I strongly suspect that for as long as I live, I will remember exactly where I was and exactly what it felt like when I heard about the victory of Donald Trump.  Kathy and I went to bed that night having not watched any of the election results.  We knew it was going to be frighteningly close,  and I had an uneasy sense of foreboding that it might not go as we hoped – so we decided to spare ourselves the angst of watching the election returns and headed up to bed at 10 p.m. with the hope that we would be greeted the next morning with the news of a narrow Trump defeat.

At 3:30 in the morning,  my wife awoke- reached for her smart phone- took one look at the Facebook posts on the screen-   and moaned “oh no!”  I was already sleeping fitfully, so I’m not surprised that those two little words awoke me,  but it was amazing how two words could feel like a punch to the gut.    (For some reason,  I went through the motions of asking her “you mean….” and her stricken reply was “you don’t want to know.”)   We held each other for awhile – mostly in silence –  before my wife finally drifted back to sleep, while I laid there – wide-eyed and fully awake for the rest of the night, feeling physically sick and truly scared.   (How strange to imagine the elation that supporters of Mr. Trump were feeling as those of us on the other side of the divide were feeling like it was the end of the world.)

Seven days later,  those initial feelings have relaxed their grip only slightly.  I still feel shellshocked and numb.  I also feel like I have been stricken with my worst-ever case of writer’s block, both in word and in music.   For me to be able to create something,  there has to be some sense of emptiness-  a mental and emotional space waiting to be filled with a new idea.   But I feel like for the last seven days,  that surge of shock and even horror is still sending current through every fiber of my being.  I reach for manuscript paper to try and write a song – or sit down at my laptop to try and finish my Journal of Singing column –   and all that comes back is the message “All circuits are busy.”

Boy, are they ever.

I’m not here to rehash this savagely-fought presidential campaign nor to explain why Kathy and I voted as we did.  (It actually feels strange to publicly state who I voted for- since I really do try to maintain at least some measure of neutrality in public forums like this, because of my radio work.)  I’m not here to explain how or why Tuesday’s election turned out as it did- who made what mistakes-  nor to make predictions about where our nation might be headed.   I’m also not going to try to explain (for those of you who supported Mr. Trump)  why so many of us who opposed him were so devastated by how the election turned out and are so worried about what the future holds.  I don’t think I’m capable of addressing any of that.

I just want to talk about the moments over the past 7 days which gave me hope or comfort.  It’s interesting how the experience of having your world’s foundations shaken to the core can also help you see the good things,  life’s simplest blessings with much better clarity.  By that, I mean blessings like . . .

BREAKING BREAD WITH A LOVED ONE:  The day after the election,  I made a point of bringing lunch to Kathy at Schulte Elementary School.  It was nothing fancy-  Subway, actually-  but I just knew that I wanted to be with her.   And in terms of the comfort and good feeling it gave me, it might as well have been a banquet.  In fact,  that humble little meal that we shared at one of the tables in her classroom felt like something holy.   Friday night,  after a fun gathering with church friends,  Kathy and I ended up at one of our favorite restaurants,  Olde Madrid,  for a delicious dinner,  and that was another one of those oddly life- affirming moments.  And Saturday morning,  Kathy and I got to enjoy a spectacularly delicious breakfast at a place called Blue Bear.   (I had Bison Sausage Benedict- pictured below.)   As someone who typically eats at least two (and occasionally three)  meals behind the steering wheel of my car,  I probably have a heightened appreciation for those times when a meal is shared with someone you love.  This week,  that was even more the case. And every moment of each of those meals with Kathy felt precious to me.

img_2051

BEING HELPFUL:  It was during that Wednesday lunch with Kathy that I received a frantic text from a faculty colleague at Carthage,  asking if there was any way that I would be able to rush back to campus and play piano for one of the guest high school choirs who was on campus for our Choral Invitational.   I would have said yes no matter what, but I was thrilled that the choir in question was directed by one of my former voice students, Derek Galvicius,  and they were singing a movement from John Rutter’s splendid “Gloria.”   And I was thrilled as well because Wednesdays are my emptiest days,  and the last thing I wanted was to spend any more time than necessary simmering and stewing about what had transpired the night before.  It felt so good to be busy- at least for a few minutes-  and to be helpful, to make a difference.   I wasn’t changing the world or curing cancer,  but at least I was helping someone out of a jam and helping some young people deliver a really beautiful and inspiring performance.

