I was mad and worried all day.  We felt so poor could not give each other the least presents.  - Frances, December 1891

 

As the school year and work projects wind down, I can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.  Now, on my first full day off, I planned to finish shopping for presents, start prepping for holiday parties, and cook/bake up a storm.  As with years past, I seem to have forgotten that other people had the same idea!  Roads are clogged, parking lots are a nightmare, and all the store-brand egg nog supplies are long gone.  

Frances had a lot on her mind when she wrote this brief entry.  They were considering moving to a new town, and unsure of their finances.  Even in the late 1800s, Christmas came with big expectations.  Sometimes, we can't afford gifts.  Sometimes, we are weighing a major life decision.  Sometimes, we are just anxious about the future.  

During this hectic time of year, I hope you can take a moment to breathe.  Remember what is important to you - be it family, travel, solitude, faith, or anything else.  It's not about the presents.  It's about being true to yourself.

Losing My Grip On My Wits

I think I'm losing my grip on my wits.  This morning I broke another thermometer.  Disgusted with myself - 2 in 2 days.  This is wearing us out.  Mustard packs, temps, fixing food and etc is sure getting me down.  - Annette, December 1943

 

Annette spent most of December 1943 worrying about her second-born son, Deedee (real name Tom - my dad).  Deedee was just over 1 year old and had just been diagnosed with malignant malaria.  He was on a complicated treatment plan, including "acetalarsyn" (probably for malnutrition/anemia), atebrine and quinine (anti-malarial drugs), and "mustard packs" (mustard powder spread under bandages to stimulate healing). 

(Spoiler alert - my dad survived.  Since malaria stays in your body forever, he would continue to have flare-ups throughout his life.  He was also known to enjoy gin and tonics, always using tonic water with quinine, which he probably considered preventative treatment for those malarial episodes.  Totally my dad's sense of humor.)

Annette was worried sick.  Breaking one thermometer would be upsetting enough, but when she broke the second one, she was 'disgusted' with herself and felt like she was losing her mind.  A simple, easily forgivable accident triggered such strong words! 

Just a few hours ago, while decorating my tiny Christmas tree, I broke one of my favorite childhood ornaments.  My internal dialogue kicked in - "Oh come on!  You can't even decorate a tree properly!  How pathetic!"  Why are we so hard on ourselves?  We are all doing the best we can in this world - navigating obligations, expectations, and sometimes, malaria - and yet we still speak to ourselves more harshly than we would ever speak to others.  How do we break the cycle?   

Just for fun, here is a picture of Annette and my dad, Tom.  He was a bit younger here, but it's still sweet.  

And December Is Just Starting

I'm exhausted.  And December is just starting.  Thanksgiving was nice.  Sold Daddy's house.  He loved that house.  We worked so hard to keep him there.  I get so sad when I think about him.  I should be more gentle with myself, but I am so tired of being so emotional.  I'm just tired all the time.  - Miranda, November 2008

 

For me, the November-December transition can feel like a blur, rolling from a major holiday to a major month of performances.  A few years ago, I started intentionally keeping Thanksgiving weekend clear on my calendar.  No gigs or teaching obligations - just one last quiet moment before the December craziness begins.  Now, the Christmas trees are going up, and I'm happily dusting off Sleigh Ride and The Nutcracker for another season of holiday concerts, instead of feeling like Scrooge.  

This was not always the case.  2008 was a challenging year for me, all around - I remember being exhausted all the time.  Thanksgiving happened, and before I knew it, I was practically living in my car with my clarinet, concert clothes, and a Santa hat.  Through it all, I was grieving the loss of my Dad.  No time to sit around, though!  I had to get out there and earn that money!  I can even see it in my diary entries - lots of short sentences and repeated phrases.  Variations on 'just so tired' were particularly prevalent.  On top of that, we sold my Dad's house around that time.  Talk about emotional!  I spent a lot of time trying to process my grief and deal with it logically.  Sometimes, I ignored it all together.  Any guesses on how that turned out?? 

We don't always have the luxury of clearing our schedule to deal with our emotions.  As we head into the holiday season, maybe we can all steal a few moments for ourselves.  In this time of giving, maybe we can give ourselves a break - and be a little more gentle.

