A Good Day For Me

[dedalus_1947]

I don’t need fortune and I don’t need fame.
Send down the thunder Lord, send down the rain.
But when you’re planning just how it will be,
Plan a good day for me.

You’ve been the King since the dawn of time.
All that I’m askin’ is a little less crying.
It might be hard for the devil to do,
But it would be easy for you.
(Lord, I Hope This Day is Good – Don Williams: 1981)

Don’t you just hate New Year’s Eve sometimes? It’s our annual reminder that everything ends: sunrise, sunset; birth, death; old year, new year. Some years are too good to let go of, and some years can’t end soon enough. I was really dreading the end of 2012 last month because it seemed that the year was ending poorly. I had stopped my daily practice of journaling. I wasn’t writing, exercising, or using time constructively. I was getting lazy and falling into bad habits. And the looming specter of New Year’s Day, with its perennial emphasis on New Year Resolutions kept moving closer and closer. There seems a universal expectation that people can simply start over in a new year – that they can will themselves to be better: to diet, lose weight, join a gym, pray or practice meditation, take up new hobbies, and put a stop to encroaching vices and addictions. It all seemed too much for me on one particular Sunday morning in Advent, during an especially boring sermon. As I started composing a mental list of New Year’s resolutions, my thoughts meandered to jail and the people I worked with there.

I‘ve been visiting and directing program sessions in jail now for almost three years. One of the volunteer chaplains I’ve gotten to know very well is Martín, a recovering alcoholic and an AA member. I hadn’t realized how much his example and daily practice of staying sober and drug free had influenced me during the years we worked together. When Martín was having a particularly bad day, he talked about it with me; and sometimes he shared his feelings with the men we visited in jail. Surrounded by petty thieves, drug dealers, and felons, he described how his day had gone at work, or what troubles he was facing at home with illness, death, and debt. But he always ended his stories by asking for the men’s prayers, and reciting a positive litany of thanksgiving for being alive, in the company of good men wanting to change, and being given the opportunity to shake off feelings of hopelessness, self-pity, and despair, and starting over. “We all mess up,” he would explain, “but I know that God loves us and forgives us. We just need to forgive ourselves and begin again. Staying sober is not about big conversions or big changes; it’s about doing the healthy things, one by one, little by little, day-by-day. Taking one day at a time, helps us remember that this is the day God made for us to be alive, to be happy, to love one another, and to enjoy the little miracles that make life so wonderful.”

On that 2nd Sunday of Advent, as my mind wondered away from the droning homily that bore no relationship to the Gospel readings of John the Baptist preparing the way of the Lord, it struck me that waiting for New Year’s Day to start new behaviors was futile. Dusting off a recycled list of old resolutions and magically hoping that they would finally take in 2013 was doomed to failure. A person can’t will himself to change overnight. Bad habits and unhealthy behaviors acquired over time don’t just disappear with the dawning of a new year, because of our good intentions. I recalled Martín’s words again, about staying sober. He said that addictions couldn’t be willed away – they had to be replaced with new actions and healthier behaviors, small ones at first, practicing them one day at a time. His goal was never to stay sober for a year – it was to be sober for that one day. By doing small things that are healthy, positive, and enjoyable – like going to work, helping people learn, praying for God’s help and guidance, volunteering at the jail, or having dinner with your family – we become strong enough to make these behaviors permanent. It finally occurred to me that I couldn’t wait until January 1 to begin acting on my New Year resolutions. I had to begin that day by resuming some of the actions and behaviors I had forsaken. The first thing I did was start journaling the following morning. Just the action of writing without judging the merits of what was written, spurred more creative feelings. I soon felt the need to do something more – and with a reenergized boost of determination, I decided to finish converting the penultimate bin of my brother-in-laws records.

