Category Archives: Health and Long Life

Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Music and Theatre, Musical resolutions

In A Music Town; part II, adult musicians

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Eight musicians, count them. All well over the age of 21. Four in their sixties. Four GenXers. All lifetime musicians. All proficient and experienced and talented enough to have made a career of music, yet their daytime jobs are thus: The drummer is an emergency room doctor; the horn section consists of a nurse, a counselor, and a dentist. The guitarist is an engineer. At the keys, a non-profit administrator with experience as a music teacher. Singing vocals and playing every auxiliary instrument one can think of is a classically trained musician turned marketing and design agent. The instructor possesses a music doctorate and spends his days wallowing in music education and arranging music for students of all ages.

They participated recently in an adult band showcase – four adult bands sampled from the twelve possible adult bands of differing skill levels at a music school boasting 800 students. Comments overheard at the showcase included such nuggets as, “hard to tell there for a minute if that wasn’t Kansas on Carry On My Wayward Son.” “These bands are ready to be gigging fulltime.” “I had no idea….”

Seriously! Who would have thought? Adults. With careers. Working professional jobs every weekday and rehearsing weeknights. Grownups who never gave up on their music. Students in a music school of 800 students. In an – anything but sleepy – little town of about 20,000.

And she – one of the multitude of graying baby-boomers – she is so fortunate to live in a music town; a town musical and savvy and bohemian enough to support a music school; a school that reveres rock and jazz and classical excellence. A school that has rehearsal studio space and instructors and arrangers and gear and instruments and show contacts and a gig trailer and a roster of better musicians to play with.

Emotional Health, Health and Long Life, Spiritual Well Being

In My Opinion; Hot Springs

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In her opinion (and her opinions seem to have grown stronger in recent years); a decent vacation needs to start or end with a visit to a hot springs. She has been known to lengthen trips – both business and pleasure -just to soak at Glenwood Springs, Ouray or Pagosa. Her favorite detour for the past 10 years has been the Wiesbaden in Ouray. This former hospital, and previous sacred place for Chief Ouray, is her happy place, a place of healing and spiritual renewal.

But happy places have a downside. If one goes there too often, the place may lose its effectiveness -a body may become somewhat immune. If one goes too infrequently, the feelings of nostalgia, the memories of the past may delay and belay you in sadness on the way to recovery from the current stress. One’s memory bank will offer up such tidbits as: Here is the hot springs where I stopped and soaked when my boss was acting as a cantankerous addict. Here is where I came for reenergizing when my mother was in her declining months. Ah, but here is where I first found emotional health after the rending of a marriage. 

Perhaps she took a little long floating on her back and gazing at the stars sprinkled sky. Long enough to notice that most of the stars that night were actually fast-moving satellites and not the beloved twinkling stars she had enjoyed the precious visit. Perhaps she indulged the grief and took too many steps down the path of memory lane. In any case the warm waters of the outdoor pool did not feel effective. She was disappointed. This was to be a short stay, only one night. She rose from the pool, shivering as she wrapped herself in a cold towel and padded across the frozen flagstones. Down she went, into the lower depths of the spa, to the vapor caves. And there in the semi-darkness and echoing steam; once again was rung from her lips the hallelujah-the acknowledgement that something greater than herself was coming through Nature, rolling like a gentle tsunami and straight to her soul. Once again she felt royal – like Chief Ouray – cared for, protected, rejuvenated, clear-headed. She felt like every mile she had ever walked, every move forward she had ever made – was worth it.

Pro tips for hot springs:

If you are cool by the time you get back to your room, you didn’t stay in the vapor cave long enough.

Bring two swimsuits. You will want to go in the pool frequently and no one likes pulling on a clammy bathing suit.

Whenever possible, stay at the hotel adjacent to the hot springs. I view this in much the same way as hiking. Who wants to drive several minutes to a hot springs, find a parking space, enjoy the springs and then drive back to their lodging?

