Thursday, February 23, 2012

I've Lived at Least a 1000 Years!

Some nights I sit here at the computer and stare into the open blank screen and think to myself "There has to be something I want to talk about, why am I not writing right now?", then it hits me, I'm usually just too tired from all the living I've done over the past 12-15 hours I've been awake! It seems lately that every morning I start the clock over again - - and someone somewhere needs me, can't live without me, has to have my advice RIGHT NOW! When did I get to be this important? When did I get to be this trusted? It must be that I'm like that old horse in the barn that's been there and done that, and no matter what you throw at me I'm going to be too calm and too understated to be upset about it. I'll probably breathe at the initial shock of whatever it is that this person thinks is so vastly important that I have to stop everything I'm doing (including sleeping in) to help them survive this newest and most disasterous peril. It must be that I have experienced something like this; and therefore I MUST have a solution. Or, and probably more accurate, it could be because I'm the mom.

I'm only 50, so I can still say with a clear mind that I remember the 60's. I was there. I was a kid, but I do remember them. I remember the Vietnam Conflict, our president claiming on television that he wasn't a crook. I remember noodling, fishing with my hands in the river. I remember climbing trees before I could read. I remember walking for MILES away from my home at night, and riding my bike even further and not be afraid that someone would kidnap or harm me in any way. I remember when moms made our birthday cakes and we licked the bowls clean. Funny, I remember what I was wearing when I jumped off the cliff at Falls Creek Church Camp into shallow water, but I don't remember hitting my knees. I've seen pictures of them all bruised and battered but if it hurt I don't recall that. I've patched up more scrapes and cuts than I care to mention and there's NO WAY I could tell you about all the times I snuck into or out of some place I wasn't suppose to be. Still I have to pretend to be upset if one of my kids does something too similar to what I got away with...is that OK? For me to just pretend to be upset? Inside I'm sort of giggling about it. Does that make me a bad person?

I grew up somehow, even after drinking creek water with tadpoles in it. I did survive! I made it to 50 even though I bought more than a dozen Volkswagen Beetle Bugs, put a bit of work into them, drove them across country to L.A. and sold them for FAR too much money so I could live off the profits and not have to actually work. Where did I ever get the idea? How did I ever pull that off? I grew up somewhere between the cheerleading, gymnastics, football and baseball games, the rodeos, stand-up comedian work, and all those times I begged McDonalds and Taco Bell to give me just one taco or burger so I could live another day. That was when a manager of a restaurant felt a bit sorry for a skinny dirty-faced kid with barn-mud on her boots and straw sticking to her hair.

Hollywood was fun. After the horses, the dogs, the friends and high school I worked my way to the limelight and then stayed absolutely clear of it. I worked behind the scenes writing, dancing, helping, driving, doing anything but acting and made it in 11 films and a few sitcoms as an extra. I was perfectly OK with it too, just as long as I didn't have to look into the camera. I don't have ONE CLUE as to why it's "eye" scared the hell out of me. I hated it; although there was this one guy that worked the lens in Hollywood that kept my attention - - I'd take 1983 back if I could. I'd do those Hollywood nights another go-round if I knew what I know now. Who wouldn't start over? I ran home you know. I ran! Got scared out of my wits; too naive and country for the real grit. Since then I've lived again but it's not the same type of living. I worked, I married, I had kids, I went to school, divorced, fought for custody, gained weight, got hurt, got over it, bit the bullet, paid the bills, and found a way to say grace every day too. Grace was the most important part of my life then and it still is.

So I wake up now, I look at the clock and think to myself "Tomorrow all of what I do today will be yesterday. I better make it work", and somehow, probably by Grace; I do.