old news

my mom informed me that i was supposed to be born today, april 19th, 20 years ago. instead i was born jan. 24th. a bit of a difference i suppose. i'm happy/privileged/blessed to be here either way.

i just found a piece i wrote nearly exactly two years ago. the teacher i had at the time has since passed away. i love her and all that she taught me. without further adieu, here it is.


Dear Mary Ann, David and Tennessee,

This is not the average suicide note.

1. “Sweet Lorraine” by Chet Baker
This has been a favorite of mine for as long as I can remember, mainly because it’s the song I was named after. “’Weet Wowaine!” I used to shout when Dad would come home and spin his favorite LPs. He’d almost always concede, and Chet’s sweet little trumpet would fill the room. We’d dance to the swinging rhythm and he’d tickle my smooth feet against his grizzled five o’clock shadow, his hot drunken breath bringing life to my toes.
As I grew up, so did the barrier between Mom and Dad. They acknowledged each other only for my sake, but I saw right through it. At night, they would go to their room together, but when I woke to go to the bathroom, Dad’s sonorous snoring would echo against the living room walls.
I recoiled as most teenagers do. Mom left on sporadic drives across the country, leaving me with an anxious, stumbling old man doing his best to maintain our relationship. For two weeks straight, while Mom was gone on one of her escapades, Dad stayed up and seconds before I walked in the door he would put the needle on “Sweet Lorraine.” I’d say “Hi Dad” and proceed to walk to my room while he slurred, “Hey, come on now. Don’t you want to li-listen to ‘Sweet Lorraine?’ It’s our favorite…” I couldn’t stand the smell of him, or even the sight of him anymore. Disheveled and coarsened, like only a man without love can be. I won’t lie though. Every time I hear that song, a stinging nostalgia zips to my toes.

2. “Let’s Stay Together” by Al Green
Ted Underwood and I spent many Friday nights listening to this song, listening definitely being the operative word. He’d take me to the overlook and the city lights would sparkle on the dashboard. We would kiss and the first verse would come in.

“I, I'm so in love with you
Whatever you want to do
Is all right with me
'Cause you make me feel so brand new
And I want to spend my life with you”

I like the way the tainted view of lovers is presented in this song. How it makes everything okay. Even at 16, I remember actually feeling these words were true for us. Only now, as I’ve gotten older have I realized that love never goes away. It only changes shape. It is still beautiful.


3. “Across the Universe” by The Beatles
How can you go wrong with The Beatles? The seemingly endless Vietnam War was still raging when this song came out. The Let it Be album is rarely any Beatles fan’s favorite, but “Across the Universe” really resounded with me. When John Lennon repeatedly sung “Nothing’s gonna change my world” I felt the power in that statement. I was enraged because of the Vietnam War. In spite of my anger, I saw that I could choose to be happy regardless of circumstance. This may sound hypocritical coming from someone you probably consider a flower-loving cold-blooded murderer. A walking contradiction.
Even here, in the depths of grief, I find things to smile about.

4. “Trouble” by Cat Stevens
I promised myself I would never be like Mom. She left because she was afraid. I left because I didn’t know what else to do. Remember the trip from Talahassee, Florida all the way to Boulder, Colorado? Tennessee, you thought it was the beginning of your demise. The stud of Ms. McManoman’s kindergarten class suddenly forced to throw away his social acclaim for the foreign open road.
This song was on repeat in the eight track. Your little voice would strain as you sung your favorite lines with sincerity:
“Trouble
Oh trouble move from me
I have paid my debt
Now won't you leave me in my misery”
Mary Ann and David, you guys would groan at the opening chords. I just smiled. How perspective skews the way we see the world. Tennessee, you thought leaving was your greatest trouble. Mary Ann and David, you were old enough to begin believing I was your greatest trouble. I was troubled because I had no idea where we were going. I was troubled because I saw my mother behind my eyes.

5. “Cello Sonata Movement 3” by Rachmaninov
Mary Ann, do you remember when you opted to be in the orchestra because you said you couldn’t afford to be caught dead in the tall band hats and standardized parachute pants? You’d already put your reputation in jeopardy by being the new girl. Orchestra it was.
In an instrument store in Denver, I was checking the rental price on a violin for you. Behind a pine door, I heard this very song dripping from the strings. It was magnetic, and I found my ear bent against the door, hardly breathing for fear I would miss a note. When the woman came out, cello in hand, I stared at her. All I could do was ask her what the piece was. I didn’t have the guts to actually tell her the true effect of her performance.
I’d kept classical music in a box inside my brain, right next to drinking prune juice. Deemed for old people who couldn’t handle any more excitement. This song broke the box. I walked away trying to pull the splinters from my neurons.


6. “River” by Joni Mitchell
A friend once told me her life was too easy and far too predictable. I’ve never had this “problem.” Now especially, that I’ve hurt all of you, this songs resides deeper than ever before. I’m not asking for forgiveness. I can’t expect that. I’m only saying this:
“I’m so hard to handle,
I’m selfish and I’m sad
Now I’ve gone and lost the best things
That I’ve ever had”

7. “Burying Song” by Hem
Some say I am committing suicide, while I say the consequence of my decision will kill me. Tomorrow with the pierce of a needle.
The power of music astounds me. Though my life has been rocky, it has a soundtrack. Don’t all of our lives have a soundtrack? I have always disliked the way a good song could so quickly be spoiled by a bad experience. Songs are meant to be discovered by your own light, like a flickering candle that brings warmth and clarity to a cellar. They are not to be discovered through a motion sensor that catches you off guard, its fluorescent beams penetrating your skin.
I hope that this CD will only be heard by candlelight, but if I have spoiled your dark midnight stroll, bury these songs alongside my body.

I love you.