Conversely, don’t write off a hot springs just because there is no lodging nearby or because you can’t afford lodging. You can’t afford not to at least dip your toes in every hot springs you can find. So don’t write off the Hippy Dip in Pagosa or the tiny Rico Hot Springs or Penny Hot Springs or that one in Yellowstone flowing into the river just because there is no building or development. You should even stop at Pinkerton, even though you can only touch your toes in the hot water these days.

Carry a beach towel in your car and dip your toes and your entire body (skinny or not) into every hot springs you can find. Once will be enough for some. Others will become your happy place and you will long to return again and again. Just do it! And sing your oms and your hallelujahs!

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Uncategorized

Something to live for

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Would we ever have adventures if we always had something to live for? Some of us would, I am sure. Some are always giving it their best shot, always repeating, “it’s now or never.” But timid, conscientious rule bound folks like me, would we ever have adventures if we always had something to live for?

She was packing up her minimal overnight cargo bag in the basement of her oldest son’s sleekly remodeled home. One of the last items she folded into the bag was a silk robe – straight from China and straight from China Town. She has considered it part of her wardrobe now for 13 years – used only for light travel – and therefore hung in the back of the closet, unused for much of the intervening time. 

2009. That was the year she took off and traveled solo, caught the train to San Francisco, booked a cheap hotel sight unseen, rode the connecting bus from the train station across the Golden Gate Bridge and to her lodging and spent three days exploring the heart of San Francisco, the crooked street, the wharf, the pier. That was the year the sea lion rose out of the water for her and her alone – no one else was on the misty pier – and blew her a kiss. That was the year she forgot to pack a robe. She needed one. Not for her solo motel room. Not for the train. But her next stop was Washington and Seattle where she would be staying with cousins. A robe would be necessary. She purchased a silk robe. She traveled forward, visited cousins and an aunt.

She returned to Colorado glad to have had the experience. Glad to have taken the risk. She went on to take many more risks because she had nothing left to lose. Her kids were grown, gone from home. Her 20-year marriage was over. She had, quite literally not a thing for which she had to be overly responsible. For eleven years she lived alone. She lived and hiked and adventured and worked in beautiful places. Seattle. Utah. Arizona. Once again, Colorado.

These days she hikes and kayaks and plays music and writes and has a great roommate and new friends. Old friends come to visit and hike and explore. Life is good. But as she packs the silk robe from China Town, she asks herself, am I still ready and willing, eager, game for new adventures? Solitary adventures? A little bit of risk? Or has life become so sweet; do I have so much to live for that I can no longer step out of my box and risk a little?

Books and other Soul Food, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life

I Love My Life

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I love my life. I love my Victorian apartment. I love living within two blocks of hiking trails.

One of my most frequently re-watched romcoms is Sabrina. – the one starring Harrison Ford – but it is not Harrison Ford that attracts me to this particular movie.  A favorite scene is Sabrina talking to her father – a grown man – a man the age I am now, older and wiser. He is, by occupation, a chauffeur for a wealthy and successful family. He lives in the studio apartment over the garage. I can identify with that. I have lived in studio apartments. I have lived in a studio apartment over a garage. I have a daughter of marriageable age – as does he. I find the idea of a studio apartment over the garage romantic enough that I wrote one into a novel – The Cemetery Wives. Anyway, in an apartment over the garage, well-appointed but cluttered with books, the mature man and his daughter are conversing. His daughter is a grown woman just returned from a year abroad. 

She reminisces that one of the things she loves about her dad is that he decided to become a chauffeur so he would have time to read. He has loved his life all those years; made a living, become financially secure, while just waiting in the car for the Larabees. Waiting and reading – doing what he most loved – all the while improving his mind and his bank account

The weather was perfect as I walked home from Jean-Pierre – the French, French Bakery at noon. The slit in the side of my little black tank dress let in a cooling breeze, my silver-trimmed sandals were perfect for the weather and for walking. I was coming home from an activity I most love; sitting at a grand piano and playing for 3 or 4 hours, evoking musical memories for all the guests dining on crepes and French pastries, and in the process making my daily bread. “I love my life,” I said to myself, “What a wonderful world! I love living in the mountains. I love being in Colorado. I love the great out of doors. I love life in Durango. I love that I get to make music every blessed day!” I am reminded of something I heard Paul Harvey say many years ago, “Find something you love to do and do it so well you make a living at it.”

Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Spiritual Well Being

Fun is a luxury

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He stood, stooped and bent, and leaning on a walking stick. A whimsical smile played around the corners of his mouth and a plaid fedora sat jauntily on his head. He chuckled, watching his grandson load six paddleboards atop the roof of a Ford Expedition. He shuffled a few feet toward them as daughter and grandson hefted a kayak to the top of her Rav4. “What a lot of work,” he commented, “for a little bit of fun.”

Had it been fun? Yes! 90 minutes on a sundrenched lake in the waning days of summer. Bliss. Beauty. Invigoration. Was it work? Undeniably, yes. She had driven two and a half hours from Durango and past Telluride just to spend a couple hours with her grown son, her aging father, her four grandkids, her daughter-in-law and the DIL’s parents – a standard, but all too infrequent meet-up in the gorgeous mountains of Colorado. Was it worth it? Isn’t fun always worth it? A day spent on the water is soul nourishing. Yet a spontaneous meet-up is very rare amidst responsibilities and work commitments. 

Fun seems so expensive in the day-to-day rush. Fun costs time. Fun costs effort.

If we are not careful, somewhere around the age of 25 we lose our grip on fun. We are too exhausted to go the extra mile for recreation, and we feel duty bound to do the unfun tasks first. Unless of course we have doctor’s orders to run every morning – or hike – or go for a swim – or sit in the sun! Then we can take our recreation like a pill, mark it off the list like a chore and not feel guilty about recreating.,  

She remembers fun when she was young and tagging along with her parents. They were youth sponsors in the local church. Having barely grown into adulthood themselves, they remembered how to plan fun activities. Youth get togethers, being church sanctioned, were obviously for the glory of God so copious amounts of time were spent lavishly decorating spook houses, bobbing for apples or taking a moonlit hayride. Likewise, church picnics could rightly be considered obligations. No amount of effort was too great to shlep the ice chest of cold fried chicken and potato salad to the group picnic site or to set up the volleyball net or horseshoe pit. But her understanding, her unspoken training, her unconsciously formed opinion was that personal recreation is selfish, self-centered, and therefore ungodly.

Here’s a newsflash: some people garden for fun. It is true! Also true that some garden to survive and it becomes acknowledged, hard work. But garden hobbyists, they work long hours, bending, stooping, hauling and they exude enjoyment.

Some people fish. For fun! Not for food. They rise before dawn and move silently to the river. They stroke and cast and stroke and cast and sometimes they catch. And then they release. For fun. Just for fun. They are home in time for breakfast – before the sun blazes over the one remaining mountain. 

Her perspective throughout early adulthood was that fun was expensive; a luxury, forbidden fruit, pleasure to be quaffed only when every other self-sacrifice had been performed to generate income. Now she knows that fun itself may take a copious amount of effort. She must be content to embrace that work, those duties, and then luxuriate in the fun – reap the benefits of rejuvenation!

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Uncategorized

Forever 67

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She rarely drags her heels in dread at birthdays. What can you do to stop them? Nothing. The years will march on. So why not party? Eat the cake, blow out the candles and not rue the passing of the earth one more rotation around the sun. But this year? She doesn’t want to turn another year older. She knows these truly are the best years of her life. Sixty-seven has been the best year ever and therefore she wants to stay 67 forever. Finally, she has tasted it all. She has enjoyed the accomplishments she longed for, basked in snippets of affirmation, engaged in friendship, made the decision to enter in to self-confidence, greeted most days with gratitude.

Does she now have it all? Is the bucket list complete? Is it time to fold herself up and return to her maker? She doesn’t think so. 

She wants to stay 67 forever because she has finally tasted what life can and should be and she wants more of it. She wants to know the rest of the story. She wants to continue the momentum. She wants to keep saying to younger people, “It gets better! Hang in there! The 60s are a great decade! You have so much to look forward to!”

