The High Price of Perfection...and the Principle of Good'nuff (Part 2)

Hi, I'm Dorothy.  And I am a recovering perfectionist.  I was stuck on the perfection roller coaster for the first 56 years of my life.  Not just obsessed with grades (though I had to make an A, hopefully with the plus sign behind it).  I stressed about my athletic performance;  my weight/body image; even my musical pursuits. I could suck the fun out of any pursuit.  I'm working hard, at 57, to celebrate the luxury and IMPORTANCE of being just good'nuff...

Which takes me to this particular story, which began in Port Aransas, TX, on Saturday, November 10, 2012, right around 8:00 in the morning.  (I was there for a weekend songwriter workshop called Life's a Song.)  I was enjoying my 2nd cup of coffee, walking on the beautiful beach, breathing in the sea air and searching for shells.  My entire life, I had tried to find that perfect sand dollar.  You know, the one with absolutely no chips.  Unattainable perfection. I had never found it, until that particular morning... 

I had coffee in my right hand, and various seashells in the other.  It was a beautiful morning, with the seagulls swooping in and soaring and the waves gently rippling near my feet.  I had found 3 or 4 really cool shells that morning.  I had picked up a few broken sand dollars because they were certainly better than nothing.  I took a swig of my coffee and looked down and STOPPED IN MY TRACKS!  I did a doubletake...It couldn't be, but it WAS.  I knelt down, afraid to touch it.  To say that my heart skipped a beat is an understatement.

Okay, I've found the sand dollar.  I have coffee in one hand and seashells in the other.  I immediately dumped my coffee out (a rare occurence!) and dropped the shells I'd collected into the porcelain mug.  So now I have one hand free.  I pick it up oh so gently, in disbelief.  I had made the trek to the beach that particular morning to walk a few miles before the workshop began...but my walk was pre-empted by my need to get this sand dollar placed safely in some kind of protective shelter, so I wouldn't break it! 

I walked slowly back to my room and attempted to wrap it securely.  I tried paper towels, but kept checking it to see if it had gotten scratched or broken.  I tried tissue, but how much tissue would be needed to protect it?  If I had been home, I would have found some bubble wrap and a tiny box.  I thought about putting it in my car, in a cup holder, where I could watch it the whole way home.  Truly, I had found perfection, but it bothered the hell out of me!  What if I messed it up?  

Wait, isn't this really how I've been living my life?  Achieving this impossible status...and then stressing over keeping it that way?  I wrote a song ", said the sand dollar" about the epiphanies I gleaned from that little gift from the sea.  Here's a link to the song.   I sure hope you like it.  My performance was not perfect, but I think it was good'nuff!  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nwAXl3oAqcw&feature=youtu.be 

until next blog post, peace and love to you...
dorothy

WAKE UP AND DREAM...Part 1

Twelve years ago, I had never bellied up to a microphone with guitar in hand.  I was 45 years old when I first muddled my way through John Prine's Let's Talk Dirty in Hawaiian and The Beatles' Blackbird at an open mic hosted by Jason Hanks in Baton Rouge, LA. You could have cut the tension with a knife!!!  Everybody knew I was a first-timer and they really wanted me not to suck!  (Which, admittedly, I kinda did...)  When I struck the final chord, the applause was DEAFENING, and I could see everyone who had held their breath for me suddenly get color back in their cheeks.     

See, it was my dream to play music out in the world, after coming out of cancer treatment the previous month.  Twelve years later, I make my living as a musician.  I do music therapy with Alzheimer's patients and seniors with dementia; I perform as a children's musician; I am a songwriter; I am a jazz guitarist; I am drawn to any stringed instrument, and continue to try out new ones.  But it all started because a few people encouraged me to go for my dream*...

I have a new dream, y'all, as of mid 2014.  I want to travel throughout the United States and play songs I've written at open mics and gigs in every single state of the union.  I live in Louisiana, so I can check that one off.  I've played a bunch in Texas, and once in Indiana. About 10 years ago, I got to play in Potlach, Idaho with my first duo partner.  I'm heading east this next trip.  Savannah, Georgia, here I come!!!   Because of the kindness of 2 wonderful friends, I have a chance to play twice this coming week in their new community! And mid-February will find me in Nashville, TN!  I cannot believe it!  Y'all, I'm 57 and I'm living my dream.  Color me grateful and excited and at times a bit intimidated...but I've got a special mission in my life and it feels right! 

I wrote a song called Wake Up and Dream.  I am planning something really special with this tune, and I'll share more in the next WAKE UP AND DREAM installment.  I wonder if anybody out there is chasing a dream.  I would love to hear about it...

Until next blog post, peace and love to you...
dorothy

* No way I can thank everybody who encouraged me, but here are a few who have helped me in my travels: Catrina Rogers, Terri Hendrix, Lloyd Maines, my Life's a Song Friends, Beth Harvey, Mike and Debi Chambers, Karen Kelley,  Daniel Lee, Renea Hanna, Sally Morgan...and so many many more.  Another special thank you to my buddy and long-time duo partner, Mike Whitney, who did quite a few Louisiana 'road-trip' gigs with me!  Thank y'all...

