In Retrospect...

When my friends experience times of crisis, one of my stronger inclinations is to go throw a mixed CD together, because who doesn't feel better with new music? Normally I resist this urge, understanding how juvenile this might seem to someone who is trying to grapple with, say, issues of life and death or extreme physical pain. I resist the urge for the most part, but there are a couple extreme cases when I have given in to this urge to make a cd to cure what ails you. Unfortunately, whether or not the recipient of the mix cd reads much into it, each mix cd becomes invested with excruciating meaning once I've given the cd away.

Last December, my boss of seven years suddenly became ill. He was having debilitating chest pains. He kept on working, but his color was so gray and he looked awful. He was a major mentor in my life and I was passionately loyal to him, so to see him struggle through this health issue was torture. What could I, small insignificant Shannon, do in a time when he suffered so? Make cds of course. He and I had often traded cds over the years, both of us being compulsive music collectors but having incredibly different tastes. It makes me laugh, but I almost never liked what he gave me,though he often came 'round to the albums I gave him which just proves my point that I have the best taste in music ever.

A few days of this illness wore on and he looked worse and worse. I started to feel frantic. I sensed what was going to happen, even though I wouldn't acknowledge it to myself. One day, after a particularly difficult day for him - I even think he snapped at me - I went home in a frenzy, agonizing over my beloved boss being so sick he snapped at me. I stayed up late into the night burning cds for him. I started writing letters to him, trying to tell him how much he meant to me and how making cds is my way of giving chicken soup to a sick friend. By the time I went to bed, I had burned six or seven albums and had six or seven drafts of this letter littering my living room floor. The next morning I woke up super early and finished burning more albums for him, using up every blank cd I had. I was so excited, I was like - he may be sick, but this will be a little perk for him, because I knew he LOVED borrowing albums from people and listening to new music. Sometimes I think it was less about whether he liked the music or not, but about being able to say he'd heard this or that in any conversation. I think he really truly wanted to be as well versed and knowledgeable about all types of music as possible - to him, it was the ultimate cool, which I totally understood because I felt the same way.

That morning I had an early off site meeting, but I was hopping with excitement to give my boss twelve new albums and I was really excited about some of them and I just wanted him to have them so badly. I got back to the office around ten or eleven, and when I pulled up his car was in the parking lot. I practically ran inside so that I could give him the cds, because he often left at that time in the day. I got to his cubicle, but it was empty. I ran back to the window and his car was gone. We must have passed in the elevator. I left the cds on his chair and thought expectantly, excitedly, of him finding them the next morning.

That afternoon I left early. I don't remember why, now. I just did. My good friend called me around 4pm. When I answered the phone I shouted 'holla!' Silence met my greeting and I knew something was wrong. I have some bad news, she said. And I knew what it was before she even said. "Neil Callahan passed away around 3pm this afternoon", which was around the time I was driving home from work. For the next few days I couldn't go into work. And I kept picturing those cds on his chair, just sitting. Never listened to. Unacknowledged.

Fast forward to last month, which is when I received the news that my friend had had triple bypass heart surgery. Yes, the friend that I talked about in the last post. I went into frantic frenzy mode, because here was somebody else, somebody closely connected to Neil even, that was so deathly sick. I had to make him a cd. It was an emotional imperative.

ryan
1. 'All Your Way' Morphine
2. 'You Don't Know What Love Is (You Just Do As Your Told)' The White Stripes
3. 'Letter From An Occupant' The New Pornographers
4. 'Train In Vain' The Clash
5. 'Whistling In the Dark' Firewater
6. 'Portland Oregon' Loretta Lynn
7. 'That's It, I Quit, I'm Movin' On' Sam Cooke
8. 'Game, Set & Match' The Herbiliser (featuring More or Les)
9. 'Go Tell the Women' Grinderman
10. 'Paper Planes' M.I.A.
11. 'Hang Me Up To Dry' Cold War Kids
12. 'Angry' The Bug (featuring Tippa Irie)
13. 'Shake and Pop' Nick Lowe
14. 'Boney Fingers' Hoyt Axton
15. 'Traveling Man' Dolly Parton
16. 'Monkey Gone to Heaven' Pixies
17. 'Ring the Bells' James
18. 'Whole Wide World' Wreckless Eric
19. 'My Year In Lists' Los Campesinos!
20. 'The Worst Day Since Yesterday' Flogging Molly
21. 'Midnight Rider' Willie Nelson
22. 'Long Way Home' Tom Waits
23. 'extraordinary machine' Fiona Apple

