by Marsha Ward
The last week of June, our small church congregation puts on an old timey melodrama for the surrounding communities. It's a lot of fun, and I've enjoyed my participation onstage in the past.
This year, I was content to take part in the background: distributing free tickets for the four performances, and playing the piano for "The Old Cookie Shop, or Nellie Was Baker 'Cause She Kneaded the Dough". Soon I'm sure I won't be able to play "Sweet Annie O'Grady" in my sleep, or wake up hearing a barbershop arrangement of "Coney Island Baby" playing in my brain. I'll simply revert to Marsha Ward, the community hermit and writer.
And I'll be turning off my computer a lot more than in other seasons. How is it that I forgot our summer lightning storms that seem to blow up without warning? To preserve my data and prevent a catastrophic computer wipeout, I'll be closing down all my programs early each afternoon instead of leaving my baby running for weeks at a time. I'll have to write down on a pad what I was working on, or my ADD will keep me from remembering what tasks I need to complete. Oh well. That's just one of the complications of summertime in the mountains.