I’ve been quiet because I was feeling sad for the Austin music community I was on the periphery of for a few years. Many kind people are mourning the loss of Chris Gage, who in addition to his musical talent and cool adventures (he was on Hee Haw as a young man!), was a great friend, mentor, producer, entertainer, and family member. His was a life very well lived.
Chris and Jeff some years ago.
He was so good to my dear friend, Jeff, when he really needed the encouragement. Hearing Chris be encouraging but firm showed me his character. I’m grateful for all he did for so many other friends, too.
Some of my happiest memories during my hardest days were at Donn’s Depot, listening to him and his wife, Christine Albert, sing together, or seeing many musicians jamming. They created such a warm community. I’m glad Christine will have them and her family to surround her in coming weeks.
Never heard of Chris Gage? His story is fascinating. One of the greatest supporting musicians ever. You’ve probably seen him on Austin City Limits if you’re an Americana fan.
PS: get those prostate exams, if you have a prostate. Often. Chris was ok, then he wasn’t.
What are your thoughts on the concept of living a very long life?
Today’s question has been on my mind lately since there have been a lot of deaths in my circle, and I’ve been a close observer of the stress, pain, and hard decisions loved ones have to go through.
Just a sweet and fuzzy calf
One of our blog family lost her husband yesterday, which hits hard. But I’m glad she has the support of many close friends who’ve gone through this before, and she has supportive family. Sometimes, when no one you know has been through such a loss, you can feel so alone and lost, and it hits you so hard.
So, do we want to live very long lives? No matter when we pass away, we will leave sad people behind to treasure memories. I wish I had more of them with my mom, who died when I was 26. I coped poorly but was glad she was out of her mental and physical pain.
As long as I’m in reasonable health, can enjoy nature and my community, and am not a burden to others, I’d prefer to live a long life. I’m just curious about how we humans are going to handle things in the coming 30 or 40 years. And I’d love to continue contributing to society and becoming more wise.
Yet, if I were chronically ill with constant pain or costing my family so much that I was a financial burden, I’d have no problems with letting go. It would be interesting to see what’s next for the energy that brings me life.
I can honestly say that I empathize with anyone who decides they are “done” and don’t keep pushing forward in old age, and I can see not wanting to give up. And I have seen for myself how quickly you can go from fighting to dignified surrender when the time comes.
This made no sense, I’m afraid, but it helped me to write it. I do want to live long and prosper, though!
Love to all of you who are struggling. I am here for you if you need me.
The minute I saw Tarrin today for my lesson, I knew something was wrong. Sure enough, she’d just found out that a horse in our little community had passed away suddenly. The feelings that went through me right then awakened a deep truth in me.
A very brief weather event brought us comfort. Photo by Tarrin.
I realized that I feel connections with horses I know just like I do people. And I liked this horse very much. He was brave, funny, and very cool, not to mention gorgeous. And he’d had such an interesting life; he was a circus horse! He was lucky to spend his final years with a human who was devoted to him and learned so much to help him out.
Our horse and human friend.
I didn’t know him as well as Tarrin or Sara, who spent lots of time with him at shows and educational events, but I liked him, like I would a person. Yeah, I don’t know exactly why, but I cared about him a lot! I’m grieving for him and his human like I do when people I care about pass.
Don’t let anyone tell you animals are “just animals.” We can connect with them, too. The hardest part about having companion animals in our lives is knowing their lives tend to be shorter than ours. I still deeply miss my departed dogs.
My heart goes out to our community member who lost her equine friend. I sure gave all mine extra hugs today, even if they were all sweaty.
Sweaty me and sweaty Apache, with an extra cool cloud.
All our connections are meaningful. Go hug a dog, a cat, a horse, a human, or whatever living creature matters to you.
I didn’t write a blog post yesterday, because I was too caught up in an unexpected wave of emotions. I found out that another of my mentor/friends from my time in La Leche League had passed away quite unexpectedly. Mentor/friend. There’s a concept. I truly believe that everyone we get to know, even a little, teaches us something. Everyone who becomes a friend teaches us something we need to learn that will help us.
Losing Gail Moak, who was a friend and mentor to so many stunned and pained me. As I sat with my grief (when I finally got a moment) it occurred to me that what I am mourning more than anything is the end of opportunities to listen to Gail, to learn from her, and to support her when she needs support.
Luckily, my mentor/friend Nancy called right about then, as I was sweeping the front porch to dissipate my feelings of helplessness, and she understood what I meant when I told her I don’t mourn the loss of life, because I know that happens to us all; I mourn the loss of a real-time relationship. Wow, I really value relationships with people I care about.
Last night’s sunset comforted me, as the Earth often does in its perspective
I think I mourn losses of friendships the same way. When the incident with our Bobcat book club happened, I ended up feeling so sad that I’d lost the chance to connect with, learn from, and support some women I’d come to think of as friends. They’re still alive, but our relationship died. It still hurts.
There’s that cliche that people always say after a loss, something like tell those you care about that you love them, or hug your family now. I can understand where that impulse comes from. My dearest wish, when it comes to my friends and family, though, would be that they are secure in the knowledge that I value my relationship with them, whatever it is, and that I will mourn it when we part, however we do part.
There’s so much we don’t know. But we do know our connections are vital for our spirits.
Just a bit about Gail. I knew of her when I worked with La Leche League, but never met her until I was asked to serve on the Board of Friends of LLL, the group for retired Leaders and supporters of the organization. We worked closely on the newsletter when I was editor, spoke often during meetings, and communicated very much on social media.
Gail is at far right here.
I got to know what a caring person she was, and not just about mothers and babies. She was passionate about equal rights for all people and didn’t just talk about it, she acted. I learned ways to be a stronger ally for my Black, brown, and indigenous friends from her. I saw her kindness toward the LGBTQIA+ community and felt a kindred spirit in how she expressed love and, crucially, support for people trying to be themselves in an increasingly hostile environment.
I dedicated this butterfly to Gail’s spirit
Most important, she was one of my many Christian friends who remind me that there are Christ-like ways of following that tradition where all are loved, not just rich, white males and their followers.
I just had to get all of what’s been stewing inside of me out. Writing things down always helps ground me. Life without both my friends Johanna and Gail will be hard. Both of them will leave a little black hole in Zoom meetings where their squares should be, but my heart will be full of memories of my relationships with these mentor/friends.
Thanks to all of you readers who have touched me. You DO make a difference and you have each taught me a lesson (some fun, some not so fun). I’m very grateful to you all.
The Hermits' Rest 