Spring Desert Snow

I’m still in Arizona, but not by much. I am at the border of New Mexico in the White Mountains. I came up here on a business trip. Now, NOW when it's officially Spring, when even the Canadians are thawing out, and the Washington State BLOGS are raving about warm spring rains, I get snow.

Yep. Two inches (or so) last night, and still coming down. It's been eight years since I was in snow, and then it was my brother's funeral, so the charm of the moment rather escaped me. Now …. Well I wish I wasn't here to work. I'd rather explore the winter and relearn to drive in the stuff.

Here is one of the picts of the snow I caught on the way into work this morning. Happy winter in the spring from the desert……..huh?

18 years ago

I stood in front of my brother, my best friend beside me as my sister-in-law played the bridal march on her little lap harp. If my friend had a grin on his face that seemed to threaten to split his skull in half, I think I might have matched it from sheer nervousness.

My sister, the maid of honor, came down the hallway of my parent’s living room first, in that step-stop march you never see anywhere other than a wedding ceremony.

Friends and family crowded into that room –which once seemed spacious – my brother, an ordained minister, officiated.

I had lost my job less than a week before. Truthfully, it wasn’t the sort of job you’d really miss, and the pay was pathetic, but it was at least income. Because we were so broke at our wedding, we saved money by having the ceremony at the house, asking relatives to help out and …. Ready?..... the reception was pot-luck. It was what we could do at the time, and I wasn’t about to give this woman who consented to marry me time to recant.

That was 18 years ago as of Sunday. In the last 18 years, we lost four of the people who were there and dear to us, friends have drifted away, some folks have moved out of the state.

We took allot of video that day, and we still keep the tape in a safe location, but I almost never watch it. I remember that day vividly: the nervousness, the laughter, the almost forgotten vows we wrote and tried to memorize, running away for JUST long enough to assure each other that it really happened and that we were actually married.

It was a good day, and one I revisit often.

Happy Anniversary Chelsea!

Post Dramatic Stress Syndrome

copyright 2005 Dale Hansen - no reproduction without permission

In case you’ve been following Chelsea’s Blog on the making of the 3-act play she’s been directing (and I was in), the single performance was Saturday.

It went very well, and was generally well received. The point of the production, of course, was to raise money for the church youth, and that goal was certainly accomplished.

Chelsea ran the team extremely well; I have to say how proud I am of her and her efforts. I must also add the unadulterated envy I have for the patience she displayed when the chaos was overwhelming.

For the last month, every waking moment has been dedicated to the play. All our energy, all our time, and a not insignificant amount of funds have all been channeled into the production.

Now, it’s over.

I am so relived. The relief and happiness I have at getting my life back after the amount of time dedicated to this single task is matched only by the immense sadness I have about it all being over and the wonderful (semi)controlled chaos, the camaraderie, the feeling of true teamwork in the pursuit of a common goal is no longer a part of my day-to-day existence.

It’s true I have my life back now. Yet, in comparison to the last month, my normal life seems somehow less – not so much diminished - but more that I didn’t realize how routine and staid my staid routine had become.

I have time to go back to the gym, now. I’ve missed that terribly. I have time to work on the yard, to wash the dogs and do all the countless little things I’ve put off to concentrate on the play. These are important things, they are the little things on which modern life is based, but there is a melancholy to this too, in that none of these things will ever hold the excitement and roller coaster thrill of the months of preparation I’ve just been through.

The men and women (and teens) that have gone through this with me, the faces I’ve seen three and four times each week are gone now. There are one or two I may never see again, as one moves away, others go back to their jobs and the countless little things on which their lives are based. For two months, we forged ourselves into a single unit, and in a single night, our cohesiveness is retired.

They tore the set down that same night. The crowd was still on their way out the door when the drills and hammers demolished the stairs of the “stately british cottage” and converted it back into the platform for the choir. The kitchen was removed and became the band’s area; the couch and coffee table were taken away for room for the minister to give his sermon the next morning.

Normal life reasserting itself.

I am exhausted, though it’s the sort of exhaustion that comes from accomplishment, the sort of thing you would feel from climbing a rock face or running a race, or whatever way you would choose to press yourself - finding a way to break out just a little from normal life.

And though I may be a bit diminished, though my days are not the whirlwind they have been, the memories and friendships I made as part of this team will be with me for a very long time.

Perhaps the me who is now diminished is more than the me I was before this began.

I can’t see how it could be otherwise.