Category: Uncategorized

157 days ago 273 girls were kidnapped

Posted on by lauraanneayres

How easily we can forget.

The girls have not been returned, but we have returned to our normal lives. Their families march in protest every day.

There are things we can do. Show support by “like”ing this: https://www.facebook.com/bringbackourgirls

Continue to tweet, blog, and write about the inhumane treatment of these girls.

As the focus is turned to ISIS (as it certainly should be), let us not forget these girls are still missing thanks to Boko Haram. ISIS and Boko Haram are equal threats to this world.

Perhaps the most important thing we can do is remember. The act of remembrance is not enough, but it will, at the very least, be a clear sign to the parents of these girls that we stand with them. That we have not forgotten and that we demand Boko Haram #bringourgirlsback

David R. Davidson – five years later

Posted on by lauraanneayres

Durd margarita laughter

Durd. One of my favorite people in the world. Musical father, spiritual shepherd, ‘rita King. Miss you as much today as I did five years ago.

I remember it all. I remember laughter and tears, inspiration and frustration, margaritas and Bellinis, Handel and Eva Cassidy, Santa Fe and Prague, snobbery and humility, hugs and belly laughs, Stephen Paulus and Craig Barnes, cross-on-a-stick and Jeff playing “Hey Mickey” during Communion while David tried to hold it together. I remember when he had something profound to say, he’d lean back, cross his arms, and smile. I remember Taize services, Mi Cocina dinners, Thanksgiving afternoons, email forwards, spins in Silver Sassy, and patent leather shoes with bows (not mine, by the way).

David took me to my first opera. At the Met – Rigoletto.

I still remember my audition for DSC.

“I’m sorry, you’re studying what?”

“Pre-law.”

Pause.

“Why?”

One of my favorite moments was during a rehearsal when he was totally frustrated. Instead of screaming, which he could easily have done, he said, “Here’s the thing. You have to look at me. If you don’t look at me, our eyes can’t connect, our souls don’t meet, and we can’t make music together. So, look up.” Brilliant advice for directors and people who aren’t connecting with each other, dontcha think?

There were so many talks, so much advice, and so much love.

My admission to the Manhattan School of Music and Pat’s studio came to David’s fax at HPPC. He was proud. “We did it.”

He was not proud when I admitted that I was dating Herr Hair. “What are you doing?”

Music was a small part of what I love about him. Father, grandfather, brother, son, friend, and husband…he cared so very much about the Davidson crew and his various “families.” Midnight visits to those in need of his pastoral (that’s what it was) care. Support in any way he could when someone needed him. An unparalleled blend of conductor, minister, and humble servant.

And a wicked, wicked sense of humor mixed with fantastic timing.

Many, many people in this world were made better people because of him. What a legacy. How lucky we all are to be able to say, “I remember that smile.”

Listen to “Nimrod” from Elgar’s Enigma Variations and raise a margarita today.

Durd at St. Stephansdom, Wien

The Pilgrim and the Politician

Posted on by lauraanneayres

A man begins a pilgrimage to Rome in Canterbury, England, and eventually arrives at the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard. As he walks, he carries 88 years of joy, sorrow, and a rather large backpack on his back.

Traveling from Bern to the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard is another man, who is also on a journey. As he makes his way, he carries the arrival of a new baby and the weight of his country’s future on his back.

Pilgrims walk for different reasons. Our pilgrim walked, but he did not know why. He only knew he was called to walk and was uninterested in “why.” Politicians attend events for a myriad of reasons. Our politician attended an event in late June because he knew he should be there. He didn’t pay much attention to “why.” Both men were answering a call.

Nationality separated them. Language separated them. Normal, everyday differences separated them.

Why did Brian walk? Why did Christophe attend that concert?

Perhaps one of the many reasons Brian walked and Christophe attended that concert could be this blog post and the mere fact that you are reading it.

It’s 2014 and we can be jaded and cynical. Most of us see politicians as untouchable and most of us do not pay any attention to pilgrims. A politician would never waste his time talking to a pilgrim and they certainly would not be at the same event because politicians go to fancy places and pilgrims do not.

Wrong.

