Shining Star

You’re a shining star
No matter who you are
Shining bright to see
What you could truly be
What you could truly be

I just watched the 2026 Earth, Wind & Fire documentary titled Earth, Wind & Fire (To Be Celestial vs. That’s the Weight of the World), which was directed and produced by Academy Award and Grammy winner Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson. And yes, I do have my Questlove story and a picture of the two of us (which will not be posted here as it is a non-Kandi photo). This is from the 2018 Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Induction ceremonies:

“I was asked back again in 2018, this time as the escort for The Roots!  In various formations, they performed the tributes to Sister Rosetta Tharpe and to Nina Simone.  We had 5 Roots, along with their leader, Questlove, who was handled by someone else.  I was able to watch the rehearsals for these tributes, which were unbelievable and fascinating, featuring a who’s who of female R&B singers. I saw things that no one else but those in the room could see. For some reason Paul Shaffer’s trombone player kept thanking us for being there. Damn, I had so much fun. Questlove was a big teddy bear of a guy, could not have been nicer.  I bought him lunch on rehearsal day and took a picture with him as my payment, so to speak.  The photo is framed and hanging in my office.” I later had a lengthy discussion with him on show day about the nomination process (he is on the nominating committee).

The documentary was wonderful. I learned quite a bit about Maurice White and how this iconic band formed and the entirety of their careers. As said here many times, I adore 70’s soul and R&B. Not so much for the nostalgia, but sadly for the fact that music of this genre really doesn’t exist anymore, much like good pop rock and roll doesn’t anymore either. I really did not get turned onto this band until I was in college, one of my roommates was a fan. As stupid as this sounds, I did not realize white people could like the music of black people, at least openly until then. Hey, it was the 70’s and while I lived in a lily-white community, I went to high school with a good mix of many races. While I have my issues with the institution of the Catholic church, I am thankful for my Catholic school education (16 years of it). It brought me a wider array of experiences than I would have had in my public school (which all of my sisters attended). Yeah, ironically, I went to an all-boys school, go figure! And my two principal means of generating revenue now are with two such high school friends, lifelong, two of many such lifelong friends.

Carrie and Sherry, my Shining Stars! To reset the scene for anyone new to the blog (PLEASE I need new readers!). I met Carrie in my volunteer work for the North Coast Men’s Chorus. We are forever connected by our mutual alma mater, but she graduated in a year that begins with a 2 and I graduated in another millennium… But I adore her nonetheless! Sherry is known in these circles as The Enigma, a shadowy figure who only pops her head up on occasion and is my best girlfriend, when she will venture off her grand estate and allow me to be seen with her (teasing is my love language). July 8, 2026, one day after I officially became eligible for Medicare and one day closer to my ultimate demise. And four days before our first family vacation since 2009! And I am not shitting about that.

As an aside, I was recently chided by a dear friend of Kandi’s Land and frequent commentor to shut up about being old. And while I know I am not the oldest gal here, I am not a kid anymore. I talk about my aging for many reasons. One, it is my life, I cannot do many things I used to be able to do. My hands are growing increasing worthless. As I moved from youth to whatever this is, my hands were always my best feature, I could catch anything. Now I struggle to button a blouse or clasp my necklace. Today, my legs are my strength without question, but losing the hands drives me batshit. I blow people’s minds at my quickness on the pickleball court. But as I tell many, I am 35 years old from the waist down, 95 from the waist up. My memory blows. What is your name again? This is a blog, in part, about me.

I write here about what I am dealing with in the moment, at that time, in that circumstance. Also, I live my reality. But also, as you can see below, I try to stay youthful in thought and dress. Knowing the end is near, but probably not right around the corner, allows me to take in every moment, every relationship, to speak of my feelings like I never have. Mortality is closer than ever and accepting that has opened my heart in ways that never happened before. I tell people I love that I love them. That never happened before, especially to friends. Let me reiterate, NEVER. So, am I being somewhat dramatic? Sure. But am I wrong, NFW. This is life, it begins (love our grandson), and it ends (me, whenever). I am not trying to be fatalistic, just real. Now, back to our story…

Well, it’s not really much of a story. I really took my time getting dressed, smiled throughout. I even wore nails, which I rarely do (for the reasons detailed above regarding my hands, not wearing them which feels so natural, but putting them on is challenging for me). Carrie is a ray of sunshine. Sherry is a treasure. I am fortunate for their friendship. All I can say is there is a power to being able to publicly walk around looking like this, as this lady will tell you…

Not bad for someone who, under that dress, is riddled with poison ivy.

Another look back, to 2018, the year of the tale that opens this post. I look a little better and you probably can tell, I have a thing for wedding dresses!

When you wish upon a star
Your dream will take you very far, yeah
But when you wish upon a dream
Life ain’t always what it seems, oh yeah