My Wake Playlist Requests

No need to mope!

The first three letters of a funeral are fun. I want to make sure if I have one, you have fun. I know I cannot control what, if any, service happens. I seriously doubt my family can arrange the Sean-Connery-as-King-Arthur style, flaming arrow send-off of my dreams; or even an approximation of one of Terry Pratchett's Nac Mac Feegle wakes. However, it's pretty easy to include a little meaningful music with some whiskey (and if you want to cheers with one of my go-to whiskies, those would be Macallan 12 Scotch, Woodford Reserve Bourbon, or Sagamore Spirit Rye). Without further ado, here are the songs I am requesting and why; and please return the favor in the comments with some songs you'd pick for yours (NOTE, I reserve the right to borrow good ideas and add to this list at any time).

1. Nothing I can do about it now, by Willie Nelson https://youtu.be/PRGpr7VansU 

Why this one? My first live concert was Willie at the Summit Arena. The Summit was bought by a Mega Church and is now lovingly referred to as the "God Bowl"...ironies? It's good to go out to the music you came in on. Also, this song is my sense of humor. I'm a compassionate smart-ass. I try to laugh at myself. Life is absurd. I was nothing in this world without my sense of humor, my key to survival.

2. Sea Image, by the Chieftans https://youtu.be/tUoVIZ4RMPo 

This one is for "Cheers" to the journey! I have an image of an endless sea. The end of this life may be the ultimate journey of exploration and the start of any great journey makes me feel giddy...all those potential possibilities still shining ahead. Please, hoist my memories to the sailing wind and be happy for our time.

3. Brindisi (The Drinking Song, from the opera, La Traviata), by Giacomo Puccini https://youtu.be/UZvgmpiQCcI 

I want to invite anyone listening with me in mind to "Fill the cup, let us drink, that beauty blossoms, let the new day find us in this paradise." I am content that the next adventure opens. Energy cannot be created or destroyed in our universe, only transformed. Let the new day find us.

4. She's My Ride Home, by Blue October https://youtu.be/Vj7dDACpC0w 

Granted it may take a weird sense of humor for folks to understand why I want this one played at the end of my life, but "I am reaching for the stars with you" now as surely as ever and "who cares if no one else believes," because you're my ride home and you're what mattered if you're listening to it. Also, I found myself more at many of Blue October's live performances in Houston before they had a record label, and the song is a great reminder that we, and our art, make each other.

5. Honky Tonk Heroes, by Waylon Jennings https://youtu.be/I94VCjY_E7Y 

Because, "I done did everything that needs done," and "there weren't another way to be." I'm satisfied as long as I "danced holes in my shoes" and hope you are too. Waylon was one of the first 8-track cassettes of my parents that I wore out, and some of the first songs I sang standing in the back of pick-up trucks with the other kids on family farms...just being was enough then and it still is now.

6. Dreams, by The Cranberries https://youtu.be/tYFYoLEO0dM 

This why for this one is literally in the lyrics, "The person falling here is me...you're a dream to me." Thank you for having my heart.

7. Beloved, by Mumford and Sons https://youtu.be/IqFsRt0uYzA 

Because I remember that you were with me, and I hope you remember that I am with you. "As you leave, I won't hold you back," please, "sit and talk the stars down from the sky" and know our conversations are cherished still.

8. Concerto for two trumpets in c major rv 537, by Antonio Vivaldi https://youtu.be/gtvwSwiBIG4

I like the idea of ringing in the next adventure with a triumphant blast. Also, Vivaldi wrote this when no one wrote music for trumpets (they were military communication instruments only at the time, like an early 18th-century satellite phone) ... he turned something used by humans to facilitate war into something beautiful to celebrate life (a pretty great metaphor for a funeral).

9. Close to Me, by The Cure https://youtu.be/FY-zoTZjSVM 

This song played at our wedding, and it should play at my wake too. From wedding to wake, my love made the, "works of my every day/ Not a reproach, but a song," and I never thought it'd be this close to me.

10. The Flower Duet (Aria from the opera, Lakme), by Leo Delibes (As a Houstonian, I'm partial to Rene Flemming singing) https://youtu.be/832M0B3X6Lg 

Life is so beautiful because it is absurdly ephemeral. I take joy and comfort in #RandomEverydayBeauty and hope that others will too. Some horrible things happen for no reason, and that means we do not need a reason for joyful things to happen too...just a will to bring them about. Revel in the beauty of the flowers and remember how rich life is for our love.

11. Amazing Grace, performed by Destiny's Child https://youtu.be/LUGoGHpGndE 

To date, many family members' funerals have included Amazing Grace, so this is a tribute to my ancestors. This version, by Destiny's Child, is also a tribute to my home in Houston and the diversity of artists and thoughts that make it strong. Also, I firmly believe that spirituality is intensely personal, and the world works better when religion respects that. This song, written by the profane sailor reformed to a clergyman, John Newton, epitomizes that. Please practice Amazing Grace in my memory, please grant both my life's failures and successes Amazing Grace.

