The CA Family Play #7: Enough...For Now

"Your creative endeavors can never be throughly mapped out ahead of time. You have to allow for the suddenly altered landscape, the change of plan, the accidental spark -- an you have to see it as a stroke of luck rather than a disturbance of your perfect scheme. Habitually creative people are, in E.B. White's phrase, "prepared to be lucky." - Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit: Learn It And Use It For Life

Matt, Stan and I are waiting for our flight to board at SFO. The research trip portion of the yet-to-be-written-California-family-play is essentially complete.

As I write these words, thoughts are running through my mind of all of the dozens of people we did not talk to, all of the places we did not go, all of photographs that were not looked at and so on and so on.

Once you begin a project like this, you begin to realize the MASSIVE amount of source materials available to create from.

I cannot imagine being a biographer...studying someone's life and all the source materials surrounding them and trying to piece together anything resembling a "complete" picture of their life. It's just impossible. Impossible.

So...because creating a complete picture of the Wilcox family is something that cannot be done (and certainly not in a week...HA!), I will choose to believe that everything that Stan and Matt experienced was exactly enough...enough to get a sense, enough to spark an interest, enough to begin to make connections...

"What's next?" You ask.

1. Fly home to NY

2. Get back into swing of daily life again

3. Do NOT actively think about this week, just let it sink in.

4. Get together with Matt and Stan in a couple of weeks and have a post-trip-meeting to discuss our experiences (Probably over beers and BBQ beef brisket tacos at MexiQ)

5. Figure out the next step in the process to keep us rolling with this project (looking toward some kind of something workshoppy in the fall and some kind of something performance-ish in the winter)

I will keep you posted with the details as they become clear.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you....to all of my very brave and loving friends and family that have opened their hearts, memories, and homes to us on this journey so far.

Thank you to Matt and Stan for listening with curiosity, expressing empathy, putting up with my obsessive promptness, cracking jokes at all the appropriate (and inappropriate) moments, warm hugs and thoughtful conversations.

And thank you so much to all of YOU who have been following the blog this week and writing comments of encouragement. I promise to publish another post again in a couple of weeks to give you an update and let you know how our MexiQ meeting goes.

I think this project may turn out to be one of those things that I will look back on at the end of my life and think, "I'm really glad I did that when I had the chance." It's been a really meaningful process of for my family, sharing our stories with each other in the name of this creative endeavor.

As the Boston Marathon bombing reminds us, life is fragile and fleeting. Hug your loved-ones close today.

Oh! Gotta go. The plane is about to begin boarding.

XO!

Blessings,
Virginia

"This above all -- ask yourself in the stillest hour of your night: must I write? [or act, or paint, or dance, or compose, etc.] Delve into yourself for a deep answer. And if this should be affirmative, if you may meet this earnest question with a strong and simple "I must," then build your life according to this necessity;  your life even into its most indifferent and slightest hour must be a sign of this urge and a testimony to it." - Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters To A Young Poet

The CA Family Play #6: Letter From 1950

Good morning, friends...

My grandparents passed away right around the time I turned 16. Grandma Pat loved music and art and was one of the most generous, kind-hearted human beings I have ever known. Grandpa James was highly intelligent, had three Master's degrees (in science, physics and education -- something like that), and was stoic man that didn't express emotion much. They both became school teachers. Pat taught elementary school and James taught high school science.

The following is an old letter that I discovered in a drawer of our family's cabin in Cobb Mountain, CA. It is written from my grandmother to my grandfather prior to their marriage and three children. (My father is their second born son.)

I believe my grandmother was living near Coalinga, CA at the time this letter was written and she must have been about 21 years old. I think my grandfather was studying at the University of New Mexico and was about to be deployed to Korea to serve in the war. That could be incorrect though. I don't know all the details for sure, but it's neither here nor there. The letter really speaks for itself.

Enjoy!

