We didn't know where the notes would lead. Sometimes they even left
the page. Still we followed. We followed and knew exactly what would
happen next. Not a day passed when either Mom or Dad didn't break into
song. More times than not, it ended in a duet. Mom and Dad's marriage
was a duet. They knew the music and passed through each day singing it
together. We learned life by the sound of invisible notes.
I
do not know how to explain this thing called music. I do not know why
when we dance, we seem to know which way to go to follow our partner's
steps. I do not know how we find the notes to harmonize or the way we
improvise. If you did not grow up back the lane on Neff Road, this might
all sound strange to you, but to the Loxley girls, this was our growing
up. This was our way of life.
Working on a farm takes
more than dirt beneath the nails and sweat on the brow. Farming has a
rhythm. It sings in nature and in the love that tends the earth. The hum
of the tractor, the rhythm of the planter, the birds that sing, and the
crunch of gravel beneath your feet. Sounds we know from birth. Sounds
that carry forward in all we do.
When I was a small
girl, I learned to harmonize when my family sang. No one taught the high
notes to me or the way they wrapped around the notes the rest of my
family sang. No one taught me to find the patterns of notes as they
climbed and fell. There was no map that lead me to the notes I should
sing. The rhythms and the sounds just were. Had I been raised in a
different household, I might not have had the time to listen. If I did
not have parents who only knew the music that captured them in
everything they did, I might not hear the song that runs through all
mankind.
discord [n. dis-kawrd; v. dis-kawrd] noun
1.
lack of concord or harmony between persons or things
Not
a new word. One that covers the pages of newspapers, invades homes and
threatens the very core of society. Discord. There is a meshing that
needs to happen in order for people to live and work together. A rhythm.
A need for everyone to try to blend in harmony. That way of knowing how
to enhance one another, encouraging, working to live peacefully. It is in
us all. I know it is. If we try hard enough, we can find that thread
that ties us together. I see it every day. Someone comes into the store
sad or even angry. Find the right notes and doors open. A connection is
made. And....just maybe...a heart is warmed. Harmony.
As children we never had a singing lesson. We did not need someone to show us how to
do it. Harmony was the heart of our lives on Neff Road. We grew from it.
It embraced us. Sometimes the notes even left the page.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Remember
Dear Grandchildren,
You will read about it in your history books. You will see video and perhaps visit the site yourselves, but you will not know the terror that ripped through us that morning of 9/11. Your uncle/daddy and I watched, tears streaming down our faces, anger and sadness tearing our through our hearts. We cannot forget. I ask you not to forget. Life is precious as precious as is our freedom. Hate is the enemy. Even in the smallest form. I ask that you remember and be a light in this world that has known such terrible loss and pain. I ask that you be bearers of peace. I embrace you today and remember.
Love, Grammy
You will read about it in your history books. You will see video and perhaps visit the site yourselves, but you will not know the terror that ripped through us that morning of 9/11. Your uncle/daddy and I watched, tears streaming down our faces, anger and sadness tearing our through our hearts. We cannot forget. I ask you not to forget. Life is precious as precious as is our freedom. Hate is the enemy. Even in the smallest form. I ask that you remember and be a light in this world that has known such terrible loss and pain. I ask that you be bearers of peace. I embrace you today and remember.
Love, Grammy
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