THE SHIRT AND THE CELLO

I'VE BLOGGED for years now, but the bulk of the early entries were lost through corruption. I usually didn't bother to print out and my back-up technician, although much loved, wasn't always dependable (wink, wink). 

       A very few entries survived and I'm using one today. The stories actually date back to 1998 even though that was before I discovered the world of keeping a web log.

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There I was, winding down my day. I had bought a new shirt that day. Periwinkle blue. Linen. On arriving home, I tried it on over what I was wearing and it was so comfortable that I just left it on. When it came time for bed, the shirt was the first article of clothing I removed. Typically female, I checked the care tag, just to see what lay in store and noticed a twin tag sewed in next to the one I was inspecting. The second tag had two lines of tiny print on it:

    I am abundance.

    I am supplied.

What do you think about that? I want all my clothes to have little tags like that sewn into them. It made me feel happy, and abundant and well supplied.

I was  reminded of something else. Last night our Alaskan, 13 year old grandson played in an all schools orchestra program. He has cerebral palsy and is developmentally delayed and is being mainstreamed. Last year his teacher was eager for him to take up an instrument. Somehow a cello was  chosen. But in the middle of the winter, the teacher moved, leaving no one in her place who  had the slightest idea of how to carry on with Justin's musical training. But at this point, Justin would not be talked into discontinuing the "playing" of the cello. 

Our daughter said that he kept perfect time with the bow; his ability to finger the cello strings was questionable, but she obviously felt a huge pride that he had been able to perform with high school, middle school and elementary students in a combined effort. We sent our congratulations to Justin who was tickled to hear how proud his Granny & Papa were, and he said to his mom, "Let's not tell them about the disability, okay?" Okay, Justin, dear heart.........may you always feel abundant, supplied and very happy.


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"The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story."
                                                                                          Ursula K. Le Guin