auntblabby wrote:
listening to music, lately I've teared up listening to the prelude to act III of lohengrin.

This, and all kinds of other stuff too. s**t, that's just part of being an old fart. You think of your parents, your grandparents, friends that have died, you wonder how you got through some stuff.
I remember watching the film
Oh Brother Where Art Thou recently and when they showed a burning cross, played some bluegrass music, showed people getting baptized at the river, etc. I just cried like a big ole baby. Now I'm too young to have experienced the great depression myself, being in my fifties (would rather not be more specific, thanks), but that kind of stuff just resonates real deep in my family. People would tell me how wonderful the movie was and how fascinating it was to them to look at an artistic depiction of those times. I got all of that but I still thought to myself "well, you wouldn't be so excited about it all if your dad was stabbed just for a can of beans back then, or your uncle told you what it was like to wake up in the middle of the night and find a group of clan members burning a cross on his front porch".
Sometimes I just take a look around and think how I can't believe that I got where I am today, when I lived in a tar paper shack, used to go and pick cotton so we could eat... IMHO God's pretty good if he made something out of a guy like me. Can't believe I even got diagnosed and got myself through college at a young age, when before that I had no idea if a woman would ever love me, if I'd ever be able to support myself, if I'd ever do something other than picking cotton, digging ditches, canning beans. Other people have it so much worse now, way worse, and I feel accomplished, even elated. I think "well this is my life" and that alone tears me up.
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There is no wealth like knowledge, no poverty like ignorance.
Nahj ul-Balāgha by Ali bin Abu-Talib