There are still places in this world that transcend language, nationality, age, religious beliefs, socio-economic differences. There are still places that bring people together for a common purpose, known or yet unknown. There are still places where two men from completely different walks of life can be brought together to share things – ideas, music, Raclette. There are places where the sting of cynicism is made weak.

We have to treasure these places and nourish them. We must feed them with our time, with our resources, and with our very best intentions. We have to look at these places as true sanctuaries because that is what they are.

They are places where the shoes on your feet do not matter. They are places where the color of your hair, your skin, your coat…none of it matters. They are places where a pilgrim and a politician are both seen as exactly what they are:  God’s children – truly equal and worthy of unconditional love and acceptance.

We must give our best to these places and the people walking into them. Both are deserving of our adoration.

I could say many things about the pilgrim and the politician. They are two of the finest men I have met in a very long time. It is not the point. The point is much simpler than that.

There is a place on the border between Switzerland and Italy where a pilgrim and a politician sat together and shared an important life moment.

That place is the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard.

You should go there and give it your best. If you cannot go there, you can still give it your best.

Donate 5 dollars, 10 Euro, 20 CHF, or 100,000£. What is your best? Give that.

Hospice du Gd-St-Bernard – 1946 Bourg-St-Pierre – Suisse
Union de Banque Suisse – 1920 Martigny
IBAN        CH50 0026 4264 6946 8001 X
BIC          UBSWCHZH80A

If we don’t give these places our best, how can this happen?

The Pilgrim and the Politician
The Pilgrim and the Politician

 

 

August 28, 2013 until today

Posted on by lauraanneayres

One year ago today, an ambulance came and took me and my broken back & neck to a little Swiss hospital down the road.
A very good thing came from that…”I Want to Win.” It’s a song Jackson and I wrote to try to help people be strong.
About six months ago, I put together a little video to inspire myself. I’m sharing it today. If it brings anyone strength to continue fighting, that’s what I want. You are welcome to pass this link along and tell people not to pay too much attention to my pictures (they were just for me to remember, “you were strong, girl…get it together”).
http://youtu.be/-QADpZWd8ZI

As much truth as I can speak: “The kind of foreigner we want”

Posted on by lauraanneayres

On August 1st, Swiss Independence day, I was privileged and honored to stand in front of a crowd gathered in the Valais at the foot of the Petit Mont Mort. I sang “Amazing Grace” and the words echoed in the shiny brown rocks that, just 16 months earlier, propelled my feet to the top of that mountain as it glistened with snow.

After a speech by the Mayor, I took the microphone again. I’d requested to sing the Swiss National anthem just as I’d done for 4 years in a row in my German-speaking home base of Luzern. José (God, bless him because I truly love this precious man) encouraged me to sing the first verse in my go-to German, even though the Valais is in the French-speaking part of Switzerland. I began singing the song I truly love for the people I truly love: the Swiss.

Trittst in Morgenrot daher – seh’ ich dich im Strahlenmeer... Schweizerpsalm

As the “Texas friend of the Hospice” sang their country’s anthem, I knew what at least a handful were thinking.

“She’s the kind of foreigner we want.”

Oddly enough, I am more old school “Swiss” than most of my Swiss friends. I believe in mandatory dialect language in the first 3 grades of primary school (I also believe in optional evening classes in dialect language once a week for parents). I believe in strict rules – clean up after yourself & others, don’t be too loud anywhere, continuing the tradition of mandatory military service, explore pragmatic options before resorting to extreme ones, go along/get along, greet people with “Bonjour”/”Grüezi”/etc., keep shops closed on Sunday, treat the elderly with respect, fresh air cures almost anything, let men fix the fondue. I want foreigners to reach B-level communication of their canton’s language in order to apply for a work/residency permit to make their lives here better/easier. I think people who flush their toilets after 10PM should get a ticket.

Oh! and I believe everyone should have the Swiss National anthem memorized. It’s too beautiful not to hold in your heart.

I’m still not the kind of foreigner they want.

As these beautiful faces from the Valais looked up at me and held me as an example, I was saddened and my voice cracked with emotion. I recorded it and I won’t play it. Not ever. It is the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. This country I love, admire, respect, nurture, protect, treasure, and adore…these beautiful men and women here and all over this country…

I am the foreigner they don’t want.

Even me.

Especially me.

