I don’t know why I just titled this entry “oh.”
Maybe it’s because I said it this morning as the secretary at the MRI place told me that they don’t take our health insurance after all. Sorry. So I would just have to drive Silas home again, even though he’d already taken valium and could hardly walk. “Oh” is an expression of resignation. You say it instead of pulling your hair out and smashing things and stuff like that.
“Oh” is also the beginning of the song “Johnny Appleseed.” You know, “Oh, the Lord’s been good to me . . .” But that has nothing to do with anything, except that sometimes when various members of our family begin arguing (or actually hitting each other) in the car, I’ll threaten to sing Johnny Appleseed if they don’t stop.
Maybe you’re wondering why Silas was supposed to be getting an MRI today. Well, he’s been to see a new doctor, a pain specialist, who wanted to rule out pinched nerves or things like that in the spine or neck.
Maybe you think I might need an MRI, because I don’t seem to be giving much order to these thoughts. Well, I’m tired. It’s been a long day.
“Oh” is also the beginning of a piece we sang in my college choir. I think it was called “O magnum mysterium,” or something like that. It was one of the most powerful pieces of music I’ve ever experienced, beautiful harmonies and tones rising and falling, cathedral music, music about the mystery of God, music that seems to take all the fragments of one’s life and weave them together into something whole and good . . .