Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Riding the Wave

Not long ago, I was completely undone when I spotted a ladybug in my garden. My girl loved ladybugs and used to bring them to me whenever she found one so I could make a wish on it before she let it go. I never knew where she got the idea for making wishes on ladybugs. I asked her once when she was about eight and she just shrugged and said 'I've always known that.' It's been a long since I've paid close enough attention to spot something as small as a ladybug and that one took me by surprise and not in a good way. For the first time, though, the aftermath of a sneaker wave wasn't all bad. A lot of good memories came in on that tide. I think that's progress and to celebrate, I'd like to share the gift that David gave me for Mother's Day:

Take that, Wave. I'm learning to tread water.


Lisa said...

I LOVE those! That's a good man you've got there.

Sue Dickman said...

Aw, that's excellent, Debi. I love the thought of you in your garden with your ladybug clogs.

Jesse Wiedinmyer said...

All I know about music is that not many people ever really hear it. And even then, on the rare
occasions when something opens within, and the music enters, what we mainly hear, or
hear corroborated, are personal, private, vanishing evocations. But the man who creates the
music is hearing something else, is dealing with the roar rising from the void and imposing
order on it as it hits the air. What is evoked in him, then, is of another order, more terrible
because it has no words, and triumphant, too, for that same reason. And his triumph, when
he triumphs, is ours. I just watched Sonny's face. His face was troubled, he was working
hard, but he wasn't with it. And I had the feeling that, in a way, everyone on the bandstand
was waiting for him, both waiting for him and pushing him along. But as I began to watch
Creole, I realized that it was Creole who held them all back. He had them on a short rein. Up
there, keeping the beat with his whole body, wailing on the fiddle, with his eyes half closed,
he was listening to everything, but he was listening to Sonny. He was having a dialogue with
Sonny. He wanted Sonny to leave the shoreline and strike out for the deep water. He was
Sonny's witness that deep water and drowning were not the same thing-he had been there,
and he knew. And he wanted Sonny to know. He was waiting for Sonny to do the things on
the keys which would let Creole know that Sonny was in the water.

Debi said...

That's nice, Jesse. What's it from?