Pages of My Life

Posted on September 21, 2017 by Virginia

Turning the pages of my life, there are some chapters I’d rather not revisit. Tough times weathered my own way, not necessarily the right way.

Perhaps there wasn’t a right way per se, bumbling about the fringes of ok and not ok, but I somehow passed through intact (if barely.)

Ever-evolving scars – some harsh and throbbing, others healed and fading – fill pages of my life (the hardest to write, and read.)

Certain moments define us, who we are, who we become.

Choices: to rise above or be crushed under life’s load.

Reactions: to multiply the good and survive the bad, learning from mistakes, seizing failure as an opportunity to grow.

“Seizing failure?” Yeah, right. (A whimsical theory reality seemingly abdicates.)

I have failed, at times spectacularly.

But what defines us, and me, is how we get up again.

And again.

To keep trying, to keep on going.

I have gotten stuck for long whiles at the end of a chapter until muddled into moving on to the next one. Other times life zoomed by so fast I could barely hold on to mark ends and new beginnings.

Yes, I have failed, and at times succeeded (by the grace of God.)

Alive to hope, love and joy – being all three.

We have choices how we write the pages of our lives. We can choose to courageously write our narrative even if the plot of our lives has spiraled out of our control.

Facing fears and myriad challenges is difficult, because this thing called life is difficult (courage required.)

It’s a choice. We can choose to courageously write hope after pages of despair leave our hearts gaping and gasping for air.

We can choose to write love, and be love.

And, get by with not just a little help, as per the Beatles, but a lot of help from our friends. “I’m gonna try with a little help from my friends…”

Who add words of hope in the pages of our lives and help us weather tough times, together.

“You aren’t an accident or an incident; you are a gift to the world, a divine work of art, signed by God.” Max Lucado

grace, peace & life pages

Virginia : )

p.s. Scribbling notes a few days ago about the pages of my life, this post crystallized after Bernadette over @ Haddon Musings posted an inspiring blog (& amazing photo) about writing the chapters of our lives. Together – with friends. You can access it by clicking here: Do Not Judge My Story By the Chapter You Walked in On

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a Funny Thing called LOVE

Posted on September 14, 2017 by Virginia

It’s not Valentine’s Day, but for some reason got to pondering (& pontificating) about love, that word that sometimes stands us on our heads. 

Love is a funny thing.

We think we want it, but all the work that goes in it, not so much.

Because love is about commitment. Not just butterflies in our tummies and hormone rushes, but the decision to love day in and day out.

Washing up together, forever? Through tough stains, crusted plates, and cracks that come. Perhaps a few shattered glasses?

Love continues despite it all – mending, tending, fending for one another. At times sparkling, at other times barely holding on.

Love keeps working at it, despite the strains that inevitably come.

Love keeps trying: making an effort, taking initiative, offering sponges of forgiveness when needed (and necessary.)

Love is not always easy, not by a long shot.

Letting go of me to become we.

But love, funny thing that it is, makes the world of our hearts go around and around. And keeps it spinning through ups and downs.

Love can take us to the highest peaks of our miserly existence, filling us with a sparkling joy that inspires, ignites and empowers us to do and be more, more, more.

For others. For ourselves. For Love.

Love can also leave us desolate and despairing when our loved ones are gone.

But joy, the joy of loving and being loved, this joy is a spark that makes life worth living. A spark that keeps our hearts alive in the afterglow when distant memories fill the treasure chests of our lives.

Love is a funny thing. It is. Indeed.

Pass that next dish. I’ll get the soap, you do the rinse.

grace, peace & washing-up (forever) love

Virginia : )

p.s. My parents were married 58 years before Papa passed, suffering 25+ of those years from a debilitating disease that left him a bedfast quadriplegic. Mama looked after him tirelessly. Papa called her his ‘care lover.’ You wouldn’t believe how mushy they could get, whispering sweet everythings to each other, not realizing just how loud their ‘whispers’ had become (heard clearly by minion daughter at the other end of the house during my caregiving gig.) Mama passed a year and a few months after Papa, but the legacy of their love lives on in the treasure chests of our hearts and lives.

