London update

I am happy to report that my friends arrived safe and sound at Albany (NY) International Airport at 1:15 this morning. They were on the subway system headed to the Kings Cross station shortly before it was bombed. Here's an article in the Troy (NY) Record newspaper written by a member of the mission team the day after the bombings. Thanks for your prayers and good thoughts.

From the archives: The sound of music

Note: This was originally written January 3, 2005. I enjoy singing and found a challenge in the Orlando Chorale.

I auditioned this evening for the Orlando Chorale (www.theorlandochorale.org), a 60-voice chorus that performs classical works and new works, and I got accepted! Wa-hoo!
I had to fill out an application about my previous choral experience, talk with the director and music intern, vocalize for them, and sight-read a 1-1/2 page piece of music a cappella (without
accompaniment) after hearing the first few measures (and it included some Latin words too, snea-ky). When I finished the sight-reading, he said, "that was just beautiful." There was a pause, and I was waiting for the "but," but there wasn't any "but." He was serious and I was shocked, and I just said, "thank you!", and he told me again, "really, that was beautiful." I kept waiting for the "but," but there still wasn't one, so I figured he really, truly was serious. I told him that I had e-mailed him about auditioning back in August and that he had replied that they had just finished their August auditions, I was a few days late, but they'd be holding auditions again in January. He said, "Oh that's right, I remember. Well I should have listened to you back in August. That was beautiful." I had put on the application that I was interested in first soprano, second soprano, or first alto, and he asked what part I wanted. I told him I was most comfortable in a mezzo soprano range (medium-high), and he said you'd be a great soprano 2, and he said to the music intern, "we can have her sit next to so-and-so and so-and-so and . . . wow." So a second soprano I'll be; I like singing harmony anyway.

You could hear the people auditioning before you, and one of the women had a professional soloist quality voice and I thought, "well, there's the competition, I'll just do my best," and I knew there were people behind me and people auditioning tomorrow evening too, but I think he is looking for folks with good voices who would blend well with other people rather than stand out. The whole thing is such an ego boost for me!

So tomorrow I start singing second soprano at Tuesday night rehearsals from 7-9:30 at the First United Methodist Church in downtown Orlando. It'll keep me out of trouble one night a week anyway, and I'll get to meet some new people.

Thanks to you Wynantskill choir folks, and Jim and Jackie, and Roger too, for all your support over the years. I wouldn't have had the courage to try out for this if not for you.

why today - london, 7/7/05

I listen to "Coast to Coast AM" on the radio when I go to bed at night. If you're into paranormal, supernatural, UFOs, etc., it's THE talk show to listen to. The host is intelligent and open-minded, the guests usually interesting if not entertaining, and the bumper music is great stuff.

Unfortunately, listening to "Coast" at night means I wake up in the morning to an obnoxious conservative local talk show host who rants and raves about things he only knows or discloses half the facts about, and like all conservative talk show hosts, he gets his listeners all riled up about things they only know half the facts about, and pretty soon it's all taken as gospel truth. Oh well, at least I get to know how the other half thinks, and I smile and shake my head and occasionally yell at the radio while I'm getting dressed for work.

This morning I woke up expecting to hear another amazingly insightful declaration from aforesaid talk show host . . . but instead heard him saying something about explosions, and subways, and buses . . . and I immediately became more alert. Then I listened in horror as he said it took place in London.

Ordinarily a terrorist attack across the ocean would make me be concerned, but not horrified. But today was different. Today two people - a friend who visited me in Florida from NYS only a month ago, and her teenage daughter - were either in London or heading there, a stopover on their return to the U.S. from a missionary trip to Kenya. I turned on the TV to try to learn more, but as news reporters are prone to say at such a time, details were sketchy but there were casualties and deaths.

I was a little nervous and anxious. I debated; do I try to call their house in NY to see what her husband knows, if he's home, or do I wait and call their church's office to find out exactly where they were on their trip. I reluctantly decided to wait and when I got to work made the call to the church. I was relieved to hear that the mission team had arrived at Heathrow before the attack and were all okay. I thanked the woman, and after hanging up the phone blinked back a few tears of relief.

Later this afternoon, my friend's husband sent an e-mail providing more details: "The mission team arrived in London about 6:45 this morning. They were on their way from Heathrow airport to their hotel when the terrorist bombs went off. They were forced to evacuate the subway, about 7 stops from their destination. Don't have any idea how far away that is, just that it's much too far to walk. They were not on one of the bombed trains as far as I know. I think the authorities simply shut down the whole system and evacuated everybody. Everyone on the team (all 17 of them) is OK. Thank God. They've managed to find lodging for the night, but they have not been able to reach their intended hotel. Pray for their continued safety."

