Our friend Eliana had a two-part funeral today.
First we gathered at the synagogue, and heard stories from her family members. I got a picture of someone full of life, and of opennes to the unknown. It seemed she did not cast her impending death in the light of tragedy, but, rather, approached it with calm and optimistic curiosity.
Later, at the graveyard, I was touched and comforted to see that she, like my beloved, had chosen not to have a casket.
It was almost disorienting to go, then, this evening, down to Denver with two fellow-musicians, for a last rehearsal for next week's concert. I was suddenly some five decades younger, when I used to play---and sometimes perform---folk music. But really it was the playing part that I loved: listening, blending in, harmonizing, introducing a new musical idea, hopping onto someone else's musical idea; building that improvised musical creation where for a few moments we are all part of one musical organism.
Dontcha wish we could get Congress members to sing in chorus?
Of course, to do that, you actually have to listen to each other...