"MUSIC IS EVERYWHERE"

"Thank you for the music

the songs I'm singin'.

Thanks for all the joy they're bringin'.

Who can live without it?

I ask in all honesty,

what would life be?

Without a song or a dance

what are we?

So I say thank you for the music

for giving it to me." ~ABBA

 “One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain."

-Bob Marley

Where words fail, music speaks." - Hans Christian Anderson

*Quotes from SheetMusicFox.Com



I found so many quotes about music: There are literally thousands of them. But I will spare you, trust me.

What I wanted to say is that everyone knows that music creates a mood. What would television commercials be without it? Or if you are watching a scary movie, you know good and well when the music picks up a certain tempo that something bad is going to happen. I will never forget when the movie, “Jaws” first came out: It scared me to death! A huge clue that the shark was coming was that specific music you heard each time—you know exactly what I mean. Worse was the fact that the very next week after “Jaws” came out, we went to the beach!

Tried to pacify my then-young teenage sons that if there were sharks, they’d hear that music that was in “Jaws” first. Didn’t work. And they were just as scared as I was that summer.

Both of them listened to Queen, Kiss and Metallica and since both had separate rooms, it also meant separate stereo systems. The music was so loud that it shook the house and set me crazy! Yes, I did along with their father, take them to many concerts: Kiss stands out the most for I did like their costumes but hadn’t developed an appreciation for their music at that time. I was into rock and roll and jazz at that time.

[When I was little I had developed an appreciation for classical music as both my grandmother and mother played the piano. I would too as I had to take piano lessons for eight long years and I hated it! It wasn’t that I hated music but more the teacher who would hit me across my knuckles if I struck a wrong note or make me copy sheet music for an hour if I didn’t play well. Sometimes people can make or break you: She broke me. But she didn’t break my love for music!]

Once I heard that music appeals to us for a lot of it has the same tempo as our heartbeat: That makes a lot of sense. Over the years, I have developed an appreciation for almost all kinds of music and even learned to like Queen and Kiss! I have those cd’s in my car: Who would have ever guessed that? But I love jazz, reggae, rock, oldies, Celtic music and current music. Sometimes I just like to listen to classical music for it calms me down; there would be no way I'd listen to it in my car for I would fall asleep at the wheel.

We live in an incredible time of music: It’s everywhere! We can download it, watch videos on you tube, hear it in movies on our dvds, listen to it online or in our house or cars and either appreciate it or not. But one thing is for sure: It is an international language that is understood by all and there are no words needed to detect the mood. Try watching a familiar movie and turn off the sound and see if has the same effect on you—bet it doesn’t! What seemed happy or scary is not the same without music. Try it!

All of us have certain songs that we just can't listen to for they bring back bad memories or the thought of a lost love while other songs make us feel happy and good. Some music reminds us of  extremely sad times and we can't listen to it. Association is one thing that goes hand in hand with music: It affects our moods and our lives. Wherever you live, you have music that is native to your home and you appreciate it or maybe not--maybe you like imported music. Does that matter? No way.

One thing is for sure: Music will always be with us and that’s a good thing. When words fail, music will always be there to fill the void.  And no matter the words, we know the feeling and enjoy it if it's something we like. Crank up the sound and live it up! Life's too short.



Sherry Hill

"THREE OF MANY FRIGHTENING INCIDENTS!"

“THREE OF MANY FRIGHTENING INCIDENTS!”

I’ve had so many that it would take tons of posts to tell of all of the frightening incidents that I have survived. But there are three that stand out to this day and looking back, I don’t know how I had the wits to do what I did! If they had happened to me recently, there would be no coping skills.

The first horrible thing that happened to me was when I was first married: I was alone ironing for what seemed like forever. It was the time of ironing shirts that were made out of one hundred percent cotton and not only was spray starch used but so was a lot of hand pressure on the iron by me. Was watching tv and hoping that would take my mind off the pile of clothes that had to be ironed when all of a sudden, the iron caught on fire! Not only was the iron on fire but so was the cord that was of course plugged into the outlet.