~Virginia

J.Wilcox looking south on Westerly ridge of the Valley of the Moon

November 20, 1950

Dear James,

I've been thinking about us. Prepare for profound observations!

We don't talk the same language. I guess it's really just as simple as that; a matter of semantics. It's understandable, too. We've had different, very different backgrounds and bringing-up. You're an introvert, I'm not, at least not as much as you, though you're not as (much) as you used to be. I'm an idealist, you're a realist (except on rare subjects, no names mentioned).

Besides "bringing-up" in general, our life-experience in particular has been different. I can't fathom your needs, though I try. You don't understand mine, I know you try too. Your heartaches have been far removed from mine. Yet here we are groping around trying to reach each other. Our reasons for even this are different. No wonder I shriek with dismay and you call me stupid. 

Is it profound? At least it'll do till I find a better theory to go on. It's fun anyway to arrive at some kind of theory or postulate.

Hope you have your job by now, since that is what you hoped for. If you go to New York you can expect a letter from Mom with details of what you "can't miss" etc.

Foo on February. (I'm from the hill country.) I'm not going to ask any more questions. All I can say is, I hope Uncle Sam doesn't surprise you along about then.

We have been having diversified weather here. The King's river area is in critical flood condition. Millions of dollars of land, cattle & house losses are a result. (A cheerful bit of news from the West.)

Sorry I have no clever prattle or witty chatter to write. I'll refrain from making comments on your letter in lieu of our recent sordid experience as a result of my taking you to task.

Oh yes, a descant is an obligato or counter-melody, sung by solo voice (usually), against the rest of the choir singing the regular melody. Comprenez vous?

By the way - Please, may I correct the erroneous impressions you have - I do not dislike your singing. And pleas don't apologize for it - it's your gift and I  like it, use it all you can and want to. I'd like to hear you sing to me, for me, at me, with me, or even without any connection with me what-so-ever. Simply, I like to hear you sing. I'm glad you like to, too.

My very best love to you, right out of the top of my heart.

-- Patty


(I love you, Grandma! I miss you!) ~V

The CA Family Play #5: Life Is Art, Death Is Certain

"Accomplishments are fleeting.  Your life will be over in the blink of an eye.  If there is a heaven, take some beautiful moments up there with you to remember.  Don’t sit in the sky thinking “I sure worked my way up the corporate ladder.”  Smile and laugh remembering your loved ones and the time you swam in the ocean and the broken umbrella kiss in the rain and the time you taught your child how to juggle.  And if there is a heaven, smile without regrets that your life was a piece of art and you treated it as such.  May you love in every moment and enjoy the temporary beauty of life." - Markus Almond, Brooklyn To Mars

Near death experiences that lead to spiritual awakenings that lead to a profoundly changed attitude toward life = reoccurring theme and topic of conversation this week

Hopefully, we won't be experiencing anything near death any time soon, but it's incredibly compelling and inspiring to hear about it after the fact.

Going through hard sh*t is how resiliency is developed.

On one hand...you wouldn't wish hardship on anyone, especially not someone you love...

But on the other hand...that very hardship is the thing that forces you to develop that strength of character, self-awareness, compassion and insight that'd you wouldn't get otherwise.

So, in a way, I'm glad for it, glad for the pain, glad for the opportunity to grow, glad for the awareness that is gained through tough experiences...for myself and for others. It's all a gift.

And once the sh*t has stopped hitting the fan for a second...

 I ask myself..."What really matters?"

"What do I want to do with this short time I have here on earth?"

"How do I keep my focus on what is truly important when the distractions of life are threatening to take up my every moment?"

I ask myself because I know that death could drop by my place at any time, so today I choose to LIVE...to live artfully...and love people as much as possible.

Loves,
Virginia

"We say that the hour of death cannot be forecast, but when we say this we imagine that hour as placed in an obscure and distant future.  It never occurs to us that it has any connection with the day already begun or that death could arrive this same afternoon, this afternoon which is so certain and which has every hour filled in advance."  - Marcel Proust