53 YEARS OF MARRIAGE...IS IT A THING OF THE PAST?

He was a big man on campus...a tall, handsome north Louisiana Baptist, studying Agriculture at  Louisiana State University in the late '30s and early '40s.  She was a beautiful but very shy south Louisiana Catholic, studying Home Economics at the same university, during the same time period. The stories each would recount of their first meeting were vastly different! 

My dad, Doyle Chambers, was one of the few guys on campus at the time who had a car, and that made him the perfect double-date candidate for those who didn't have wheels.  My dad's friend (I'll call him Joe) decided that my dad needed to get a date so they could 'double' and dad would drive.  Doyle agreed, as long as he got a date with 'that girl over there', who was friends with Joe's girlfriend.  Doyle had had his eyes on her for the longest time, and knew that she would be the woman for him.  He was instantly smitten!

My mom, Luella  Dugas, was so shy and unsure of herself, that when Joe's girlfriend tried to fix her up with Doyle, she said, "I'm sure it's not ME that he wants to go out with.  I bet he wanted to take my roommate out."  But no, Doyle knew who he wanted to date, and it was Luella.  My mother would later tell me, "Within 5 minutes on our first date, I KNEW that this was one guy I would NEVER go out with again.  He was a north Louisiana Baptist (she was a south Louisiana Catholic...her mom would have NEVER permitted that match!!!!!), he smoked, and he drank.  That was it...he was not a candidate for her affections...

They were married on January 30, 1943, and were together until Luella's death on May 26, 1996.  They survived the hard WWII years; brought 3 children into the world; weathered childhood polio scares and inflamed tonsils and Oklahoma tornadoes and Louisiana hurricanes.  Each battled cancer several times over the years, and even painfully witnessed two of their own children have their own cancer journeys.  Life was certainly not a bed of roses...but there was never a doubt that they would get through every twist and turn,  TOGETHER. 

My Dad passed away in September 2005.  This Friday I will celebrate what would have been their 72nd wedding anniversary.  A remarkable feat!  Never a bed of roses, but a journey they walked TOGETHER.  For a lifetime.  Please watch the song I wrote to celebrate their love.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cTFZTMMinsI&list=UUuAONW1409a_dSl9bFX6L4g 

I'm curious.  Do you think that 53 years of marriage is a thing of the past?  I don't.  Instead of letting hardship destroy them, it brought them closer together.  That's the key, I believe.  They truly married for a lifetime.  As always, thank you for reading...

until next blog post, peace and love to you

dorothy

EQUATING AN ONSLAUGHT OF BIRD POOP WITH A DIAGNOSIS OF BREAST CANCER???? Yep, that's how I roll...

it was January 6, 2003

 when the "C" word was first said to me

that hospital smell still etched upon my brain

I was there to take that grueling test

most women admittedly detest

that machine musta been invented by a man

okay this might feel a little tight

as they twist and twist with all their might

hold still, don't breathe...wait, do I look dumb?

'Don't breathe,' I think, 'Won't I die

without air in my lungs?'  my oh my

unbeknownest to me the best was yet to come

by the time my watch said 10:52

another machine, maybe one or two

the doctor started speaking doctor speak

'Somethin' ain't right right there on the left.'

now I'm trying to catch my breath

surgery's set for early next week.

excerpt from Bird Poop

written by Dorothy C. LeBlanc

I can't believe that it was 12 years ago this week when I began my crazy journey into breast cancer suspicion, biopsy, diagnosis, surgery, treatment and SURVIVAL!  Was it one of the most devastating experiences of my life, to be the 45 year old daughter of a woman who had lost her battle to breast cancer, suddenly facing the same disease?  I'm not so sure that devastating is adequate to describe how I was feeling.  But yes, it turned my world upside down and inside out!  

At the end of this post, there's a link to the song I wrote about my ordeal, affectionately titled "Bird Poop".  The song came to me while I was on a 9 mile bike ride, nearing the end of my radiation cycle, when a bird pooped on my arm...and I wiped my arm on my hide and kept moving.  "Gotta keep moving," I thought...That's what propelled the song!  I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you'll share the tune with others who might appreciate it.  

All I learned from this crazy cancer odyssey will be another blog post.  Too much to say in a mere few paragraphs, but suffice it to say that I would not be the woman I am today had I not faced each twist and turn on my road.  And I am grateful for every single day...

Here's the link:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNyORjmSSPU&feature=youtu.be

Thank you for reading and sharing...

Until next blog post, peace and love to you...dorothy

Ushering in 2015...My Personal UN-Resolution Revolution

I love a new datebook and a new journal that signal the start of a new year...both of which I'm giddily possessing.  I get that familiar feeling I used to get at the beginning of a new school year in elementary school. I adored the new composition books, spiral notebooks, and folders that were neatly placed in my booksack before I hopped on the bus that first morning.  They were unblemished...untouched...no mistakes had been made yet! Funny, it didn't take long for that to remedy itself!

