Practice. That was one of my dad's favorite jokes. He told it endlessly, especially around other pianists.
It's been a while since my last post.
I tried very hard to post when the election debacle ended, but I honestly couldn't get on. For many days afterwards. There was so much fodder, and anger, there was no room on the server for lowly ole' me. Which is fine. I am sure I would only rant in much the same way everyone else did.
Been thinking about my dad of late. I met a classical pianist today at work, and it made me think he'd have alot to talk to my dad about. It's too bad he isn't around. I really would have wanted to call him today.
We moved dad off the china cabinet this weekend so we could paint. I felt bad I hadn't said hello in a while, but I think of him often.
I heard a report on NPR about 3rd year medical students dissecting their cadavers. They talked about how kind it was of these people to donate their bodies to science so they can learn. They were asked by the interviewer if they would want their family members to be donated to science. Most said no, because they wouldn't want their relative to be treated like that, which I found ironic.
I remember when my father died, my uncle was deemed "next of kin" because he was the only one they could locate to notify the family. When he finally got ahold of me (five days after the accident, mind you--but that is a story for another time) he told me that they decided to donate his body to science. Since I was reeling from the information that he was gone, I agreed. But when I started to think about it, I was furious. It seemed like they just didn't CARE enough about him to have a proper...anything. It was the cheapest, easiest solution. They hadn't cared that much for him while he was alive, so I don't know why it surprised me, but it did...It made me so mad, once I thought about it.
And I knew my dad, who wouldn't go to doctors when he was alive, would be PISSED. He would have hated having people poking and prodding him...I could hear him, "You Bastards! You sons-a'-bitches!." So, I was relieved when they called me back to tell me that two different medical schools looked at the body, and both turned him down. Apparently the accident had really messed up his insides.
But I was glad that I had the opportunity to "unmake" the decision of where he should go.
My uncles next suggestion was cremation, (which was probably the next cheapest and easiest) so me and my sisters agreed. And I told them I would scatter the ashes. But I haven't. He's been a moved many times....once from texas (boy should I tell you that story!) several times around VA. I try to give him a nice perch every time. Something high, with a view, if possible. I like knowing where he is.
He's with me.