I am angry that extremists think nothing of murdering innocent people. I am angry that two people coming back from a trip they made halfway around the world to help people less fortunate than they, people they didn't even know, were placed in harm's way by these insane monsters. I was impressed with Tony Blair's harsh statements against the terrorists. I am against the war in Iraq but I am totally for shutting down terrorism, and until President Bush sees the Iraqi war and the "war" on terrorism as two different things, innocent people will continue to die.

Please pray for Kathleen and Maddie's safe and speedy return to the United States and to their families.

cocoa beach: not a chocolate bar in sight

I've lived in Central Florida for over 15 months. I've been to the beach once ("once??!!!", yes, once), in early May, down near Stuart on the east coast, several hours away, and on that occasion we didn't stay long - it probably had something to do with the fact that the wind was blowing 40 mph, the sand whipped around and stung your face, your arms . . . any exposed area was fair game. The surf was pounding and relentless, there were riptide warnings posted, and even though the sun was shining brightly, it just wasn't my idea of fun in the sun.

So I decided to try again, this time at a beach only an hour away - Cocoa Beach, and more specifically, Lori Wilson Park. Several people at work had told me about this beach, and with such a great first name, I knew it had to be a great beach.

With Mapquest map in hand, I left this past Sunday morning a little after 9 a.m. The sun was shining brightly, with just a few clouds, and the highs were going to be in the mid-90s. It's for the most part a boring drive, unless you enjoy driving on a stick-straight six-lane divided highway, Route 528, for 40 miles. But once you get near Port Canaveral, things start getting interesting; my explorer's spirit came out. First, of course, there's water. And long causeways. And huge cruise ships (a lot of casino ships leave from here). And things start getting more touristy. Then you start turning south and you're now on A1A heading toward Cocoa Beach.

As I passed the "Welcome to Cocoa Beach" sign, I spied a visitor's center, and since I'm a sucker for tourist pamphlets and brochures, I stopped in. After explaining that I was originally from New York State, the woman behind the counter started asking me specifically where (Albany-Troy-Schenectady area, but grew up in Northville in Adirondacks). I found out that she not only graduated from a high school in Schenectady, but she spent summers as a child at the campsite just south of Northville, and she and her husband have property in Broadalbin, about 20 minutes south of Northville. Small world. Armed with a funky map of Cocoa Beach and a number of brochures I just couldn't live without, I headed towards Lori Wilson just a few miles down the road.

Well, the beach lived up to what I'd been told. Ample free parking (at that hour, but probably fills up after noon), and a large, clean beach with shower and restroom facilities. Lots of families. And lots of beach umbrellas. I guess coming from the north, I'm not used to seeing beach umbrellas. But you need them down here, especially if you're going to be hanging out in 90+ degree heat in full sun for more than an hour.

I sat on the beach for a while people-watching - except for being in the water and getting a suntan, it's the best thing to do at the beach; quite entertaining and amusing. Besides, being a new Floridian, I wanted to see what the natives do and bring and wear to the beach. I discovered there were two items that I needed: (1) a snazzy sleeveless cotton beach coverup with the fringe thing goin' on at the hem, not my plain white terrycloth one which is too hot anyway and (2) the aforementioned beach umbrella. Fortunately, I found a store when I left called BeachWave where I found both items (like it would be difficult to find such a store in a touristy beach town). The other item that you CANNOT, CANNOT be without, and fortunately I wasn't, is flip flops or something, anything to wear on your feet; even at 11:30 a.m. the sand was SO hot it burned your feet after just a few steps.

Later I did go out in the water and waded for a while. The water was pleasantly cool, and I love the sound of the waves as they crash against the shore. Enjoyed dodging kids on bodyboards and watching a toddler repeatedly get knocked over by the tiniest bit of wave (so I have a warped sense of humor).

But the sun was SO freakin' hot. I just don't know how people can tolerate the heat all day. I left after about an hour and a half to go buy important beach items (1) and (2) above, find some lunch (Chinese buffet, so sue me for not getting seafood), and head home. I will definitely go back; it's a beautiful beach, close by, and besides, I didn't get to Ron Jon's Surf Shop!