 

 

 

It Was Such Fun Having Company

My 27th birthday and the first one I've ever had when I didn't receive a single present.  Was sort of disappointed that Elsie forgot.  We celebrated Thanksgiving tonite.  I invited Mr. Chen + Miss Su + Doc + Mrs. Chen.  It was such fun having company for a change.  We had a very nice dinner I thot - chestnut stuffing + a pumpkin pie with nuts.  Our table looked very pretty with candles + the jack-o-lantern, tangerine place cards + red autumn leaves.  - Annette, November 1942

 

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday.  My family has a history of large Thanksgiving celebrations with polished silver, place cards, and delicious food made with love by all our guests.  Every year, my aunt and I start working weeks in advance to plan all the details.  This year, my Thanksgiving will be a bit smaller - just 6 instead of 20 - but I am excited for new traditions!  As I worked on my to-do lists, I started thinking about Annette's Thanksgiving celebrations.

While in China, they were never really sure when Thanksgiving was supposed to be, so they would have their celebrations when they could.  This one happened on a Sunday - maybe to celebrate her birthday as well!  I love that she used fresh tangerines as place cards, and decorated with leaves from their trees.  I love that they made chestnut stuffing and pumpkin pie.  I love that my grandfather carved a pumpkin as decoration.  I can just imagine this beautiful scene, and as I embrace my own inner hostess, it makes me feel so connected to her.

I also love that she mentioned how glad she was to have company.  And that she was a little bit sad to not receive a birthday gift.  So much of our existence on this planet is tied to the people around us, and celebrations can sometimes be bittersweet.  This will be my first Thanksgiving since I was I child that I won't be with my aunt.  That makes me a little sad.  But, I'll be celebrating with fiancé's family, whom I completely adore, so with the sadness there is also joy!  To me, Thanksgiving is a celebration of family - whether family by blood, by choice, by circumstance, or anything else.  I wish you all a wonderful Thanksgiving filled with good food, good company, and love.  And maybe a place card or two.  

I Ought To Be Happy

This is the thrice anniversary of our marriage.  I ought to be happy.  Here I have a nice comfortable home, a dear kind husband.  Two of the dearest little ones in the world.  I am, most of the time.  Sometimes I am about half sick - feel real bad + imagine Mr. Grimes don't love me, but I reckon he does - he does think to say a few kind sympathetic words.  I was never petted in the least in my life.  Why should I expect it now?   - Frances, June 1892

 

Every time I read Frances' diary, this entry stands out.  Here she is, on her third wedding anniversary.  Living the life she is 'supposed' to live.  Raising two children.  Living in a nice house.  Maintaining that household (with the help of a cook and a nurse).  Supporting her husband.  She has all the comforts a woman could want.

But why isn't she happy?  Are these fleeting moments of sadness - or a more telling description of her married life?  She calls her husband Mr. Grimes - was this just formality, or something deeper?  Was she seeking more affection and connection with her husband?  Or was she just tired that day?

So many questions from one entry, and such a revealing glimpse into her world.  Have you ever felt like Frances?  Felt disconnected from your loved ones?  Felt guilty for not being grateful enough?  Those are definitely familiar to me. 

Journals contain more than lists and recipes - they also hold our doubts, fears, and insecurities.  We are all complicated, messy, beautiful humans - at both our highest and our lowest - and we are more alike than we are different.  

 

Sweet and Sour Beans

First attempt at making Annette's Sweet and Sour Beans!

I was really happy with how these turned out!  I admit I reduced the sugar by half, because I don't like sweet vegetables all that much.  With half the sugar, it was the perfect balance of tangy and sweet.  Give it a try and let me know what you think!

Wrote Letters Today And Canned Beans

Still preparing to evacuate.  The Japanese have advanced to Geinshih.*  Coolie hire + baskets for carrying are almost impossible to get.  Our funds are here so we have money.  Wrote letters today and canned beans.  Starting to plan what we take along.  I guess as soon as we leave here our houses will be looted + sacked.  - Annette, May 1943

 

Even though it's not yet Halloween, I find myself daydreaming about Thanksgiving.  It's my absolute favorite holiday.  So far, I've been through Food and Wine, Southern Living, and Cooking Light, searching for new ideas for the perfect side dishes.  For me, the most perfect vegetable is the green bean.  I can eat green beans for every meal of the day (and have done so, on occasion).  I always seem to find new green bean recipes around Thanksgiving  - variations on the classic casserole, sautéed with bacon, scattered with almonds....you get the idea.  Thinking about beans made me think about Annette.

