Pic of the day – Shadows of Grass (M’Histoire)


Earlier in the process of preparing for this surgery / procedure,
there was a time when the option of a possible cancer was being ruled
out. I almost said “was being considered”, but being “considered” is
very very different from being “ruled out” and it is a difference that
is not at all obvious to many patients, and is emotionally difficult
to distinguish when it is you yourself, even when you do know the
difference. So let’s pretend I know the difference, but still couldn’t
get my head past the idea of it being “considered” (this has a
reasonable likelihood and the doc is a little more concerned than they
want to show you) for me to consider that this was not really likely
and only being “ruled out” (the doc wants to cover all the bases and
make sure this is nothing particularly worrisome, just to be on the
safe side).

During the time of fussing and fretting over the tests, which seemed
more dangerous than the procedure itself, I did think about “what if”.
What if it was cancer? What if they had to remove a goodly chunk of my
upper palate and I wouldn’t be able to sing again. I thought I should
record audio for the songs I most often sing to myself. I learned many
folksongs when I was young, that I often sing to myself while walking
and which I’ve never heard recorded. If I couldn’t sing them to
myself, there would be no one else to do so, no one else to collect
the recordings, and even if there were, the recordings wouldn’t sound
like me.

I don’t know about most folk, but I like my voice. I enjoy the warmth
of getting a good focused tone and how it resonates in my chest,
buzzes my lips, sort of its own substance giving weight to the air. I
was singing at the bus stop when I took this picture. Old familiar
songs like “What a Beautiful Morning Is This” (which I usually sing in
the afternoon), and Hava Nagila, and more. I was thinking about how
the shadow of the grass was so incredibly crisp and sharp, it seemed
almost more grasslike than the grass itself.

I realized I never did what I meant to do. I meant to record myself
singing my favorite tunes, and I never did. I made mental lists of
what songs are on my personal playlist, but I never wrote it down. Now
it is too late. The surgery is Friday morning, the workmen have been
all over the house this week, everything is in chaos, and I will not
be able to do this before the surgery. So I really really hope this
surgery does nothing to my voice. It might, but shouldn’t. Still, it
might. Even with the far less serious, less risky, and basically minor
surgery that I have ended up having, it still might change resonance
or tone, and it is likely to be more than a couple weeks before I
sound decent in my voice again.

I think the songs I would miss most would be my own personal
renderings of the Mother Goose rhymes and children’s songs. There are
recordings of many different tunes for most of the more popular
children’s rhymes, but to me, my way of singing it is, well, the most
comfortable and comforting, at least for me. Of all of them, the one I
most wish I had recorded is this one, which I sang to my daughter
nightly until she was twelve.

Good night,
Sleep tight,
Wake up bright
In the morning light,
To do what’s right
With all your might,
Good night.