A Music Miracle: Life Changing Lesson Guest Post from The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom

Posted on August 24, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

I’m very excited to feature a guest blogger today – Elisa from The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom has written a special memoir post that I know my readers will really enjoy…but it’s not just about writing today! Elisa is a musician and a mom, and has managed to write a memoir, too! Be sure to stop by her blog and experience her life as she “…vow(s) … to write one hilarious, embarrassing, or otherwise outrageous moment each day for 365 days straight.” Amazing!

What was the best day of your life? Just think about it. Sure you might consider your wedding day, a birthday, the day your kids were born, the day you joined the circus, or when you got a divorce . . . But if you had to pick one day–a life-changing one that you’d relive forever, what would it be?

My day would be ten years ago, back when I was a homeless street musician in Hawaii.

(Cade and Elisa 2000)

Now don’t go picturing me with missing teeth, holey pants and one of those “will work for food” signs. I was a classy homeless person. On the begger’s scale from one to ten, I . . . was a nine!

Anyway, my husband Cade and I woke up in “Homeless Park,” at least that’s what the inhabitants called it. That was the only area where the cops let us sleep. If they caught locals sleeping on the beach or on the Waikiki strip at night, they’d poke you with their night sticks.

A ton of Vietnam Vets, dreamers and poets slept near us in “Homeless Park.” I used my violin case as a pillow because if I didn’t guard it, I worried it might get stolen like Cade’s guitar had the night before. I woke early with a kink in my neck. It wasn’t cold, Hawaii rarely was, and the scents around always brought life to my eyes.

I saw some native Hawaiians and got scared. They were big and strong. They always seemed to be following us. I imagined their faces turning menacing and that made me worry. The Vets had told us not to mess with the “Hawaiian Gang,” that they hated people like us. I shook Cade, “Wake up. We need to go. How much money do we have left?”

He slowly sat up. Sand and grass fell from his hair. After digging through his pockets he turned to me. “Two dollars. The rest of the money was in my guitar case.”

My head sagged just a bit because I didn’t know how I’d earn enough to buy him another guitar. Sure we were amazing together–but a violin by itself wasn’t even loud.

We went to the Waikiki strip after that. It was early, which was perfect. Street performing is just like fishing, it’s better in the early morning and late night. I set up my case. I’m sure I looked worse than Jonah the day he got thrown up (but still a 9 on the homeless scale). I combed a hand through my hair and swore I’d still play with dignity. My stomach rumbled even though I didn’t want to care. Cade put the two dollars into my ratty case. He kissed me on the cheek and told me to “knock ’em dead.” The scruffy hair on his chin scratched my face and I smiled even though we had nothing except each other.

A few tourists walked past as Cade rested against a store window. He put his big hands into his faded pockets and looked as if he owned the world. My violin fit easily on my shoulder, before I closed my seven-teen-year-old eyes and played.

Here’s a sample of our music: The Fifth Side

Anyway, I thought about Cade as I played, how I’d left Utah to be with him; how I wouldn’t change it even for some mashed potatoes and gravy. The sweet notes swam around me. I remembered hot meals then, the kind that warm your heart and belly. I figured if I pretended to be full, I really would be. But that didn’t work, so I played loud and hard. A long, long time passed. I played through breakfast and lunch, but when I put my violin to my side, hardly any money filled the case.

“You wanna get dinner?” Cade asked. “We can split a burger and fries at McDonald’s.”

So, that’s what we did.

At first the food tasted like sawdust. I didn’t know how we’d make enough to buy a guitar. “Cade I hardly made a dime. We had over two-hundred dollars in that guitar case and now we have nothing.”

He squeezed my hand. “We still have each other. Maybe we’re supposed to learn something from this.”

We went back to the strip. I played through the dinner rush. It got dark and just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, the “Hawaiian Gang” started walking toward us. They were rough and mean-looking. They had tattoos, piercing and ukuleles! I wanted to run, but I wouldn’t let them take my spot. I played then like my arm was on fire. I moved to the music and danced to the rhythm. I guess I did something to catch their attention and everyone else’s because a crowd came.