SEEING THE YOUNG IN ACTION:   If you need an extra whiff of hope for the future,  there’s nothing quite like the experience of seeing young people doing something they love, and doing it well.  This past week was a four-day Choral Invitational Festival at Carthage (the event for which Derek’s choir sang) and it did my heart good to see all of those young singers in action.   Saturday night, Kathy and I went to Horlick High School to see a madcap comedy titled “The Complete History of America: Abridged” because three young people we know and love were in the cast.   It was a wild night of fun and it was incredibly invigorating to see those students throwing themselves into their performances with such a joyous sense of abandon.  And along the way,  the play also served up a reminder that our country has certainly been through tumultuous times before- and somehow survived.   Sunday morning, four young violinists at our church provided some special music (“Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring”) that was truly beautiful- and part of what made it even better was how they got off just a little bit towards the end but then managed to come together in time for the last few minutes.  That was almost better than if it had gone flawlessly from start to finish.  Sunday afternoon I saw an original theatrical piece at Case High School called “Twisted Truths,”  an earnest attempt to address what it’s like for a young person to grow up with an alcoholic parent.  Since it was the last performance,  they had a little onstage ceremony afterwards where each of the seniors was given a rose as the director talked about the contribution that they had made to the production and the program.   I knew only one of those students (a voice student of mine) and all of the rest were complete strangers to me- but it was still greatly moving to listen to this teacher talk about how proud she was of her students and of how pleased she was with the way that all of them had grown.  I might add that those students were a crazy quilt of different colors (as were the students in the Horlick play Saturday night)  working together beautifully and exemplifying what our country is and Who We Are.  Finally,  I want to mention two marvelous student recitals I have attended at Carthage within the last week-  a double junior voice recital and a senior tuba recital that were both performances truly first-rate and inspiring.  I feel so indebted to all of these talented young people for showing us the fresh promise of our collective future.

img_2062img_2085

img_2074img_2098

 

HITTING A BALL:   Sunday evening,  I was able to get out on a tennis court with my friend Dave Krueger- and I still don’t know how I was able to play with such ferocious focus.   Typically, as I’m playing tennis my mind is crowded with all kinds of unrelated thoughts-  what’s going on at church, home, school, the guild, etc.  – and sometimes I’m even writing songs in my head.   But Sunday night,  I had Tunnel Vision like I have never had it before- as though nothing else was going on in the whole world except hitting that tennis ball.  (Maybe I was trying to shut out the rest of the world!)   Whatever the reason, by the time we were done,  I had prevailed 6-4 over someone who is a much better athlete than I am.   I walked off of that tennis court feeling doubly grateful-  first of all that I have two arms and two legs that work reasonably well and allow me to play this game that I love … and secondly, that I have a tennis partner/opponent who is such a good match for me both in ability level and in his patience and kindness.  I’ve long appreciated Dave’s friendship, both on and off the court,  but never more so than Sunday night.

img_2090

SIMPLE BEAUTY:    Twice since Election Night I have made a point of driving through Petrifying Springs, a gorgeous park where one see sights like this.  And Monday night, my wife joined some friends in an outing to look at the exceptionally beautiful moon glowing in the night sky.  Sometimes when all else fails,  you simply have to look for the beauty in the world around us.  These days,  I find myself looking for the beautiful all of the time-  and trying to drink in that beauty and savor it like I never have before.

img_2040img_2560

GOOD PEOPLE:   So what am I feeling today?  Still shaken, yet cautiously hopeful. In particular, I am hopeful that this wrenching moment for our nation is bringing certain essential questions to the forefront of our national conversation.   To paraphrase someone, this election did not cause division as much as it revealed it.  Yes, some ugly feelings seem to have been unleashed in the wake of this election.  Some have gone so far as to say that certain people find themselves emboldened to articulate and even act on their darkest impulses of racism and homophobia.  As hard as it is to see that – and as terrible as it must be to be the target of such attitudes and actions – I would also hope that by bringing such ugliness out into the open,  such ugliness can also be addressed and, please God, curtailed or even eradicated – someday.  And if a few twisted bigots suddenly feel newly entitled to spew their venom into the world,  I am heartened by all of the good people across this country (and by the way, they are on both sides of the aisle – I know some very good people who voted for Mr. Trump)  who are taking a stand against such attitudes in no uncertain terms,  and who are determined to bring more good into this world.

I want to be one of them.

(Pictured at the top-  Kathy greets one of our talented young friends who did such a nice job in the Horlick play “The Complete History of America: Abridged.”)