Serenaded with KISS

Tonight Mark and I were treated to Stross' rendition of "Beth," my favorite KISS song. His impromptu performance came after he emerged from our accessible bathroom with this announcement: "Hey, Mom and Dad. I am really good at this song. I'm going to sing it to you."

Wow! That has never happened before.

Don't be fooled by the photo - that was one of his high school speech performances. You see, he has spoken a solo before, but never sung one. Many times in 19 years, Stross has talked big about singing a solo, but we had yet to witness him taking the stage independently to perform a song. Tonight the stage was our living room, and the accompaniment came courtesy of his iPod.

Stross nerves (even alone with us) didn't allow for anything more than scant eye contact. And his wheelchair, and therefore his body, was positioned to face the wall more than us. However, for a reason known only to Stross, we had the privilege of hearing him sing in unison with Peter Criss to a rock 'n' roll classic. And, yes. He was really good at that song.

Please don't misunderstand. We have heard Stross sing aloud many, many times before. In fact, some of my earliest Stross memories are of him humming and singing along to songs shortly before his first birthday. Indeed, Stross still sings his way through each day.

He has simply never asked to command a solo performance - until tonight.

I have always loved how Stross' life has a soundtrack that aligns with the highlights of his life at the time. For instance, when we directed youth musicals at church, he constantly sang through the songs from the show. When his middle school or high school choir was getting ready for a concert, we knew the songs that would be performed, because Stross sang or hummed his favorites while going about the tasks of his day. And the years that he was in the high school musicals? Let's just say that our entire family had every melody of every song memorized in advance of opening night. To this day, when we see a movie, Stross spends the next weeks - even months - singing the biggest hits from what we saw on the big screen.

Evidently his optimal singing time occurs in our accessible bathroom when it is time for his cares (i.e., intermittent catherization and ostomy care at least every four hours, every day). It doesn't matter if Stross is alone or being assisted by one of us or a respite nurse, the first act of settling into his routine involves popping in a carefully chosen CD or nesting his carefully loaded iPod. Then he lets his Stross-version of the lyrics fly.

Through the years we've been the meaning in his life and his inspiration; carried on with wayward sons; bopped to the best of the Beach Boys; Mama Mia'd with Meryl and ABBA; hey-heyed with the Monkees; let it be with the Beatles; walked down streets with Dreamstreet; dreamed a dream with Les Miz; awakened to Spring Awakening; changed for good with Wicked; glissandoed with GLEE; whispered in the dark with Skillet; and so much more.

Truly, to be Stross is to be music.

So I wonder why tonight it also meant to perform it.

Perhaps we'll be serenaded more in the coming weeks and months. I hope so. His confidence is as charming as his life is heart-warming.

I guess, in many ways, his life is our soundtrack - Mark's and mine.

And tonight he got us ready for bed with his KISS.

Thank you, Stross. You are right. You are really good at that song.

The Effect of Music and Memories

I'm not really sure what to say about this vlog other than it is the first time Mark has appeared with me on camera for such a soul-exposing experience, and that is a bigger deal than you know.

My soul mate is a pretty private guy, but I detected an opportunity to receive an affirmative answer to a vlog invitation during the intermission of Godspell on Saturday night at our college. Buoyed by the satisfying feeling of a delicious meal and the renewing effect of musical memories, Mark softened into a answer that wasn't "no."

When we we got home, I simply got the computer and he began to set the shot. Note that he chose for us to share a chair. What a clever man. Is he pleased with the framing? No, but we were operating with the understanding that we were living a carpe diem moment, and it was time to capture memories, not create flawless video. (Take note, video students. Maybe you can try that excuse sometime when your composition is questionable. I don't think it will work, but you can try.)

Those of you who've known us since our courtship or newlywed years probably still hold memories of a quiet Mark. Certainly I did far more talking in the early years of our relationship than he did. Yet, one of the fascinating aspects of who we are as a couple is that conversation is always easy regardless of who is manufacturing and distributing the words. Those who don't know us well likely believe that I'm the one who does the majority of talking. Au contraire. Mark does a great deal of the communicating. He simply is more efficient with words and able to convey more with less. Do I talk more? Yes. Does Mark communicate more? Yes.

