Remembering "The Duke" and also, M...

My house is a mess. I admit it. I am a horrible Housekeeper. It falls very LOW on my list of priorities. Sure, I can manage the Basics--weekly vacuuming, scrubbing toilets, cleaning sinks and countertops, washing dishes, etc. It's the "other stuff" that is problematic.

Just a week ago, I was home alone (kids were at their dad's house for the weekend) and realized my ceiling fans and air vents were coated with dust in a very bad way. I also noticed that there were not one, not two, not five, but 14 burnt out light bulbs in my house. What is it about my house that all of the light bulbs in my light fixtures all burn out at the same time?

These particular chores required me to drag a ladder from my garage into my house. Because I am a "short person," I can't change out the light bulbs in my ceiling fans like a normal person by standing on a dining room chair. This particular chore requires me to bring in a ladder. And the added CHORE of dragging in a ladder was enough to make me procrastinate. (Yes, I am "that lazy.")

I rationalize my inability to tackle chores on the weekends by telling myself that because I work SO HARD during the week, weekends are my "down time," and, therefore, I should reward myself by squandering them with relaxing, indulgent activities like sleeping late, reading books, shopping, watching movies, and taking bubble baths.

So, to "motivate" me for tackling some chores, I tuned into a satellite TV station that was having a "John Wayne Weekend." I made a deal with myself that I could watch my beloved John Wayne Movies, but ONLY if I took advantage of each and every commercial break to change out lightbulbs or vacuum an air vent. This approach proved to be wildly successful.

When I was a little girl, I absolutely ADORED John Wayne. When we first got Cable TV (when I was in 5th grade) there was a channel that showed nothing but Westerns, and I became a Huge Fan! John Wayne was my first "Celebrity Crush." When he died, my mother very carefully broke the news to me after school one day, and I shut myself in my room and sobbed for hours, missing dinner, until I finally exhausted myself and fell asleep. When I got to see The Shootist, his last film, I sobbed through the whole thing, even though I saw it months after his death. Yeah, I know, what a little Drama Queen! I had posters and photos of John Wayne in my bedroom and in my HIGH SCHOOL locker (along with photos of Humphrey Bogart and Clark Gable.) I was the only girl in the school with pictures of Old, Dead Men in her locker! Umm...yeah, I was a Weird Kid! Thank goodness I grew up in a Town FULL of Weird Kids!

Watching John Wayne movies for the first time in decades made me laugh. The fight scenes were so ridiculously fake, and the "Indians" were so "body-painted" that I couldn't help but picture a bunch of "Hollywood Types" in the 1960/70s sitting around a table saying, "Let's hire some Eye-talians and spray paint them to look like Injuns" (too ignorant to realize that "Injuns" and "Hispanics" really aren't that dark.)

I thought I might question why I was so enamored with John Wayne, but watching those movies only reinforced my love for the characters he portrayed. John Wayne could spot bullshit from a mile away. John Wayne was always willing to step up and take risks for the greater good. John Wayne had great respect for the Apaches/Commanches. (Don't believe me? Watch Hondo!) He ONLY killed in self-defense, or in the defense of others. He also didn't put up with smart-assed, arrogant Women. He liked them, was attracted to them, respected them even, but he did not tolerate Game Playing, and he could see right through silly facades and was quick to put them in their place, without violence or insult. His approach was, "if you aren't going to respect me, then I'm not going to respect you." He never lost his temper, raised his voice, or raised his hand. When they irritated him, he IGNORED them until they stopped behaving like primadonnas.

M reminded me a lot of John Wayne. I found some Tin Signs on the internet that looked like Sepia Prints of John Wayne Movie Stills, emblazoned with his most famous quotes, like, "Talk low, talk slow, and don't talk much," and "A man's got to do what a man's got to do," and "Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway." I bought 2 sets--1 for my Living Room, and 1 for M, for his birthday last year. The last time I visited him at his house, I noticed that he had hung them on the wall to his entryway, but they were on the wall that faced his kitchen. You had to be INSIDE his house to see them.

