Memories « maternalmedia

Of life, lyrics, and legacy

November 13, 2016

I am not embarrassed to admit, although I probably should be, that the first time I heard Leonard Cohen’s song Hallelujah was while watching the movie Shrek. That film was released in April 2001, before my children were even born. Yet I remember it was one of my boys’ (now 12 and 14) all-time favorites growing up.

I must not have been the only one who heard those lyrics for the first time care of DreamWorks entertainment because over the next decade, you couldn’t make it through a single season of any of the reality talent shows without hearing young vocal hopefuls belting it out on stage after stage.

Not a single version held a candle to the rendition I heard on Shrek. I don’t know if it was because the male singer had a haunting yet beautiful melody that I didn’t expect to hear in an animated film or simply because his was the first performance of those soulful, yearning lyrics that ever graced my ears.

After learning that Leonard Cohen was the song’s writer, I studied his life and legacy. I was transfixed by the different lyrical interpretations for Halleujah. I added it to my list of Songs that Move Me and I Have No Idea Why so Stop Wondering and Just Enjoy Them Already.

When I learned he passed away on November 7, a familiar thought resurfaced.

Every person should have an understanding of what their life means to others before they leave this earthly world for their next adventure.

So, Mr. Cohen, thank you for giving not only me, but also my son, this classic melody that transcends generations. He learned the words for his third grade talent show and due to his hours upon hours of practicing, so did his little sister. I believe they were 9- and 4-years old, respectively, when I asked if I could record one verse.

https://youtu.be/4dlmRDq7g_8

A few weeks later, I held back tears as I watched my son stand in front of all his grade school classmates and sing this classic without fear or hesitation.

If you’re anything like me, you sometimes wonder when going through the daily motions of life if what you do really makes a difference in the grand scheme of things. How does one know if you are making the most of the years you are given when you are not in control of the quantity of those years, only the quality?

I plan, God willing, to live a long life – struggling to maintain humility and gratitude while living with the knowledge I make mistakes every single day. I also try to make people (myself included) smile every day. To not take life too seriously because we are all in this ride together and one never knows when you’ll be asked to step off the train to allow room for new passengers.

When Leonard Cohen originally penned the words to Hallelujah, he’d have no way of knowing that he would eventually give a mom he’d never meet a memory I will never forget.

Enjoy your week ahead with the other passengers on the train whom you inspire with or without your knowledge.

I’ll leave you with a couple more performances of Hallelujah for your listening pleasure.

Written by Heidi Woodard

In Inspiration, Loss, Memories, Reflection, Support Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen, shrek, talent show

The journey to a fun youth softball season begins with a single sticker

September 29, 2016

“I hope Coach Kim remembers the stickers,” my daughter said as she spilled her thoughts from the back seat of the van on our way to school.

Glancing at her stoic expression from my rear view mirror as she gazed out the side window made me smile. It was not the first time, and I imagined it wouldn’t be the last, that she mentioned those stickers.

https://youtu.be/458QJxZK0lE

I wished her a Happy Monday, kissed her goodbye, and drove away with a full heart knowing we would reunite to talk about our days roughly eight hours later.

Not having much time to catch up on our daily happenings when I returned home from work and she from school, since I am notorious for always running late, we gathered our gloves and bottled water and found ourselves back in the same van with a different destination: the softball field. The same softball field where we’ve gathered every Monday night for over a month now with her softball friends.

Back when I was asked to coach my daughter and her teammates in their newly-formed 10U softball team, I was hesitant to agree. Who was I to be offering up coaching advice after stepping away from the game for so many years to raise my own kids? Who was I to be dealing with opposing coaches, league officials, parents, and other adults who may or may not be involved in the game for the right reasons?

Over the years, I watched my fair share of baseball, basketball, and football from the sidelines. I observed all the time and effort my husband gave (and continues to give) coaching our children in different sports and I wasn’t sure I had it in me to deal with ALL OF IT.

But then I thought…why not me? Why not now? I know I want this to be about the kids before anything else. I know I want to be involved in my daughter’s extra-curricular activities. So I recruited two outstanding assistant coaches and committed to the adventure.

I wrote my own mike-matheny-inspired-letter-to-the-parents and distributed it our first meeting together. Hands down the most important thing to me is open communication with the players and their parents. Second most important thing is motivation.

Which brings me back to those stickers my daughter’s been thinking about.

One of my assistant coaches is a former standout pitcher and current collegiate softball pitching coach. My other assistant coach is a former stud middle infielder and an even studlier grade school teacher now.

In our earliest lessons, they talked to the girls about the importance of snapping through their hips when they’re delivering pitches. Knowing the attention span and interest of their audience, they explained this concept further by saying, “If you place a sticker on your follow-through hip, your catcher should be able to clearly see it after you deliver the ball. If the catcher can’t see your sticker, you didn’t follow through enough.”

I’m positive my own daughter’s commitment to improving her pitching motion grew in direct proportion to the amount of time she patiently ~~obsessed over~~ awaited the arrival of her glorious sticker.

Today, en route to practice, I’m thinking of all the things I could say to the team about technique, endurance, and hard work.

“I just hope it’s not Thomas the Train or anything,” her voice interrupts, breaking my concentration.

“What?” I respond.

“Or any character from that show,” she goes on. “The sticker. I just don’t want to wear Thomas the Train or anything like that.”

Am I grateful to have taken on this opportunity? You bet I am. It will remind me about what’s important in life. Growing, giggling, and getting better at something while having fun.

Written by Heidi Woodard

In Beginning, I love to watch you play, Memories, Opportunity, Parenting, Softball, Sports, Youth Sports givethegameback, maternalmedia, mike matheny letter, stickers

Every family should have a hostage hoop

May 26, 2016

Last Christmas, my husband and I decided to bite the bullet and purchase an in-ground basketball hoop for our three children as well as their neighborhood friends.

Unbeknownst to them, I like to call it my hostage hoop.

I call it that because it is easy for me to see that the years of them all being safe and sound hanging out in our driveway are slipping by at a painful pace. They don’t realize nor do they care that I consider this space, this hoop, their one true play zone where I am still able to watch over and protect them.

I am holding their childhoods hostage as long as I can.

The thump, thump, thump of their dribbling and the swish, clank, clank, CLANK, swish of their shots provide the music – a symphony of sorts – for our family’s summer playlist.

Yes, there are occasional (always) fights…fouls not being called, points not being tallied up correctly, an errant elbow thrown here or there…but mainly it’s an activity, from a shrinking pool of activities they share in common despite their ages, that they gladly do together. And that makes me both happy and sad.

I wonder what it will be like when my husband and I look out at that same driveway and only see the hoop staring back at us? When the sounds of dribbling, laughter, arguments, and celebrations are silenced?

For now, I don’t want to look that far ahead. Rather, I will look back and cherish all of the beautiful memories and blessings that have been bestowed upon us over the years.

We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing. – George Bernard Shaw

The hostage hoop.

Both boys helped in the installation process, not necessarily willingly.

There is little struggle greater in life than a boy trying to shoot a layup against his much taller brother.

Taking full advantage of as many daylight hours as possible.

Little sister defending the crossover.

Back when they didn’t mind showing public affection to one another.

Back when I realized I was no longer looking down at him when we spoke.

Officially taller than dad. 8th grade year.

Keep on dreaming big, kid.

Yes, I know I jumped from basketball to baseball. But how did these little guys grow up so fast? I remember when they only needed their shoes to be tied and a bag of Big League Chew to guarantee a good day at the ballpark.