This was the project I took on in 2010 (see The Vinyl Music Project). In August of that year I convinced my brother-in-law, Greg, to lend me his extensive collection of vinyl records from the late 60’s, 70’s, and early 80’s, so I could convert them into digital form. In March of 2011 I returned two of the 5 cases and downloaded the first batch of digitized music into his computer. By the end of 2011 Kathy and I had made another visit to Santa Barbara to return Bin # 3 and downloaded another batch of music (see Old Dan’s Records). Then came 2012. The vinyl project fell victim to the general lethargy and malaise that hit me that year. All my projects, good intentions, and New Year resolutions dropped off, one by one, during the year: my Weight Watcher diet, my attendance at the gym, my practice of journaling each morning, and my intentions to drink less, go to bed sooner, and rise earlier. The last two beneficial activities to go were writing essays for my blog and converting vinyl records. Thankfully I continued going to jail on Wednesdays, and babysitting my granddaughter Sarah on Thursdays and Fridays. I think those two remaining practices kept my head above water, and helped me retain the hope that eventually I’d wake up and get back on track.

It was while finishing the last 10 albums in the 4^th record bin, after four months without posting anything on my blog, that I suddenly, and effortlessly, wrote a short essay on the death of Harry Carey Jr. (see Way Out There On The Triple-R) I posted it on December 29, the same day I finished converting the final record. It was an LP called Banded Together II, and it was composed of 10 songs by various country western singers. The next day I loaded the car and Kathy and I traveled to Santa Barbara. The morning was clear, crisp, and beautiful on that last Sunday of December. Upon arrival, we discovered that Steve and Suzie Reischl, two old and dear family friends, were also visiting Greg and Anne. Together we talked about events of the year, both happy and sad, and documented the reunion with photographs. It was only later, after Steve and Suzie’s departure, and a light lunch in town, that we got down to the business of unloading the car and transferring the music.

As his middle son Clark lifted the heavy bin and carried it into the garage, Greg thanked me again for devoting so much time to the herculean task of converting so many vinyl disks. I shrugged off his compliment by explaining that I considered it a labor of love. I enjoyed all the music, especially getting to know artists I’d missed in the 70’s and 80’s, like Lou Reed’s Transformer album. I especially enjoyed learning to appreciate new genres. Two of my favorite albums were by Don Williams, a country western singer with a smooth, dulcet sound, and laid back delivery style. His relatable songs and easy-to-understand lyrics like Fair-weather Friends, It Only Rains On Me, and Lord, I Hope This Day is Good, just sucked me into his world of heartbreak, sorrow, and redemption. Actually, converting that particular last bunch of records for Greg was a Godsend for someone struggling to resume fallen away resolutions. Never being a country western aficionado, I had put off listening to those records until the very end. In a short span of two weeks I got a full dose of some serious country western singers, most of whom I had never heard before: Rosanne Cash, Don Williams, J.J. Cale, Michael Murphey, B.W. Stevenson, Mel McDaniels, Doc and Merle Watson, Marty Robbins, Crystal Gale, and Tut Taylor. Until that concentrated musical experience I had never realized how closely related country-western music was to the blues. They were both musical genres that dealt with human imperfections and struggles. There is something redeeming and reassuring when people sing about their mess-ups, mistakes, and heartbreaks. This is the human condition. The songs I heard during those weeks also called up Martín’s ideas about sobriety. To move forward we have to practice compassion, forgive ourselves for being weak, and concentrate on being better one day at a time. Just as the blues helped me through a particularly depressing period in 1997-98, I was hopeful that this last infusion of country western music would also signal the resumption of healthier practices. But at that moment, all I wanted to do was to be thankful for the day, and the opportunity to spend time and music with family and friends. It was a great way to end the old year.

Comments

[(Anonymous)]

Liked the friend from your volunteer work. Also good to hear that others go through periods of low energy. Tough fall for me as well. Need to get back on track with diet and exercise. But as they say, you can start your day, month, year, life over at any juncture. You just have to be willing. Happy New Year! PKO

A New Year!

[dedalus_1947]

Thanks, Ms. Kennedy, err, I mean Pam. I pray that you and your family have good year, and the grace to enjoy each day.
Tony