M and I fought the most when I was being an annoying, haughty, pain-in-the-ass. M would always take the "John Wayne" approach and refuse to deal with me when I was being disrespectful, immature, and manipulative. M was not perfect, but he was consistent and "Old School" and very "John Wayne-like."

Oh, how I wish our paths had crossed at different times in our lives!

I miss him so very, very much.

I am not inclined to dwell in the past. I try to live my life always looking FORWARD. But, when it comes to M, who, sadly, is now part of my Past, I have so many regrets. I keep telling myself to shove them away. It's too late--there is nothing I can do to change anything--but they keep brimming up to the surface. I dream about him ALL THE TIME. I try to shove these thoughts away because I KNOW this is what happens when someone dies. The people they leave behind get to eulogize them forever, glossing over every negative memory and only remembering the good. We get to put them up on pedestals and make them into Heroes.

I KNOW that is what I am doing with M.

I'm converting M into my personal John Wayne/Ideal Man and, let's face it, there will never be ANYONE who can challenge that ideal. No man can compete with a Hero on a Pedestal. And perhaps that is for the best. M was the one person I listened to in my life that told me I was "special," and that I "deserved better." What he really meant to say was that HE thought I was "special" and HE was what I deserved, and I was too stupid to figure it out because I was too insecure and too wounded to connect the dots and believe that he actually meant what he said.

I blew my chance. I am far too flawed to believe there could be another.

Tales from the Home Front

The agency I work for graciously provides "Continuing Professional Education" for its employees each year. Half of our employees attend one week, the other half attend the second week. I ordinarily attend BOTH weeks because I am usually an instructor for at least one class, if not two. This year, however, I put my foot down and did not volunteer to instruct because the training conference was going to be in Philadelphia, and I really, really wanted to bring my kids with me. They were old enough to stay in our Hotel Room during the day while I was busy with classes, and we could stay through the weekend and do touristy things, and what better city to do touristy things than Philadelphia! So historic! So educational!

Well, I wound up instructing again, but for one week only. I was well aware from our Yellowstone trip, that the 3 of us can only stand about 7 days of "non-stop togetherness." We flew out early one Monday morning, and returned the following Monday. It was...interesting!

My kids were really great about meeting my co-workers. I gave them quite the Lecture in the airport about hand shaking and eye contact. I made them "practice" and chastised them for "shaking hands like a girl." Consequently, both of them have adopted steely-gazed, bone-crushing handshakes. Most Excellent!

I taught a class entitled, "Intermediate Excel" with a concentration on creating and customizing charts and graphs. I showed up to the classroom early on Tuesday, so I could load the "class exercises" onto the 25 Loaner Laptops my agency rented, so class participants could have the opportunity for "hands-on" practice--which is the ONLY way to teach a class involving computer software. Unfortunately, I realized that my agency is still using Microsoft Office 2003, and the Loaner Laptops all had Microsoft Office 2007, which is very, VERY different. All of the printed Training Materials were designed using screen shots of Excel 2003. I frantically tried to learn Excel 2007 in 30 minutes, to no avail. Consequently, the first class I taught, sucked. My co-instructor and I spent our lunch hour re-vamping our entire approach. Showing people how to do stuff on Excel 2007 was kind of pointless, since they would be going back to their offices and using Excel 2003. Quite a conundrum, but we worked our way through it, and actually got "rave reviews" from the Class Evaluations we looked at the end of the day.

After my work-day was over, I dragged my kids to not one, but TWO Group Dinners with my co-workers (both of them held in Sports Bars--gah! Obviously, I will never be in the running for any "Mother of the Year" awards!) I was very proud of their "meet and greet" skills when I introduced them to about two dozen co-workers. They were very patient and well-behaved (albeit bored) the entire time. Perhaps the stern whisper in their ears beforehand of "do NOT embarrass me or I will never let you have access to the XBox or the internet ever again" had something to do with it...