The same ol' fourth

When I lived in New York, Fourth of July weekend always meant that on Saturday I drove up to Northville, a small village in the Adirondacks where my parents lived, and watched what seemed like the same parade every year, from the same vantage point (my aunt and uncle’s front lawn), went to the same cookout with the same people at the same place (my parent’s house), went down to the doin’s (Northville folks’ term for the midway, and the celebration in general) and saw the same rides, same games, same foods with the same wonderful smells, same people. And later watched the same fireworks from the same field next to my parents’ house long after everyone else had gone home. As a child, I rode the rides with cousins (merry-go-round, ferris wheel, and roller coaster being my favorites), scrambled with same cousins to get candy thrown from the parade floats, and I seem to remember sitting with my mother on the front porch roof of our house in pajamas to watch the fireworks, having climbed out with her through her bedroom window (but maybe that's just wishful remembering!).

Celebrating the Fourth in Northville is a small-town tradition. A comfortable ritual. You don't expect things to be different: Seeing relatives you don’t see often. Eating the same hamburgers and macaroni salad at the cookout. Seeing old friends from high school who make the same pilgrimage. Singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic (Wilhousky version) for the choir anthem in church that Sunday. Nothing changes. That’s what makes the celebration timeless.

Here in Orlando you can have a cookout anytime you want, and you can get your share of parades, fireworks and “doin’s” at any one of a number of theme parks 365 days a year. The parades are far more lavish, the fireworks far more spectacular, and the “doin’s” far more exciting. But none of it compares to once-a-year marching Boy Scouts and firemen, Baptist Church floats, cotton candy, merry-go-rounds, and fireworks that get paid for by donations placed in cannisters at the local hardware store and gas station.

My parents are both gone, their house sold. A new family lives there now. My uncle has passed away and my aunt has remarried and moved out of the area. My cousin and her family now live in their house. And I'm spending my second Fourth of July in Florida.

People die. People grow up and get older and sometimes move away. New people join in. But the Fourth of July in Northville goes on in all its glorious sameness. So let it be, for now and evermore!

Have a safe and happy holiday – Lori

From the archives: And it wasn't even on the list

NOTE: The Orlando Weekly, the city's "alternative" newspaper (think Metroland for you Capital Region folks), did a cover story a few weeks ago called "Our Dumb State", with the subtitle "Halfway through, 2005 is already looking like one of the stupidest years on record." It went on to cite 13 examples, some of which you know about, and some you don't unless you live in Central Florida (you can read the article in its entirety here).

What follows was originally e-mailed to folks on Election Day 2004, November 2 - and it didn't even make the "Dumb" list.

Even though today is Election Day, the voting in Florida started several weeks ago. Early voting at a variety of places around the state. Didn't matter what precinct you were in, you could just walk into any early voting place and vote (how did they decide what races you were eligible to vote in?). But being from NY where you vote ON election day, this morning I went to the polling place for my precinct . . . it's located in a GATED community (!!!!) in a country club! I couldn't get in through the way Mapquest told me to go from my apartment, a reasonably short drive, instead I had to drive a couple of miles out of my way around to the other entrance. Why would you put a polling place in a gated community where access to it is limited? Voting is done here in Orange County by paper ballot. PAPER BALLOT!!! No chads, but you had to connect two sides of an arrow with a special pen to cast your vote. And there were two legal-size ballot sheets, both sides filled with candidates, county charter proposed amendments, and proposed state constitution amendments. And the arrow placement itself was a little confusing in and of itself. If you make a mistake, you must request a brand new ballot and start all over again.

And they wonder why they have so many problems at election time. Those mechanical machines back in NY may be big and bulky, but they were a lot easier to use and you didn't have many mistakes. Here the TV stations don't report on election results, they report on all the problems the different counties are having with their equipment, or that 69,000 ballots got lost in the mail (and some were out of state and may not get delivered in time to count), or signatures that didn't match, or . . . I've never seen such a disorganized, ridiculous way to do things.

To give you some idea of the kind of things proposed as amendments for the state constitution (I have yet to find out why these must be constitution amendments and not just plain old laws) - these were some of the issues: repeal of construction of bullet train between Tampa and Orlando (people voted for it in 2000, governor and legislature didn't want it and dragged their feet, and now it was lobbied to repeal; looks like it will indeed be repealed, how stupid); whether patients should know if their doctor has been convicted of malpractice three or more times; some vague proposal about lengthening the time people would have to research proposed amendments (nobody understands the wording and it will likely get voted down); whether both parents should give consent if their child terminates a pregnancy (down here that could be dangerous since sometimes the father is the father); whether to allow a couple of counties to vote - merely vote - on whether to have slot machines in existing horsetrack, jai alai, and dog racing facilities in their own counties.

Yes, indeed, elections down here are certainly . . . interesting.