Funny the World...

I SURVIVED MOTHER'S DAY

May 15, 2000

In spite of my blue funk of the days leading up to Mother's Day, it was a very enjoyable day. The way to get past feeling sad for the kids who are no longer here is to enjoy the kids who are, and remember that you're still a mother to the ones left.

Actually the day started around 4 a.m. with the start of a nightmare that went on until about 5:30, when I finally got up. I must have been concerned about getting to Steve's appearance at the Dolores St. Baptist Church (which is on Valencia St. because skinheads burned the Dolores St. Church down in 1993) that I had this long dream about getting lost in San Francisco, going through herds of cattle and horses, climbing over streams and up mossy banks and trying to squeeze out through a narrow barn door, while being chased by mean people who were trying to catch us. I was exhausted before I even left the house!

Ned arrived around 9 a.m. with a lovely portrait of Paul for me, which, of course, got me all weepy. But no time for that. We got right in the car and headed off to San Francisco, leaving Walt behind to wait for his brother so they could go spend the day with their mother. Ned and I had a delightful drive down, encountered minimal traffic, after the first 20 miles or so, and actually found on-street parking within a block and a half of the hall where Steve would be playing. We were half an hour early, so we had time to sit and chat with Steve, and allow Steve to get to know Ned a little bit before the members of the small congregation started arriving for the service. Well...it wasn't exactly a service. The minister is out of town, so it really just turned into an hour-long Steve Schalchlin concert, but it was preceded by some prayers and ended with a prayer. In between the two prayers, there was an hour of Steve.

Steve now wears an eye patch because the Graves Disease he's developed causes double vision

He started the program with "Near You." I was remarking to myself that next week will mark the one year anniversary of the first time I saw The Last Session, which led to my involvement with Steve's group. It's been an incredible year and I've been so fortunate to have been able to follow this crazy guy around the country. The advantage of having been to so many different places is how different each performance is. "Near You" this morning was a prayer. I don't think I've ever been as moved by this song as I was today, or heard Steve sing it quite as beautifully.

Anyway, then on to the usual Last Session songs, starting with "Preacher and the Nurse," dedicated to his parents, and including more growing up stories than usual, probably prompted, he explained, by the fact that he'd called his mother right before the show to wish her a happy Mother's Day.

The audience was intimate, attentive and appreciative. He didn't do all The Last Session stuff, but most of it. He wanted to leave time for the new material, "Gabi's Song" and "William's Song," both of which got a good reception. Then he asked if anybody had any requests and a girl asked if he could do "Going it Alone." his song for caretakers, again, which he did, closing with "When You Care," the last song of The Last Session.

He sold several CDs afterwards, including two (one each of the new one and the LA cast Last Session Souvenir Album) to the girl who had asked for a repeat of "Going It Alone."

Jeri, who had flown in from Boston on Friday for a wedding on Saturday, managed to make it to the church in time to hear the end of Steve's concert, so both kids were finally able to meet this guy I've been talking about for the past year.

Following the concert, we drove to Marin county to spend Mother's Day with my mother. She was so surprised to see Jeri. We had originally intended to take her out to brunch but it was absolutely pouring rain, so instead we let her fix lunch for us (Happy Mother's Day, Mom!) and we just sat around for a few hours visiting, laughing, and otherwise enjoying ourselves.

By the time we left, the rain had pretty much stopped and we had clear sailing all the way home. I love that drive on a day like today. You cross the one of the tail ends of the delta, so there is very little development and sweeping vistas of green grass, ponds, and hills rising in the distance. When we hit a certain spot in the road, the sun was cutting a swath across one wide section of the view, turning the mustard an irridescent gold. With the mountains a deep green and a rustic barn off to the side, it made me wish I were a painter....or that at the very least that I wasn't on a "no stopping for anything" road so I could have pulled off and attempted to capture the moment on film. I had to content myself with drinking in the view, and enjoying the red-winged blackbirds that seemed to be everywhere this afternoon.

We came home to recorded messages from my friend Lynn in Texas, our Brasilian daughter Sonia, and my sister-in-law, all wishing me a Happy Mother's Day. Then Tom called from Santa Barbara and we talked for half an hour. My day was complete; I'd now been in communication with all three kids.

The evening ended at Ned's house, where Jeri and I went to watch South Park on his DVD player. They've been telling me for a very long time that I needed to see this movie. I've also heard that I would be terribly offended by the language. However, I wasn't. And I laughed several times, and thoroughly enjoyed the clever musical adaptations. I suppose I'll be singing "Blame Canada" all day tomorrow.

And so another Mother's Day goes into the annals of this family's history. Once again, the anticipation was emotional, the reality was not. We have such great kids! They all made me proud to be their mom today.

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