And then Friday came around, and my work obligations were over! It was our time to be Tourists! We walked and walked and WALKED! We visited Museum after Museum. It was HOT, and we were sweaty, and our feet hurt, and I was my usual incompetent self when it came to reading a map, so we got lost and walked more than we should have. Also, imagine the "shock value" for my sheltered tribe that has never left the suburbs except to go to Yellowstone. Downtown Philadelphia was quite a shock! As I walked with them to a CVS to buy some snacks one morning we passed not one, but two Homeless people, one of them with make-up smeared all over her face and obviously crazy, and the other beating the crap out of a pay phone, yelling obscenities. As I hurried them past, noticing the shocked looks on my kids' faces, I said, cheerily, "Welcome to the Big City!" and my son said, with great seriousness, "I don't like it here." His Facebook posts throughout the week were most amusing. He is a young man of few words, with great focus:

1) Philadelphia smells like cigarettes.
2) Gawd--there is nothing to watch on TV in this hotel!
3) Dear lawd--there is no place in this city to get Dr. Pepper!
4) YESSSSSSSSSSS! I found some Dr. Pepper in this city!
5) OMG! Again with the no Dr. Pepper!

By Sunday night we were all sick of each other. I suspected that if I even dared to mention visiting another museum/historic site Monday morning before heading to the airport to catch our late afternoon flight, they might have conspired to smother me with a pillow while I slept. So instead I told them they could "sleep late" and we would just relax and pack up and then head for the airport.

We never did manage to get tickets to actually go INSIDE Independence Hall, but we did "walk around it." We also never bothered with the Liberty Bell. Perhaps that means our journey was misspent, but I think not. We had a limited amount of time, and I didn't want to spend it standing in line or trying to force my petulant, reluctant children to get out of bed early in the morning. We spent a good amount of time in the Visitor's Center which had great displays full of information about both landmarks, and since my kids had already covered some Revolutionary War history in school, they were able to follow along and (hopefully) appreciate and understand that we were walking along the same land that was the Birthplace of Democracy. They are still too young to understand the magnitude of that, but they are astute enough to recognize that Philadelphia is VERY different from their Hometown. I didn't think that actually standing in the same room where the Declaration of Independence was signed was as important as reading about the events leading up to that Declaration and understanding what life in Colonial America was truly like. As we walked from Independence Hall to Betsy Ross's House to Christ Church, we talked about the "Founding Fathers" and WHY people came to America in the first place. We walked across sidewalks naming the signers of the Declaration and their occupations. Business Owners, Tradesmen, and Farmers. Ordinary, hard-working people who just wanted to make a living, support their families, and NOT have to turn over 50% (or more) of their income to someone who was already WEALTHY and never worked a day in his life because he was the Son of a King.

And that was when I shut up with the history lessons because it dawned on me that when my children enter the workforce, they will likely face a 50% Tax Rate because their wages will have to subsidize Health Care for All, Bad Mortgages, National Debt, and America's "obligation" to be Caretaker of the World when it comes to Natural Disasters and Dictatorships.

At least it means they will never leave me--they will never be able to afford to.

ME

I don't know why I avoided this Sunday Scribblings Prompt for so long. Ordinarily, it would be right up my alley. Honestly, why do I (or anyone else for that matter) Blog?

So we can talk about ourselves ad nauseum without boring the people in our real lives to tears.

I am always classified by the people who know me in Real Life as an "extrovert," so why was there such hesitation from me to address this prompt?

I think it's because I have two distinct "Selves."

There is my Work Self, and that is my Self that I want to be the most. At work, I am confident, outspoken, daring, decisive, productive. My co-workers constantly remark about my Energy and Knowledge. My co-workers have been known to describe me as a "Gerbil on a Treadmill" and "Uber-Perky" (which kind of annoys me because that makes me look like a Spaz, which I'm NOT, but I DO work with people who are, mostly in their 50s and 60s...I'm the Lone Gen X'er in a Sea of Baby Boomers!) They are amazed that every little thing that has been published in the last decade I can not only REMEMBER, but also pull up an old email or Microsoft Office file to prove it. I make them all Tired. They constantly come to me requesting advice or direction. My Boss also trusts me completely and relies upon my opinions and advice to make decisions. He runs EVERYTHING by me or through me. I have even "listened in" surreptitiously on conference calls I was not supposed to be on, just so I could feed him information via email, so he could respond to questions when he was put "on the spot."