As I played, tourists and the “Hawaiian Gang” gawked at me. Cade stepped closer, obviously getting nervous. One Hawaiian leaned next to a tree. One stood to my left. Another guy sat on a bench. That’s when each of them put their instrument at playing position and joined in with my song.

What happened next was a miracle. We jammed. The notes came smooth and quick. I forgot about the money filling my case. I just closed my eyes and thought about how amazing God is. I opened my eyes at one point and Cade smiled so big. I swear tears almost filled his eyes as he motioned toward my feet. When I looked into the violin case, not only money rested there, but food and drinks did too.

I quit playing shortly after that. We met all the Hawaiians and found out they’d been watching over us since the day we came to the strip. “This can be a dangerous island,” one guy said, the biggest angel I’ve ever seen.

I kept trying to give them a good portion of the money, but they wouldn’t take any of it. They said we needed it more than they did. And just before leaving, they told us about a kid who was selling his guitar for $20.

Cade and I took the food from the case (some orange juice and a loaf of banana bread). We ate and walked to a sandbar that had surfaced in the ebbing waves. We stayed there for hours, talking about how amazing life is. The night was ethereal, so unreal I wouldn’t mind repeating it forever.

All we had was about fifty bucks, my violin, God and each other. And that was enough.

For more information on Elisa’s upcoming memoir, please visit The Golden Sky (My Journal About Zeke) or her blog The Crazy Life of a Writing Mom .

Jennifer Wolfe

Jennifer Wolfe, a writer-teacher-mom, is dedicated to finding the extraordinary in the ordinary moments of life by thinking deeply, loving fiercely, and teaching audaciously. Jennifer is a Google Certified Educator, Hyperdoc fanatic, and a voracious reader. Read her stories on her blog, mamawolfe, and grab free copies of her teaching and parenting resources.

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

OUR Children – Do You Hear Them?

Posted on August 21, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

http://masonimages.com/

A child murdered by her parent. A child hit by a car in front of her house. A child caught in the struggle between foster and biological parents. A child entering a new school in a new city. A child moving away from her friends. A child rebelling dangerously against her parents. A child living homeless. A child unexpectedly losing her mother.

This week children are weighing heavily on my mind. Preparing to return to my classroom, I am overrun with emotions, nerves, memories, fears, and expectations. Starting up a new school year is supposed to be exciting-a fresh start, a new chapter in the life of a child, a time for families to gather together and celebrate a new beginning. Yet as I go through each day, it seems as if I’m bombarded by children in crisis. It scares me.

I’ve been teaching for 20 years, mostly all of those in junior high schools. I’m used to dealing with kids as they experience the joys of ‘tween’ and ‘teen’ years. But this month it feels different. Less exciting. More serious.

What is happening to our children? Are things really so different from when I walked the halls of my school as a 9^th grader, mainly concerned about how my overalls looked (it was the 70’s) and if my hair had curled correctly that morning? Sure, I had friends who had family problems, and knew kids who got in trouble. But all this?

http://masonimages.com/

Who is making the choices here? Parents know that we need to empower our children, teach them how to be confident, strong, mature humans. We choose to give them experiences that will nurture their talents, expose them to the world, and teach them how to survive when they leave home. We remember images of our babies, smiling up at us as we hold them. Our toddlers curiously pulling everything out of drawers. Our kindergarteners learning to write and glue and skip. Our elementary school students lining up, playing ball, and performing class musicals. Our teens biking to school alone, having slumber parties, getting their drivers license. Our graduates, leaving home. But these kids-what are they learning? That life is hard. That children can be powerless. That even good parents can make bad choices. That no one is listening?

http://masonimages.com/

No parent thinks that as they send their child out for the day that a car will hit them and knock them out of their shoes, left unconscious on the street. No parent thinks their estranged partner will commit the unthinkable act of taking their child’s life. No parent thinks their child will steal, lie or cheat. No parent wants bad things to happen to their child. But they do and it’s scary and I’m mad.