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…(end of) summer flu blues…

Posted on September 4, 2017 by Virginia

End of summer holiday weekend? Everyone’s out and about having a grand time. Everyone except Virginia, that is.

Such fun plans, niece in town from NYC, family birthday parties to attend to.

Instead? Auntie V spent weekend in bed. Oh my God, my head, my head. And wretched retching tummy. And meandering body aches, roaming head to toe.

Full on nasty four day flu, in summertime? So not fun.

Couldn’t even read much, an unwelcome circumstance compounding flu blues. Thankfully, Tuesday night I read Louise Penny’s latest, Glass Houses. Wanted to make it last, but alas, read it in one sitting (it’s that good!)

Misery loves company, so they say. Brother Dwight’s had a bad sore throat this holiday weekend. Sniffling, shuffling by sickie sis. Hack. Hack.

Whose germs, what & where? (Lysol spray deployed everywhere.)

Food finally settling down in tummy today. Summer flu blues softening down a notch, petering their way out. Laptop (briefly) powered up, click clicking.

Enduring end of summer flu blues made me think of friends and dear ones fighting more serious challenges. Cancer. Terminal illnesses. Broken heart blues, broken life blues.

For some dear ones, medical blues and life blues won’t just peter out. A few may lessen, for a short time, but cancer aches, body aches, heart and broken life aches are ever present.

Humbling, that. My flu blues heart asks God for extra doses of love, peace & healing graces for all of you suffering whatever blues wherever you are. May God give you enduring grace, attuning your blues with notes of comfort and love.

“There is no hell, no private hell of wound, depression, fear, sickness or even bitterness that God’s love cannot and will not descend into. Once there, it will breathe out peace.” Fr. Ronald Rolheiser, OMI

grace, peace & (ending) summer flu blues

: /   Virginia   : )

“Regret will not prevent tomorrow’s sorrows; it will only rob today of its strength. Keep believing. With Jesus you have not a hopeless end but an endless hope.” Barbara Johnson (from Boomerang Joy)

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The Movie ‘All Saints’ – Uniting Hearts, Inspiring Hearts

Posted on August 28, 2017 by Virginia

After catching the trailer for “All Saints” before Valerian awhile back (a great flick BTW), I made a beeline to see this movie tonight. A closing church, refugees, drama and… John Corbett in the main role as Rev. Michael Spurlock, a new pastor assigned to get a job done.As a huge groupie of My Big Fat Greek Wedding, watched umpteen times with my parents and friends, I was all about catching him in this. (Corbett’s brilliant performance as non-Greek Xeno Ian Miller gets me every time!)

Once again, John Corbett delivers an amazing performance, with just the right balance of humor, confidence, angst and humility (a journey in this film.) But All Saints is about so much more than just him. I may have gone to see the movie because he was in it, but this inspiring story grabbed my attention, and my heart by the end.

Based on a true story, the movie was filmed on location at the real All Saints Church in Smyrna, Tennessee. Sent by the bishop to close this church of only 12 members, newly ordained Michael Spurlock (Corbett) and his wife (Cara Buono) and son move to a temporary post expecting to be in and out in just a few months.

Things take a turn when a group of ethnic Karen refugees from war-torn Burma turn up at All Saints Church and quickly make an impression in their lives. As Michael befriends Ye Win (Nelson Lee) and learns of the horrors they’ve escaped, he wants to do something.

Something involves planting fields around the for sale church, that requires commitment not only from the Karen Burmese, church members (including irascible ones like Forrest, played by Barry Corbin), Spurlock and his family, but also involves members of the whole community (including the big megachurch down the road) who unite their hands to pitch in as crisis strikes.

This is a story about faith, commitment, friendship, and relationships. No superheroes with superpowers, just ordinary people with extraordinary faith and a desire to do something & be something TOGETHER.

Open hearts inspiring one another, aspiring to be God’s hands & feet & arms of love.

