Writings of Constance Ore ( 1937 – 2010 )

When I began “My New Life” I had no idea about its number of pages. As time has passed, it has become like a book with a very lengthy middle; digressions and stories and extra chapters were added as the MDS (Mylodisplastic Syndrome RAEB-2, the most severe form – a cancer of the bone marrow) did not follow the typical script written for those who received the diagnosis. Life has gone on, complete with “time outs”. Even after moving on to AML (acute myelogenous leukemia) the illness did not rush forward, but continued to alter the blood very slowly. Now however, on this first day of September, it appears that the disease is gaining momentum and since the arsenal of deterrents has been used up, it is time to make memories and live each day even more thoughtfully than before. There is more fatigue and pain, and the doctor suggested a sizable increase in the use of pain medications. I said, “I have been monitoring my intake of hydrocodone and oxycodone because I don’t want to reach the point where I have taken them so long they are no longer effective”. His looking-me-in-the-eye response, “That’s not going to happen to you” was telling. “Oh” I said, “I see”.

Last week was full of lovely things. Janna and the twins came out to spend time with us before the children’s school begins, and on a beautiful day, we went walking in the forest. Janna said, “Let’s build a fairy house!” and the girls knew immediately what was required. The little structure of bark has a floor of moss and decorations of pinecones and golden rod, and it hides at the base of a tree near a small grassy glade. “A mouse or a vole could come here to spend the night” I was told, “or to get out of the rain”.

Alphie is filled with delight at these outings, and when he came to lie down and watch the construction work, Ursula decided that he might like to wear her hat for a while. As you can see in the photo, he seemed to join in the laugher at the whole concept. The days flew by much too quickly – we saw the first Monarch butterflies of the season, and we marveled at spiders smaller than a child’s little finger nail. . . magic seemed to be everywhere.

Our week concluded with a Feast. Six of us cooked and baked, all from Julia Child’s cookbooks, and twelve of us sat around the table on Saturday evening to enjoy the outcomes. It was definitely a memory making occasion; the impressive menu had lovely hors d’oeuvres, freshly baked breads, a soup course, an entrée that was built around a tenderloin of beef with truffles, and a conclusion of incredible desserts. Everyone was delighted with the food offerings, and we agreed that the fine wines, lively conversation, high-spirits and laughter put this day into the “we will always remember” files.

School’s beginning signals summer’s end. This summer of 2009 is going to be placed into our record books by the wonderful organ composition created by Charles Ore, the composer. He began with the unlikely hymn “Rock of Ages”. I think the phrase “When I soar to worlds unknown” called to him because we had been in discussion about what happens after death, and this imagery evokes wonderful things. The poetry is attributed to Augustus Toplady who lived in the 1700’s, and the hymn also contains enough obtuse and tortured imagery that many of the pastors I worked with avoided using the hymn entirely. (i.e. “Foul, I to the fountain fly” . . . I always thought perhaps it should have read, “Fowl”, considering the flying part)

Charles has named his piece “Glory Rock” and divided it into five parts. The first, called “Rock” uses the familiar melody, but placed into a classic rock format. The second movement is titled “Could my zeal no respite know”, from the hymn text, but here presented with an ironic touch. Then comes “The double” (“Be of sin the double cure” is the poetry – the movement dances between melody and echo patterns). At the beginning of the fourth movement the piece adds melodic material from the Battle Hymn of the Republic; “Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord” and this part is called “The coming”. The composition concludes with “When I soar to worlds unknown” and this is the most extraordinary part of all. Here Charles uses a double pedal, right foot outlining “Rock of Ages”, and left foot playing “Glory, glory, hallelujah” while the hands are doing incredible fast patterns in the manner of French toccata material and reminiscent of Arthur Honegger’s symphonic poem “Pacific 2-3-1”. After he developed the piece, Charles invited me to come and hear him play it on the new organ that fills the front of the recital hall at Concordia. Since then, I have repeatedly asked him to play it for me because it is such a splendid experience. As I watch the Casavant making the music, I can see it responding to the man at the console. When the piece begins with powerful, large, low and strong chords, the organ plants its feet solidly and says, “I can do ROCK”. In the second movement, where the sounds are playful, it almost seems to smile, and then as the piece builds and builds, it truly seems to become one with the player. As the echo of the huge final chord dies away, the organ seems to settle back in contentment saying, “My, that was fun!”

