trish hermanson - Home

My 96-Year-Old Personal Trainer S-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-s Me

1/16/2020

Meet Morrie, my “personal trainer,” who just turned ninety-six and stretches me in all sorts of ways.
     I got to know Morrie when I saw him stretch his leg over a handrail at the gym and realized he’s more flexible than I am. When I complimented him, he showed me his routine and laughed. “Keep at it, and in a few decades you’ll be like me.”
     That was encouraging because I sometimes feel that I’ve already lived beyond my expiration date. But at the rec center I watch Morrie move from machine to machine, waving a hello to all the folks as he smiles and hums Tommy Dorsey tunes. His sunny attitude challenges me that whether I have a short game or a long game left to play in life, it's best to embrace every day with a smile on my face and a song in my heart.
     Because every day is a gift.

Just Following Directions

1/9/2020

Duane and I didn’t want to be accused of not following directions at the elementary school our granddaughter attends, so when we saw this banner announcing what to do, we complied.
     Signs all around make me chuckle. Like this placard: “In case of fire, please leave the building before posting it on social media.” Really?
     Printing errors make me laugh, too. Like this graduation bulletin: instead of saying “Music Provided By…,” it said, “Mucus Provided By….” Is it a ceremony for snotty noses?
     A music store offers these bumper stickers:
     “B (sharp) Never B (flat) Always B(natural)”
     “I’m a Musician. What’s Your Excuse?”
     “Drummers are Good Roll Models”
     "Get off My Bach"
     “Lord of the Strings”
      “Drummers Use Their Heads”
     Finally, this cut me up: the business name on a truck for a tree pruning company - “Limbotomy.”
     I hope your interactions with the world provide a touch of humor. We all need it.

Playing in the Worst of Times

1/2/2020

I choked up when I heard this cellist playing a piece written by a prisoner in a Nazi stalag. Instead of succumbing to despair when he was tossed into this camp, French soldier Olivier Messiaen turned to what he knew: composing music. With the stub of a pencil and a bit of paper from a sympathetic guard, he wrote what became one of the Twentieth Century’s masterpieces, “Quartet for the End of Time” - after all, he feared his time was up.
     Then three other imprisoned musicians joined Messiaen with a ramshackle violin, cello, clarinet, and piano to premier his score outdoors in freezing rain before four hundred inmates and guards. “Never was I listened to with such rapt attention…,” he recalled. Shortly after, the musicians gained release when the same guard forged papers with a stamp made from a potato.
     How could Messiaen lift himself above the hopelessness of a Nazi camp? I began to understand when I heard Colorado Symphony cellist Judith Galecki perform one section of Messiaen’s composition. Her hushed bow strings played “Praise to the Eternity of Jesus,” Messiaen’s declaration that we can rise above anything trying to lock us up because God is timeless and transcends everything.
     My circumstances never sink as low as Messiaen’s, yet when they are tough, I don’t always live above them. Could I rise above my problems if I developed a perspective of the bigness of God?
     I think so.

Revelations from Our Family Meetings

12/29/2019

The death of our pet mouse Critter ranked as one of the worst events of the year, I learned at an annual family meeting. And getting flannel sheets was one of the best events.
     I’d never have known these without our annual family gathering, a practice we’ve followed for more than a quarter century to kick off the New Year. My husband Duane brought home this idea, and these meetings became a safe place to reveal our deepest feelings because everyone had a voice. We even moved after our discussion one year because four of us said that’s what we wanted.
     Our girls have flown from the nest and are raising their own families now, but Duane and I still brew tea and sit down together for this conversation. We look back - sometimes in grief and sometimes in gratitude - and we look forward with prayerful expectation. This is what we each consider prior to sharing:
1. Surprises in 2019 were:
2. The best things that happened to me and our family this past year were:
3. Some of the hard things in 2019 were:
4. This past year I learned or grew in:
5. This year I hope to grow in the following areas: Physically, Spiritually, Relationships, Education
6. For vacation I’d like our family to:
7. I’d like our family to spend money on:
     It’s amazing as I look through notes from past years. Some of our toughest situations simply evaporated. Some had to be worked through. And some dreams did come true.
  I wish you the best as you ponder your past and plan for your future. The best to you this New Year.

Why Go Caroling with Prostitutes?

12/19/2019

When my friend Mandie went Christmas caroling on the seamy side of town, a group of prostitutes joined in. “They knew their carols well,” she told me.
     I wonder if Jesus went caroling today, would he head for the prostitutes and other low-lifes? I think so. In his day, he shunned people who were satisfied with themselves and their accomplishments. Instead, he hung out with those who hungered for something more than what their lives measured up to.
     I’m not satisfied with life on this planet nor my part in it either. It’s all a mix of good and bad, justice and injustice, beauty and ugly. Even at its best, it doesn’t fill the longing inside me. Author C.S. Lewis explained, “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”
     Yet here we are, often simply whistling our tunes on the small stages of our lives. But there’s a larger song that's resonating, a cosmic one. And Jesus comes recruiting, asking if we want to join his chorus. All we need to do is grab onto his coattails before he passes by. Then we'll experience the “comfort and joy” the old Christmas carol speaks of.

My friend Mandie Gallagher
is president of the board
of Mean Street Ministry.