Here’s a peek at the trailer. If you have a chance to catch this movie, it’s one not to miss! (For friends getting this in email, you need to click to Roses in the Rubble website to catch the YouTube trailer video.)

grace, peace & inspirational movies

Virginia : )

p.s. my heart & prayers are with the people of Texas, especially Houston, as the horrendous flooding continues.   : /

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Purposeful Cycling: Riding My PURPLE BIKE!

Posted on August 23, 2017 by Virginia

“A cyclist is someone who is seriously involved in cycling. A person riding a bike is, well, a person riding a bike. Cyclists use the word “cycling” to indicate that they are engaging in a Serious Activity, not just a ride down to the coffee shop.”  (Google)

Taking a breather from all the doom and gloom beckoning at the corners of our globe, Virginia is dishing up fitness fare today: the joys of cycling and riding a bike.

Consider cyclists bedecked in seriously tight biker gear on narrow bikes zipping as fast as they can down the road. Then, there’s Virginia on her purple bike enjoying the scenery, pedaling, but not so fast as to miss anything: blue birds, woodpeckers, trees, deer, turtles (& the occasional shirtless scenic joggersby.)

It’s a careful thing not to crash (a cycling hazard.)

My purple bike reemerged from a loooong hibernation after an automobile accident awhile back jostled almost-behaving neck discs into misbehaving again. (More details? Click here: Crash! Smash! Bamboozled.)

Cycling the last two months has been exhilarating, but, let’s face it, also a difficult task getting lax muscles back into shape (after their long hibernation.) Bike trails have made it a joyful endeavor (despite reticent muscles) because they are so beautiful.

Last week while pedaling to access the trail on this wooded entryway, 12 deer leapt across the path, including several little Bambis like this one.

It felt like being inside a story, like Tolkien’s LOTR!

Turtles are usually out sunning themselves.

We’re blessed with an amazing 52 mile bike trail that goes from Williamsburg to Richmond, the capital of our state (hence the name: Virginia Capital Trail.) We can access it from the back of our neighborhood, but there are choices:

one direction leads to long bridges and hills (extremely hard ones)

and the other direction leads to flat farmland,

more wide bridges,

and also out to Jamestown Island.

Which is a lovely ride, especially the causeway where there’s a marsh on one side & the James River on the other side.

Occasionally, there’s a sighting of the ferry to (& from) Surry County.

@ Jamestown there’s a 3 mile loop, and a 5 mile loop around the island. If you have a chance to check out Jamestown’s cool digs (literally), there’s cutting edge archeology & historical sites to visit.

My neighbor Laurin (who is in GREAT SHAPE) said the hilly way was hard. The first time I tried it, I almost cried. Had to turn around 15 minutes in. But now I can make it with lots of huffing, puffing and all-encompassing exerted pedaling.

My muscles may feel like jelly after, but it’s a beautiful ride. There’s a sense of accomplishment putting muscles through their paces, getting stronger so next time it’s not so hard (in theory, anyway.)

For Virginia & her purple bike cycling is a Serious Activity: getting atrophied muscles in shape, taking on hard hills, and chiseling pounds away. But it’s one meant to be enjoyed, a chance to hang out with nature, fellowship with friends & family when riding together, and thank our Creator for Heavenly paintbrushes so busy all around us (& within us.)

A thought from Virginia (the contemplative purple-bike-rider.) Just as riding a bike uphill exercises and builds up leg muscles (& more besides), so, too, we need to exercise our compassion muscles, to get them in better shape for steep mountain-sized challenges around our whacked-out world.

“Compassion is a verb.” Thich Nhat Hanh

grace, peace & purposeful BIKERS

Virginia : )

p.s. For a more in depth look at cycling tips (& the fun of a serious biker in India), check out Dev Mallangada’s inspiring blog: Cycling – What it Did to Me.

p.s.2 All photos brought to you by Virginia’s iPhone : )

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Charlottesville: Standing Against Hatred

Posted on August 14, 2017 by Virginia

Here in Virginia our hearts are wobbling after senseless bigoted violence pounded the city of Charlottesville. Nestled in beautiful Shenandoah and Blue Ridge Appalachian mountains, this is where Thomas Jefferson founded the University of Virginia. I spent four years as an undergrad @ UVA where everyone is welcome: the best and brightest from our state, country and around the world. The only challenge I had with my African American first year roommate: guys were extra nice to me to meet her because she was so very beautiful! (Then she would introduce them to her fiancé’s picture on the wall.)  🙂 An open environment of diversity and multicultural learning make what happened in Charlottesville so hard to fathom. White nationalist extremists wrecked horrifying havoc in this peaceful university town with bigotry, racism, hatred and violence. Our hearts and prayers are with the families of those killed and with the injured of body and mind.