Still, she would like to linger in this year just a little bit longer, enjoy a second helping of this year’s goodness, perhaps order dessert, savor another cup of tea, a few more hugs and the promise of kisses, another sigh of satisfaction at a job finally, finally well done.

Character, Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Spiritual Well Being

I Want More

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She is 67 and she is abundantly aware that the best years of her life, the most enjoyable, the most productive, are now. She has all she ever wanted. She is livin’ the life. She makes music. She is immersed in music. She plays music for money. She has traveled and lived in many beautiful places – beyond what she originally imagined. She has walked and hiked in sunshine, blessed with the wind to her back and a breeze on her face, and crafted essays that describe her feelings, and lived to see a book or two in print. She has floated more than one river and seen the ocean. She has passed through fields of flowers in bloom at the peak of the Continental Divide. She has experienced the solitude of alone and independent in the wild.

She has birthed children and watched them grow and loved them and been loved in return.

She is 67. She knows what she wants. All she ever wanted is right now. Yet she does not sit on the couch waiting for the bell to toll. No. She wants more. More travel. More music. More beautiful places. More love. More JOY. For the remaining years of her life. Because the two final things on her bucket list are:

Sail into port grandly

Die in a beautiful place

She wants the last thing to leave her body to be music – along with her soul. Or is music her soul? Or is her soul music? She is not quite sure. But she knows they are inextricably twined. And she wants more. Why? Not because she is greedy. But because the cup of life at its fullest evaporates. One must constantly replenish.

To be clear, she feels a little more like The Cranberries and much better treated than Oliver.

Emotional Health, Goals and Dreams, Health and Long Life, Home and Hearth, Spiritual Well Being

Jigsaw puzzle piece

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What a wonderful morning. The air, though wintery, was alive with portent. Her sleep the night before had been complete, restful, scattered with positive dreams rather than riddled with anxiety. The morning cup of tea was just the right temperature juxtaposed with the frosty air from the open front door. The morning was like a bordered jigsaw puzzle waiting for a choice piece, the piece that had been held to the light, examined from all sides, compared with each preceding piece and each potential piece until, yes! Even from 18 inches away one could tell it was a perfect match. The piece, that one choice piece, was falling into place. Home. She was singing a new song. She had purchased a feeling, a feeling of home and happiness and success for yet another two months. She was alive. She was grateful. She savored this moment, enjoyed it fully, all the while knowing that once you finish a puzzle and breathe that sigh of satisfaction, soon enough there will be another challenge waiting in the wings.

Books and other Soul Food, Character, Fiction is Truth, Health and Long Life

Bel Canto

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I don’t often read thrillers or horror stories, but when I do – and I can count them on a few fingers of one hand – they include music.

What is in a title? Sometimes a title gives a hint of the overall plot of a story. My favorite Dean Koontz novel is The City and it is, indeed about the city in more ways than one, but it is also about brotherly love and music and a talented piano boy turned piano man. What did I expect when I picked up a book titled Bel Canto? That the entire book would be about beautiful singing? No. If anything, I expected a one-liner somewhere deep in the book or at the denouement where someone sings an unforgettable song. 

The book is just good enough, just well-known enough, that I am both ashamed and amazed not to have read it sooner. But had I read Bel Canto in 2001 when it first came out in paperback, would it have had the same impact as reading it in 2022. 2022 when the world has gone mad, yet I have been heard to admit I am happy, perhaps the happiest I have been in a long time. 

I have always loved music. A piano has always been a necessity, but I learned to love bel canto and Italian pieces when my youngest toured and performed with Colorado Children’s Chorale. I was raised to be a musician, but a gospel musician only. Even though Granddad had a Victrola and a collection of Swedish chanteuses, I had little appreciation for opera until I became more intimately acquainted with it as a core knowledge music specialist.

In Ann Patchett’s finely tuned Bel Canto, opportunities to identify with the accompanist are plentiful, there are also long moments to identify with the hostages, to pity underprivileged child terrorists, to savor the deep, profound effect music has on our lives. And there are questions to ponder. 