I put this together thinking about how cool the music was. I ignored the lyrics of the songs, for the most part (except for maybe the first and last songs, were are signature songs of mine and explain Shannon better than any other songs I've ever heard) so I gave it to him (I wrote in huge red letters on the front THIS CD IS GUARANTEED 100% AWESOME) and after he had it, it occurred to me to think about WHAT the songs were saying. Why is this so important? Because this particular guy is the unrequited love of my life and though I do try my part to be over him, I wasn't really at the time and had some residual uncertainties about something that happened between us earlier in the year that never panned out. I listened to this CD in horror, after I gave it to him, thinking about our past history and the fact that the guy just had heart surgery. Hear are some choice lyrics:

You just keep on repeating/all those empty "I love you's/until you say you deserve better/I'm gonna lay right into you/you don't know what love is/you just do as you're told/just as a child of ten might act/but you're far too old/you're not hopeless or helpless/and I hate to sound cold/but you don't know what love is/you just do as your told

That's It, I quit, I'm movin' on

You didn't stand by me/no not at all/you didn't stand by me/no way

It's been the worst day since yesterday

Portland Oregan and slow gin fizz if that ain't love then tell me what is, uh huh

Faded Pink Blankie

I saw my friend the day before the night of the soccer game. I don't know whether it's the large issues like the economy that make his health problems so hard for me to process, or if its the hurt of watching someone you love in pain and knowing they won't let you - don't want you - to help that makes hurricanes seem more tragic and bank failures so terrifying. Whatever the reasons, I felt myself collapse under an alarming avalanche of sudden depression when I heard the Wamu news. My body felt as flat as an old birthday balloon as I ran sweatily through the beautiful night. Healthy, despite my friends illness; prosperous, despite the stock market - with a ball to chase after, cool night air to do it in and no hurricanes anywhere near my state. It felt like these simple pleasures weren't enough, because of Wamu, because of hurricanes, because of my friend. Wamu no longer exists, is that a larger sign that even friendships I determined to be eternal are too fragile to depend on? Why isn't caring and love enough to keep the gel of a friendship strong so that I could be there when he was sick? How can a bank, one in which probably half of my Seattle acquaintances belong to, just collapse? Why buy a house when I might have no job in a year? What's the point of a 401K and nest eggs, what with unscrupulous bankers and investors far removed from anything I've ever been able to control?Who can feel safe at home anymore if we are at constant threat of natural disaster, orange alerts and foreclosure? What if our next president is as bad as our current one, no matter who wins? What if he can’t fix any of it? Thoughts were starting to spin out of control. Familiar? I can't be the only one having silent hysterics lately.

I lost hope during this soccer game. Actually, I had lost hope while looking in the bleak eyes of my friend at lunch the day before, but hearing the news about Wamu brought it home, made my friend's distance and inaccessibility inescapable. And the hurricanes? They were the reason I tried (unsuccesfully) to turn the radio off in the first place. I don't normally try to hide from the news, but isn't there a point where there is too much bad news? Why can't I declare that a line has been crossed, I am officially no longer obligated to listen to the suffering and fear of others? Is there a point where I can let my friend go through his trials without me, because he doesn't need or want me, and I am absolved of responsibility even though I love him with all my heart? What if loyalty, compassion and worry for him radiates off me like a heat wave and I can't sleep because I am so hot? The economy is collapsing, the world is heating up and the unrequited love of my life just had triple bypass surgery - so what's the point? I never told him I love him. I can't, because you don't say that to someone who isn't likely to say it back. He said, 'no regrets' and I looked at the table, at my disgusting salad, at the floor and muttered unconvincingly "I know, right?" It's hard to sell that when your biggest regret is sitting three feet away from you. What does it say about me that I just want peace to chase after a ball, humming whatever tune is on my brain under my breath, shouting encouragements to my team (while shooting dirty looks at the enemy team...of course) and ignore relationships that are so important - but difficult and painful. My relationship with him is not the only one in my life that I struggle because they are in pain, but I've been hurt and I want to ignore the pain even as I can feel how much I care. Ignore the banks, I can't change their course, ignore the pain of the difficult people I love, I can't change them. The burden of loving someone that doesn't love me back is beyond my control and best ignored and gotten over, right? Even if 'the getting over' hasn't ever quite worked, not in seven - no, eight - years. Even if I am worried that he needs to know people care at this time in his life? Even if 'people' is little humble ole me? Isn't it better to nurse my hurt even though the rest of me tells me, he needs to know you care even if he can't respond to it the way you wish he would. And there go the silent hysterics again. If I don't bury my head in the sand, I am followed around by that little black rain cloud of anxiety. If I do bury my head, then I am beseiged by feelings of guilt and disloyalty...and regret.

