Friday, November 13, 2009

Ten dollars

Jon's grandmother sent him a ten dollar check for his birthday. She writes about him sometimes, little memories, like a particular teddy bear, a time of stolen doughnuts or trout fishing on the Mogollon Rim. She's in Idaho, I think the last few years. I usually buy Jon some music and add it to the collection at his bedside for the caregivers to play, the aides and nurses. Thing is, Jon was 35 and if he had any idea of what is going on, he knows he's not a kid any more. He may not be able to think, but if he can, what would he want for his birthday? I got to thinking, "a hug" Jon loved a hug, he'd even take one from me, although he didn't always know if he should squeeze or not. Pretty sensitive, but he had a bad back, too. Still, ten dollars of music? Art is harder, with 2D like paintings and prints having to be placed so a man in a wheelchair, all floppy and propped up, can see them. With music you just need ear buds. Still, what kind of music would you suggest for a man stuck to being handled by people who may not know, nor care, but they are wiping his butt. What kind of place would you want to be in on your birthday, awake and aware, or sleeping and off dreaming? Jon knew about lucid dreaming and I always hope he practices it.

So music must be important. I'm thinking Scarlotti and Ravel and piano concertos and big swelling strings and then loan harps plucking their way through a dark forest, maybe an oboe on the prowl. I might buy some new stuff, maybe Jazz, maybe some stuff from down south in New Orleans. Even at 35 he'd like that as background music.

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