There’s a saying old, says that love is blind
Still we’re often told, “seek and ye shall find”
So I’m going to seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind
Yes, that intro from my American Musical Theater prof ended up to be “Someone To Watch Over Me” that has been sung by many greats, but I was introduced to it by Linda Ronstadt and the Nelson Riddle arrangements that are just gorgeous.
Over ten years my husband has been looking after me, as has our dog who herds me all day and sleeps on our bed at night. I like to think I take care of them, too.
It’s funny, after all these decades when my mother read The Feminine Mystique and we actually trapped my anti-feminist uncle in a limo for 90 minutes with Betty Friedan en route to the airport, that I’m now a feminist homemaker.
My mother was always disappointed in me, before I was even born but she’s gone now and I still feel the hurt. But it really bothered her when I married and we moved a few times and I no longer brought in money to my household.
The professor taught us the songs but tested us on these strange intros, and you wouldn’t believe some of the unpublished lyrics of Cole Porter! Even if I don’t have one on iTunes, I listen to these songs in my head every day. Of late, they’ve been making a racket.
My husband is dealing with the grain bin and I’m stuck at the other end of the cow, picking up. I hear (rip) Etta James, Linda Ronstadt, Joan Baez, PPM and CSNY and others as I pick up and they carry me on. Now my fingers are shredded because of the lack of oxygen and humidity up here so all I do is hydrate my guitar.
What I’m learning is that music can take you through. Judy Collins is sold out but The Kingston Trio, and Jackson Cash will be here soon. It’s a small venue and it’ll be great to see the Sundance folks re-absorbed into LaLa land and NYC and out of here. Only 8,000 people live here yet every taxi service and limo service has been in town for days.
One guy rummaged to the back of the Whole Foods coffee aisle. He wouldn’t move his arse or his cart for a long time. We call him a SPIB (Slave to People In Black). But his butt was just more important than letting us get by. I wanted to stand there, seeing how long it would take. I’m sure my husband the physicist and software engineer, twice his size, wanted to take him out just because he was driving me nuts but he’s a pacifist.
Then it was over and clueless SPIB never even excused himself for being in our way. That’s the privileged part of the mountains. People know they’re more important than everybody else and lord it over everyone for a few days then leave us alone. Lordy, Lordy, I’ve truly become a local!
And whether it was my Dad, or my husband, I’ve always had someone to watch over me and for that I’m eternally grateful. With love and generosity, Dee