Don’t know how I found the courage to jerk the “on fire cord” out of the wall outlet but I did and ran with the burning iron into the kitchen and threw the thing in the sink! Turned on the cold water and just let the iron drown right there and then. And that’s when I realized that the entire house could have gone up in flames and that’s when I got scared. I didn’t iron for several days as a new iron had to be purchased and when I did iron again, it was with extreme caution.

Several years later, my husband and I moved out of that house as we had two young sons and the neighborhood there had no children at all. Found the house in which I still am in and I had quit teaching and was staying home with my young sons [I would go back to teaching later on] and life seemed good. One afternoon, I was cooking a roast in the oven and I don’t know if was just my thought or not but the outside oven door was too hot to touch. Got out the potholders and opened up the door to take out the roast: I had to pour some juice off of it.

And guess what happened? The hot oven door came off right in my potholder-covered hands! My two little sons would have been no help and there was no one around other than them. Not only was the oven door as hot as Hades but it was heavy. As if guided by some mysterious force, I managed to use my knee to open up the storm door while holding onto the hot oven door and run off of the carport and throw the door onto the yard! You could hear the grass sizzling and if you had been beside me, you would have heard the sound of my heart beating at an unusual rate.

That evening my husband fixed the door. Lucky for him, that thing had cooled down. From then on I was afraid to touch it for fear of it happening again to me. I was never so glad in my life when that stove was replaced with a new one.

The last horrible thing [of so many] that happened also was here at this house. It was summer and my sons were about ten and twelve: They were up the street playing. And again, I was alone—that is till the mailman came by to deliver my mail. I had gotten this idea to build a rock garden out behind my house about a week prior to his showing up. Dragged one big rock after another but still needed more, of course. Since I knew him well as he lived down the street from me, I asked him if he’d help me get a big rock down to the garden.

He agreed and picked up the gigantic rock and as we started down to the semi-finished rock garden, he said, “You know there are snakes down there!” I looked at him with my mouth wide open as I am terrified of snakes—couldn’t even look at pictures of them. Had my back to a tree because that’s where I wanted him to put the rock. That was not a good idea for he screamed, “There’s a copperhead right behind you on the tree!” I was paralyzed with fear. Afraid to move. Afraid to breathe. And definitely afraid that the snake would slither onto me.

Again, some miracle happened for he told me then and there that the copperhead had gone down into the woods behind the tree. If you think that the rock garden got finished by me, think again! No way did I venture back to it: It was a man’s job this time.

An iron on fire, a hot oven door in my potholder-covered hands and a copperhead right behind me were three incidents that will forever stick in my mind. I got over my fear of irons for I had to as I was ironing shirts for three males and my clothes as well and you can’t iron without an iron. The old stove had been replaced and I just prayed a lot that this oven door would not come off and it hasn’t—yet. As for that snake, I have never gotten over it and never will for of all of the things that I hate and am afraid of, snakes are right up there as number one on my top ten list.

These are just three of many frightening incidents that happened to me. I could probably count well over one hundred: I am one of those people that if there is an accident waiting to happen, it will involve me. Peril? Of course. It should be my middle name!



Sherry Hill

I am not posting a photo of a snake!

"DO PEOPLE REALLY LISTEN?"

“DO PEOPLE REALLY LISTEN?”

A common thing to say to a person upon seeing him or her is to ask, “How are you?” We hope that they will say fine and go on their way as it’s a natural thing to expect. But if someone proceeds to tell you how awful they are feeling and go on and on, we get disgusted. We want them to stop with just a few words.

But when it is you or me and we are having a bummed out day, we sometimes tell the truth and then think “Should I have said that?” And we wait for some calming words, some of which are never said. We wanted that but ah, we have to remember that we don’t like to listen to others troubles and therein lies the problem. Honesty should rule but it generally doesn’t for we are in too much of hurry to get somewhere or do something. A crisis could come down and if it did, the guilt would stay with us---hanging over us like a big sheet. We do the same thing on the phone: We hope that the answer will not be dragged out but if it is us, then it's a different story.

