I graced the stage for the first time in 10 years yesterday. A co-worker who is quickly becoming a friend re-visited her love for the stage and revived her performance group. She asked a group of people would we like to participate and we agreed not knowing what the show was about and what we were getting into. I guess we all trusted her judgment and I am glad we did.
The show is a cultural experience of poetry, singing, dancing.(Calypso, African, Jazz) I could never give justice to the group, so I will post snippets of performances when they are available.
I have never liked my voice on tape or over the phone, so having a wireless microphone stuck in front of me was an experience. It was wonderful to have people come up to me after both shows and tell me how smooth and powerful my voice is to them. I was even asked how long I had been doing spoken word. My answer, "All of ten minutes!" (It was about ten minutes after my first piece of the matinée show)
Confirmation is always a good thing. And I simply can not put into words how good it felt to be backstage preparing for a show and being part of a production again.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Missing You
Seven years ago today I received a voice mail that my Grandmother was dead. I was barely in my twenties and felt cheated that she left so early in my life. Getting that message by voice mail made the news even harder to digest.
My grandmother was like my mother and my mother is more like a sister. I’m not taking anything away from my mother, she was a mere teenager when she gave birth to me and we have grown up together over the years. “Granny” as I called her, was the woman who taught me to cook, put me on the bus in the morning, had dinner waiting when I got home in the afternoons and she made cakes with me during the holidays. You get the idea.
Every year around this time I drown in a sadness of missing my grandmother while everyone speaks of visiting their grandparents for the summer. I get mad at the world for the unfair hand I feel I was dealt and would give anything to “have one more conversation” when life seems to get the best of me.
After seven years I can finally make a cake alone without chocking myself with tears, and wrap up in the hand-made quilts she made me without crying myself to sleep.
Why the sad entry? To get someone to realize you must enjoy what you have while you still have it. If I had known I only had twenty-two short years I would have visited more, called more, just been around her more. The truly sad part is that I am the only grandchild that knew her well. I find myself using her quotes without thinking about it and referring to the talks we had to get my point across.
I’ll miss her until we meet again. Until then I hope to make her proud.
My grandmother was like my mother and my mother is more like a sister. I’m not taking anything away from my mother, she was a mere teenager when she gave birth to me and we have grown up together over the years. “Granny” as I called her, was the woman who taught me to cook, put me on the bus in the morning, had dinner waiting when I got home in the afternoons and she made cakes with me during the holidays. You get the idea.
Every year around this time I drown in a sadness of missing my grandmother while everyone speaks of visiting their grandparents for the summer. I get mad at the world for the unfair hand I feel I was dealt and would give anything to “have one more conversation” when life seems to get the best of me.
After seven years I can finally make a cake alone without chocking myself with tears, and wrap up in the hand-made quilts she made me without crying myself to sleep.
Why the sad entry? To get someone to realize you must enjoy what you have while you still have it. If I had known I only had twenty-two short years I would have visited more, called more, just been around her more. The truly sad part is that I am the only grandchild that knew her well. I find myself using her quotes without thinking about it and referring to the talks we had to get my point across.
I’ll miss her until we meet again. Until then I hope to make her proud.
Thursday, June 7, 2007
Monday, June 4, 2007
Moving On...
On May 26, 2007 my first baby graduated from high school. Actually, I do not have children, but my cousin's son marched the stage to move on to another phase of his life. Why do I consider him my first baby?
He was my guinea pig baby, with him I learned how to change a diaper, feed and burp him, rock him to sleep, dress him, took him for walks in his stroller...he was my first baby. His mother was twelve when I was born and I was her first baby. I was twelve when he was born. Ironic isn't it?
Seeing him walk across that stage was emotional for me and it made me long for a real son of my own. His mother and I are cousins (our mothers are sisters) and people say we have a strong resemblance.
I'll enjoy this image until I have a son of my own.
He was my guinea pig baby, with him I learned how to change a diaper, feed and burp him, rock him to sleep, dress him, took him for walks in his stroller...he was my first baby. His mother was twelve when I was born and I was her first baby. I was twelve when he was born. Ironic isn't it?
Seeing him walk across that stage was emotional for me and it made me long for a real son of my own. His mother and I are cousins (our mothers are sisters) and people say we have a strong resemblance.
I'll enjoy this image until I have a son of my own.
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