And then there is my Other Self. The insecure, sad, scared, timid, socially-awkward Self. COMPLETE OPPOSITE of my Work Self.

I HATE this Self. People who know me--REALLY know me--like my parents and my sister and, yes, even my ex-husband--also HATE this Self because it doesn't make any sense. There is absolutely NO reason for me to be insecure, sad, scared, timid, or socially-awkward. They look at me, their jaws agape, wondering what the HELL is wrong with me. I have EVERYTHING. I'm smart. I'm respected. I'm successful. I'm funny. I'm not afraid to get up in front of 200 people and give a presentation. I can play piano, make quilts, prepare Brunch for 70, sew Halloween Costumes, Breastfeed while working full-time for 18 months, and feed my Babies nothing but homemade, preservative-free Baby Food. I make boat-loads of money. I can navigate airports, and understand Cab Drivers in strange cities. My children score off the charts on Standardized Tests with little to no intervention from me.

Despite all of these "Mad Skillz" I continue to immerse myself in hurtful self-dialogue. WHY do I do this? I have no idea. My "Work Self" clearly recognizes it as stupid and unproductive and ridiculous. Yet, there it is, and I have NO EXCUSE--I was never abused or violated or bullied in childhood. I have no "Sob Story." There is absolutely NO REASON for my madness; yet, that "madness" cripples me and keeps me up at night.

Birth

"What do you need to/ want to give birth to? What has been born through you? What new beginning are you responsible for?"

This is the Sunday Scribblings Prompt for the week, and I decided I needed to answer each question because I'm not creative enough to provide a spiffy, enlightening response.

I NEED to give birth to My Confident, Adult Self. I am my own worst enemy, wracked with feelings of self-doubt and childish insecurities. It causes me grief and sadness and prevents me from having healthy, meaningful relationships with people, especially MEN.

I have BORN two healthy, amazing children who reflect my Dominant genetic code and the accompanying strengths and weaknesses within that code. They may have their Father's Eyes and Hair Color, but everything else about them is linked to ME in so many ways. They LOOK like me, they ACT like me, and they BEHAVE like me. They are my "Mini-MEs." But, that is not such a good thing. I NEED to Mother them in a healthy, positive way, and I think I am doing an Okay Job in that department, but it could probably be improved upon.

I need to be RESPONSIBLE for a new beginning. I need to STOP immersing myself in my job, so I can spend more time and energy on my kids. I also need to take better care of myself because even if I think "nobody" gives a shit about me, that's not really true.

Mess

Ouch.

I will begin this prompt with an admission, followed by a list of excuses.

My house is messy. Not dirty--I vacuum, mop, dust, and scrub those surfaces that are most often used/noticed (floors, countertops, toilets, shelves). Trash is removed and emptied on a regular basis. General clutter; however, is my nemesis. Papers and junk mail routinely pile up on kitchen countertops and the dining room table. Books and magazines stack up on the coffee table. Clean laundry requiring ironing will hang on a rack in the laundry room for weeks at a time.

My house is never suitable for company. Fortunately, I work so much (and volunteer so much... and sleep so much...and read so much...and watch TV so much) that I rarely have the time or opportunity to invite "company" into my home.

Most of my friends--especially my Single Working Mom Friends--have equally catastrophic homes. Consequently, our favorite satellite TV shows are "Clean House" and "Hoarders" because they make us feel superior.

At least our houses don't look THAT bad!

While I was away on vacation, a friend of mine and her teenage daughters took care of our dogs and watered my plants. I came home to find my kitchen counters cleaned and tidied, the dishes in the dishwasher washed and put away. My friend is a Stay-at-Home Mom who keeps an immaculate, "showcase" home at all times. I think she looked at my dirty oven and cluttered countertops, and it made her "twitchy." She couldn't help herself--she HAD to clean them! I didn't know if I should be horrified and ashamed to learn that my house was so messy that she felt compelled to clean it, or if I should enthusiastically "re-hire" her for when I go to Philadelphia in August, so she can start on my garage.

I saw plenty of "showcase" homes when I was House-Hunting. I watch Home Improvement/Make-Over shows and "ooh" and "ahhh" as much as the next person, but ALL of those shows convert spaces into looking like Hotel Rooms. I don't WANT to live in a Hotel Room! I get particularly "bugged" when they put a whole bunch of store-bought "dust-catchers" on shelves to represent a "theme." HUH? I'm sorry, but the STUFF on my shelves should be items I personally-selected that actually MEAN something to ME and my kids and NOT something you snatched off a shelf at Cost Plus or bought online from HomeGoods!

When I walk into a person's HOME, I feel "uncomfortable" if it looks like a Hotel Room.

When you walk into MY home you see Dog Beds (so you know we are Dog-People NOT Cat-People.) You will also see bookcases in every room and books scattered about coffee tables, end tables and other raised surfaces. (So you know we are "Bookish" people.) You will also find my mother's quilted creations hanging on the walls, along with other "artwork" (framed prints and personal photos) reflecting people and places that actually mean something to me and my children.

You will see furniture that I "inherited" from my Grandmother. You might have to step over kids' backpacks and Video Game Systems and Controllers. But, you will find an impressive collection of cookbooks and an assortment of prints and signs tacked to the walls expressing our collectively sarcastic sense of humor. You will find a collage frame in the entryway filled with pictures of my mother. You will find stacks of papers on the kitchen counter and in my bedroom related to my JOB because I am fortunate enough to HAVE a job that allows me to work from home once or twice a week.

Yeah, so my House is MESSY, but so is LIFE. I have limited amounts of "down-time" as a Working Mom with a Demanding Career. I choose to spend that time engaging in "other" activities that do not always include "de-cluttering" my Living Space. Sometimes I sleep-in on Saturday mornings until Noon. Sometimes I get up at 7:00 am just so I can treat my kids to Homemade Cinnamon Rolls. Sometimes I chuck it all and Go Fishing.

I work because I HAVE TO. It never, ever occurred to me that there could be/would be any other kind of life. My mother, as brilliant as she was, had limited opportunities, and she HATED that. She LOVED the fact that my sister and I had CAREERS and while she was alive, she bent over backwards to support them.

So, if my House is "messy," my response is "Who Cares?" And, if so, "WHY?"

It's MY HOUSE. Also, I'm doing the Best I Can.

I am a Mother and an Employee. I also used to be a Wife. I couldn't do anything well when I tried to be everything all at once. So, I chose my battles.

Housework, obviously, did not make the "Short List."

Yellowstone Vacation

Back from vacation, and I currently have over 300 digital photos to sort and organize, so I can order prints! Yellowstone is amazing, awesome, incredible, beautiful, and fascinating!

We saw snow-capped mountains.

We saw geysers and molten, bubbling mud.

We saw craters filled with brilliant blue water, emitting clouds of steam that smelled like rotten eggs (we blamed the smell on my son, accusing him of farting too much in public places.)

We saw Lake Yellowstone, which, to desert dwellers such as ourselves, looked like the ocean, it was so big!

We saw waterfalls and canyons.

And, of course, we saw animals!

Elk!

Bison!

And (my favorite part of the whole trip) a Mama Grizzly Bear with her two little cubbies--a mere 5 yards from the side of the road!

We took these photos from INSIDE the car, keeping a respectful distance! When Mama Bear noticed the "Paparrazzi," she quickly retreated for the hills! So, we had to take a picture of her backside, and no, Mama Grizzly Bear, that outfit does NOT make your butt look big. You are perfect just the way you are! (And your babies are ADORABLE!)

We also saw a moose, and two bald eagles sitting in their nest near the West Entrance, but those pictures are on my daughter's camera, and I haven't uploaded them to my computer yet.

We got snowed on, missed Old Faithful (who chose NOT to perform on schedule, and we got bored--and cold and wet, since it was SNOWING--so we chose not to wait around anymore, and we dissed him.) We also trashed our rental car--seriously! In a mere Six Days my kids got it as dirty and full of trash as my 6-year-old Toyota! I spent entirely too much money on souvenirs--I kept thinking that this might be my only chance to visit Yellowstone, so I needed a T-shirt...and a hat...and a bumper sticker...and some magnets...and a water bottle...

We discovered that Idaho is full of potato farms (miles and M.I.L.E.S of potato farms), and that Jackson Hole, WY is EXACTLY like Santa Fe, only "whiter" and lacking cultural/historical sensitivity and integrity. I drove the Teton Pass not once, but FOUR times, with white knuckles the entire way (NOT a fan of 10% grades on narrow mountain roads with sheer cliffs on one side, no guardrail, and hairpin curves.) We invented new "games to play in the car," like a new version of "Slug-a-Bug" involving punching the person next to you every time you spotted an LDS church while driving through Southern Idaho and Northern Utah (ha ha--aren't we funny and full of religious intolerance!) We also amused ourselves during the long drives in and out and around the park by tuning in to comedy stations on Syrius Satellite Radio. I believe we can recite the stand-up routines of George Lopez, Bill Cosby, Jerry Seinfeld, Jeff Foxworthy, Larry the Cable Guy, and Bill Engvall by heart.

Yellowstone is full of people who are not Americans. I think we were the only Americans present last week, or at least we were the only ones speaking English without an accent! Yellowstone is also full of men sporting ridiculously large and expensive camera equipment. Every time I passed a middle-aged man on a trail sporting a zoom lens the size of a Civil War-era cannon, I thought to myself, "compensating for something?" Ha ha ha!

As I was "reflecting" on this vacation--my first "real" vacation with my kids in 10 years--I realized that this is also probably the first time since I was on maternity leave that I have spent 24 uninterrupted hours a day with my kids for more than 5 days in a row.

About two hours after we returned home, I drove them over to their father's house and dropped them off for the rest of the week because we were sick of each other.

Oh, just kidding--it wasn't because I wanted to, it's just that I had to go into the office in the morning, and they are on summer break and wanted to stay up late and sleep in. But it makes for a funny joke, right?

Wow! These things called "Vacations"? I think I like them! Must take more!

Vacations and Ungrateful Children

When I was a kid, the only "vacations" we ever took were obligatory trips to Arizona to visit the relatives. My sister and I spent most of our time feeling BORED, but we always looked forward to the trips because at least we got to get out of town, and our Mom always made the long car trips fun by packing the station wagon (aka "Family Truckster") full of snacks and games and puzzle books. Outside of the obligatory annual trip to visit the relatives, the only REAL Vacation we ever took was a trip to Disneyland when I was in the 4th grade. So, while my childhood was quite comfortable and idyllic and wonderful, it was also mostly devoid of fancy, expensive Vacations.

Fast forward a few decades. Now I'M a parent and, of course, I want my kids to have everything AND MORE than I had growing up.

I haven't taken my kids on a "proper" vacation in YEARS! In fact, the ONLY Vacation my kids have ever experienced was a trip to Disneyland when they were small that was largely financed by my Brother-in-Law. Neither one of my kids remembers it.

A few years ago, my daughter came home from school with one of those Time Magazine-sponsored "articles," and it was all about Yellowstone. She was totally enthralled by the idea of taking a trip there. Her timing couldn't have been worse. I was newly-divorced and right smack dab in the middle of a custody evaluation, struggling to pay both Alimony AND Child Support on top of Attorney Fees and rent, utilities, insurance, etc.

Despite having a good-paying job, I was BROKE. No vacations for us! I substituted Cub Scout Family Campouts and trips to visit my sister at my Grandparent's Cabin instead.

But, I never forgot that glossy, promotional, tree-hugging, environmentalist propaganda (ha ha) that my daughter brought home from school. A VACATION to Yellowstone became my GOAL!

It has taken me 4 YEARS to find myself in a place financially where I can make this trip happen. I am dedicating a good $2,500 to this trip, half of it funded by my income tax refund, and the rest of it funded by funneling $100 into a Savings Account every pay period for the last year or so. My Dad gave me the PBS National Parks DVD set for Christmas. I have spent HOURS online working out the details and finding the best possible accommodations. I have rented a car for the first time in my life. I have cashed in Marriott Rewards points to get a night of free lodging on our return trip home. I have purchased memory cards and rechargeable batteries for our digital cameras. I have checked weather reports and made lists.

I am so excited I can hardly stand it!

And my kids?

DON'T. CARE. AT. ALL.

Even my daughter pointed out tonight at the dinner table that she wanted to go to Yellowstone "in the 2nd grade."

Parenthood is a thankless job.

I would like to take an Alaskan Cruise someday. My kids don't want to go on a Cruise. I'm still siphoning money into my Savings Account every pay period. So, next year, I'm going on that Alaskan Cruise, and I am NOT taking my kids with me.

Loss

For the last 6 years (ever since my divorce), I have had this Guy Friend (who I shall refer to as "M"). He is a co-worker who I was never particularly friendly with until I got divorced. In fact, for the first 10 years I avoided him because I thought he was an asshole, and I found him to be very intimidating. But, 10 years later, I found myself contemplating divorce, and in need of an attorney, and he was the only person I knew that was divorced, so I decided to call him to see if he could recommend an attorney, and, well, that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship...

M turned out to be my "Go To" person in the divorce. He gave me advice, words of wisdom, strategies. He listened. He checked up on me. He was "My Rock." Of course, he was also a bit of a pain in the arse, mostly because his insistence on being BRUTALLY honest with me tended to piss me off, and I had this need to be all mouthy and bitchy and otherwise "empowered," which pissed HIM off, so our "friendship" was always interrupted with weeks/months of "not speaking to one another." But, eventually one of us would relent (usually him) and make a phone call, and then, all of a sudden, we were friends again.

So, now that my divorce war has resolved itself, lately our conversations have been about how M is struggling with issues involving his daughter and his Evil Ex-Wife. I am one of the few people besides his boss and his parents who know what has been going on. He loves his daughter fiercely, and it was absolutely breaking his heart to be distanced from her.

I was aware that he was taking medication for high blood pressure and high cholesterol, and then he developed a bleeding ulcer--so bad he was hospitalized for about a week. He took a month off from work to try and get his stress levels down, but work was the least of his stressors.

He died sometime yesterday morning. His neighbor found him in his front yard. They think he may have suffered a heart attack. He was 47 years old and leaves behind a 13-year-old son, 17-year-old daughter, and many brothers, sisters, nieces, nephews, two devastated parents, dozens of friends and co-workers, and, well, me. I'm not sure where I rank in that list, but I was more than a co-worker and more than a friend. We were approaching something more significant than that, but we were taking it slow, because he needed to resolve the issues with his daughter and his ex-wife before he could move forward, and I was patiently trying to respect his "boundaries."

And now he's gone--and his daughter never got to reconcile with her father, and his witch of an ex-wife will get everything he had worked to save for his children (because his divorce decreee required him to keep HER as the beneficiary on all of his retirement and life insurance accounts while the kids were minors.)

And I feel cut off at the knees because he has been such a huge part of my life for the last 6 years. I can't believe he's gone. My heart is acheing right now--for him, for his kids, for his family, and, of course, for myself because I just lost someone who was really one-of-a-kind. I owe so much to him. I never would have gotten through the last 6 years without him. I honestly believed that a year from now, this "Tug-O-War" we have been waging for so long would have finally come full circle, and we would have called a truce. I would be taking care of him the way he deserved to be taken care of, and he would have accepted it because he would finally allow himself to deserve it.

He was my "John Wayne," and I never got the chance to show him that.

So, now I'm angry. I'm angry at his ex-wife for being such a manipulative bitch, and I'm angry at his daughter for not knowing how much she was hurting him and not being strong enough to stand up to her mother, and I'm angry at M for not taking better care of himself and not listening to his doctors and not allowing me close enough to help him. I'm angry at myself for not being more assertive and pro-active. And I'm angry at God for taking away someone who meant so much to so many people who still need him here.

Messages...

What a prompt!

I am FULL of messages. I can't help myself. I was raised by a headstrong, dynamic Woman who raised me to be just like her, despite the fact, that in that process, conflict ensued!

My mother was ahead of her time. She loved to play baseball, but in the '50s, Little League didn't allow Girls, so she cut her hair, strapped down her budding breasts with ACE bandages, so she could pose as a boy, and played anyway. She grew up in Phoenix, where pro-baseball teams went for spring training, and launched herself up and out of her seat to catch a foul ball hit by one of her "Heroes" (Willie Mays), breaking her collarbone in the process. We have the signed baseball and newspaper clipping to prove it. My Grandmother was not just embarrassed, but "horrified" by the photo, since Willie Mays was a "Negro." But my mother didn't care. Willie Mays was her Hero, and she didn't give a damn what her mother thought of that (or maybe she did, and that's exactly why she chose him to be one of her Heroes...)

My Mother was brilliant, vibrant, and outspoken during a time when that was not "acceptable" or "ladylike." My grandfather was the eldest of four boys who wound up being the father of three girls. My mother was the Son He Always Wanted, yet he could not look past her gender to see that. She spent not only her childhood and adolescence trying to prove herself to him, but also her entire adult life. All she ever wanted was his approval, and she never, EVER got it.

But, the effort she put into that thankless goal, made her into this amazing mother--not the kind of mother that most people get. Instead, she was this force for her two daughters--filled with Words of Wisdom and MESSAGES. When I was 7 years old, MY mother was reading the Once and Future King to my sister and me as a bedtime story. We were well-versed in Arthurian Legend, Greek and Roman Mythology, and plenty of other "Classic Literature." She was an avid reader (her "escape" from the mundane, repetitious, and isolating experience that Housewivery proved to be for her), and she launched a love of reading in my sister and me, introducing us to the genres that she knew would capture our individual interests and personalities.

As we got older, we recognized that "time around the dinner table," was a time for MESSAGES. That was the time when my mother "learned us."

Other people have "Momisms" that, while they can be "funny internet fodder" are actually, kind of stupid. Things like, "I brought you into this world, and I can take you OUT!" or "Don't make me come BACK there!"

NOT SO in my House. Idle threats involving physical violence were not her style. Instead, my Mother had REAL things to say, like: "Don't ever rely on a Man to support you," and "There is NO form of Birth Control that is 100% effective," and "You can't legislate morality." (I do the same with my kids today, and we all jokingly refer to this discipline technique as "Death By Lecture.")

Her MESSAGES involved application of logic and critical thinking, questioning authority, sticking up for yourself, personal accountability, accepting challenges, and striving for bigger and better goals.

My sister and I were her proudest achievements. But we didn't get where we are today without the sting and bite of her criticisms. She prodded us, pushed us, created us to be what she so very much wanted to be, but never really got the opportunity to be. She pushed us so hard, and sometimes it HURT. And it saddens me so much that she isn't here to see that I finally AM who she wanted me to be--a Woman at the pinnacle of her career, influencing policy and guiding decisions of Executives at the highest level of my Agency! And my sister, who is sacrificing HER career because she knows all too well, just how important it is for her son to have a mother who can "be there" at bedtime every night to read books and take him to the park on the weekends. SHE made US. We would not be the mothers/women that we are without her influence.

And, so, I find myself "channeling" her whenever I talk to my children. My Parenting Style is a little bit different, but I still funnel similar MESSAGES to them, and I can only hope that they will still "sink in" on some level, so they will become the kind of people their Grandmother would be proud of.