Mother’s day seems so manufactured to me these days. Call it my own jaded take on things. Of course I like to see people express direct affection and appreciation for each other. So screw it. 

My burn out continues. Eileen and I watched “Charlie Wilsons War” last night and it felt like a rewrite of history to me. Maybe this movie is based on true events, but the underlying arrogance that the Afghans were waiting for the Americans to come and rescue them around denies the basic fact we are still dealing with in Afghanistan. That is that the basis of this kind of conflict seems rooted in people who are defending their right to live. It was my impression prior to the movie that the USSR stepped in and was routed by unusually tough fighters, many of whom now are loyally Talibans pointing American weapons at American soldiers. But what do I know? Probably Tom Hands, Julia Roberts and Philip Seymour Hoffman have it right and I’m just a bitter burned out old guy in Michigan.

I had a good visit with my friend, Jordan V. yesterday.  We ate, chatted and played music together. 

I can feel the Sunday silliness looming on my immediate horizon.

I have to resist the temptation to give in to the obvious fact that most people who hear my music do not respect or even hear or notice it. The cavalier fashion in which my work is treated by the people I serve can sometimes make it hard not to be discouraged when you are as burned out as I am. I keep clinging to the notion that I do music to do it and that it is a gift to those who choose to listen. 

This morning I am going to perform three pieces by Vaughan Williams. His two organ chorale preludes on Bryn Califaria and Rhosymedre as well as a lovely apparently out of print anthem called “The Tree of LIfe.”  I have never performed the organ piece on Bryn Califaria or the choral piece before. I wish I could feel more relaxed and less anxious about church this morning. I guess it’s just the burn out.