This One's for the Mom

This blog will be a little different. It has nothing to do with Russia insofar as the reason I'm writing it is because I am in Russia and not at home with my mother. Dear readers, today (March 1st Russian time) is my mom's birthday. My mom is 30 years and 20 days older than me, so I'll let you do the math. :D So today, I want to use this blog to honor the amazing woman who has made such an impact on my life; with this blog I want to say, "Mom, I love you so much, and I miss you more than you know."

My mom and I have been through so much together, and I like to think that we for a mother/daughter duo, we have quite a strong and understanding bond. We've forged it through illnesses, screaming matches, role reversals, graduations, medical drama, and much more. But through it all, she was there to hold me, to rub my back, and to wipe away my tears. We literally pulled each other through our lives, sometimes forcibly, sometimes kicking and screaming, sometimes by three simple words "I love you."




When I was little, she would sit/hold/forcibly restrain me so that she could French braid my hair. For a five year old with freakishly long and thick hair that easily tangled, this was torture. But, I did look cute. And despite all of those tears and screams, she managed to teach me how to French braid hair.

My mom taught me my alphabet and my nursery rhymes through song, and by doing so, she gave me a love for music. My mother plays the piano incredibly well, and I remember sitting next to the piano while she would give a piano lesson and just wish that I could have a tenth of her musical talent. Even her own family (brothers, sisters, parents, nephews, nieces and children) comes to her demanding piano lessons, or an accompanist. I was and am so proud of her abilities. Hearing her play is one of the best sounds in the world to me. It's how I know everything is okay: everything will be okay.






I am the middle child, the only girl. I have two brothers. I have my father's temper, and the lungs of a non-smoking musician. Life could not have been easy. When I was upset, I let the whole house (and neighborhood) know. Through it all, I can barely remember my mom ever raising her voice. She knew how to make her point without the violent shouting that I had perfected. Yet, when she did raise her voice, we knew that "momma was serious." I was always wishing that I had her patience and mild manner. And, while I've learned to better control my outrageous outbursts (due mainly to my dad's self-controlling example), I still wish I had some of my mother's manner.



Everyone who meets my mother loves her. She is kind, loving, sharing, intelligent, and sympathetic. As soon as she hears that something is wrong or someone is hurting, she is there with an open hug, a card and breaking heart. She loves people so much, and she lets that love be known. In many ways she reminds me of Beth from Little Women. My Jo-ness just naturally meshes with her Beth-ness, but I know she has helped more people than her daughter. The ladies of our church and her school knew their was something special about her. She just draws people to her with her love.

Then, there is my mother's work ethic. I have never known a harder working lady. She's not a business tycoon, but she is a teacher/mother/wife/musician/band associate/ticket seller/volunteer/... Our family has never had much money, but my mother did everything she could to help keep us afloat. She would teach during school hours and then spend extra time selling tickets at sports events. She would volunteer to work with the Band Boosters because all of her children were in band, and she wanted to support them. She would play the piano at extra church events, for the band and choirs. She would teach piano to interested students. She did all of this for her family. And when she would make a little extra money, instead of using it on herself, she would take her children out to taco bell, or give us a little extra spending money for the band trip or for graduation. Although, we never liked it when she overworked herself, we always appreciated everything she did for us.

My mom's not perfect, and we don't always have the most perfect relationship. But we always have love and pride for each other. She's my number one supporter who has always believed in me. I've never known her not to root for me. When I first learned that I was accepted to teach in Russia, I didn't know how to tell my mom. I thought that she would think it was too far away or too dangerous. But, the first words out of her mouth were "Congratulations, I'm so proud of you." Not once did she try to stop me from coming here.

Mom, in many ways I may be your opposite, but you have always been my inspiration and my motivation to try, to do, and to succeed. I would not be here if it weren't for you. I would not be me if it weren't for you. I am thankful every time that I get to hear your voice and know that you are still here with me.

Examples of true and lasting love:










"Mama" by Il Divo


Happy Birthday Mom! Thank you for 21 years of unconditional love.

Love,
Your Songbird.

Mother-Daughter:
Motto/song - "We go together like shananana-nanananana. Together, forever, no matter the weather, that's how we will always be." Because You Loved Me. Wind Beneath My Wings.

Movie: Beaches, Ice Castles (the original)

Book: The Places You'll Go by Dr. Seuss

Hobby: mother plays the piano while daughter sings

Favorite spot: 2nd row, piano side

Moscow . . . and all that JAZZ

Hello family, friends, world. Yes, I am still alive, functioning, healthy, etc. Not much has been happening. I've been teaching and getting to know some of my students better. In fact, one of my students asked me if I had any English books they could read. So, I brought my stack of books and movies to class and several of them checked some out. As a whole classes are running smoother than ever, which makes me very happy. Other than that, there have been some changes in administration stuff, but nothing worth getting into right now.

The main thing I do want to write about right now is JAZZ. One of my college friends used to call me an "old head" because of my affinity for jazz and classic pop (Josh Groban, Il Divo, etc). For me, there's something about jazz that I find liberating. Even the history of jazz expresses the sense of liberation and freedom: from a cry of suffering (the blues) to a shout of celebration, jazz contains it all.