As usual, it's music that can change even these black moods. I dug deep into my most beloved songs to make this playlist for ultimate comfort. Only songs were allowed that not only made me feel good but also have a positive message. I named it after the most comforting object in my life. (Designed to fit on an eighty minute CD of course).

Faded Pink Blankie

1. It's All Good - Sinead O'Connor and Damien Dempsey 'Collaborations'
2. Three Little Birds - Bob Marley & the Wailers 'Legend'
3. Seems I'm Never Tired Lovin' You - Nina Simone 'The Essential Nina Simone'
4. Fidelity - Regina Spektor 'Begin to Hope'
5. Always a Friend - Alejandro Escovedo 'Real Animal'
6. Sunshine on my Shoulders - John Denver
7. Safe From Harm - Massive Attack 'Blue Lines'
8. Carry Me Home - Hem 'Rabbitsongs'
9. who is it (carry my joy on the left, and my pain on the right) - Bjork 'Medulla'
10. This Is The Way - Devendra Banhart 'Rejoicing in the Hands'
11. Clint Eastwood (Ed Case Remix) – Gorillaz 'Gorillaz'
12. Almost Rosey – Tori Amos ‘American Doll Posse’
13. Satisfied Mind - Jeff Buckley 'Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk'
14. Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive - Willie Nelson 'Stardust'
15. Could We - Cat Power 'The Greatest'
16. Less of Me - Loretta Lynn ‘Coal Miner’s Daughter’
17. Shine - Dolly Parton 'Little Sparrow'
18. You Are My Joy – Reindeer Section ‘Son of Evil Reindeer’
19. Your Arms Around Me - Jens Lekman
    

And like these songs, I know that I need to close with a good message. Well, I've decided that I’m choosing to hope again, even though it's more of a concept than reality at the moment. I choose to hope that things will get better. I think it's more than just hoping, I choose to believe that things will get better. And if it is really hard to ignite that first little flare of hope? Well, I'll go play number 1 and 2 on Blankie one more time.

What does it mean to choose to hope? Well, I'm going to keep putting my money in their respective -and yes, decreasing - investments. It's a sign of my faith in our country. I'm going to keep on voting. I accept that even the rudimentary, and some would claim pointless, gesture of voting is a small sign that I'm still paying attention and I'm still trying to tell the government what I think is right. I'm going to play soccer, rain or shine. I'm going to call my friend in a few weeks just to say 'how are ya, I care and I want to know that you are okay' - even if I can't fix his heart, physically or emotionally. And I'm going to try and call the few the other people who I struggle with, because I know that I do care and I want to be the sort of person who can forget her own hurts long enough to make a simple phone call of support. I'm going to clean a little bit every day. I'm not going to be afraid to turn on the news, but I won't be afraid to turn it off either when I need to reclaim my peace of mind. I'm going to create and consume art, music, books and everything wonderful. I'm going to believe that it will get better, and try to believe it body and soul. I'll try to choose the actions that prove that I believe that things will get better. And I'm going to find as many Faded Pink Blankies as I can to quiet the silent hysterics on those days they ram their foot in the door and I'm having trouble kicking them out.