Dear Teen,
You didn't come with an instructional pamphlet or
one single care instruction. And odds are I wasn't fully grown up when I
started the long journey of raising you.
You've reached a
time in your life when you think you get it. You think you know
everything there is to know... or you know all you need to know anyway.
Life... to you seems cut and dry, black and white.... simple. You tell
me you hate me... you disrespect me. You hurt me more than you can
imagine... and you think that you are the injured one... because I have tried to control you... I'm a dictator not a parent...you say.
If you only knew the sacrifice... the things I've done without so that
you could have. The tears I've shed worrying when you were sick... the
sleep I've lost wondering if I gave you the right advice... the stress
of managing my own hectic work week while struggling to get you to do
your homework in between cooking you supper and washing your clothes.
The guilt I've felt over getting upset with you.... and the anguish I've
felt because I can't give you everything you want.
I've
cleaned diarrhea when you took your diapers off... let you throw up on
me when you wanted to be held when you were sick... worn your snot on my
shirt to work... played with you when I was too tired to move. Worked
double shifts to pay for clothes and toys.
You see... I wasn't
always a parent... I was once like you. But then you came into the
world and my life changed. I stopped putting me first like you are now. I
put away my old life and became a parent. I began living for you rather
than for me. And I have done that for seventeen years. I want you to
think about that when you choose which tone to speak to me in... or the
language you choose to use when talking to or about me. Think of me
holding you in my arms... worrying... wondering... hoping... loving...
loving you more than I love life itself.
Respectfully,
Your Parent.
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Tiger Hunting- Dream 2/3/14
Orville Solomon Gregory... That was the name of my Grandpa. He was kind and patient. And I know those traits ran deep because had they been superficial I would have found the edges very quickly. I was what you might call a difficult child.
Now that I'm grown I have a deeper respect for him. Because as difficult as I was he never failed to have me at his side. He took me with him every where he went.
"Lets go, Boy." He would say and off we'd go.
No matter how far I pushed my limits the strongest thing he ever said to me was "Upon my honor, Boy".
I loved my Grandpa.
Last night We were in Jellico, Tn..... Sitting at Burger King with my Nephew Dakota. It was a great dream. I just sat back in my seat and watched and listened. Grandpa's bright blue eyes sparkled with life. His skin was a dark leathery brown and his smile infectious..... he was jovial. The scene reminded me of all the time I'd spent at his side and much I missed him.
It was a perfect day. The weather was warm but not too hot. Maybe a hint of spring shower in the air. Laughter..lunch and then we heard the announcement over the radio... A hush fell over the restaurant.
A tiger was on the loose.... A tiger was on the loose in Jellico. They were putting the entire town on lock down.
Dakota's eyes were wide as he peered out the window... scanning for a glimpse of the beast.
"Lets go, Boys." Grandpa was already out of his seat. He was hard of hearing and rarely wore his hearing aid so I assumed he hadn't heard the announcement.... so I told him what it had said.
"Ah, tiger my hind end."
We walked outside and Grandpa stopped and scanned the trees. His old baby blue ford pickup was in the parking lot but we walked away from it rather than toward it. The three of us walked down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace.
"Where are we going?" Dakota asked with his hands jammed in his pockets and looking up into the trees like Grandpa.
"There he is." Grandpa said as he pointed to the top of an old oak. He pulled a pistol out of his pocket and fired a couple of rounds... the tiger began to crawl down the tree. He fired a couple more shots and handed the gun to me.
"Hit em Boy, My hands aint steady."
I took aim at the tiger... he was nearly down the tree...almost close enough to leap to the ground. I fired once and heard the soft thud of the impact.... he faltered and fell... I'd hit his leg. He was on the ground in front of me.. I fired again and shot him through the eye.
The second the animal fell..... Grandpa pulled his keys from his pocket....handed them to Dakota and told him to go get the truck. It made me smile because I was his age when Grandpa had me do his driving... I laughed a little... I was eight when he first told me to get behind the wheel.
Dakota brought the truck and we loaded the tiger into the back.... and we drove home.
The dream was over but I got to see Grandpa... and watch him with Dakota and remember what it was like for me when I was a kid. And I got to go tiger hunting.
Now that I'm grown I have a deeper respect for him. Because as difficult as I was he never failed to have me at his side. He took me with him every where he went.
"Lets go, Boy." He would say and off we'd go.
No matter how far I pushed my limits the strongest thing he ever said to me was "Upon my honor, Boy".
I loved my Grandpa.