My ruminations are both satisfying and alarming. My thoughts have to do with:

Anthropological questions

Psychological questions

Ethical questions

Governmental and diplomatic questions

A new kind of normal

Adapting to one’s environment

Happiness in the face of captivity

Blooming where you are planted

Might there be anything dangerous with blooming where you are planted?

Should you let your guard down if you bloom where you are planted?

Can one be truly happy if one is always looking over their shoulder?

Might Happiness have a lot to do with working willingly with your hands?

Does one really want to exist in perpetual, blissful happiness?

Is music nothing more than the opiate of the masses?

I love a book chock full of food for thought. Particularly when it hits me with music and love and forced social distancing all at the same time! It reminds me why I write. It reminds me of Love in various shades and circumstances.

“We found love right where we are.”

Family, Health and Long Life, Hiking and outdoor beauty, Photos

Christmas news 2021

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Cherry Odelberg, Durango, Colorado, December 2021

It has been a really great year full of blessings and good surprises, never mind that we are now in the deepest darkest days of winter, I am experiencing the second cold in about as many weeks, and I definitely overbooked myself when I dipped my exploratory toe back into the workforce. Yes. I worked 50 hours in seven days last week– all in the name of survival, being a responsible employee, and independent retiree. But let’s start with the good stuff.

In January, February and March I kept to the house other than my daily 3 to 8 mile jaunts into the great outdoors. I practiced music, I wrote books, I published books. Life was grand. Andrea and I and my Dad took a two week road trip to the Northwest at the end of March. We had fun staying in contactless check-in Air B&Bs and visiting cousins and their families along the route. Andrea and I had fun. Dad rather missed the opportunities to socialize and joke with motel or restaurant staff – but he was totally satisfied by getting to visit with Joyce and Rod, David and Virginia Anderson and family; David and Gayle Harris and family, Cathi and Chuck. We even got to hike and enjoy a seafaring meal with Philip, and we met Shannon and Lisa on the outskirts of Salt Lake City to share an outdoor meal.

Once home again, Andrea returned to her seasonal job as a wilderness ranger with the National Forest Service and I continued writing and set about looking for music opportunities with which to supplement my income. 

On May 21, I took a trip to Grand Junction to attend the high-school graduation of oldest grandson, Drew. Although I made it before the ceremony was over, the trip included traversing Coal Bank Pass, Molas Pass and Red Mountain Pass in eight to 12 inches of snow. Andrea followed a couple hours behind in her truck and was the last driver over before they closed Red Mountain. While I awaited the go ahead at the top of Red Mountain, I changed from my graduation sandals into my hiking boots and threw a down coat over my sleeveless dress.

In late spring, Dad and I spent an adventurous night in a cabin on Grand Mesa and followed that with an outdoor luncheon at Coni and Steve’s.

Dad traveled to Durango with me to spent four days which we repeated again in the summer. At Thanksgiving Kevin and family passed through. We enjoyed 24 hours of music and hiking before they went on to Phoenix to have Thanksgiving with Sarah’s sister. Dad stayed with me for another four days.

In June I began playing piano for Saturday and Sunday morning brunch at a local French bakery. I like it immensely. I play love songs from the early ¾ of the 20th Century. I spent a few days in Lake City with my kayak paddling every evening and hiking every day with friend Linda and her kayak. I also hiked Highland Mary’s Trail outside Silverton with friend Johanna and was privileged to have other good friends drop in and hike with me throughout the warm months. I took my kayak out solo so many times I have lost count. In October, my roommate (aka Andrea) moved out which greatly increased my living expenses. No worries. I found seasonal work on the Polar Express and then an administrative music job at Stillwater Music opened up – just the job I had been hoping for. In 2020 I sang virtually with the Durangatones from Stillwater. Now I enjoy playing keyboard with Groove Casters (also a Stillwater Adult Band).

I continue to write stories. I am writing songs again. I even played electric bass at a church meeting last summer. See what I mean? Life is good!

Blessings on your new year!