There are clues in the eyes and face of the person: We can tell if they are happy, sad, angry or mad. There are major clues in the tone of the person's voice and we all know that. Do we pick up on these? Of course we do but we usually ignore them and ignore more if the person is ready to scream at us or go balistic. In essence, all of us need to take time to listen when a person replies to “How are you? Might get rid of guilt should we get it foisted upon us or save a life—if the person is truly in danger and wants to tell us.

Next time you happen upon someone and say the above, stop and listen for you never know: It could be life changing for that person and for you as well.



Sherry Hill

"IN WEST VIRGINIA WE DO RUN ALL OF OUR WORDS TOGETHER!"

“IN WEST VIRGINIA WE DO RUN ALL OF OUR WORDS TOGETHER!”




Three years ago, I met a new neighbor who was from New York. I loved to hear her talk for she put an “r” at the end of lots of words when she spoke. She began to tell me that she wasn’t happy here and that she couldn’t understand us as we ran our words together: That was not a revelation to me! I found that out when I was five years old and in the first grade.

My teacher had us writing a lot by the end of the year and she had us write these two words: this morning. “Piece of cake” I said to myself and wrote this on my paper: this smorning. I could feel her hovering over me and then she asked me why I wrote morning like that. I told her it was how it was said [which was not a good thing to say to a teacher.]

Feeling shame, I didn’t think I would make it through the day but I did. When I got home, I was met by my babysitter: Told her what had happened and she said, “What was wrong with that?” Holy cow she was about eighteen and she didn’t know the difference either.

During my childhood, I realized that everyone around me—family or friends ran words together all of the time. Chest of drawers was pronounced “chester drawers;” good afternoon was run together as well making me think that it was one word. And “this afternoon” was pronounced “this safternoon” and still is to this day.

I spoke like everyone else but when I had to write these groups of words, I had to force myself to write them separately—and that was not an easy task. As I got older, I realized that this “running of the words together” is something unique to West Virginia just as speech in other states is different. When I was in my early twenties, I went to stay for two weeks with a college friend of mine and her husband—they lived in Tennessee. After two weeks of being there, I started picking up that accent as well as some forms of speech. The people I met thought that I was from the north!

When I returned home, I was speaking like they did in Tennessee but it only lasted for a spell and then I was back to running some words together when I spoke. Still do till I catch myself and stop. It is not like we are in a hurry here [Charleston is a big city with well-spoken people] to speak so fast; it is something that we have inherited from our ancestors.

I could list more words that are run together but I’d have to speak them first in order for you to know what they are. Maybe I can make a video and then you would know what I really am talking about. As a former elementary teacher, I had to do the same thing that my first grade teacher did: Had to make sure that my second grade students wrote down those words separately. Feel sorry for my now-gone neighbor for she moved back to New York: She didn’t give us a chance and if she had stayed here, she would have started running groups of words together too! It’s a West Virginia thing!



Sherry Hill

"HAPPY EASTER!"

Today is Easter Sunday. I'm sure that the baskets have been filled with goodies and colored eggs, that "Easter" grass is half in and half out of the baskets [you find that stuff months later everywhere!] and that all of you somewhere will be sitting down to dinner. But if you live in another part of the world, Easter is already over and it's Monday somewhere.

Easter is a time for dressing up in one's finery: Always has been a ritual and always will be. There were so many times as a young girl that I hated what was chosen for me to wear but there were also times later on, when I was so grateful and felt "glammed up." I will never forget buying my sons their first suits for Easter: Both of them had tan suits, new white shirts and little ties. Still have the picture of them and it seems like it was an eternity ago--but it wasn't that long was it?

Easter eggs are a symbol of rebirth for that is the true meaning of this day.

Take time to reflect upon your celebrations of Easter in the past: I do and have such great memories. My now grown sons loved looking for their baskets but had more fun at my mom's apartment for she hid "nests of Easter grass" under chairs, her draperies and elsewhere. She had a lot more nerve than I did in relation to that "grass" that didn't seem to scatter in her place; it did in my house! And there was always the yearly egg hunt! Could count hundreds of cracked colored eggs that were found and never eaten by anyone or anything. They just sat around in their mishapen form till they were discarded.