As condemnation filled our televisions and social media feeds, it was alarming to see defamatory rhetoric pushing shaky lines of hard-won peaceful coexistence back to the stone age of prejudice.

In the aftermath, heated divisiveness plays the blame game.

All hearts and minds need to understand that we are all equally beloved of God, whether we are pink, purple, black, green or blue (or red-headed, like this white chick.)

All white people did not do this. Extremists did.

It’s hard in the face of intense hatred to look past our fear and mistrust, but we must.

I need to see the me in you, and you need to see the you in me.

We’re all part of this human family.

Hebron

Working in the Middle East in the 1990s, I experienced hatred up close in the Palestinian city of Hebron where extremist Jewish settlers made life difficult for the civilian population. At the behest of the Hebron mayor, the international Christian Peacemaker Teams served as a non-violent buffer protecting local families. After a young American Mennonite member was severely beaten by settlers, the next Saturday a diverse group of us joined the CPT-ers  – including Rabbis for Human Rights, international NGO representatives (like me), and a Jewish survivor of the Holocaust.

Jewish, Muslim, Christian, atheist, Israeli, Palestinian, and internationals from all over, we stood together while armed extremist settlers spewed venom at us. I’ve never experienced such ugly unadulterated hatred as from their hurled slurs, shouts, gestures and threats.

It was easy to be scared, but standing together against hate our disparate hands and hearts were interwoven with a unifying belief in equality and the equitable worth of despotized people(s.)

No one was beaten or harmed that day.

Ibrahimi Mosque, Hebron

Later that day we passed by the Israeli settlement of Kiryat Arba to see the shrine-like memorial erected for Baruch Goldstein, an Israeli doctor who attacked Muslim worshipers at the Ibrahimi Mosque in Hebron, killing 29 and injuring 125 before he was killed. The Holocaust survivor with us refused to look. He said, “I’m not the only survivor of my entire family to witness this travesty honoring a mass murderer.”

Baruch Goldstein was an extremist. Those settlers were Kach extremists.

We were there together with Israelis who chose to stand up for others, who were horrified by the actions of these extremists.

I get it that there are times to stand against systems of injustice (like I stood between uzi-toting soldiers and Palestinian children in Gaza, and at the same time decried Palestinian extremists blowing up Israeli civilians.) Although I worked in the Palestinian context, I also had Israeli friends who risked their lives documenting human rights abuses. Others, like a beautiful friend from Netanya who crossed challenging checkpoints to stay with me in Bethlehem, built bridges of hope through reconciliation initiatives.

After working there, later documenting mass graves in the Kosovo relief program, traipsing around Bosnia and Croatia, seeing East Timor recovering from injustice to freedom, working with Congolese refugees in Tanzania (& so on) I have developed a simplistic view. There are courageous people standing against extremists all over this globe. There are hope-filled, peace loving Palestinians, Israelis, Albanians, Bosnians, Croatians, Serbs, East Timorese, Indonesians, Congolese… (there are also extremist Palestinians, Israelis, Serbs, Indonesians, et all.)

Kosovo, 1999

What does all this have to do with Charlottesville, VA?

“The acts of a few are not representative of the many.” Those white extremists do NOT represent this white chick. Not now, not EVER. Nor my family, nor my friends of diverse ethnicities, orientations and religions.

Let’s counter our fears and acts of extremism by building bridges of peace, one step of understanding at a time, not letting acts of a few shutter our hearts to the value each of us inherently have as human beings.

Life is a gift. All life is a gift.

The Rotunda @ The University of Virginia

To the people of Charlottesville and the great commonwealth of Virginia, to people of hope and action all over our country and around our whacked out world, we need to put our hearts and hands together to STAND AGAINST extremists, bigotry, racism, hatred and violence.

