The Last Month: Day 29

Music & Resurrection

September 25th, 2013

29 days and counting...

"Music, when soft voices die,

Vibrates in the memory;

Odours, when sweet violets sicken,

Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,

Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed;

And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,

Love itself shall slumber on."

--Percy Bysshe Shelley (1821)

When your dad and I got married I walked down the aisle to a song called "Aqua" by Ryuichi Sakamoto. For almost all of my teen years and twenties I never wanted to get married. I think most notions and embodiments of marriage are small, restrictive and largely unconscious. I've been a skeptic of the institution and I still am. We can talk more about that someday, but suffice it to say your dad is the exception to a pretty big "rule" for me. Our marriage is one of the sweetest things that's ever unexpectedly come about in my life. I cannot imagine what my world would be without him. Anyways, I'm telling you this because I want to explain "Aqua." 

Once upon a time I lived in Palo Alto. I worked at a VA hospital there as a chaplain to veterans. I loved loved loved that work and it was brutal spiritually. So much pain of war and unexpressed grief due to the savage emotional conditioning the military does to men. One afternoon driving home from work, after a particularly hard session, on a dual diagnosis unit (for soldiers with me co-occuring mental health and addiction issues), I had on the local classical radio station and heard "Aqua" for the first time. I immediately thought to myself "if I ever get married, I'm walking down the aisle to this song." The thought itself couldn't have been more out of sync with my ideals and lifestyle at the time. But every once in a while the soul is simply prophetic. It was that day. 

Almost 5 years later, there I was, arm in arm with your grandmother, walking down the aisle to meet JR at the altar of First Congregational Church of Battle Creek as Tom Ryberg played that melody I had saved for "such a moment as this." I don't think there's a single song on this earth that better captures my spirit, the essence of who I am, better than that song. 

I'm telling you this because one thing I've learned over the years is that there are songs that capture people. Capture moments. Capture seasons. Capture relationships. And those songs are like sacraments. Or envelopes. You can tap into them, open them, and be transported back to sacred memories. Or they can put you in touch with certain people who are no longer with you. This is the work of resurrection, which I'll hopefully teach you a lot more about in the course of your lifetime (seeing that I'm a minister of Christ's church and all).

When I was 13 one of your grandfathers, William Aurthur McGaughy, died of pancreatic cancer. It was my first brush up with death. It was also the year 1994 and the AIDS epidemic came into pop culture's wide spread attention because an oscar winning movie came on the screen starring Denzel Washington and Tom Hanks called "Philadelphia." My dad, your grandpa, was dying in front of my eyes. And that movie dealt with death in a beautifully sophisticated way. Watching it enabled me, at the age of 13, to figure out that I could never figure out what was happening to our family. And that was okay. One of the closing scenes of that movie is kind of like a highlight reel of Tom Hank's character's life including his childhood, adolescence, family relations and lover relationship with a man played by Antonio Banderas. The song in the background, titled after the movie "Philadelphia" is sung by Neil Young. There were years and years and years when I would wrap myself up in my dad's robe (because it retained his smell) and listen to that song over and over and over because it was the only way I could connect, in the midst of adolescent life, to the truth of what I had lost and what I believed: "sometimes I think that I know what loves all about and when I see the light, I know I'll be alright." When I need your grandfather's spirit with me, I still go back to that song. 

There are sacred songs, sacred texts, sacred objects and symbols in the life of every person and every family. I want this writing to give you access to some of ours. So if you ever need to tap into "us," you can. Your dad's song is "Stand" by Sylvester Stone. Again, mine is "Aqua" by Ryuichi Sakamoto. Our love songs, the spirit of our love, can be heard in the following (all played at our wedding): Chaka Khan's "Through the Fire," Stevie Wonder's "Ribbon in the Sky" and Keith Washington's "Kissing You." Aurora's songs are "Psalm 23" by Bobby McFerrin, "You'll be Blessed" by Elton John, "Dear God" by Smokie Norful and "Good Night Sleep Tight" by Linda Rondstat. Grandma is a cellar of songs in a body. Here are hers: "Gabriel's Oboe" from the Mission Soundtrack, "I Love The Lord" by Whitney Houston, "Bring Many Names" a hymn by Brian Wren, and everything by Yo Yo Ma. These are a good start. I'll try to find out more about Grandpa Joe, Grandma Vivian, and Aunt Susan. 

Not really sure how I got on the tangent of music and resurrection this morning. But with 29 days until your delivery, this is what I've got to offer. Can't wait to hold you, little one.