Last year was the first time ever that I didn't color eggs: Just wasn't in the mood for my three grandchildren are getting older-[one is sixteen, one is thirteen and one is eleven] and they weren't in the mood to color eggs either. I'm not doing it this year either but I may break down and color some if the mood happens to strike me. Rest assured that I will fix deviled eggs, ham, sweet potatoes, green beans and macaroni salad: That has always been our traditional Easter dinner and always will be.

Blessings to you on this day.

Sherry Hill

"I AM ALWAYS LOSING THINGS!"

“ I AM ALWAYS LOSING THINGS!”




I’m sure it has happened to you: You get something, put it where you can find it and then go to retrieve it and it’s not there. It’s not anywhere. Happens to me all of the time with all kinds of things. Last week I went to the store, came home, put the groceries up and stuck things in the fridge.

Could swear that I bought a package of Kraft Singles: Twenty four slices to be exact. Remember putting them in the fridge when I was in the putting away frenzy. Are they in there? No. They just disappeared. I have looked at least ten times, pulled things off of shelves and as if by magic, the cheese is not there. Now I’m wondering if I did buy that cheese for I always do when I am out of it: I love it for grilled cheese sandwiches and my dog eats cheese a lot—in fact she eats almost anything.

I could blame it on her: Maybe she did eat all of those twenty-four slices for she has been known to eat anything and everything. Last year during Christmas, I put a cheese ball wrapped in plastic on the counter; turned around and it was gone! Shiloh, my dog, had eaten all of it—covering and all.

Still, I haven’t found twenty-four pieces of cheese wraps anywhere. I have lost all that cheese! I lose lots of things and most of the time they are right in front of me: It’s getting bad! And it’s getting worse day by day. Reminds me of an old saying: “Grandpa lost his glasses before he went to bed. Guess where Grandma found them? On top of Grandpa’s head.” Oh my, I haven’t succumbed to that point yet but it’s getting pretty bad.

One place I haven’t looked is in my car. What if that cheese fell out of the bag and is underneath my car seat? I don’t want to know. But today I will look there and I’m sure that if it is there, it won’t be something that I’d bring in the house.



Sherry Hill

"OF PASTEL CHICKS AND BUNNIES"

Of Pastel Chicks and Bunnies




When I was little and even up to about the age of eleven, I wanted a pastel colored bunny or chick for Easter.

It wasn’t something I dreamed up.

I saw them every spring when Green’s Feed And Seed used to be across from the Municipal Auditorium: they were in cages on the sidewalk and I wanted one so badly! All the bunnies were stacked up in cages that seemed a mile high. Same for the chicks. Didn’t matter which I thought as long as I got one.



The dazzling array of Easter colors swirled around on the bunnies and the chicks: To me they were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. And I wanted one.

Every Easter I was sure I would get one or the other.

And every Easter I didn’t.

Sure I liked the candy, egg hunting and the dressing up part but deep inside I was in utter disappointment.



About the age of eleven, I thought sure that I was going to finally get a rabbit or chicken as a delivery man came to our house on the day before Easter. But the package didn’t look like something alive was in it: it was too small

My mother insisted I open it and it was a corsage full of violets.

My heart sunk again.

Funny how over a period of time and knowledge that Easter colored bunnies and chicks would grow up to be big and white, I realized that I my dream was not real smart. And I was and still am deathly afraid of chickens due to them jumping on my feet when my family was at a farm. As for the bunny getting big, I also realized that it wouldn’t last long with my big cat.



Oddly enough, it later turned out that violets became my favorite flower. And I didn’t appreciate the trouble that my parents had gone to get me the corsage. I wanted the bunny or chick. But I did learn to appreciate that a lot of things we think we want later turn out to not be so. The dyeing of bunnies and chicks turned out to be hazardous to them and became against the law and they were never seen again by the human eye—at least in Charleston. And would I want a chick now? No way. As for bunnies, I get to see a lot of them in the wild.



With Easter approaching, I always think back to my wants a long time ago and I realize that my parents knew a lot more than I did. But those Easter colored bunnies and chicks sure were breathtaking!

Sherry Hill

*Published in the WVGazette