Let our hearts stand up for love (and our knees, even if a little wobbly.)

Let’s stand up for peace, dignity and equality of all with love from Above. Not some more than others, but all molded as uniquely crafted works of our Creator, equally precious in every shade and hue.

Let’s open our hearts and minds to encounter everyone equally as beings beloved of God.

Let’s STAND AGAINST HATRED in CHARLOTTESVILLE and EVERYWHERE!

grace, peace & hearts (standing together)

Virginia

“It isn’t enough to talk about peace. One must believe in it. And it isn’t enough to believe in it. One must work at it.” Eleanor Roosevelt

p.s. Yes, I’m Virginia, from the state of Virginia, and I went to the University of Virginia (=VA 3 !)

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Lord, Please Save Me (us, you, them-all!)

Posted on August 13, 2017 by Virginia

With what’s happened in Charlottesville this weekend (so unbelievable in the sleepy university town where I spent four years as an undergrad) and with our Gospel readings for today (about Peter walking on the water), I dusted off this prayer written during the early days of my parental care-giving gig (which got a little overwhelming, at times!)  Maybe today we can say, “Lord, please save US!”

Saint Peter jumped out of the boat and walked on the water to Jesus. It was a fine time until he looked down: there was no ground, just deep sea all around. His faith step faltered and he started to sink, then cried out: Lord, please save me! Today I tried that walking on water faith thing, but when the going got tough, like St. Peter I prayed:

Lord, Please Save Me

(the surf down here is getting rough!)

+++++++

Waves of frustration swell the shores of my anger

(nothing is going my way today)

shake – rattle – let go

Lord, please save me!!

Waves of self-doubt stir up the shores of my insecurities

(I am just a nothing nobody)

shake – rattle – look up

Lord, please save me!!

Waves of apathy crush my empathy for the suffering in this world

(there’s already too much on my plate)

shake – rattle – look around

Lord, please save me!!

Waves of fear freeze my courage muscles

(can’t, won’t, NOT, too scared to try)

shake – rattle – work them out

Lord, please save me!!

Waves of mold muddle the shores of my mildewed mind

(too much mindlessness, too little mind-filled-ness)

shake –rattle – be transformed

Lord, please save me!

Waves of helplessness hash the shores of my abilities

(challenges are TOO big, I am TOO small)

shake – rattle – take a leap of faith

Lord, please save me!

Waves of doubt drain the shores of my faith

(why now? why this? why ME?)

shake – rattle – believe

Lord, please save me!

Waves of love surround the shores of my prickly heart

(what’s that soft knocking I hear?)

shake – rattle – open up

Lord, please save me!

Waves of joy shower the shores of my sadness

(Beautiful Savior, come to save me!)

shake – rattle – be lifted up

Lord, please save me!

Waves of mercy wash the shores of my thirsty heart

(Holy Redeemer, forgive me!)

shake – rattle – receive

Lord, please save me!

 

OH LORD

– THE SURF DOWN HERE IS GETTING ROUGH –

PLEASE SAVE US!!

grace, peace & stormy weather

: /   Virginia  : )

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Snapshots & Whatnot: Inspiring Street Art

Posted on August 11, 2017 by Virginia

With all the negative (kinda frightening) global goings-on, here’s a little inspiration today to stretch our mind (& smile) muscles.  

SNAPSHOT…

Traipsing out and about with my niece a few weeks ago in Newport News (our closest big city), I looked down on the ground to encounter this uplifting street art. ‘Twas a rainy and gloomy afternoon, yet this well-worn pavement glowed with a message of hope.

Trampled by cars, traversed by feet, missed by most, this upbeat street art was there despite it all. 

It made me chuckle, it made me smile, it lifted me over the gloomies (for awhile.)

& WHATNOT…

Maybe we don’t feel there’s anything to smile about?

Sometimes in the midst of a global crisis or in the face of seemingly insurmountable personal challenges, a smile can be an act of courage. Full on, straight up, COURAGE.