The end of the first verse is so beautiful and I was touched when they unexpectedly joined in on this part…

When the Alps glow brightly, pray, free Swiss, in the name of your pious ancestors’ souls, pray to the God that dwells in our noble country.

After my time in the Valais, Sunday found me back at my beloved church in Luzern and the sermon was peculiar to a lot of them.

It wasn’t to me. I knew what he was saying.

“The disciples were afraid of her. She was foreign. She wore clothes they did not recognize. She spoke a language they did not know. She seemed desperate. They told Jesus not to pay attention to her. Jesus did not listen. He tested her faith, he saw she was a believer, he healed her daughter. It is our duty to have faith in humanity and to do so without judgment. It is human nature to be afraid of that which is foreign and we must fight this nature because it is inhumane.”

There is a joke in Texas that anyone not born in Texas is “foreign.” It’s a bit tongue-in-cheek because it’s meant to be funny, but also a bit ostracizing.

I’ll never joke about it again. It’s horrible to be labeled “foreign” by people you just wish would love you.

August 1, 2008August 1, 2008 – my first time celebrating Swiss Independence day

1st of August in 2009August 1, 2009 – Interlaken

August 1, 2010August 1, 2010 – Luzern

August 1, 2011August 1, 2011 – Luzern

August 1, 2012August 1, 2012 – Uitikon Waldegg

August 1, 2013August 1, 2013 – Uitikon Waldegg

August 1, 2014August 1, 2014 – The Hospice of Grand St. Bernard

One last song to Joan

Posted on by lauraanneayres

Grammy always, ALWAYS, brought me out like a Kentucky Derby horse. “Lulabelle, Grammy wants you to go sing your song now.” When I was 6, I think it was probably cute. I remember being a teenager and thinking everyone probably hated the moment during the Christmas Party at Courtshire when Grammy would announce, “Laura is going to sing now.”

It’s odd to realize it…I have been singing to the Bowers my entire life. One of my favorite Bowers (by the way, every Bower is one of my favorite Bowers) is definitely Joan. Every Bower has a killer smile, but Joan has a killer smile, fantastic hugs, and so much light. She lights up the entire room.

I am on a mountaintop at a Swiss landmark just feet away from the Italian border. Email, phone, Skype are all impossible because the connection is horrible. Somewhere in Dallas, the Bowers are losing our Joan. I can’t be there and I don’t even know how she is doing from hour to hour, I can only pray.

It’s hard for me to imagine because I’ve whispered the names – Joan, Kacky & Diane & Cheryl, Paulette, Momma & Candy & Carol – in admiration for my entire life. These beautiful, smart, strong women that I am lucky enough to call family and one of them will no longer be with us? I cannot imagine it.

Joan and Charles are two of my biggest fans in my regular life and in my singing life. There was only one request: Ave Maria and Amazing Grace. That’s it. I went into the Crypt of the Hospice, took out my iPhone, hit record, and sang to Joan. I do not know if she will ever hear it because I don’t know if she is still with us. But, I did it.

Even as I wrote this post, I tried to send them to Brother (who took Joan communion yesterday), knowing the signal was too weak to send a file of that size. But, miraculously both songs went through.

Joan, after years of hugs, love, support, and encouragement…I can only say that I love you and admit I cannot imagine this world without your gorgeous face lighting it up. I truly cannot imagine our Bower family without your laughter. But, now, after bringing such joy to so many, it is your time to rest.

God will have to wait to hug you because there are a lot of Bowers eagerly awaiting your arrival.

Rest well, sweet Joan. Rest well.

Meeting Jean-Marie Lovey in his “home”

Posted on by lauraanneayres

It was 2013 and I was a newbie at the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard. It was a difficult hike up the mountain and my body was suffering the next day.

I very vividly remember the next day, sneaking into the Crypt for some silence and seeing a Canon sitting in a nook playing a bit of music. He glanced in my direction, smiled warmly, and said something in French (probably the same thing I now say if I want to sing something while others around around…“Does my music disturb you?”). I didn’t know what he was saying, I just smiled. He continued.

His music was lovely.

He is lovely. And, fittingly, he is Jean-Marie Love(l)y. Monsignor Lovey was the Provost of the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard. He is not quite a big as the beloved St. Bernard dogs, but he is every bit as friendly, warm, and loving.

