My mother has been gone for more than twenty years now, and of course I still miss her. She was shy in public, the type who never wanted to call attention to herself. (Obviously, I took after my dad in that regard.) Yet, she was fiercely protective of her family and was quite capable of speaking up if she felt her husband or children were being wronged. The songs of the ’40s and ’50s that she sang around the house remain firmly fixed in my memory. So do the colorful expressions from her West Virginia mountaineer background. When I hear other women talk about the conflicts they had with their mothers, I feel so very lucky. My mother was always in my corner. Of that there was no doubt whatsoever. She wasn’t around for many of the milestones in my life, late bloomer that I turned out to be. She missed my second wedding and my acquisition of a graduate degree. She didn’t get to visit me in Florida in person, but she is with me every day in spirit.
After changing jobs,my commute has gone from 5 minutes to 55. I am so grateful the Hyundai came with XM radio. This morning I listened to a delicious violin sonata by Copland and a sprightly piece by Telemann. I didn’t recognize the violinist’s name, but was surprised that Andre Previn was the accompanist. I had forgotten what an excellent pianist he is. Back in the day, when he was the Music Director of the Pittsburgh Symphony, he was roundly dissed for having the temerity to wear a turtleneck when he conducted.
OK, here’s a comment on anoher Avon Romance book. This time it’s Confessions from an Arranged Marriage by Miranda Neville. I quite enjoyed this one. I don’t think I had ever read about a Regency hero who happened to be dyslexic. His heroine has political aspirations, but, given the time period, is content to remain behind the scenes. Kinda makes you consider the wives of today’s candidates. Who really is the brains of the outfit anyway?