Since you may be more attuned to joyisms than markable moments, allow me to offer you hints of what to look for:
• His eye contact as I talk.
• His instant smile when I put my arm around his shoulder.
• His sense of fun and playfulness.
• His ability to mention a touchy topic without the need to explore further. (Theological discussion anyone?)
• His willingness to be vulnerable. (You just gotta love a man who admits to getting teary and nostalgic.)
• His ability to patiently listen at times when he senses my need for "me to be me."
• His capacity to simply let me be me.

Which leads me to this: I cannot hold back from pointing out my capacity to remember a date v. Mark's. To Mark, a date on a calendar doesn't matter as much as a memory and what that memory represents. For me, I need the fact verified before life can proceed and be credited as valid. But I'm glad I wasn't hung up on it Saturday night. As Mark began to reflect on his own musical experience, I knew he wasn't correct about the year he appeared in Godspell at the Waterloo Community Playhouse. I also knew it didn't matter. What mattered was that he was sharing what it had meant to him then and now.
He, like me, is fascinated by the fact that we appeared in the same musical prior to knowing each other. And that it was this musical that lead to our eventual meeting and courtship. The music director for Mark's production owned the restaurant where we met as singing waiters. Meeting this man-Larry Kussatz-led to Mark's eventual invitation to become a singing waiter. Therefore, had Mark not earned a role in the December 1982 production of Godspell, our paths might have never crossed.

And so - there we sat Saturday night - sitting side-by-side while singing along with every song as we privately heard them playing to different pit bands for the same show.

Mark is so fun to talk to and to share life with. I'm glad I captured such a moment and locked it in time. Also, a shout out to the cast of North High School's 1981 production. What a fantastic experience. Thanks for wonder-filled memories.
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"This is It" - Our Review

Michael Jackson means something very different to my teenage son than he does to me. While I sat in the theatre taking in "This is It" -- nodding my head and tapping my feet to the beat of my youth -- he sat beside me fascinated by thoughts of how one person can be known both for unsavory indiscretions (allegedly) and unparalleled genius (undeniably). I guess I pondered the paradox also, but most of the time I simply drank in the wonder of someone so thoroughly in command of his capacity to communicate through music.

It's practically cliche' to describe Michael Jackson as a genius. But, really, what other single word can be used? He's clearly the master of his craft - a magician who mixes music, movement and moving images as a way to fashion memories capable of lasting a lifetime. And now this movie encapsulates the work of his life: This truly is it.

Both times that I watched this cinematic tribute, I sat silently and a bit misty-eyed through the end credits like most of the other theatre-goers, attempting to reconcile what it meant that this really was it. The first time I sat next to my husband, remembering what it felt like to dance with him to the songs playing again for us as lively as in our courtship. The second time I sat next to my youngest son, enjoying a rare - and fleeting - night out together. One day he will accompany females that aren't me to must-see movies, but tonight the privilege was mine.

Then, as we warped back to present time during the car ride home, he helped me remember that it truly is times like these that help us learn to live and love again. I am blessed.

Enjoy ...



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Long Live Elvis!

I continue to believe that Elvis Presley transcends life and circumstance. And it's not just because of the simple, universal beauty of his music. I believe it's connected to the perpetual essence of who he is--a spirit that continues to bring joy into lives.

Take tonight for instance. I delighted in a performance by a group of musicians from Lifeworks (all of whom have profound developmental disabilities) called Musical Syndrome. They exuberantly performed several Elvis tunes as part of a rock band. And they played all the instruments of a rock band while singing as edgy and passionately as Elvis himself used to.

And I had to wonder: How did they ever learn about Elvis? What ever caused them to connect with The King? Because each one of them was certainly connected.

One man--the drummer--took the stage only after walking directly to a life-sized Elvis cut-out. (BTW: The cutout Elvis was sporting the gold lame suit). The man spent at least one full minute speaking privately to the cutout. N one could hear what he was saying. We could only see the interaction. As we watched, he stopped talking long enough to reach up to stand the collar of his shirt at attention then quietly offered a private comment to the visage of his alter ego. As the exchange ended, he touched his hand to his lips, kissed his fingers, and then touched them to the mouth of the cardboard Elvis before taking his place on the throne of his drum set. And, yes, he kept a steady, pulsing beat as his group proceeded to rock the house.

Totally captivating. Purely joyful.

So, yep. I think humans have an intuitive ability to connect to Elvis' spirit. Or maybe we have the ability to connect to the same spirit Elvis did when he was regularly rocking inhabitants of this world.

It's gotta be something transcendental. There's just no other way to explain it. And how cool is that?

Long live Elvis! Long live The King!