(This composition should be recorded for sharing sometime this fall.)

The best memory of last week’s celebration of our 49th wedding anniversary is the sight and sound of Heidi, Jon, Zoie and Kira all together in our walk-in shower talking, laughing, and shrieking (Kira) as they photographed a tree frog that Jon spotted on the roof deck of our house. The top of our house is thirty plus feet high, and seeing a frog up there was a great surprise. Jon caught it and brought it down into the living area, and to the sound of Charles’ “Don’t let that frog loose in the house!” took it into the shower area so he could open his hands and show it to the family – it was there they saw that the beautiful little creature had suction cup feet and was climbing up the tile walls. We identified it as a Cope’s gray treefrog, and because it is a night creature and hides itself well, it is rarely seen, and certainly not so close up and personal. After the adventure, the frog was carried outside to resume its reclusive life.

There was a feeling of sadness when the wrens departed last week leaving a much quieter space behind. The last swallow fledges left the nest also, and we didn’t see or hear them either. We thought they took flight immediately, and wondered how the young birds could begin to migrate so soon, but yesterday evening, after the sun had set behind the trees, I was out filling the bird feeders when I looked up to see the whole family swooping and dipping in every direction above the house. They were up high enough so that they were still in the sunlight, and the scene looked joyful and splendid. None of them have come back to sit upon the porch mobiles where they spent a lot of time all summer long – I thought perhaps they were saying goodbye before embarking on their very long journey southward to Argentina and beyond.

Life for me at this point might be compared to a vessel of water that has minute cracks in it from which the liquid seeps out. Some of the cracks are those brought about by aging, and the others are the disease slowly easing away the life force. My monthly blood readings indicate that this is the case. Our GP calls to visit about the readings and I am told that as one of the most vulnerable persons around, when the flu vaccines are made available I am at the very top of the list. “Just think” I say to Charles, “I have finally and at long last become Number One!” Here in Nebraska being No.1 is a big deal, but I do not anticipate acquiring the large Styrofoam hand with the pointer finger extended upward, nor the accompanying cap. I remain thankful for the good days as they come, always pleased that I have dear family, friends, and yes, also Alphie and Sanctuary with its abundant creatures to bring me laughter, music, good food, fine conversations, and beauty – all continuing reminders of what a blessed life God has given me.

Mid-August is a time when most of the birds are completing their summer task of getting their fledges out and about, and there is not a lot of bird song to be heard because territories are no longer an issue. Our swallow family with its nest above the door to the second floor living area has outdone itself this year, with the rearing of three sets of offspring instead of the usual two. The last fledges are still sitting “at home” and making a huge mess on the floor below. As I write this, there are about eight swallows madly chittering and swirling around in and out the porch area, past my window, and past the nest. It looks as if the entire extended family is encouraging these last little ones to take flight so they all can go on their way.

There are thousands of reflections on “happiness”, but the one that has stayed in my mind is Allan Chalmers’ “The grand essentials of happiness are: something to do, something to love, and something to hope for” changing the middle phrase to “someone to love”. It fits my present reality very nicely. In these days, I have a growing loss of energy and unease within the lungs and stomach. I am anemic, but I have not reached the point of needing blood transfusions. “Bone tired” seems to apply – it is an inner feeling of weariness that sleep cannot assuage. This means another reinvention of how life needs to be lived, and the “something to do” part of the happiness equation will need to take place sandwiched between chunks of resting time. The brain goes merrily onward, planning dinners, weeding flower beds, playing the piano, and taking Alphie about just for the fun of it while the physical self sits very quietly, resting. The gifts of having a good number of “someone(s) to love” and the faith that always defines “something to hope for” is why I am still here, living long past the medical community’s prognosis for this illness. I hope all who read this have “something to do, someone to love, and something to hope for” too, as summer grows tired and we begin to prepare for autumn and the changes that a new season will bring.