Woke with a song worm this morning. Played several different versions of it while feeding catlips and making coffee; ending with the Queen herself, of course…so often my inspiration. Life changed forever that summer back in 1970. My family and I were traveling on our Chris Craft, as we did much of the summer, and moored in a tiny fishing village in Georgian Bay. The general store had the album displayed, and I bought it for the drawing on the cover, never having heard of the Canadian singer. We’d plug in my portable turntable out on the deck and dance and sing along, until we wore that vinyl scratchy.
My childhood home was always filled with music, often around the clock, until I would burrow my head under the pillow and wish it would stop. Midnight margaritas were real in our house. Your questions were often answered in song lyrics. At the drop of a hat all seven of us (Mom, Dad, me and my 4 siblings) would burst into song in public restaurants and shops with any inspiring prompt. The world was our oyster, and constant muse. There really were no ordinary days. They were all extraordinary. Magical and full of spontaneous adventure, fun, friends, my adoring grandparents, our horses and dogs and cats and bunny rabbits and all kinds of birds and fish…our every whim pretty much addressed instantly.
For the most part I had absolutely no clue what the world – or real life – was like. That’s why the horrific events of the rest of the world were so devastating to me. The war in Vietnam. The riots in the streets of Detroit. The assassination of fine men. I was shocked by human cruelty. And utterly unprepared to face the reality of my family’s personal dysfunction – let alone the country’s. I never will understand it fully in my lifetime. When you have so very much in life, why would anything but wonder and generosity occur?
A Painterly Home 