I’m going to smile, despite it all, because I CAN choose to do it. Instead of clouding the ground with frowns, I’m choosing to share sunshine.

Maybe you (& I) think that’s sentimental sap. But I’m super serious – sometimes sharing sunshine is downright hard amidst a typhoon, hurricane, tornado (whatever.)

Years ago I developed a smile strategy while living in a conflict zone. Passing through military checkpoints multiple times each day my distemper spewed grumpy frowns. I decided to switch my attitude (with exerted effort) to smiles all around. The soldiers thereafter were so disarmed they usually passed me through with out much ado.  🙂

You see, a smile works two ways. It lifts the smiler (working out internal hope muscles to share a little joy) and the smilee (the recipient, who may wonder what’s up with the smiler, but still, the aura of a nice smile lasts awhile.)

Because a smile says something. It says ‘hey you, you are special!’ Yes, YOU, I’m smiling at you. (Not a creepy smile, mind you, something nice.)

Inspiring street art? Yes, if we let it motivate us to share a smile with others who might be low on hope reserves (& increase our own hope meters in the process.)

“Let us always meet each other with a smile, for a smile is the beginning of love.” Mother Teresa (Saint Teresa of Calcutta)

grace, peace & SMILES!

Virginia : )

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Saint Ignatius of Loyola: Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

Posted on July 31, 2017 by Virginia

So that’s Latin. Since I (& maybe you) didn’t study Latin, here’s what it means:

“To the Greater Glory of God”Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam

A noble motto from Saint Ignatius of Loyola, the founder of the Jesuits (literally followers of Jesus) whose feast day we celebrate 31 July (today!)

I am a groupie of Saint Ignatius (1491-1556), a Spanish noble who, after making major life changes during convalescence from a serious battle wound, totally devoted his life to Jesus Christ then enlisted buddies to join him in a new way of living, thinking & doing. Approved by Pope Paul III in 1540, this fledgling order founded universities, sent missionaries (ever wonder why so many schools are called St. Xavier?) and developed super spiritual prayer muscles while being the hands and feet of Jesus to those around them.

Notwithstanding a bit of turmoil along the way, the Jesuits and the Spiritual Exercises of Saint Ignatius have endured 475+ years. Today Jesuits continue to serve in many ways: educating students in universities & schools, assisting refugees (Jesuit Refugee Service), through churches (Holy Trinity in DC a favorite), facilitating spiritual growth (retreat centers, Spiritual Exercises workshops, books, podcasts), sharing faith in Jesus, providing social commentary (America Magazine, a fav) & so much more.

As we celebrate the life of Saint Ignatius of Loyola and Jesuits the world over, including our beloved Pope Francis, here are a few inspirational quotes from Saint Ignatius for our minds & hearts to munch on:

“Go forth and set the world on fire.”

“To give, and not to count the cost
to fight, and not to heed the wounds,
to toil, and not to seek for rest,
to labor, and not to ask for any reward,
save that of knowing that we do thy will.”

“Laugh and grow strong.”

“Speak little, listen much.”

“He who carries God in his heart bears heaven with him wherever he goes.” 

And, once again, the Jesuit motto: Ad Majorem Dei Gloriam.

May all we do today be for the greater glory of God!

grace, peace & Spiritual Exercising

Virginia : )

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Multifarious ViNyL 1980s Music (& ever-evolving me)

Posted on July 29, 2017 by Virginia

Last week John Scalzi posted a Crowded House song on his Whatever blog that reminded me of multiple Split Enz albums stashed in storage the past 20+ years. I’d been meaning to unearth my hibernating collection, so launched operation album rescue to see if any of those oldies (but goodies) could be resuscitated.

Surprisingly, after 20+ years in storage the vinyl held up with only 2 lost to warped-attrition. My turntable did not fare so well, but my ‘80s stereo amplifier and speakers work like new. Zipped out to acquire a replacement turntable at store. Thankfully there was one in the very back. At the checkout, I asked the two young men if they remembered turntables? One looked at me like I crawled out from under a retro rock while the other quipped, “Oh yes, my grandmother had one!”

