Going Inkless

     There is a particular sound that a guitar string makes when the guitarist slides his finger into the next position.  It's nothing more than a tiny squeak in the background of the music, but it's a sound I will dearly miss if I should ever go deaf.  I mentioned it in an earlier post about music , and recently, a CD with an acoustic guitar focus has me contemplating the reasons for my warm response to it.  Why, beyond a general love of music (and, really, have you ever encountered someone who doesn't  like music?) does this particular sound always make me smile?      Physiologically, there may be some response completely separate from the thinking world.  We have negative reactions to certain low frequency sounds that make us feel uneasy, so I'm sure there are other frequencies that can produce a positive response.  It's a possibility that the appeal is nothing more than good vibrations, scientifically speaking.  Then again, there are happy experiences in my pa

Every so often, it seems I encounter periods when everything I try to do goes wrong. I set out to do some simple task and run up against an obstacle that prevents me from completing it. Necessary tools go missing, things break, emergencies occur that draw immediate attention from the previous plan. And it all seems to happen over and over until I'm weary of the pattern. Nothing can be easy. Even the most basic of goals are a struggle, and frequently, I'm left feeling totally incompetent. At times like these, I realize that my greatest wish is to be like Grandma. My Grandma was one of my earliest and best examples of a strong, capable woman. She raised two daughters, much of that time as a single parent. She ran a small business. She made a home for my family when my parents were having financial troubles. Later, she masterminded the construction of an extra bedroom for my older sister and me and helped to build it as well. Grandma was tough, resourceful, creative,