From: owner-good-noise-digest@smoe.org (good-noise-digest) To: good-noise-digest@smoe.org Subject: good-noise-digest V5 #84 Reply-To: good-noise@smoe.org Sender: owner-good-noise-digest@smoe.org Errors-To: owner-good-noise-digest@smoe.org Precedence: bulk good-noise-digest Tuesday, October 22 2002 Volume 05 : Number 084 Today's Subjects: ----------------- A Land of the Bottom Line Sort of Post [ThePsyche@aol.com] Re: A Land of the Bottom Line Sort of Post [Jojo7699@aol.com] ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Mon, 21 Oct 2002 23:13:26 EDT From: ThePsyche@aol.com Subject: A Land of the Bottom Line Sort of Post If you are a list purist and are only here for Gorka concert reviews, song tabs and the like, best hit the delete key now. This is about Gorka, but not in the way you all might be accustomed. I had a rough week last week. My Mom went in the hospital back in PA and we found out she has heart problems, four blocked arteries was the diagnosis. No surgery though. At almost 81 and suffering from Alzheimers, the cardiologist said that the operation would probably do more harm than good. She needs to be cognizant and present in her recovery after major surgery and that would not be possible considering her mental state. One of seven kids, I didn't go to town right away, taking my turn Thursday, just returning today. My Mother went right from the hospital to the county nursing home. If you know anything about nursing homes, the county home is the last stop for poor folks. While it is clean, the facility is very old, there is little activity and stimulation, the furniture outdated and the tile floors waxed and buffed so many times that they reflect the light in waves. I arrived after a seven hour ride from Chicago. I found the G wing and my Father sitting in a chair next to my Mother who was sitting on her bed asking when she was going home. My Dad patted her hand and said, "I want you home to Betty, soon sweetie, soon." My brother, whom I had traveled with, took Dad out to buy him some lunch and some time away from the place. I set down my bag of travel necessities (walkman, CDs, brush, book, journal, mentos) and began an afternoon with my Mom. After helping her use the bathroom down the hall and then change clothes, we took a walk around the facility...not to far though or the monitor on her ankle would set off an alarm, alerting the staff that someone had escaped. We passed the windows of the commissary, a room thick with blue smoke and vending machines, the only room in the whole facility where smoking is allowed. Full of old men, toothless, legless, hopeless, I opted for the small chapel next door. There, I sat in a pew and listened to my Mother play Pomp and Circumstance on the piano almost flawlessly. The woman who cannot remember where she is or what year it is and stumbles over reading can still play difficult pieces of music from memory. ALZ is a terrible disease. When we returned to her lifeless, colorless room, she began pacing -- nervous and worried, her anxieties mounting, another hallmark of this disease. I offered her some music. I said listen to this CD Mom, it's my favorite. As she lay on her bed, I put the headphones on her and hit play. She closed her eyes and began tapping her fingers on her thighs as she listened to Gorka sing What Was That. I took the chair next to her, grabbed my journal and began to write all I was seeing and smelling and hearing...anything to relieve the anxiety growing in me now as I felt helpless to do anything for my Mother. But as I watched her, I could see her body relax and slowly she drifted off to sleep. Ah, the power of Gorka I said to myself. I removed the headphones, the faint strains of Oh Abraham coming from the foam speaker and packed my little bag. I decided to head into town to find my Dad and brother and return later when she woke up... ...sadly, she would not remember seeing me or playing piano or hearing Gorka, something I never get used to and am still learning to accept. My Dad left his car for me. I threw my bags in the hatch, got in the driver's seat and turned the key. Suddenly, it was Gorka around me. The CD I had burned for him of favorite Gorka songs was in his CD player. I heard these words: What good am I if I leave you lonely What good am I if I'm lonely too What good is a one and only If that one and only's leaving you Am I losing you Am I losing you I know you're lonely too This song, one of my favorites, suddenly resonated with me in a whole new way. It was my Dad in those words, driving back and forth between the county home to visit his wife...his own life lost to this disease. He too was feeling helpless. He missed his wife of sixty years. I sat in the parking lot and cried for the first time since finding out about the diagnosis. My heart ached. But also, I knew then what we had to accomplish. I knew then what direction to take with this visit and with my Mother's care. God works in mysterious ways. My father, a stoic, private man, afraid to ask for help or appear needy, showed me exactly what he needed by the song playing in his car. Tonight, I am back home, my mother is at home too, released to her husband's care. A full-time healthcare worker is supporting them now. The children, the adult children of Ted and Betty Benson were able to put aside their differences to make this happen for their parents. While I know John himself didn't have anything to do with this unforgettable moment in my life, his music, his lyrics, his view of life and struggles did. He continues to contribute to my life in the most amazing ways and most often when I least expect it. How do you thank someone for that? I guess you don't. I just hope that he too finds the things along the way, the messages and insight he needs to handle the stuff of life. Thanks Good Noisers for indulging me. I needed a place to put all this tonight and sharing it with you who also 'get Gorka' was a natural place to come. I hope all turns well in your part of the world. Call your Mom. War makes war, Bryn, the music junkie ------------------------------ Date: Tue, 22 Oct 2002 01:31:42 EDT From: Jojo7699@aol.com Subject: Re: A Land of the Bottom Line Sort of Post Hi Bryn, I don't know you, other than reading when you share your thoughts and insights . Tonite was very special, thank you for sharing your love and caring. I found John Gorka's music "The Company You Keep" myself shortly after losing my Mom and a girlfriend. I remember putting it on and listening to it over and over. "Guess I better get back up, Get up off the ground again", or "I don't think you should hesitate.. Nothing comes from those who wait" or "It's a question of damage, And wasted years, but love's never wasted, though it led you here. It might be the worst place you've ever been, still you light up a room when you walk in, Thank you, you lit up this room tonite and brought a tear to my eyes. May God Bless you and your family. Blessings, JoAnn ------------------------------ End of good-noise-digest V5 #84 *******************************