The road ends, but the journey continues...
“Admit it. You tuned in to see who won a copy of “What I Wish I Could Tell You.” Well, I’ll get to that right after this…”
Thus begins a typical winner revealing post from the blog of L.Marie with my own book offering inserted into the original text. That great opening line is in fact taken from one of my favorite posts of hers called “Wall-to-Wall People.” It is a fine example of how easily she articulates thoughts I am only able to think. Continue reading
Whether superstition, or relative to some innate programming within the natural world, death often occurs in multiples of three. My own family has recently experienced two losses close together and I hold out hope that the power of three will not prevail in our case.
However, in the musical world, I have a tally of three personal favorites who have passed within weeks of each other. Like my taste, each one is different from the other in genre, temperament and level of public awareness.
The first to begin this trio was Roland Dyens. Continue reading
The day after my cousins and Aunt Dolores returned to Chicago from Dad’s funeral* in Colorado, my Aunt Betty fell, broke her arm and entered into hospice care within the week.
Unlike Dad, she and his other sibs were/are lifelong Cubs fans. And I confess I caught the cub-bug from them back in the day! Freshly back from Colorado** hubby and I settled into a regular routine of watching 2016’s historic World Series. It helped ease re-entry into our life away from loved ones, life’s new normal and tending to everyday living in our little rental here in South Carolina.
Meanwhile, my cousins and Aunt Dolores had the television on for all the games, too. They spent time with Aunt Betty during her last ‘dream-sleep’ days listening and talking with her about all the exciting baseball action.
On November 1st, Dad’s sister joined the increasing Family party up in heaven.
When news spread over the Bruno Grapevine about her passing, I took comfort in thinking she had the best seat in the Universe to see those Cubbies take the World Series in all its victorious glory***.
The very next day, Terry and I took to the road again to attend the wake/funeral mass on Chicago’s south side.
Going back to old family locations, rejoining the cousins and the last two remaining of Dad’s sibs proved to be an unexpected blessing in the midst of my own raw grief.
I received an extra gift from my aunt – a chance to honor her – standing for Dad – and a chance to continue in the healing and comfort with Family – Coming back to my roots and laying Dad to rest there, too.
Surrounded by Family still in mourning over the death of Dad; beginning the trail of sorrow again with the passing of Aunt Betty – shared sorrow, shared support.
Joining joyful memories with the present shifting of Family ‘residency’ – sharing in the double grief – makes me think Aunt Betty waited to sit at that Family Table till Dad would be there, too.
Betty Jane (Bruno) Evans
2/7/1928 – 11/1/2016
Last trip to Chicago with Ma (2004) – missing only 4 Bruno oldsters. l – r: Adua, Dennis, Dad, Elmer, Betty, Frank, Rose, Ma, Dolores with Lizzy
In my over 3 years of blogging, I have never, ever, been nominated for any type of ‘blogging’ award. I figured because I am WP.org (self-hosted) rather than WP.com (WP hosted) that my chances for those sorts of things were stacked against me. So be it.
Well, that all changed during my Summer of Dad time away from regular secure internet access. LuLu from The Real Adventures of Becoming (whatever this thing is that I am presuming is the authentic and genuine) Me nominated me a few weeks ago for the Liebster Award. She is a gentle soul with a writing style that is deep and pure. Thanks for thinking of me, LuLu!
My very first blog award!
Albert Peter Bruno
April 13, 1923
September 22, 2016
Chocolate for Dad
Shared squares of taste induced memories
Wisps of happiness
Deep cell remembrances
Of a life well lived
Technically, summer as a season is defined as being from June 1st through August 31st. Or in holiday terms, Memorial Day kicks off the start of summer while Labor Day marks the end of those carefree days.
I decided to define this summer as beginning April 22nd when Dad went into hospice care, and ending September 17th when my regularly scheduled visits will most probably cease (the key term here being: regularly scheduled).
On all fronts, this Summer of Dad has been cathartic, healing and fun.
On all fronts, this Summer of Dad is nearing its end.
note: the day before I was slated to return to SC from my third ‘scheduled’ visit with Dad in CO, he suffered a mini-stroke causing a paradigm shift in his state of decline. This piece was written several weeks ago and was to be pubbed sooner, but internet issues prevented that from occurring. I think it still speaks a gentle message so I am passing it on while I have a snippet of secure internet access.
Thank-you readers, from newest to first-to-follow, for marking this milestone with me. This year, I’m commemorating my third year blogiversary by offering the following quotes and links to past posts for you to peruse. Enjoy!
my original hand-scored “Goats in the Garden at Midnight by the Light of the Full Moon”
I am in the world only for the purpose of composing. Franz Schubert
Dad (Al Bruno) ~circa 1945 (?)
Cesar Chavez in Community Garden-photo by Cathy Murphy
This coming Saturday morning, I leave for my third and quite possibly, last, scheduled trip to Colorado to visit with Dad (note-operative word here is scheduled). With it comes the usual deliberation on what to pack; most of which is rote routine. But those few variable items that require more thought on just how to pack along for the trip are often troublesome.
As a musician, it’s always about the music.
Yes, I have my NOTION software available to me on my laptop if the muse tickles my fancy, or I feel the need to work on compositional works-in-progress. Heck, I’m so old-school I consider it a badge of honor to whip out my staff paper notebook and jot down ideas using archaic graphite dots.
But that’s not what I’m meaning. And I’m not talking about iPod, streaming or even radio station music, either.
I’m talking about how does one pack that part of your essential being that doesn’t fit into a suitcase, in the overhead bin on an airplane, or be safely transported as general baggage without risk or costing a fortune? This common question faces all instrumentalists, yet there is no one-size-fits-all answer to it.
Coping with life – the good, the bad and the ugly (to borrow a phrase from a fav Spaghetti Western) – has always been reflected in my music. Prayers, supplications, questions, acceptance; hurts, healings and happy dances; all the dialogue, working through, pouring out – done with my instrument.
Rental ‘beater guitar’ placed across scrap quilt I made for Ma & Dad ~ 1983
***
One of my fav renditions of this piece follows and indeed, inspired several of my students at the time to ask me to teach them the UKE…thus forcing me to pursue a certain level of mastery over this little gem of an instrument –
I love it when I find meat newly reduced in the ‘Manager’s Special’ bin, especially when the ‘sell by’ date is that very day.
This weekend at Bi-Lo, there was a 1.7 lb pack of Boneless Country Style Ribs on sale with an added $2.00 off sticker attached that called out to me: cook me, I’m yours!
So I did.
The funny thing is, each time I pick up Boneless Country Style Ribs (which isn’t all that often) I have to remind myself how to cook ‘em. They’re boneless, so do I still do the slow & low technique on them? (Yes) And what kind of ribs are Country Ribs anyway, they don’t look like ribs? (They aren’t)
Even more interesting is to discover they are cut from the Pork Butt. Okay, but (!) Pork Butt is really Pork Shoulder…why the identity confusion over a piece of meat? Who knows the answer to that one. Continue reading
I often send greetings via snail mail to loved ones
“Remember that all music, in general, is a succession of rainbows.” Pablo Casals
Ma & Dad: I hope your day is filled with color and harmony. Love, Laura
© 2026 Laura Bruno Lilly
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