On the 8th of July, Monsignor Lovey was announced as the next Bishop of Sion.

I think his own words about the Hospice, written for the brochure for the Hospice’s massive renovation campaign (and translated into English by me), say more about him than I would be able to:

 

Welcome to the place between Heaven and Earth

 

The birth of the Hospice in the 11th century was thanks to the work of Bernard of Menthon, the Archdeacon of Aosta. The Augustine Canons were charged with the task of protecting travelers, and the Hospice became a haven.

 

Bernard knew the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard at this high summit could reach people in the depths of their hearts. Since it began, our guests not only receive food, drink, a place to sleep, a roof over their heads; but also, prayer. Bernard’s work is still relevant today; time has not changed our purpose. We take those in need into our home on the mountaintop and shower them with the blessings of God to prepare them for their continuing journey.

 

For centuries, the Canons have worked to accommodate the daily needs of the Hospice. They have restored, rebuilt, expanded, and maintained. The Hospice is open year-round now, providing this house between Heaven and Earth as a steadfast reflection of its bold founder. The Congregation of Grand St. Bernard exercises its mission through extraordinary grace. This is God’s house. This is your house.

 

And you are always welcome.

 

Monseigneur Jean-Marie Lovey,

 

Canon and Provost of the Congregation of Grand St. Bernard

 

May God continue to bless Jean-Marie in his service as the Bishop of Sion.

And may God bless our beloved Hospice of Grand St. Bernard, José, Raphi, Jean-Michel, Anne-Marie, Frédéric, Anne-Laure, and all who walk through the door in service.

 

Jean-Marie Lovey

Lost in translation? I don’t think so.

Posted on by lauraanneayres

I remember the day very clearly (it’s in my book). About four years ago, I was standing in front of someone and trying desperately to communicate in German – my 6th language.

“Ich weiss mein Deutsch ist nicht so gut,” I said.

“Ja und nicht gut genug.”

I know my German is not so good….to which he responded, “yes and not good enough.”

I refrained from saying, “Oh really? How’s your English? Tell me your thoughts on the Oxford comma? Passé?”

Today, I was dealing with a Swisscom employee. I am already a day behind because of Swisscom and also 400CHF poorer. This to say nothing of the pounding headache I have had since purchasing their product that would make my life “einfacher.” #itdidnt

Go on a little “with me” trip, as I call it. Especially those of you who get frustrated by non-native English speakers.

Picture yourself as a technical idiot trying to explain, in your sixth language, something said to you the night before on the Swisscom hotline by an actual technical expert. Imagine while this is happening, you are watching the minutes slowly tick toward the departure of your train.

Then, imagine the manager telling you in Swiss dialect “kein Englisch nur Tüütsch” (no English, only German), even though English is one of the working languages for Swisscom. Next, imagine missing both trains and still there is no solution from the people who sold you the mountain & the gold for 400CHF. You there? Great.

Now, add on to it that you, like everyone else in the world, have your own issues to deal with.

Really. Imagine all that.

It’s more than a headache. It’s the problem, in a global sense, with customer service and general apathy toward others – in particular, those who are foreign to us in some way.

Again, I’m not Mother Teresa (read the post entitled “I’m not Mother Teresa,” you’ll see), but when I see someone is struggling, for any reason, I go where they are. I can attempt other languages (including Latin and sign language) if I have to. Why? Because it’s not about me. It’s about the other person needing the help I can give.

I really don’t care if we are talking about a 5G connection cockpit username upgrade or directions to the bathroom or even spiritual discernment. Egal (I know that one…it means, “it’s all the same” like “equal” but super-sized). I am going to try my damnedest to be there and to help.

If I were in Texas and someone walked up to me (as a customer or a mere human) in need of my help and said, “passt Deutsch?” I would never say, “huh uh.” See, that’s the Texas (dialect) version of English (official language). Why would I do that? I have no need to make another person feel small, stupid, or subordinate. I would say “natürlich passt das, wie kann ich helfen?”

One of my favorite quotes, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” We should all make sure we commit that one to memory.

In every language.

“You have such great control, Laura.” Irony, thy name is Friday Pilates.

