Showing posts with label piano. Show all posts
Showing posts with label piano. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

So much to do... so little time




My eyes are bigger than my. calendar. I love my job. I love my family. I love the activities I do. But I need a change. Problem is, how do I fit it into all of the other things that I love doing, which take time?

Years ago, I dropped playing the piano in favor of playing tennis. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love playing and competing in tennis, but now I want to take piano lessons and try to get to a point where I can play a known song fairly well.

Every time I hear a Rabbi Kushner speak, I want to read his books. I have started several of them.

Just yesterday, I heard Brandeis Professor Shulamit Reinharz speak. Now, I want to read her books and articles, of which there are dozens and dozens. I have Googled her and found a couple of articles.

When I see the Adult Ed listings at my synagogue, I want to sign up for several courses. I have taken one so far.

Am I a failure? I would rather not think so. I chalk it up to an ongoing schedule which won't quit. I won't drop my job. I won't leave my family or spend less time with them. I won't stop playing tennis (although I play less in the winter months). I do have other volunteer activities, which I could let slide, but I don't.

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Bobby Sherman, I'll miss you


At 7:45 am on November 17, I received a call from my cousin, Randy. My cousin, Randy’s brother, Bobby Sherman, passed away in a car accident last night. Bobby lived in Virginia Beach, VA. He was 55 years young. In addition to Randy, he left a sister-in-law, Roberta, long-time girlfriend, Lynn, and many friends and family members. My father grew up as Bobby and Randy’s Uncle Lee. Bobby and he were close. They remained close to this day. My father had spoken with Bobby just two days ago. My father has said my son, Ari, reminds him of the way Bobby was as a little boy. Smart, precocious, always with some plan of action.



After hearing the news, I was shocked. I cried. Several memories ripped through my mind. The first one was when Bobby accompanies me on the piano at my wedding as I sang a song to my new husband. “What am I playing,” he said. “What I told you on the phone,” I answered.

Bobby was a child prodigy on the piano. He played by ear since the age of three. My father tells the story that when he would practice, he hated to read notes. They slowed him down. So, when his mother, my Aunty Florence, heard him going a mile-a-minute on the piano, she would yell out (in a lovely Southern drawl),”Bobby, read the notes! When he got older, he attended the Juilliard School and became a concert pianist. Brilliant. He later went into his family’s furniture business. Long story.
Another memory was simply when we’d get together, which wasn’t too often, I loved to hear him call my father Uncle Lee and my mother Aunty Pearl in his adorable Southern drawl. He called me darlin’. When he and a piano were in the same room, a sing-a-long was sure to ensue. He was very lovable and welcoming.

Bobby won’t be at a family Bar Mitzvah in January. Randy has lost his mother, his father and now his brother. Lynn has lost a best friend, companion and lover. And I am sad for my father. He won’t be able to call him by phone anymore. My father lost a nephew many years ago from a motorcycle accident. He always hated motorcycles after that. I am sure he won’t stop driving, but it will certainly make him and all of us a bit more alert on the road, at least for a little while.

I have spoken with a couple of cousins. We are still processing this. We know some of the story, but we’ll never know the rest of the story. What was he thinking about right before the crash? Was he alive at all after the crash? If so, for how long? I hope he didn’t suffer.

We all have those family members or friends with whom we don’t speak often, but we know “is there.” Maybe we get an update from others. Maybe we call once in a while. We exchange holiday cards and make sure things are ok.

Then, that person isn’t there anymore. Would I have done something differently if I had known? It’s not a fair question. Will I now contact more friends and family more regularly? I might. It seems cruel to say, but life goes on. Bobby would want it that way. Bobby was a free spirit. He didn’t like to “read the notes.”

Bobby, we will miss you.