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.
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