I’m mad that children are victims. I’m mad that adults don’t take the time to look kids in the eye and really SEE them. Slow it down. Pay attention. Pause. Listen. You will be amazed what you can learn-not just about your own kid, but about all kids. What is in their control? Really think about why they act the way they do-they’re trying to tell us something. Think about what is out of their control. Think about what choices have been made for them.

http://masonimages.com/

What I’ve learned from decades of working with teens is that they almost always want to do the right thing. Kids don’t always know what the ‘right’ thing is-but they usually can find their way if someone takes the time to listen to them. I’ve learned that kids like limits-they like to have things to choose from. And yes, they will challenge – testing limits is a natural process in learning. They like choice. Kids don’t like to be boxed in and feel like all the adults in their life know what’s best for them. They like to be listened to. I’ve learned that children shouldn’t be seen and not heard.

What I’m still learning is that bad things happen. Adults will make choices that have superb and terrible impact on kids, and that’s the way life works. I’m still learning that kids are strong, resilient and remarkable and can survive and thrive despite amazing experiences that would send most of us screaming into the abyss.

Please, listen and hear what they’re saying. Give them a voice. Give them a choice.

http://masonimages.com/

Jennifer Wolfe

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

Friday Photo: Children On My Mind

Posted on August 19, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

http://masonimages.com/

Sometimes as I’m moving around in my day, an image gets stuck in my head that I can’t shake. Sometimes it conjures up a memory, a feeling, or provides an impulse to do something. Often, though, I just see something that I want to capture in my mind for no particular reason-it just speaks to me. I’d like to offer these images up for ‘thought contributions’-as a way to generate a community of ideas together.

This week’s Friday Photo was taken about 9 years ago on a day much like today, when summer was ending and we were all moving and changing gears. My uncle, Paul Mason, captured my children at a time in their lives when innocence was a daily state. This week I’ve had many children on my mind…

What images of your children’s life are embedded in your mind? I’d love to hear your thoughts – please start our conversation with a comment!

Jennifer Wolfe

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

Family Favorites: Catch Our Baseball Fever

Posted on August 16, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

Over the years, our family has found quite a few cool things to do together-some pretty typical, some definitely not. One of our family favorites is going to baseball games.

We spend huge amounts of time at the Little League Fields, and have learned so much about how adults and children learn from each other there (see my post ‘Speak Softy’ for more). But during the summer when little league has settled down, we still have a baseball urge to fill. Our local AAA team is where we head. The Sacramento Rivercats play at Raley Field in West Sacramento, CA, as the minor league team for the Oakland A’s, and are the closest way to watch live professional baseball. We like to go several times each summer-it’s an inexpensive, relaxing way to spend an evening (or afternoon-but around here in the summer that can be HOT!).

Last weekend my son and I jumped into the car and drove about 20 minutes to the ball field. Traffic was heavy, and parking was worse. Just as I was about to give up, a welcome sight came before us: an unknown parking lot! My little Prius found an out of the way spot, and we trekked on foot towards the stadium armed with blankets and full of anticipation.

We arrived early enough to pick up our tickets from will call, and my son sprinted inside towards the lawn where kids hang out in hopes of nabbing an autograph or two from one of the players as they warm up. Sadly, no one was signing, but we did find a spot on the grass big enough to spread out and settle in. Families surrounded us on the lawn, laughing and happy as the game begins.

Minor league fields are tiny compared to those of the ‘big leagues’-but that’s exactly what we like about it – and the cheap lawn seats offer the best, most intimate views! Kids run, wiggle, cheer and scamper for foul balls in a way that would be impossible in a major league stadium like A T & T Park, home to the S.F. Giants, or The Coliseum where the Oakland A’s play. There, we feel like trapped animals waiting for the herd to be released. At Raley Field, kids can imagine themselves out on the field, playing with the big guys. They know that with hard luck and a bit of work, the Rivercats’ players will be moved up, living out their dreams.

But the best part of all, for me, is the time I spend with my son. Sitting side by side, talking, laughing, and shelling peanuts I learn all sorts of things about him-like how he likes it when I act goofy (he really said that), and how at 11 years old he still enjoys using his mom as a backrest to snuggle against. We didn’t catch any foul balls, and the Dinger Dog machine didn’t shoot any flying hot dogs our way that night. But as the game ended and the fireworks blazed for the last time, I thought about how lucky I am to be living in this moment with him, and hope that when he grows up, he will make baseball games a family favorite, too. Remember-it’s not which team wins or loses, only that you ‘catch’ the game that counts.