Each year she was in China, usually in late May, Annette wrote about canning beans.  They grew the beans in the garden - she often mentioned the harvest, whether they had a lot or a little, etc.  But this entry stood out.  In 1943, the front lines shifted, and suddenly, their village was in the line of fire.  Soon, Enshih would be cut off from food supplies.  Annette was preparing to pack up their home (along with two babies!) and head to Wanshien.*  Major life decisions here!  In the middle of all that, she wrote letters and canned those beans! 

For me, writing and cooking are both therapeutic.  It helps me process the events of the day, and sometimes, distracts me from my obligations.  Clearly, I get this trait from my grandmother!  In her diary, I found this recipe for Sweet Sour Beans.  Maybe these are the Thanksgiving update I was searching for?!?  I'll give it a try and keep you posted!

 

Sweet Sour Beans

1 qt beans

1 teasp salt

1 tablespoon flour

1 qt boiling water

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 cup vinegar

pepper to taste

Cook beans in boiling water with salt.  Drain, reserve 1 cup bean liquid.  Heat + melt sugar in frying pan.  Stir in flour.  Add grad. bean water, vinegar, salt + pepper.  When smooth add the boiled beans.

 

 

*When Annette mentions cities, they are usually the Romanized Chinese names, or what she heard and recreated phonetically.  On top of that, the names are different now that they were 75 years ago.  I have found "Enshih" (now spelled "Enshi"), but have not yet figured out "Geinshih" or "Wanhsien."  They did evacuate to Wanhsien, but I'm still not sure where that city is now.  I'll keep investigating.  

Nostalgic Fall Dinner

The Pasta, Greens, & Beans recipe struck a nostalgic chord with me, so I revisited this dish from my past!

This recipe was just as hearty as I remembered.  Warm, comforting, healthy, and cooks up in a flash!  

Pasta, Greens, & Beans

Had a pretty successful day.  Practiced (even though I hurt from yesterday), paid some bills, shopped (Dollar General, Target, Barnes & Noble for a new journal), MADE DINNER.  Nothing fancy - just Pasta, Greens, & Beans that Mama's friend Rhonda makes.  But it was good and I actually cooked!  - Miranda, October 2004

 

I often use my journal to make lists or track the day's events.  Here, I was living in Augusta, and I was having a kind of rough time.  I had only lived there 2 months, so I didn't have much of a social life.  Still, I was living on my own, paying my own way, and living like an adult!  Making dinner was a very big deal!

Pasta, Greens, & Beans always makes me think about my time in Augusta.  I was vegetarian at the time, and scraping by on a $17K salary (can you say 'starving artist'??)  This meal was cheap, comforting, and only used one pot - definitely a plus for my tiny kitchen!  Give it a try and let me know what you think! 

 

Pasta, Greens, & Beans - adapted from Rhonda's recipe

2 tsp olive oil

1/2 cup carrots, chopped

1/2 medium yellow onion, chopped

2 cloves garlic, minced

1/4 tsp Italian seasoning (or combination of basil, oregano, parsley, etc)

1/4 tsp salt

1/2 tsp black pepper

1 box (16oz) vegetable broth

1 can Italian style diced tomatoes

1/2 cup whole wheat fusili pasta, uncooked (or any type/shape of pasta you have on hand)

1 15oz can chick peas, drained and rinsed

1 5oz bag spinach

 

Heat oil in a dutch oven or large pot.  Add carrots, garlic, & onion.  Sauté 5 min.

Add spices, broth, & tomato.  Bring to boil.  Cover.  Reduce heat.  Simmer 10 min.

Uncover.  Increase heat to Medium High.  Add pasta, beans, & spinach.  Cook 14 min.  Stir.

 

 

Each Day Is So Much Alike

I try to recall the events of the day, but each day is so much alike that I hardly know when they pass.  Each is filled up with little duties that must be done about the house-keeping + our dear little ones are continually on hand but I would not have it otherwise.  - Frances, June 1892

 

This is the kind of day I am having - minus the 'dear little ones.'  Do you ever feel like you are in a cycle of tasks?  Today I felt like I could not get ahead - emails from orchestra members, phone calls about the HOA, parents wanting to reschedule lessons.  I spent hours fielding questions and yet, never quite caught up.  