There are some songs I'm still deciding on. Maybe George Strait's Troubadour deserves a spot? Or the Stone Roses' Breaking Into Heaven? Or the Gypsy King's Bamboléo? Probably Emmylou Harris' Where Will I Be...and now that I think about it, definitely Brandi Carlile's Murder in the City.

The one thing I do know is that you won't have time for all of the music. Mine or yours. So let us share now. What would you have me play?

Death and Absurdity: A Valentine

February 10th marks a milestone memory in my loss of innocence calendar. Before that day in my 8th-grade year, I had been introduced to the death of old and distant relatives. I understood grieving for the expected loss of someone who has had a good chance at living, and I'd picked up a few healthy grieving habits; but not enough to prepare for the sort of resilience I was going to need.

I was thirteen, gangly and awkward in the eighth grade, but a seventh-grader named Nicole Caviness thought I was heroically cool. She mimicked my volleyball serve, my three-point jump shot, the way I tilted my batting helmet, my affinity for reading books in the bleachers, and my crushes on outsider boys. She found me after basketball practice one day when I was feeling as dejected and worthless as my cheap generic tennis shoes, plugging balls at the basket in an empty gym. I was too young and self-centered to know what she wanted and so I didn’t invite her to shoot too. I quit to give her the gym and as I picked up my ball and smiled on my way out, she waved and shouted, “Hey, you know you’re my hero?” Like anyone without self-confidence, I shrugged off her praise with a self-disparaging retort.

On February 10th, Nicole and two of my other friends went to a high school basketball game. I’d planned to ride with them, but I was running a fever after school and feeling crummy so I opted out. I spent the evening curled up in a blanket in a lawn chair on the deck, drifting in and out of sleep. The next morning, our softball coach called to say our Saturday practice was canceled. The car my friends rode home from the game had been hit from behind by a drunk driver at a stoplight. Nicole died at 13 years old. The drunk diver, previously arrested and convicted for DWIs, was driving without a license. After years of prosecution, the driver was convicted of manslaughter and served a one-year sentence, but even without that knowledge, I was still mired in a great sense of existential injustice for the first time.

Adults tried to console me with platitudes about how the good sometimes do die young, there are no guarantees on how long we get so we have to make the most of it, and our memories of those we love do live on. The sentiments were well-meant, but for the first time in my young life, they sounded hollow and absurd. Unfair and absurd things that had always been happening became even more apparent to me from that point on. Why did family members beat innocent newborns to death? Why did strangers drag James Byrd Jr. three miles behind their truck until he died because he was black? Why did LAPD officers beat Rodney King to death? Why did people use that as an excuse to hurt more people in a riot? Why was Matthew Shepard crucified on a fence post in the freezing cold? 

My father is a veterinarian, so I was also very familiar with the death of pets, even before Nicole died; but that summer added an extra level of absurdity. Texas law (at the time) required veterinarians to put down pets as directed by the owner. After a client died, his son inherited his 5-year old Golden Retriever. I loved that dog. He was sweet, obedient, beautiful, and loving...even through his annual vaccine shots. His son, in his grief for his father, requested that we put his dog to sleep. We offered to adopt the dog, but the son insisted the dog should join his father. The son could not stay to hold the dog though. I held him, I petted him and told him how wonderful he was, and how we all knew he was a good dog and would miss him. I kept my voice calm and loving. I thought of Nicole. I didn't know if she had been scared if she'd had time to recognize she would die. I didn't know for sure if that wonderful dog knew what was happening or why. I couldn't do anything to be sure he understood, but I did learn that I could hold him. I could just be there, looking into his eyes with love, as the light faded into whatever is next. 

While I have a great life, I have lived through many injustices and absurd losses since then, and I think it would be hard to continue to cultivate my compassion and happiness without the hard lessons I learned about death and absurdity, and resilience that year. Sometimes the only thing you can do in the face of such horrific absurdity is just stand there, admit the absurdity, and hold yourself with love anyway. That love is the lifeline I use to pull myself from the gaping maw of absurdity. Life is unreasonable, even the existence of life on a rock hurtling around a sun in a galaxy spinning out on itself orbiting through a universe that's defies all conceptions of time...only allowing space...seems absurd from human eyes. 

Resilience is the ability to recover from difficulties. All this absurdity is a difficulty that never goes away. I can only recover from the fright of seeing such overwhelming absurdity, from the shock of the brutal reminders that death brings, by accepting absurdity. It will always be, as long as I live, a fact of my life; but it only wins if I ignore it and let it cripple or disarm my compassion. I see you, Death and Absurdity, you are the bitter sweetheart companions I will never shed no matter how clearly I express my desire to break-up with you both. You are grim dates, but you do remind me to love with abandon and resilience. I can be absurd too. I can make art, investigate, write, educate, hug, laugh, cry, dance. I don't need a reason either.

"Raven Perch, on the Battlefield of Death and Absurdity"" by LLS Art

"Ironweed Hope is Resilient" by LLS Art