While at mom's yesterday morning, my cell phone chimed for attention. Rehab boy, Dick was calling. I quickly answered. He sounded weak and warned that he had horrible news. He had just seen the doctor and was told he had a day to a year to live before a cancerous growth on the outside of his lungs would kill him. He mentioned that he was enjoying a piece of cherry pie and a cup of coffee. He is a diabetic but he said, "What the hell!" Still a lot of humor but so very sad. We have been dear friends since 2005. He and Sherman would meet with me an hour before rehab class every week. We kept track of each other's issues, exchanged information and recipes and lots of personal stuff people share with just their best friends. They were the reason I would never miss a class. They were waiting for me. We had fun. We laughed a lot. We laughed as Dick never miss an opportunity to engage in conversation with a pretty girl. I would call him incorrigible. Sherman would just laugh. I can't imagine this world, my world, without him.
After spending the day with mom, I prepared for the little concert last night. My first performance with the Irish Fiddling group in the entrance to our little organic market went surprisingly well. I didn't expect the acoustic to be so good, we could hear each other but Michael reported back to us that it could be heard throughout the store, except right near the frozen foods. Amazing. He watched the people in the check-out line and all the sudden, people would begin to tap their feet or bounce about to the music. Did I mention that next to us was a gentlemen serving wine tastings? A customer would enter, stressed after work and just wanting to pick something up for dinner, being greeted with a small taste of wine and fun music. People hung out. Children danced. Moms and Dads were less stressed.
I must say that by the time the two hours were up, I was done. Standing for two hours, in heals so I would not play sharp, and sight-reading several pieces of music plus having to follow the guitarist when I didn't have the music for a song, was exhausting. My brain was as tired as my body!
Today is a really special day for me. A former student of mine is meeting me for brunch. It has been too long since we have seen each other. He is fascinating and is living a life that I will only know through him. I will never be in a PhD program. I will never study economics. I have been wondering something and hope I remember to ask him what he presented for his 8th grade recital project? As I follow the alums of the school where I got sick, I am not surprised that so many of these students are successful and tops of their fields. But, what I have noticed is their life's work is often related to what they presented for their 8th grade recital project. It is at the end of their 8th grade, they find a very high level mentor (or the school and help find one) and the child presents their project. So, what was this student's project? I will ask!