I just called a phone number I used to call every week to have my Dad pick us up from piano lessons. He forgot us once, so I was allowed to call when my sister started her session so that he would get off of work and be there on time.
This number is in my heart forever but not today as I ran up the chain of command and know that 40 years ago my father was head of that department and today everyone was asleep at the wheel then put me on perpetual hold.
So I called the President’s office and was told I’d get a callback. I said I have a great story, but I’m really looking for my 3rd grade teacher’s email address and here is the year she graduated and you just gave her an award.
I wrote because I just named my guitar after a song she had us sing in 3rd grade music classes.
Close your eyes. Think of the earliest phone number you remember. It’ll be your mom, your dad or a grandparent, or a best friend. If they’re still around, call them and say you’re thinking of them.
It was my Dad’s work phone. He’s still with me today, but all over the world. He is a connection to my past, present and hopefully will be in it for the near future.
The president’s office called me back (apparently the PR office is still hung over from last night) to say they can’t give me any information. Another organization she participates in won’t give me any information or an email address.
So I emailed one of her kids who might give me the correct email address. This is a woman who taught me to love music. Her husband used to sing at our concerts, and played Puccini’s Pinkerton in Madama Butterfly (my sister was the baby who was supposed to pretend to sleep, she actually did). He sang to rival Frank Sinatra when our chorus sang “Would You Like to Swing on a Star” a year later. I doubt he remembers that performance but I do.
So if you ever doubt where you are, you could be swinging on a star, or just be a happy wanderer as I and my guitar are. Make some music! Dee
