John Corson's Blog

WRITINGS & RANTINGS

Friday, September 17, 2021

As I sit here in my home office, the house is quiet with the exception of Reggie's snoring. Janice has gone off to her 50th High School Class Reunion, which is really a two-day affair. I will be going with her for tomorrow's program which includes all-you-can-eat Bar-B-Q with all the fixings', an all you can drink bar and if you are a t-tootler, you can have all the soft drinks and ice tea you can drink. There will be music from a live band, corn hole and other games, etc. I really didn't want to go both days, but Janice would - even if it were an all week affair, she would try to go every day.

My 50th Class Reunion will be in June of 2023. The dates (a three day affair) and location has already been set and between now and March they will be working on a program and activities. Ours is really being well prepared and since mine is in combination with the three other high school classes from 1973 in Newport News all together, it should be a big event, indeed. Janice will probably go to only one night/day, if that. She will say she doesn't know anyone from "that side of the water."

Well last night had to happen! If you read yesterday's musings I was very down in the dumps as it was the 5th anniversary of the passing of my little doggie Princess. About 9:30 pm I went out to her resting place, put a chair in place, turned on some soft and reflective piano music, playing it through my Bluetooth speakers and carried with me a whole roll of toilet paper as I knew that sometime while out there the snot was going to fly. And fly it did!

It didn't start right off. The album is was playing was available on Spotify and it contains eleven songs that I first heard when I was living in Skippers (outside of Emporia, VA) back between 2005 and 2009. In fact, if memory serves me correctly I first heard it around the time that this older-middle aged couple were getting married and they didn't want an organist or pianist but just some soft music leading up to the processional. A young lady in my church gave me a CD with eleven beautiful songs on it featuring Owen Richards playing. I doubt there would be one person reading this (if 10,000 were to read this blog) who would recognize any one of the 11.

I feel in love with the CD and I ended up making a copy of it since it was only available at the time at Wal-Mart and it was one of those "elevator music" types. I would play that on cold winter nights out there with a fire in the fireplace and Janice's cat, Daisy, laying on the floor near it and Princess close by. I would turn off the lights and listen to the music - only the light of the fire going in the living room. I had a CD player that had a changer in it and could hold 5 CDs at a time, so when the Piano music finished, it would change to something else, usually Gabriel Faure's Orchestral Music with the selections being Masque et Burgamasque, The Dolly Suite, The Shylock Suite,  The Suite from Pelleas et Melisande, and the Berceuse, Op. 16. I know you could care less what music was on the Faure CD, but I thought I would tell you anyway in case you want to look them up and listen. Not all the tracks were somber or dark, in fact none were, but some were thought provoking and contemplative pieces.

I had other CD's too that I would put in the changer, but those I mentioned were always in there.

Now, back to last night. I played the songs from Owen Richards. He did record about seven or eight other CDs and many of them have familiar songs from the pop style of the 70's 80's and 90's. But two are unfamiliar. The one I just mentioned and a second which has become associated with Reggie for whatever reason. Probably because I first played through it all one evening while he and I sat alone just meditating and enjoying life. He was on my lap the first time I listened to that one all the way through. I like it just as much as the first and I have played it through a few times in the house during the past winter and Reggie was each time near or beside me - fire in the fireplace just roaring each time.

The first CD, the one I played through Spotify last night is called Wishes and the first song set the stage for my hour long talk with Princess. Actually, I sat in front of her monument and just stared off around her resting place. It is not the first song that set me off, but the second called A Wish Come True. I said out loud, "my wish won't be coming true tonight. You won't be with me tonight."

The third song is In This I Hope. Now I don't know the context of this song or for reason it was written, but the music got me to thinking about days gone by and wishing I could repeat some of the good times.

The fourth is The Quest. Every time I hear this song which is one that seems to imply a determination to do something, I guess judging by the title, going on a quest. But it could also be about deciding what to do. And I asked Princess last night, "What is my quest?"

The fifth song always makes me cry and when I sing words that I made up to the tune I sing "I miss you so much." That song is called Dreaming. Folks, the tears started flowing and for the entire five minutes of that song I was in a state of uncontrollable sobbing. It was a bitter experience. I nearly screamed out loud and I knew that if I did that the neighbors would start looking out the windows. This continued on through the sixth, seventh and eighth songs and I went through the toilet paper like it was candy in the hands of a four year old.

As the time passed and the tears were still slowing streaming down my face, the tenth song, called A Gift from Above played and, knowing the title as I do, it dawned on me that maybe I should not cry anymore but just reflect how precious a gift Princess was and that I got to enjoy her for nearly fourteen years.

But it was the last song that sealed the sadness of the night. It is called Coming Home and every time I hear that I cry a good one and say out loud: "Will I one day be coming home to you, Princess?"

Ah, last night was a night of bitter sorrow. And went I get into that dark of mindset I ask myself "What is wrong with me?" My mother was a lot like that. I am pretty sure I inherited my melancholia from her.