Usually, in my new journal, I'll post a January 1 entry that details all the things I resolve to do during the new year.  Read and exercise every day, eat less, worry less, don't be judgmental, find peace.  How in the world was I going to find peace with all these expectations I was placing on myself, with no exceptions?  All I did was set myself up for inevitable failure.  I'm taking a new approach this year, and I'm thinking it will work out better in the long run. 

Page 1 of my journal simply says "be kind to myself in anything I do, to the best of my ability, at that particular space in time."  There you go.  That pretty much sums up my un-resolution.  Here's my rationale:  I do think that, if we were all kind to ourselves, we'd be more contented people.  If we were contented people, we'd find it easier to love each other and coexist more peacefully.  I admit to being a simpleton, but, hey, this is how I roll.  
Whether you are a resolution kind of person or not, here's to a year of being kind to ourselves, and to others, in 2015.  Happy New Year, y'all. 

Until next blog post, peace and love to you...dorothy  

Is it possible to S-I-M-P-L-I-F-Y CHRISTMAS?

I love family traditions.  You know, those things that just MAKE a celebration, that everybody counts on to signal a holiday.  My family had a few.  One involves a fruitcake alternative called Bishop's Bread.  I think my mom scored that recipe from a friend in Stillwater, Oklahoma, where our family lived for my first 6 years.  I've never met anyone who didn't like it!  Unbelievably good!

Another tradition involved trimming the Christmas tree. Each year, my family would add one new ornament for our tree.  Sometimes we bought it during our travels.  Sometimes my mom would make it.  After she died, I acquired a lot of her handmade ornaments, and they now adorn my own tree.  

My parents had their own tradition that started with their very first Christmas during the WWII years (due to lack of funds!).  It's a tradition that stayed with them, throughout their entire married life (53 years).  There was always a bounty of gifts for us kids.  But they were very consistent in giving each other a single present...beautifully wrapped...and quietly shared.  I think their last Christmas together, I was moved by their sharing the most.  They managed to have a quiet moment, just the two of them, in the living room, amidst opened presents and bows and 'thank yous' excitedly flying from person to person.  

Dad would buy mom a bottle of Chanel (or a teeny bottle of perfume, in their early years).  Mom would make dad a button-up shirt with a well-pressed collar (but in her last years, it was a store-bought shirt).  I love the way they made Christmas about being together, not about the material giving.  I wrote the song, Two Little Gifts, about this Christmas story, and I would be honored for you to view the video and hear the heartwarming story in more detail. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TTIL683dr8w&list=UUuAONW1409a_dSl9bFX6L4g

We're having a simple Christmas over here.  I learned how to do that from the masters.  Wishing you all a beautiful upcoming holiday season.  Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Holidays...

until next blog post, peace and love to you...

dorothy

HOME for the Holidays...

"She'd sped out of town without turning around

She had to get away.  

Twenty years later she'd find her way...Back home."

excerpt from Home by Dorothy C. LeBlanc

I suppose I was a typical teenager.  Midway through my senior year of high school, I seriously started the countdown of months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, and seconds...until I would move out of my parents' home and be an independent college student!  Had we lived on a gravel road, I dare say that our neighbors would still remember the cloud of dust that overtook the neighborhood as I pulled out of the driveway, into my future.  I thought I could handle anything that the world sent my way.  I had no idea.  Who does?

Life threw me a serious curve ball several years back, and it conflicted with my husband's plans.  (I won't say where he was planning to go, but it rhymes with 'wishing'.)  Before he left to go 'wishing', he dropped me off at my parents' house with my young son in tow...and said he'd pick us up when he got back.  Simple as that.  I was uprooted from my adult, self-made home, and handed back to my parents for 4 or 5 days.  

I had been 4 months pregnant, and the baby had died in utero.  I needed somewhere to recuperate from the D&C...and from the cruel loss.  As badly as I needed to be nurtured, I was worried that my young son and I wouldn't fit into the routine of my childhood home.  My parents lovingly took their adult daughter and her child into their home, and into their hearts. 

That weekend,  I learned how to appreciate my mom and dad from the perspective of a grown woman, not as a child.  They were there for me.  They fed me and helped me take care of my 2-year-old.  We laughed together, we cried together, they helped me heal.  Five days later, I cried as my son and I slowly backed out of the driveway to head home.   

I know that, for some of you, holidays often bring stressful family dynamics to light.   That said, I would love to be able to go "home for the holidays" and see my mom and dad again...but they're both deceased.  For me, going home for a few days at such a tough time, planted the seed for the new relationship I would have with both of them into their twilight years.  

I'd be honored if you'd watch my video of this special song I wrote about my story called  "Home".  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iiK4LIHbodc&feature=youtu.be

Until next blog post, peace and love to you...dorothy