Month: January 2015

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Music by Betsy

I do not have the words to describe how music touches my soul. So I will not try. Suffice it to say that often when I am uninspired, unmotivated, music has inspired and motivated me to get going at whatever it is that needs to be done. Or perhaps no action is needed. I simply need or want to tap into my deepest feelings. Music is the medium through which I am able to do that. To do that I have only to empty my mind and simply listen to a work that is pleasing to me. Then I can “get away from myself.” I suppose one could call it a form of meditation. Empty the mind and then you can tap into your inner being, is how it goes, I believe. Well, I’m not sure about the emptying of the mind. I suspect breathing exercises work better, but I do know that “deep” listening can be inspiring and the right music at the right time does touch my soul.

I do wish that names, places, and times would stick in my consciousness the way music does. Sometimes my head is full of music–unfortunately, not original. Since I lack the capability to create……well, maybe in my next life I will be a composer or song writer. Some music sticks in my head for days, weeks. Over a week ago I heard on the radio in the car a particular pleasing Rossini work that I like. That music is still going on in my head today as I write this–that and Too Hot to Handel, which I have been rehearsing weekly. It is not just one line. It is the whole orchestra– and all the choral parts, which makes it very enjoyable actually, but then sometimes I have to put on some other piece to get rid of something I have been “hearing” endlessly for days on end.

Better that than the alternative which is a constant, rather loud, high pitched hissing sound coming from both sides of my head around the area of the ears. Not an uncommon condition called tinitis. I understand this malady is the result of a filter in the brain not functioning as it should. The hissing is always there. It never actually goes away. I can “turn it off” only by focusing–and the key here is focusing– on something else, such as, conversation or, yes, music either real or imaginary.

Indeed, It is for many reasons that music is one of life’s greatest gifts.

© 11/24/11

About the Author

Betsy has been active in the GLBT community including PFLAG, the Denver women’s chorus, OLOC (Old Lesbians Organizing for Change). She has been retired from the Human Services field for about 15 years. Since her retirement, her major activities include tennis, camping, traveling, teaching skiing as a volunteer instructor with National Sports Center for the Disabled, and learning. Betsy came out as a lesbian after 25 years of marriage. She has a close relationship with her three children and enjoys spending time with her four grandchildren. Betsy says her greatest and most meaningful enjoyment comes from sharing her life with her partner of 25 years, Gillian Edwards.

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Sweetness Personified by Will Stanton

The brief experience I’m describing here took place in college during the Vietnam War. That era seems so long ago, many people today who might read this story may have no connection with that war, perhaps little or no understanding.

The Vietnam War was a disaster for America and many Americans. Nothing positive was accomplished by it. Some people in government and some civilians knew that the Vietnamese were not about to attack Boise, Idaho; and the U.S. had no rational or moral reason to invade Vietnam. We lost more than 50,000 fine young people in that war, let alone all the injuries to those who returned . That war created turmoil and protests in our country, and much of the rest of the world looked upon the U.S. with nervous suspicion.

Something that seems to have been relatively ignored about the many forms of injuries was that a large number of people came back to the States emotionally wounded. Many suffered from PTSD, some turned to alcohol, and many had picked up the habit in Nam of smoking pot to counteract their anxiety. Marriages and families suffered. The war changed many lives.

At college, I encountered a young student name Frank. Frank was tall and slim with very boyish features. He was quite good looking. He radiated warmth and kindness, a noticeable gentleness of personality that could be described as “sweetness personified.”

I met Frank, or more precisely, Frank met me, because apparently he sought me out. To my surprise, he had become very interested in me. I felt honored that Frank found me to be attractive and personable. We began to spend some time with each other. To my regret, that period of time was all too brief. I was surprised and very moved when I found out the reason why.

Frank appeared to be like just any other young college freshman, so I was surprised to hear that he had spent a tour of duty in Vietnam, not at any base or headquarters, but right out in the jungles and rice paddies. It was very much against Frank’s nature to wish to harm anyone, and he had no desire to kill. In fact, he refused to do so. Instead, he was a medic, tending to the soldiers’ injuries as best he could.

On one occasion, and only that one occasion, Frank spoke of his experiences in Vietnam. During his tour of duty, he daily witnessed the carnage of warfare, the horrifying injuries that our young people suffered – – shrapnel and severe bullet wounds, infected punctures from punji stakes, burns, blindness. Because the Viet Cong and North Vietnamese Army soldiers were often quite small, they would aim their AK47s low and let the bullets ride up because of their kick. Poor Frank had to tend to a number of soldiers whose genitals had been shot off. Frank told me that his seeing so many boys terribly wounded and suffering changed him forever. The world no longer seemed the beautiful and promising place that he once believed in duriing his innocent childhood.

Frank grew up in New Lexington, Ohio, a very small village of about only 3,000 at the time and consisting of a string of 19th-century, two-story brick stores and quaint, modest homes.

Tucked in the green hills of Southeastern Ohio, the village must have felt like a quiet and safe harbor away from the turmoil and sorrows of the world outside.

The trauma of Viet Nam weighed upon Frank. The world seemed to be a dangerous and unhappy place. He missed New Lexington where he felt more comfortable and secure. His interest in me changed when he met another student from his own village who felt the same way as he did. The last time that I saw Frank, he told me that he was dropping out of college and moving with his new friend back home. He said that he planned to stay there, to remain isolated from the harshness of the world outside.

I never saw Frank again, yet I never have forgotten him. I hope that he found peace and happiness there. He deserved it, for he well may have been the sweetest person I ever knew.

© 01 May 2014

About the Author

I have had a life-long fascination with people and their life stories. I also realize that, although my own life has not brought me particular fame or fortune, I too have had some noteworthy experiences and, at times, unusual ones. Since I joined this Story Time group, I have derived pleasure and satisfaction participating in the group. I do put some thought and effort into my stories, and I hope that you find them interesting.