St. Camille (of ECTC)
Today is All Saints Day. It’s a day when we honor the people who rose above the everyday to perform lifelong acts of service and selflessness.
It’s also my moms birthday (the first since she passed away at the end of July). If you knew my mom, you were fortunate because there is nobody else quite like her. She loved music. She was music. She played it. She taught it and directed it. Listened to it every second of every day. She might have been a virtuoso, because she was definitely a genius (she is the smartest person on paper that I ever met). But she couldn’t text to save her life. She signed every message Love, Mom. She couldn’t figure out how to do the most basic things. She turned every job into a 15 step process when I could have done most in 3.
She was a character. She taught thousands of young college kids the beauty of classical music. She was definitely on the autism spectrum. One of my favorite conversations at her funeral was with her secretary who told me she had been converting her grades from a template mom used from the 1980s because she simply couldn’t figure out how (and probably why) it needed to be updated. And she couldn’t find her way out of a McDonalds parking lot without an annoying number of questions. She wouldn’t eat ice because it wasn’t European enough.
I often describe her as like being parented by a kite. I could pull her down eye to eye for about 3-4 minutes. Mostly to discuss my own teaching, or something going on with my son. But by the time that 4 minutes was done, she had drifted back up to the clouds.
But much like the saints I have heard of, she was deeply selfless. She recycled and shared and never said no when someone genuinely needed help. She was the picture of temperance. She wanted so badly for everything to be fair and just. She never protested, but she taught me all about how to stand up for what is right, even when I stood alone.
The day she passed, I was awakened by a song playing from my phone…and since that time, she often sends me songs that are meaningful, and mind blowing-ly accurate. The other day, I asked her what she wanted to tell me. The next song that came on was “Leader of the Band” which is a beautiful song by a man who spent his life building a legacy of his father and his music. I am not a musician, though I love music and find comfort and wisdom whenever I listen. But more than that, I have been feeling the things I never knew about my ancestors the past several weeks. They all made things…music, art, beautiful food, furniture, embroidery, photography…the list could continue. And mischief…there is a legacy of fun and joy and silliness that skipped some, but resonated from the souls of the others.
I feel soulful and honored to be the “living legacy of the leader of the band”. I thank her for the music. And the freedoms and kindness. I want to preserve the Justice and balance she valued so highly. I want to use my voice and my words loudly…the ones she only whispered. But I also want the joy I share, to be an experience I get to enjoy. I want to be sure that I am not just watching from a safe distance, but am learning to step in to the messy, unpredictable world of experiences and from time to time…be the mischief that skipped her.
So…happy birthday mom. I am a living legacy and I hope I make you (and all those that came before you) proud.