The Power of Voice

It has been an emotionally busy morning. I have gone from my usual, subtle morning chipper, to laughing about a text, to being brought to tears by a podcast I listened to, and then. laughed.
 
That is a full day of emotions.
 
I have a neighbor named Mai. She is a kick. She has the energy of a hopped up driver at a demolition derby. Her flowers are gorgeous and she has an enthusiasm for life.
 
She brought us dinner when Nick was sick and when I had my bit of breast cancer, (that is weird to say), she gave me a hand crocheted shawl. Her daughter recently gave me a dating bracelet she made.
 
She likes my treats.
 
I saved her a big piece of carrot cake, that had received great reviews on our neighborhood page. I texted her to ask if she would like it.
 
Sure. That was a no brainer.
 
Then she mentioned that she was glad I didn’t burn the house down the other day. Yep, word gets around, especially when you write about the stupid stuff you do.
 
Man mentioned that she was going to get in contact with me because she had something to give me.
 
Guess what it is.
 
A fire extinguisher.
 
I laughed as I wrote back. She said she would drop it off tonight. I said, good, we can make a trade. Carrot cake for a fire extinguisher. Pretty great, isn’t it?
 
That got my day off to a lovely start.
 
There was laundry to fold. It had been sitting on a chair by the counter for a couple of days. It was time to fold it an put it away because today, I am making baked ziti dinners to raise money for hurricane relief in the Carolinas.
 
My friend, Yamini, is coming over at 10, to help make brownies. She is first in line to volunteer to help me. She and her family also love desserts.
 
I dropped a piece of carrot cake at her house and Rasheed, my best customer and critic, came down the stairs. I said that I had carrot cake and that was enough to send him scurrying up the stairs, saying, “I’m not going to eat carrot cake.” That cracked me up.
 
But here is where the bit of an emotional bath came over me, this morning.
 
I decided to start listening to podcasts. I went online and typed in ‘best podcasts for women’.
 
I found one called ‘Invinsibilia’ on NPR. Its blurb sounded interesting.
 
Today’s podcast was “Leave a Message.”
 
A man spoke. He mentioned how the millennial were causing the death of many institutions.
 
I listened, not knowing where this was going.
 
And then he mentioned the death of voice mail. And that took the turn into voices … how we don’t hear peoples voices like we used to because people text and don’t call.
 
That got my mind intwined with the message.
 
The podcaster told the story of his own mother, how she used to leave long voice mail messages to him. She was trying to connect. He thought her long paused, messages were banal and a waste of time.
 
He didn’t listen to the whole message, hitting delete soon after the message began.
 
One thing that I have told many people is that a great day for me is when I hear each of my kid’s voices.
 
It doesn’t happen often. Yes, I hear from them, but it is often by text. But there are days when the sunflowers all look the same way, when I get to talk to all of them.
 
Recently, we had dinner with a man who said he called his mother once a month. I told him I would die if that was all I would hear from my kids.
 
He mentioned that he loved her, but she was a bit strange, to which I replied, “Aren’t we all?”
 
There is something about their voices that trumps text. The call might last a minute or fifteen, but those voices go straight to my heart. Frankly, they are pretty much what I live for.
 
The podcaster mentioned that his mother got breast cancer, had a double mastectomy and chemotherapy. She was good for a short period of time. Then the cancer returned and she was admitted to Hospice.
 
He sat by his mother’s side and read to her. While talking too one of his friends, the podcaster said his friend told him to make a tape of her voice. But it was too late.
 
All he wants to do now is hear her voice.
 
My mother’s voice is etched in memory, but I had the foresight, with my dad, to interview him. I have a couple of ads of me interviewing him. When I want to hear my dad’s voice, I can play the cd.
 
I don’t do it often, but I know it is there. My dad is in the drawer.
 
I tired up throughout the podcast but at the end, they played some voicemails that people had saved of loved ones.
 
They made me smile.
 
And on with my day.
 
Susan
 
Invinciblia at NPR
 
https://www.npr.org/podcasts/510307/invisibilia

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