So next time you’re wondering what to do on a warm summer evening, why not create some memories and take in a minor league ball game? Snuggling under the bright lights with your family is a pretty powerful thing.

Jennifer Wolfe

More Posts - Website

Follow Me:

Playground Paradise

Posted on August 13, 2011 by Jennifer Wolfe

When my kids were little, trips to the playground were a must. Their energy expenditure was critical to my ability to make it through the day sanely, and I’m sure that they benefited from not only the fresh air and exercise, but from the time to play and explore. After they were dressed, the stroller was packed with snacks, dig toys and a beach towel, we would head off on foot to one of the many kid friendly areas in our neighborhood. One of their favorites was the ‘The Grandma Penny Park”.

This park had all the prerequitsites for toddler paradise: a climbing structure, swings, a slide, soft woodchips to land on and best of all, the merry go round. For kids who needed to test their boundaries and get their wiggles out, this was heaven. For moms, the shady bench in close proximity to the playground was a perfect place to observe-just far enough away to give the kids some freedom, yet close enough to catch them when the fell. And they always did. I was there to scoop them off, brush off the woodchips, pull out splinters, offer sippy cups full of juice, and swallow a few Goldfish crackers before testing their courage all over again. Cries of ‘Watch this, Mom’ resonated throughout the park nearly every second as my babies tested their balance, speed and courage. Playmates screamed, laughed and occasionally argued over who was going down the slide first or who got more ‘under doggies’ on the swing.

Once elementary school began, life was so much more structured. The “Grandma Penny Park’ was visited less and less, as t-ball, gymnastics, karate, rock climbing gyms and play dates because locations of paradise. Occasionally we would stop by to take a quick swing or spin, but the twice daily trips to the playground became a thing of the past. Energy was now expended in a more focused manner. Shouts of ‘Mom, check this out!’ caught my attention as my children back flipped, tucked, and shimmied down every imaginable object. Gone were the splinters and sippy cups, replaced instead with rope burns, blisters, bruises and Gatorade. Hurt feelings from learning how to navigate friendships were soothed with hugs, talks and mommy time.

These days, trips to the playground are virtually non-existent. Teens and preteens are much more likely to find their paradise ‘hanging out’ with friends downtown, at the pool or bowling alley, or gulping down a Starbucks Frappuccino before shopping. Trying to hang onto the innocence of childhood becomes a balancing act between their quest for independence and my thirst to hang on to childhood. Statements of ‘Can I hang out with my friends’ frequented our conversations. Squeezing in the family vacations before college became our mission. So many places to visit, things to teach them, and experiences we want to have as a family.

When we recently stumbled upon Fern Canyon, we were thrilled to watch our kids run, jump, swing and spin in nature’s playground. Gone were the iPods, cell phones, playmates and Facebook connections. Instead, our kids rediscovered their childhood pleasures among the fallen trees, dripping waterfalls and trickling stream. Wooden board bridges offered just enough stability to cross back and forth while presenting them opportunities to test their boundaries. Many times I called out, ‘Be careful” as one child scampered too high up a fallen log, or came close to soaking his only pair of shoes. Declarations of, ‘Watch this!” echoed down the canyon as he darted from one wet rock to another, making it safely every time. There were no swings, slides, or sippy cups in sight, just a mom, a dad and two kids creating their own bliss.

What I’ve learned is that all of us need to find our own paradise. Sometimes we need the structure of other people or events, and sometimes it takes the apparatus of a structure, or the companionship of friends. Sometimes, though, all we need is our imagination and the opportunity to unleash it.

What I’m still learning is how far away to watch, and how fast I need to rush in when they fall, as they always do. I’m learning when to hug, when to wipe the tears, and when to stand back and let them handle it on their own. Paradise found.

Jennifer Wolfe

More Posts - Website

Follow Me: