parents

“You can’t ride two horses with one ass.”

While I was growing up I used to hear that phrase all the time from my dad.

What? What does that even mean?

This was his reaction to my teenage stress. After he’d watch me fumble and stumble, struggle and juggle; fitting in play rehearsal, singing practice, homework, and my part-time job, he’d admonish me, “Janet, you can’t ride two horses with one ass.”

My reaction was to roll my eyes, snap my gum, turn my head toward the heavens, and exhale the long, deep exhalation of the exasperated teenager. “Okaaaay, daAAAAaad, I get it, make a decision. Do one thing at a time. Gawd.”

I always knew the one thing he thought I should choose to focus on was my job at the supermarket. It could end up being my security, after all, my future, just like it had become his. But truth be told, that was NEVER gonna happen.

He had little patience for my “extracurricular” pursuits. He, as the father figure, the patriarch, the breadwinner, just couldn’t understand what he considered frivolous time wasting.

And I, cast as the dutiful daughter, continued to struggle with not enough asses.

Those extra things were far from superfluous to me, hardly! They were actually my life’s blood –– my passions.

He was unable to wrap his brain around multi-passionate people, and that never changed.
I can’t say that I blame him. Us multi-passionate sorts are hard to figure out.

He’s not alone, there are many out in this world that can’t stand those of us who won’t seem to commit to just one pursuit. “Jack of all trades, master of none” was another of his old school, paternal pontifications.

After a while (years), I understood. I didn’t like it and I was incapable of abiding by it –– but I understood his confusion.

He was from the school of one horse, one ass.

Pick one thing, focus on it, and do it— for the rest of your life.
Then, and only after you’ve collected your retirement, are you allowed to entertain frivolous pursuits. Hopefully, you still have your health, vitality, and a little sass to keep things interesting.

Many in our family died soon after they retired, without enjoying any of life’s extras.

Here’s what I’ve come to realize as I’ve gotten older and hopefully a little wiser.
The things that hold passion for us in life are hardly extras. To me, they are the makings of a life well lived.

Jobs can be had, money made, the focus narrowed, and direction figured out, but it’s the multiple horses that we have the audacity to ride with our one crazy, creative, freedom-seeking-ass, that make us who we are!

Singularly Focused Exemplary Employee is not what I’ve ever wanted written on my headstone.

Badass of sass, multi-passionate creative, who can’t stay in the saddle; sloppy rider of an entire herd of horses, who you may hear whooping and hollering and having one hell of a ride –– and the time of her life.  Now that’s more like it!

Ride all those horses with your one wild ass.

Own it.

Sorry dad.

Carry on,
Xox

Well, there you are WTHW! Jeeeeez, where have you been?

A reader of this blog recently asked, What the hell happened to What The Hell Wednesday?

What happened is this: I have to sit down and remember a freaky, mystical, WTH experience to write about OR one just comes to me…on a Wednesday…you know, like it does.
Anyhow…

Last week was the tenth anniversary of my dad’s passing, and my aunt (his sister) wrote my siblings and me a lovely email remembering him.

In it she recounted the story of being at his bedside in the days before he died as he kept asking her,”Can you see her? She’s waiting for me.” He was referring to a sister of ours who had died at birth. Even though she was an infant, only living for thirty minutes after she was born, he saw her at the foot of his bed as the end drew near, as a little girl with blonde hair — patiently waiting to take him home.

When I wrote her back I assured her that his sense of humor was still intact on the other side,(she was wondering) and told her this story:

“I also have a Roy story to share:
In September 2005, six months after he died, Raphael and I went to Spain to ride motorcycles, one of the things that I remember him crying over the loss of, he LOVED to ride the wide open vistas, so we definitely have that in common.

One particularly gorgeous day, the temperature was perfect, there was the smell of coffee and bread and freshly mowed grass in the air, and the scenery was beyond description!

I pictured him riding shotgun with me on the back of the bike, taking in the views. “You see that dad, isn’t it beautiful? Use my eyes, take this all in.” I kept pestering him over and over. Still, I got the sense that he was really enjoying himself and his time in Spain (ha!).

One afternoon after once again inviting dad to ride along with me, I couldn’t feel him. After a few hours I realized he just simply wasn’t here. I was crushed. I’d been Sooooo enjoying our rides together.

Toward the end of the day as we crested a hill overlooking a verdant valley below with its quaint village of houses and their red tile roofs; thick black storm clouds hung in the sky and their farthest edges provided one of the most spectacular sun sets I’ve ever witnessed.

“Dad, are you seeing this?” I asked in awe, almost out of habit.

Then I heard his answer and it floored me.

He said:
“Janet, I’ve loved riding with you, and Thank you so much for the use of your eyes and Raphael’s super riding abilities. Although Spain is lovely, you’ve got to quit bothering me. If you could see what I see, every second of every minute, of every hour…well, honey, this pales in comparison.”

Then he gave me one split second’s view with his eyes.

My eyes immediately welled up with tears and my goosebumps got goosebumps. I will never be able to find the word to describe it. Colors I’ve never seen before. Beauty and music and…What a gift.

I know where he is is pure positive energy.

I know I (we) will see him again.

I know he is around us always, and when we think of him, like we are today, he puts his hand on our shoulders.

I know he’s proud of all of us, his love is unconditional.

I for sure know his sense of humor is intact.

I feel him around me and our family often (I actually have a closer relationship to him now than I did when he was alive).
I talk to him, and seek his council often on things regarding my brother and sister and me.

It is my belief that he still hold focus and great interest in the dealings of ALL of the family. He watches over every single one of us, and our shenanigans provide him with some good belly laughs (okay, maybe that just applies to mine)”.

I really do hold the belief that our loved ones don’t just evaporate into the ethers. They remain around us,(I beg my dad to stay out of my bedroom and shower — awkward.) Ready at a moment’s notice to intervene If. We. Ask.

And I’m learning that their personality traits only get sharper. My dad’s a regular comedian on the other side, with a show every night — two on Sundays.

What do you believe? Has a loved one visited you and given you advice or made you laugh? Do you feel them around you when you walk in nature or ride a motorcycle? Please share, I’d love to think I’m not alone here, and I promise not to put your story in a WTHW.(wink)

Carry on,
xox

DEATH IS NOT THE END

When you’re sad and when you’re lonely
And you haven’t got a friend
Just remember that death is not the end
And all that you held sacred
Falls down and does not mend
Just remember that death is not the end
Not the end, not the end
Just remember that death is not the end

Nick Cave – Death Is Not The End Lyrics | MetroLyrics

This speaks volumes…lets free ourselves, shall we?
Let’s all mind our own business.

Carry on,
Xox

“You can’t ride two horses with one ass.”

While I was growing up I used to hear that phrase all the time from my dad.

What? What does that even mean?

This was his reaction to my teenage stress. After he’d watch me fumble and stumble, struggle and juggle; fitting in play rehearsal, singing practice, homework, and my part-time job, he’d admonish me, “Janet, you can’t ride two horses with one ass.”

My reaction was to roll my eyes, snap my gum, turn my head toward the heavens, and exhale the long, deep exhalation of the exasperated teenager. “Okaaaay, daAAAAaad, I get it, make a decision. Do one thing at a time. Gawd.”

I always knew the one thing he thought I should choose to focus on was my job at the supermarket. It could end up being my security, after all, my future, just like it had become his. But truth be told, that was NEVER gonna happen.

He had little patience for my “extracurricular” pursuits. He, as the father figure, the patriarch, the breadwinner, just couldn’t understand what he considered frivolous time wasting.

And I, cast as the dutiful daughter, continued to struggle with not enough asses.

Those extra things were far from superfluous to me, hardly! They were actually my life’s blood –– my passions.

He was unable to wrap his brain around multi-passionate people, and that never changed.
I can’t say that I blame him. Us multi-passionate sorts are hard to figure out.

He’s not alone, there are many out in this world that can’t stand those of us who won’t seem to commit to just one pursuit. “Jack of all trades, master of none” was another of his old school, paternal pontifications.

After a while (years), I understood. I didn’t like it and I was incapable of abiding by it –– but I understood his confusion.

He was from the school of one horse, one ass.

Pick one thing, focus on it, and do it — for the rest of your life.
Then, and only after you’ve collected your retirement, are you allowed to entertain frivolous pursuits. Hopefully, you still have your health, vitality, and a little sass to keep things interesting.

Many in our family died soon after they retired, without enjoying much of life’s extras.

Here’s what I’ve come to realize as I’ve gotten older and hopefully a little wiser.
The things that hold passion for us in life are hardly extras. To me, they are the makings of a life well lived.

Jobs can be had, money made, the focus narrowed, and direction figured out, but it’s the multiple horses that we have the audacity to ride with our one crazy, creative, freedom-seeking-ass, that make us who we are!

Singularly Focused Exemplary Employee is not what I’ve ever wanted written on my headstone.

Badass, multi-passionate, creative, who can’t stay in the saddle; sloppy rider of an entire herd of horses, who you may hear whooping and hollering and having one hell of a ride –– and the time of her life.  Now that’s more like it.

Ride all those horses with your one wild ass.

Own it.

Sorry dad.

Carry on,
Xox