It was a great one… Our guests were truly fascinating. I know that I am already approaching my every day a bit differently having heard them. And who knows, this may be the beginning of a beautiful (yoga) friendship.
As you are recovering from your TG over-indulgence, tune in to what promises to be an awesome MSLOL-Blog Radio show! You’ll meet two remarkable people living with it. Larissa Nusser-Meany and Michael Weiss have taken their MS diagnoses and found a way to help the rest of us cope with our lot.
So wipe the cranberry sauce from your chin and mark your calendars to call in to MSLOL-Blogradio Monday, November 29th at 7pm. You’ll have a few more items to add to your list of what to be “thankful” for.
When I took my daughter to her first singing lesson it all came rushing back. As she moved through her warm up scales, I leafed through the sheet music she had selected. For her, the songs of Wicked were a no brainer; she had just learned them at her theater camp this past summer and she already knew the words. Singing show tunes after scales was not something I had to Try (hard) to Remember. While watching her I remembered me- the pre-MS me- and “this ability” that didn’t change after my diagnosis. It was here all along.
When I was a girl the music of Broadway was always vibrating through those cheesy fabric speakers on the console that sat on our green shag rug and took up no less than 6 feet of horizontal space. My parents loved this music and they played the albums until the grooves wore out. (For those of you under 30, that is a reference to the vinyl discs from olden times.) This comes as no surprise being that my mom’s dad (GP Aaron) was smitten with the musical and my mom grew listening to the score that I knew so well.
Pippin, A Chorus Line and The Fantasticks were the soundtrack of my childhood. My sister and I knew all the words to all the songs and danced around the living room singing them at the top of our lungs. Though we only went to a handful of Broadway shows (A Chorus Line, Annie, La Cage aux Folles and of course Cats) that music was the fiber of my original family. And to this day my sister and I will break into song when a word prompts us, much to our husbands’ chagrin.
In addition to a love of music those shows taught me some very valuable lessons. The first and perhaps most timely, was from A Chorus Line. “Hello 12, Hello 13, Hello Love” was a great conversation starter about the facts every pre-teen wants to know but is afraid to ask. La Cage introduced me to transvestism, an understanding made more complete a few years later when I saw Rocky Horror Picture Show. (Also a musical!) I recited the poetry of TS Eliot to a tune and learned about the travesty of war diluted by dance and song. And I’ll always remember the tiny play in a tiny theater on Sullivan Street where I found an instruction manual for sneaking around your parents to be with that first love. (Now that one really spoke to me!)
In spite of my compromised self image I continued to enjoy singing in the years that followed. When I entered high school, I immediately joined the choir and a year later auditioned successfully for both the acappella and treble groups. Of course by this age I could no longer find the reckless abandon that my living room afforded me. I was firmly positioned at level-8 on the insecurity scale of 1 to 10 [10 being most insecure :)]. And even acceptance into these advanced choirs didn’t help me feel more self-assured. So I took singing lessons hoping to find confidence. Clearly the issue would more likely have been resolved on a the couch and not next to a piano. Wow, I hadn’t considered that self-esteem indicator until I wrote these words. (note to self: call therapist!)
It wasn’t until I moved out of my house that I realized that not everyone grew up with a love of Broadway musicals. It’s funny how that works. We take for granted what we were raised with, assuming it’s standard fare. It was never more evident than when I was hanging out with college friends and after someone said “One” I launched into a very loud “….singular sensation, every little step…” (crickets) Not the harmonic response I had expected. Just a silence filled with the wide-eyed looks and lifted eyebrows punctuated by an “alrighty then.” But all the while I could hear Grandpa Aaron singing in my ear; a voice of approval for this mutual love that he passed down to his daughter and she to hers.
In the 22 years that followed I never thought of singing again. Not once. Maybe it was because I was distracted by my MS can’t-do-list which was growing and after all, singing never held a strong position on my can-do- list.
But recently, I’ve learned that I can do more “performance” than I could even have imagined. I now host an MS radio show, write a blog and am the outspoken founder of the non-profit, MS SoftServe. Once its live it will be the first individualized learning website that grew out of the Master’s degree I never thought I was smart enough to get. Ironically, with MS I have found an expertise that has ultimately given me a confidence I never knew possible. And it only took me 23 years to get to here.
Madeline and I are sharing our lessons. Every week we sit in the spotlight of a tiny room with carpet on the walls; singing a song that doesn’t require a stabilizing arm, a walking stick or the ability to be balanced. And my limitations are left outside the soundproof door.
Finding my voice as 42 year-old woman, living within the restrictions of MS for over two decades, is empowering. I’m no longer afraid to get up in front of that audience and I have finally found, that something special that Madeline and I can share; one that doesn’t ask more of me than I can handle. And wouldn’t you know it- it was there all along. After all of these years I can now see that I am the “one” I’ve always sang about in a song that transcends time.