And last night I became enveloped in a rich blanket of smooth jazz, raucous jazz, and in-between jazz. For the past couple of days, "Butman's Jazz Festival" has been going on, celebrating the life of jazz. Last night I sat and listened to jazz for at least three hours. Every band played better than the one before. The night started with Butman's quartet: Blues for 4 (piano, saxophone, drums, bass). They were followed by All Stars: XXL (trumpet, saxophone, piano, keyboard, drums, bass guitar). Finally, the pièce de résistance for the evening, the Joshua Redman trio (saxophone, bass, drums), swept me away with their soulful and harmonic music.


The music was such that I found myself getting lost within the stories. At times I found a tear running down my cheek and soon after I wanted to get up and dance. If a guy played with my emotions that way, I would probably drop-kick him into next year, but with the music, I can only express love.

And then there were the musicians. I love seeing how musicians handle themselves while performing. The best ones are the ones who give a sideshow by getting into their music themselves. You can literally see the music carrying them away. The drummer in the Blues for 4 quartet was amazing. But then, there was the Redman trio. The whole group threw themselves into the beat. I especially loved it when Joshua Redman started improving. The drummer and bass kept giving each other looks and shrugs, occasionally smiling and dancing to the music while the soloist just belted out the love on his saxophone. Then, after about four minutes, they picked up the beat and joined in (although I think it was because the Joshua had finally improved his way into an actual rehearsed song). The whole set was genius.





To top off the night, Lena, Sergei, Sveta and I took a stroll through red square. If you ever get to see Red Square at night, even if it is in the negatives out side, do it: it is worth every frozen nose hair and frostbitten finger.












Sincerely,
Your Russian Traveller

Days Like These

Nothing too exciting has been going on, but the past couple of days have just been "good." It helps that they have been contrasted by a week or so of crappy days, but I won't let that detract from their goodness.

The Crappy Days:
For a while, I had been in my own sort of funk. I don't know what else to call it but a funk. Things and life in general were just "blah." I hadn't been sleeping which meant I didn't feel very well. There were some bad teaching days. There were home improvements being done b/c the flat was falling apart. And then there was just the overall depressive mood that I tends to follow me around. This year I have been pretty good at pushing it aside, but it swallowed me whole for about a week.

Then there was the neighbor. Last Saturday, at 2:00 AM in the morning - 2 AM, our upstairs neighbors comes down and pushes our buzzer like there's no tomorrow. Their complaint: our stove is letting off a funky smell that is keeping them up. This was the second time they have done this (the last time being in December). This upset me for the following reasons
1. The thing is I understand being frustrated by a smell as I have a sensitive nose, but at 2 am there is nothing that I could do.
2. Our stove does let off a toxic smell when used to long, but I had not used it all day and my roommate "claims" that she never used it (although there was some evidence to the contrary). So, we think their is an angry poltergeist haunting our stove, and what can we do about a poltergeist.
3. They keep threatening us with the cops. I don't like being threatened by anyone, but especially not in a strange country where I don't speak the language.
4. The frustrating neighbors actually speak English fairly well, and I hate the teacher side of me that wants to compliment them and ask them where they learned their English - all while they are threatening me!!!
5. On Sunday, the day after the smell, when it was gone, they called the cops to our flat. Luckily I was at a friends, but my roommate was here. Although she never answered the door, which was good. Apparently, you don't have to answer the door to anyone in Russia, even the cops.
6. Our landlady suspects that the grandson is a druggie from her previous encounters with him.

Anyways, as a result of this, our landlady, who is the nicest landlady in the world, has bought us a microwave which I have christened Sir Milo the Gallant.

The Good Days:
Isn't it amazing how just a couple good days can counteract all the other depressing ones? The first good day was Sunday. It was completely dedicated to music, friends and food. To begin, I went over to Alyssa and Lena's flat where we watched some old Soviet/Russian folk cartoons which are set to music. Lena had bought me the CD/DVD for New Years, and she translated it for us as we watched. Then, she made salmon pasta, at my request, and as soon as Alex came over, we feasted and watched "The Sound of Music." After that, Lena and I watched a Belly Dancing Competition. Which was fairly interesting I must admit.

The next really good day was Tuesday. I got up feeling really relaxed and pleasant, and then got dressed and went to pick up my pay from the ATM at the mall. Although its out of the way, at least it got me out of the flat. Later I ran into a friend and we sat and chatted for about an hour on the delights and horrors of teaching and even more about various historical topics. It was quite an enjoyable conversation.

Then today, I had a really fun class with one of my teen groups. My AD had found a Sherlock Holmes activity which I adapted into a classroom project. I had fun seeing how the "logical" minds of teenagers work.

Then, there was my tutorial make-up session with one of my favorite students. She is very sweet and has such a curious mind and is eager to learn. After the session we just talked some more. It is students like her who make me enjoy teaching.

Sincerely,
Your Russian Traveller