Musgo

For many years, my mother-in-law served musgo once a week for dinner. In case you’re wondering, musgo is the lone piece of pizza left over from Saturday night, the chicken leg that remains from Sunday’s family dinner, the left-over mashed potatoes (also from Sunday), the vestiges of Wednesday’s homemade lasagna, the one-day-away-from-expiration slaw, etc. Musgo consisted of the contents of the fridge she could not bear to throw away but were quickly approaching botulism.

Today, I began a musgo expedition of my own. For months, I’ve looked at the CD racks in my study and agonized over their future. You see, music is sacred to me. I have music of every genre and generation: Broadway musicals, classical, rock, and country, Christmas CDs, and even spooky Halloween tunes. I find it ironic that I have 700+ CDs but no CD player in my home or vehicle.

And so, this was the day I spent hours (read all day long) looking at each CD and remembering the songs that were the soundtrack of my life. It felt sacrilegious to get rid of my extensive Greg Allman collection. It was sad to part with my Phantom of the Opera and Wicked CDs. Even though I know the songs by heart, those musicals are two I shared with my daughter at The Fabulous Fox. There were pirated CDs my kids made me for Mother’s Day, birthdays, and “just because.” Seeing their handwriting on the discs was a walk down memory lane.

I saved a few. For instance, the “All You Need is Love” CD I bought when my first grandchild was born; it’s a compilation of Beatles songs performed by children. He loved that CD …not so much now that he’s 15! I saved songs that were played at cherished friends’ funerals. The Susan Tedeschi CD that featured “Angel from Montgomery” and “Midnight in Harlem,” songs that stop me in my tracks every dang time, was spared. The Michael Jackson collection my son downloaded for me was another keeper, not because it was MJ, but because my son took the time to make them. Years ago, a patient gave me a CD of the book, “The Power of the Crone.” I remember being overwhelmed by the pearls of wisdom shared. I donated the CDs, but I have the book to remind me of Nan, and my power as a crone. There were even a few CDs of presentations I made at conferences; there may come a time when someone wants to hear my voice.

Without a doubt, my most prized CD is a compilation of Christmas songs chosen especially for me by an unforgettable patient. The CD is entitled, “Denise Christmas CD,” and is accompanied by a hand-written list of the songs. When she gave me the CD, she explained why she chose each song and why the song reminded her of me. The CD is an eclectic collection of memorable and unique melodies – just like Darla, the self-proclaimed “Colorectal Queen!” Every Christmas, I send her son a text to let him know I am thinking of him, and his sweet momma. A Spotify playlist shall be created in her honor.

Although the CDs succumbed to musgo (and a trip to Goodwill), the memories live on.