winks of reverence

I’ve been thinking a lot about reverence this year.  

Reverence:  a deep feeling of respect or awe for someone or something.  

There’s savoring. There’s reflecting.  Reverence is a different notch.  To get myself back into a writing routine, and to document the special years we have in conjunction with our son’s childhood, I’ve been collecting moments that I’d quietly nod towards reverent.  Moments that strike something of awe, without a prerequisite heavy lift.  Moments designed for pause.  Moments beauty or excellence take the lead.  

I have several. Once you begin looking for them, they’re easier to find.

I’ve advanced through enough years to recognize a life pattern when it happens and one such pattern revealed itself this summer: I have a way of missing certain things in their real time - whether accidentally or intentionally - and then being pummeled aware by them in ways that I must receive them full and present.

Sometimes it’s a little harmless snobbery at play.  For example, both my husband and I (I feel I need to include him for my protection when you come at me for what I’m about to reveal…please remember he’s very tall and loves me dearly) have stubbornly avoided seeing or even listening to “Hamilton” - the musical, movie, score, or soundtrack.  Our chorus one year sang a song from it so I did have to learn that one bit.  But only the version that the fun folks at Hal Leonard provided would I tolerate for the sake of very excited 11 year olds.  To pull this back together, let’s just say that I KNOW…it’s great.  I know you love it.  I know it transcends something in its time that I’m choosing to ignore.  The more you hype it, the less I want to bother with it.  I am that impressive.

Other times like this recent one it’s an accident of timing or distraction, but I’m starting to wonder about a possible design within the serendipity.

The first time this occurred was a juxtaposition of timing of the show Gilmore Girls. Its premiere in real time (2000) , vs when I discovered it (2007) and felt as though it personally tapped me from the small screen. That’s a different piece to be written later. Actually, I think I’ve already written it a long time ago, so it needs to be taken out of the symbolic dusty drawer (Google drive) and rejuvenate. But the juxtaposition serves a nice precedent for almost the exact same adjacency of this summer.

Reverence Wink #1:  Ted Lasso

Ted Lasso first premiered in August of 2020.  Remember 2020?  Sure you do, unless your therapist managed to successfully hypnotize you out of it.  Friends talked about Ted Lasso and I nodded obediently through the fog I was under, jealous of how they could possibly enjoy much of anything and half-heartedly vowed to try watching it.  

I did not.  I was mired in the muck and at the start line of what would become a two year journey during which I almost quit my job then was diagnosed with a blip of drop-everything-and-focus-on-nothing-else-but breast cancer.   Everything would work out; I dug out of the work-rock-bottom and I am blessed to remain cancer free.  Most days I’d tell you I am stronger for both scenarios.  But during those two years, I was oblivious to the Lasso charm to which the rest of civilization was glued.  Had you pressed me on it, I likely would’ve declared you trendy in favor of my own suffering. 

Fast forward to this past June.  School was winding down and I had set a goal to literally sit more.  As in, physically sit down.  I have weird stamina and a hard time winding down until I’ve decided I’ve earned it.  I remembered that I had never watched it, so I decided to build in a couple times a week to sit down, kick my family out (tall, protective husband is not much for TV dramas and June is all-star baseball aka passing ships, like the kind that are on different continents) and see what all the fuss was about.  

To revere something, you have to spend some time thinking about it, being awed by it, honoring it.  It only took about four episodes until I was all but consumed.  There was a Sunday evening where, having multiplied my plan of two times a week by a factor of three, I considered taking a sick day to just stay home and finish it in one day with no distractions.  I hated Roy Kent, then fell deeply in love with Roy Kent.  I wish Higgins was my uncle and Rebecca my colleague.  And Ted is every single guy friend I had in middle school, high school, and college combined - at their very best potential.  The absurd amount of cursing was a comfortable reminder of a past, admittedly sometimes present, version of me when riled.  The camaraderie of team, sprinkled with competitive drive, rivalry, passion for excellence, and community all behind it - fictional or not - anyone’s kind of story.  I devoured seasons 1-3 in a matter of days.  

Then there’s music woven behind it.  Songs I hadn’t heard in years, much to my delight to revisit.  Songs written for the show by Mumford and Sons, a band I hadn’t listened to in years, interesting.  Marcus Mumford teamed with Tom Howe who has scored TONS of music for TV and some films is an interesting tidbit.  Mumford and Sons were big in the few years leading up to Matt and I getting married.  Hearing their vibe threaded through the show is personally nostalgic and got my attention before I thought to research it a bit and realize why.  

There was a stretch of approximately 12 days that I listened to nothing but one song from the soundtrack on repeat: “Forever”.  Another Mumford and Sons tune, but not specifically written for the show, I was particularly drawn to its contrasting quieter, almost live acoustic verses with its soaring, layered texture refrains.  I’ve been down the rabbit hole to gain a loose understanding of how they intentionally mixed it - doubling the lead vocals and stacking them center to create more of a wall of sound for cohesion.  There’s also a grammar trick in the lyrics which, as a writer, I find fascinating and it gives the lyrics dual meaning.  Sidenote: the lyrics also mention New York’s East River, sure to catch my NYC radar. 

These are things that my ears hold close and wonder about…this recipe of lyrical meaning mixed deliberately with sound stirred even more deliberately into a story (this track backdrops Ted and Michelle’s decision to divorce in season 1 in and bleeds into the closing credits after the heartbreaking rainy scene by the taxi).  I don’t know if others would hear it the same way or pay any attention to it, but when I have these music-meets-story meets some sort of how-did-I-sleep-on-this-culture-moment, I become obsessed with digging up its bones.  

My next obsession, now that I’ve made it top to bottom through the series soundtrack, is the Scottish air (also a popular Irish tune) “The Parting Glass”, particularly the version of the High Kings. Stay tuned.  It’s featured in the series finale, which I will not spoil for those who have not watched. 

Speaking of the finale, the last six-minute montage is so strikingly beautiful that, a week later, I can’t quite capture it.  It only takes a few sentences to recognize Mary Oliver’s words overlaid, which immediately enhance the spirit of the show and gently escort the story out arm-in-arm.  Another connection of words to sound to story that writer-me will not soon forget.  I’m patiently waiting for more of you to react to those six minutes so we can gush.  

Meaningful whispers of music and literature aside, the show is so. . . affirmative.  In its world, kind is cool again.  I’m so relieved that so many people like the show for that very same reason.  It addresses so many things head on, without sugar, and with such grace and humanity.  It’s full of hope which is tricky to write about without cliche but they do it.  It’s watching people fumble through real life, no polish, no dress-rehearsal.  It dares the what-ifs and the hold-out-for-betters and waits them out so patiently. It models and celebrates repair and forgiveness and messy middles in “remember that time it all worked itself out?” sincerity. It takes a period of struggle and gives it meaning, beaming it right into your living room.

So here lies my awakening to the Lasso charm.  I’m so glad I circled back to the pitch. It’s comforting to know that while I was absolutely fumbling through 2020-2022 crawling uphill, this was here all along waiting for me.  I’m so grateful for it, even if it conflicts with my desire to not succumb to a trendy moment.  

Even so, please don’t ask me to go see Hamilton.