Well at about 10:30 I was about over it and decided that I had to take my nightly vitamins and get ready to settle down. Whiskers, my 21 lbs. cat decides she wants to go out and at night, she hardly ever ventures off of the back deck. So we sat out there for about 30 minutes. Whiskers is a talker. She meows as if she is saying words to me and we carry on this conversation, sometimes one-sided on my part, sometimes she answers my quips and questions. I think she is a mind reader and somehow instinctively knows I needed a living being or thing to talk to. I guess you can say she was there for me.

With the excruciating inner pain and sorrow I was experiencing last night and the large amount of tears that rolled, I was physically exhausted and found it easy to go to sleep last night. It didn't take more than six or seven minutes after I hit the sheets before I was out.

This morning I did some laundry. I had some clothes that needed to be washing and I washed the sheets on the bed. While they were washing I had a lunch engagement with my preacher friend Mark Reon, who I have spoken of several times in these rags. His wife is my doctor. They are such good people, but more than that Mark is just funny and has the driest sense of humor I think I have ever seen. I needed the fellowship with him today. We went to Texas Roadhouse and ate steak and we talked for over two hours.

I came back home and finished the laundry. I had been home ten minutes before Janice arrived from work. She was looking forward to the reunion and after showering, doing her nails and whatever else women do for a big event like this, she was ready to go. I took her to her twin brother's house (yes, they graduated together) and they were going from there. I took Reggie with us and after dropping Janice off we went to Starbucks so I could get a Pumpkin Spice latte and Reggie his usual "Pup Cup" filled with whipped cream.

We came back home and I got the sheets out of the drier and made up the bed. Following that I came in here and started writing this commentary. What a life, right?

I have spent all of this time spilling my guts out and exhaustively spewing my hurts, sorrows and woes. I make no apologies since only one or two people ever read my musings. These are like a diary only it is more journaling. Psychologists and counselors tell many of their clients/patients to journal their experiences and feelings so that any heavy weights can be gotten off of the chest and a feeling of freedom can come about. Journaling is good. I have truly gotten a lot out in the open and off of my chest.

I really don't care if anybody reads these words or any of the words I have written over the last year (almost a year now). I will tell you one thing: It does me good to have this avenue to vent, rant, mope over and share happy times and sad times. I don't tell everything. Heck, if I did, I would be sitting here for hours a day. I have been sitting her for over 90 minutes and I have some things I would like to do while Janice is at her reunion - like read a few chapters from a book, or something constructive.

Please don't worry about me tonight. I have gotten over the large hurdle that was September 16th. The next time I cry as much as I did last night will probably be next May 19th when I will consciously or subconsciously be hurdled into what would have been the 20th birthday of my beloved Princess. I just hope against all odds that Reggie will still be with me when that comes around. But for a dog who will be 16 only nine days later, that may be pushing it.

Before stopping, let me just pass on one sensation I got from the several times over the past two years or so of sitting outside at night near Princess's resting place. The sensation is more like what I think I hear Princess saying in translated dog talk to me: "Daddy, you don't need to be out here all the time, it's hot out here (summer time), you are too cold tonight (winter time), the mosquitoes are eating at you (late summer, early fall). You need to be with Reggie. He is looking after you now and he is getting old and needs you to look after him too." If she could communicate through the barrier of the heavens and do so in English, I know she would say that to me. "I'm OK, Daddy. I don't hurt, I can see perfectly. I can hear very good. I am not in any pain. I can bark as loud as I want to and nobody gets mad at me. You take care of yourself and Reggie. I will wait for you here. I love you."

Time for me to stop. The snot is flying.


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BLOGS from 2021

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BLOGS from 2020
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Blogging

Blogs are about the blogger. It's as if he or she merely toots their own horns about the things they do, say and love.

My life is boring. I read, I watch Glenn Beck and Mark Levin. I listen to Andrew Wilkow. I engage in some conversation with those who are willing to listen (they being masochistic and enjoy killing themselves with my banter).

I plan on just laying out the things that bother me and the things I love. Nothing in-between. I hope you find whatever I put here amusing.

Here are the Past Rants:

Sep 17 - When The Snot Flies

Sep 16 - I Miss My Princess

Sep 15 - A Really Dark Day

Sep 14 - Dermatologist & Demands

Sep 13 - The Doctor & the Deacons

Sep 12 - When The Bottom Falls Out

Sep 11 - Remembering 9-11

Sep 10 - A Good Day to Cut Grass

Sep 9 - Only The Rain Excites Me

Sep 8 - Update from Mediocrity

Sep 7 - Intuit & The Post Office

Sep 6 - My Labor Day Activities

Sep 5 - Messing Up on a Good Day

Sep 4 - My Best Friend Reggie!

Sep 3 - Theory on the Withdrawal

Sep 2 - The Humidity is Gone!

Sep 1 - Doing What I Want To Do