Now, I will be the first to admit that I take on too many projects.  I bring a lot of this crazy on myself, for sure.  For Frances, this was her life.  Even with a cook and a nurse, she still felt that the days were always the same - filled with tasks of everyday life.  Each day was a blur, indistinguishable from the previous.  That piques my curiosity.  I have found that diaries are full of details and yet here, Frances can't remember the day's activities.  When she mentions the children as one of the 'little duties,' her guilt reflex instinctively kicks in.  Wouldn't have it any other way, but MAN, I need a BREAK!  

How do we make time for ourselves without feeling guilty?  Or without feeling like we left things unfinished?  Maybe it starts with just a few moments of breathing.  Turning off the background noise for just a slice of quiet time.  Maybe we start by taking time to 'recall the events of the day' - a simple reflection before it starts all over again.  It may be a hectic life, but it is can also be a beautiful one.  I would not have it otherwise.

Linsifu Got Married

Linsifu got married this afternoon and it was funny - like all Chinese weddings.  Lin had a beautiful new foreign hat he held on to all thru the ceremony.  Lo-yin had a lovely dress - too bad we just didn't have any pretty flowers.  Went to their feast after services - good food.  Japs + China fighting in Burma - Singapore still holding out.  - Annette, January 1942

 

I'm heading to a wedding this weekend, so I started thinking about what weddings would have been like for Frances and Annette.  Here, Annette writes about the wedding of one of the community's 'servants.'  The missionary group had cooks, housekeepers, drivers, and other workers periodically throughout their stay in China.  Annette wrote often about Linsifu (Lin was his name; 'sifu' was Annette's spelling of shi fu - 师傅 - meaning 'qualified worker').  Annette was teaching him English, and in turn, he kept her informed of all the gossip around the community.  He was a good student, and Annette seemed to enjoy their classes.

Think back to the weddings you have attended - what do you remember most?  The venue?  The dress?  The party?  For Annette, it was the clothes and the food - no surprise there!  She also participated in the festivities by creating the flower arrangements.  From this entry, it sounds like the crysanthemums didn't bloom as she had hoped. 

We get a wartime update as well.  They didn't have the luxury/curse of a 24-hour news cycle, so their updates came sporadically.  I can only guess that the updates were a big deal, since Annette always mentions when they receive news.  The war could be both all-consuming and background noise.  You never forget that it is happening, and still, daily life marches on. 

A wedding can be a joyful respite from a difficult world.  I tend to get bogged down by all the hurt and suffering in the world.  This weekend, I will step away from the news to celebrate LOVE.  I'm sure it will be a beautiful, memorable night.  

Trying Not To Think About It

My last night in Augusta.  It's a weird feeling.  I'm ready to leave here.  What a great experience to have, and so early in my career.  I'm so worried about money.  I'm trying not to think about it, but I'm deep-down paralyzed with fear that I won't have enough money.  It's terrifying.  Goodbye, Augusta.  - Miranda, June 2005

 

Just as I started my second year of grad school, I won a 'full-time' job as Principal Clarinetist with the Augusta Symphony.  I didn't hesitate - I leapt into the unknown!  Over the span of a week, I quit school, found an apartment, packed up my life, and moved to Augusta, GA.  It was a one year position with no guarantee of extension, but still I was excited!  Supporting myself as a professional clarinetist at the age of 23!  

The job, as it turns out, was not so exciting.  After the year was up, I was ready to move on.  I had saved up $1000 and decided to move to Atlanta to try freelancing.  Another leap - but this time, even more unknown.  No job.  No leads.  I knew a few people from my time in Augusta, but they were just contacts - nothing solid.  As someone who likes a plan, this lack of plan was 'deep-down' terrifying.  But also, deep down, I knew this was the next step.  I believed I would make it work.

When I was little, my mom used to sing me songs from The King and I.  Here I am - 30 years later - playing the same show.  When Anna and her son arrive in Siam, the little boy asks what his mother does when she is afraid.  She says she whistles a happy tune (cue my mother singing to me as we dance around the den).  It's usually the scary moments that teach us the most.  At the time, they can be deep-down terrifying.  But we stand up tall and keep going.  Leaping into the unknown with nothing to hold on to....except maybe a little whistle.