Ahem. As I walked out with my new acquisition (feeling a bit old) I encountered a young student wearing an oversized t-shirt emblazoned with The Cure, a famous 1980s band. She was amazed I knew who they were (uh, have lots of their music and saw them in concert in D.C. @ the 9:30 Club.) I was amazed when she told me how her dad had restored an old 1980s turntable system so she could play their albums “retro-authentic.”

This week it’s been like Christmas, with Virginia the DJ having fun amidst hundreds of albums. Some groups I had forgotten (completely) yet when I played the first measures, voila, time warp back to the angst of high school, university and that initial foray into the world of working professionals: the decade of the 1980s.

I found my very first album acquisitions from waaaay back at the Bandbox in Williamsburg: The Beatles, Soft Cell & Genesis. My eclectic collection grew from there with divergent influences. (Voting for our high school senior class song was a tie: Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” and Prince’s “1999.”)

My first year in university every dorm had The Police’s Synchronicity and Prince’s Purple Rain blaring out all over.

Playing these records reminds me of those times, but also fun times at live concerts.

As a 15th birthday pressie my sis took me to see The Police @ The Hampton Coliseum. In university many great bands passed through. As a member of U-Union Student Activities committee, we all signed up to pour beer early on (from 7:00-9:00pm) then would get in free in time for the concert headliner. (This was before the drinking age bumped up to 21.)

UB40, Psychedelic Furs, REM, English Beat, James Taylor, Kool & the Gang, a host of  others and my favorite band SQUEEZE. I saw them 4 times in concert and still am a huge groupie!

Some of this music reminds me of deeeeep reflective times of inner searching and other tunes transport me to good times kicking back, hanging out with friends.

After university I worked for a non-profit on Capitol Hill. One evening my big-salary-earning buddies called with a last-minute free ticket to see the Grateful Dead at RFK stadium. Picked up on the way, I was wearing a navy blue work suit with pumps whilst they were decked out in tie dyes of various hues (along with everyone else in the stadium.) Can you picture that? Virginia in navy blue threads at a Grateful Dead concert? No matter, we had heaps of fun.

I’ll never forget the first time I took my younger brother Dwight to Tower Records, a huge multilevel store with untold thousands of records near George Washington University in D.C. The classical section was larger than our entire record store in Williamsburg. We spent over five hours there (intense music perusal interrupted with several sustenance breaks.) I discovered many amazing artists in that big store.

Moving overseas in 1992 all my vinyl records went into storage hibernation. Some ‘80s groups I kept up with (and still do): Annie Lennox, U2, Stevie Wonder, Aaron Neville, Sting, Indigo Girls, Paul Simon, Peter Gabriel, James Taylor, REM, Squeeze (Jools Holland et all), Crowded House, Simple Minds, the list goes on and on. Certain albums were such favs CDs were eventually acquired. For other groups this week’s rediscovery has been like a birthday party because I was so into them (Icehouse, The Stranglers, The The, a-ha, English Beat, The Fixx, Men Without Hats, General Public, Boomtown Rats, Echo and the Bunnymen, World Party, Waxing Poetics…)

“Music can change the world because it can change people.” Bono

Working overseas in conflict zones (and getting a little older) my music tastes evolved. Discovering Enya @ Tower Records, she became a favorite to calm frayed nerves (along with other slightly more mellow groups) while the Violent Femmes, Dead Kennedys and former slam dancing favs dropped off playlists.

Have to confess, some rediscoveries have been WEIRD (1980s weird, which is really weird) but the good stuff is so totally, like, amazingly, awesomely GREAT!

Music is the soundtrack of our lives. It’s been fun recovering memories and favorite melodies from the 1980s. (Now I just have to figure out how to use the USB cable to download these albums to my laptop to mix with more modern fare.)

Many more to play and rediscover. Virginia the DJ is having albums of fun!

grace, peace & 1980s ViNyL

Virginia : )

p.s. Signing off with a YouTube of a favorite song I ran to with my Walkman every day in college. Years later I astounded my nieces over lunch at the fancy Williamsburg Inn by launching into this early anti-drug rap song ‘White Lines’ from Grandmaster Melle Mel.

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