Posted on by lauraanneayres

I should preface this post by pointing out, today I have Oprah-cried in a train, in a tram, on the street, on a Pilates+ machine, and leaning against what turned out to be a dumpster.

Today, in my Pilates session, it was hard. Days are challenging and they feel heavy. There is physical pain as my back muscles are attempting to strengthen and there is emotional/mental/spiritual pain for reasons I need not unpack in a public forum. Getting back to Pilates, crying isn’t great when you need to focus on the Spider pose. When the 80th tear/snot combo fell, my fantastic cheerleader said, in an attempt to encourage me, I’m sure…

“You have such great control, Laura.”

Isn’t it ironic because the illusion of control is what got me into all these messes in the first place.

I think I’d prefer to be in control a little less. Someone told me to visualize what I wanted the other day. After, I asked him, “what do most people visualize?” “Lots of things – a person they love, an object, a vacation spot, a family reunion. Why, what did you visualize?” “Uh, a palm tree.”

Truth was, I visualized someone coming to me with a pillow, asking for all my problems, and telling me he’d take all my problems with him. I said something similar to J today on the phone. Wouldn’t it be nice to completely let go of the illusion of control? To have someone come to you and say, “I’m going to take all this away from you, I think you’ve had enough for now.”

I always like to end something a bit sad with something a bit silly. See picture below for a laugh.

As always, please donate to the Hospice of Grand St. Bernard and now you can “like” it on Facebook.

Bearly

 

 

 

 

Remembering a great lady – Bibiana Marie Longauer

Posted on by lauraanneayres

I don’t believe anyone should be forgotten.

In this age of google searching, blog posting, tattoo-brandishing, and even hash tag creating…it pains my heart to think someone I admire would be forgotten because she is not alive to warrant a hash tag.

In Luzern lived a lady, Bibiana Longauer.

She was an amazing lady – one of those people changing the corner she lived in.

Or so I hear.

I never met her. She was quite ill by the time her name was first said in my presence. Since that time, years ago, there is a small part of me that feels I know the woman whose pig collection now lives in my flat. I aspire to be like her and to make a real and lasting difference in the lives of others.

Let me break down this woman’s timeline (as well as I can). She was born in 1946 somewhere near or in Bratislava on June 7th. I like to know on which day of the week someone was born and little BML was born on a Friday. She died on July 21, 2010. That was a Wednesday.

She carried with her a doctorate in pharmacology. In 1970 or so, she and her then husband carried their little one to Luzern. She dedicated her life to empowering women, helping the helpless, and making her community better and stronger. Literally. She used her life to make other people healthier and stronger: (what was) revolutionary methadone treatment, political involvement on behalf of struggling mothers and young women, encouragement of homeopathy in a meat & potato culture, and preaching fitness. The woman introduced Stevia to try to cut back on Aspartame use, she opened the door before opening hours and kept it open after closing time, “not an option” was better said “let’s try something else.”

The woman was a light bringer.

As I noted, she loved pigs, modern art alongside furniture draped in classic, rich fabrics. People say she was generous, but kept both eyes and an extra third one on finances. Her friendship rainbow embraced a multitude of socio-economic and educational backgrounds. Was her service a job or a ministry? No one feels quite certain, but most think it was 30%-70% in favor of her faith. They say she loved music, sunshine, fresh flowers. I could go on and on about what she did well because I collect the stories like pieces of a patchwork quilt. She wasn’t perfect, no one is. But her life makes a lovely quilt.

By a strange circumstance, during one of her last days of work at the Pharmacy, Dr. Longauer helped one of my American friends who was living in Luzern at the time. We found the receipt and he told me the story in December of 2011. I love stories about BML and I wish I knew more.

Every week, I go to her grave. I usually sing the Bruder Klaus prayer or one verse of Ave Maria, I light a candle in the memory box, and I place a fresh flower…music, light, flower. Three of her favorite things.

None should be forgotten. Just because time moves on, we should remember everyone. AND it’s important to tell the loved ones. “I remember her.” It makes a person feel better when others remember his lost loved one. He feels less alone in his loss.

Remember someone today and write to his or her family or to your friends on Facebook or create a hashtag. I don’t care. Just remember.

Especially the good ones like #BML of Bratislava and Luzern.