Last night We were in Jellico, Tn..... Sitting at Burger King with my Nephew Dakota. It was a great dream. I just sat back in my seat and watched and listened. Grandpa's bright blue eyes sparkled with life. His skin was a dark leathery brown and his smile infectious..... he was jovial. The scene reminded me of all the time I'd spent at his side and much I missed him.
It was a perfect day. The weather was warm but not too hot. Maybe a hint of spring shower in the air. Laughter..lunch and then we heard the announcement over the radio... A hush fell over the restaurant.
A tiger was on the loose.... A tiger was on the loose in Jellico. They were putting the entire town on lock down.
Dakota's eyes were wide as he peered out the window... scanning for a glimpse of the beast.
"Lets go, Boys." Grandpa was already out of his seat. He was hard of hearing and rarely wore his hearing aid so I assumed he hadn't heard the announcement.... so I told him what it had said.
"Ah, tiger my hind end."
We walked outside and Grandpa stopped and scanned the trees. His old baby blue ford pickup was in the parking lot but we walked away from it rather than toward it. The three of us walked down the sidewalk at a leisurely pace.
"Where are we going?" Dakota asked with his hands jammed in his pockets and looking up into the trees like Grandpa.
"There he is." Grandpa said as he pointed to the top of an old oak. He pulled a pistol out of his pocket and fired a couple of rounds... the tiger began to crawl down the tree. He fired a couple more shots and handed the gun to me.
"Hit em Boy, My hands aint steady."
I took aim at the tiger... he was nearly down the tree...almost close enough to leap to the ground. I fired once and heard the soft thud of the impact.... he faltered and fell... I'd hit his leg. He was on the ground in front of me.. I fired again and shot him through the eye.
The second the animal fell..... Grandpa pulled his keys from his pocket....handed them to Dakota and told him to go get the truck. It made me smile because I was his age when Grandpa had me do his driving... I laughed a little... I was eight when he first told me to get behind the wheel.
Dakota brought the truck and we loaded the tiger into the back.... and we drove home.
The dream was over but I got to see Grandpa... and watch him with Dakota and remember what it was like for me when I was a kid. And I got to go tiger hunting.
Sunday, February 2, 2014
The Lost Dinosaur
During the 70's my Mother made many treks to and from Elkhart Indiana and Mccreary County Kentucky. It was about an eight hour drive, provided we didn't veer off to Ohio or make more than one trip around Indianapolis.
I don't remember the details of each trip.... Instead I remember the collective feel. Vinyl bench seats I would slide around on when it was cold and stick to when it was hot. The rumble of a V8 Chevy with a bad muffler or the throaty growl of a Pontiac with bad shocks... rocking like a ship on gentle sea's.
I remember how rolling all the windows down in the summer heat turned the interior into a convection oven. And pressing my face against the cold glass in the winter... yearning to escape the never ending chain of smoldering Moor cigarettes hanging from my Mothers lips.
But one thing still bothers me.... My Brother and I had a pair of hard rubber dinosaurs... you know the type... no moving parts but flexible enough to let the limbs wiggle or the mouth nearly close. Well anyway we entertained ourselves for hours in the back seat... engaged in epic dinosaur battles... Until Kokomo...
We stopped at a little place called Sherrill's.... I'm not sure if its still there but there was an amusing sign out front that read... "Eat and get gas here." And like my kids today... my Brother and I had to use the bathroom everywhere we stopped. And against our Mothers instruction we took our dinosaurs into the bathroom with us.
We were miles down the road before we realized that my little Brother had left his dinosaur standing on the back of the toilet. We begged her to turn around but she was on a mission and it didn't involve rescuing a wayward T-Rex. He cried....we cried. I gave him my dinosaur but we were still a dinosaur short. The play was over... the battles had come to an end... forced out of our imaginations by the lost dinosaur.
I don't remember the details of each trip.... Instead I remember the collective feel. Vinyl bench seats I would slide around on when it was cold and stick to when it was hot. The rumble of a V8 Chevy with a bad muffler or the throaty growl of a Pontiac with bad shocks... rocking like a ship on gentle sea's.
I remember how rolling all the windows down in the summer heat turned the interior into a convection oven. And pressing my face against the cold glass in the winter... yearning to escape the never ending chain of smoldering Moor cigarettes hanging from my Mothers lips.
But one thing still bothers me.... My Brother and I had a pair of hard rubber dinosaurs... you know the type... no moving parts but flexible enough to let the limbs wiggle or the mouth nearly close. Well anyway we entertained ourselves for hours in the back seat... engaged in epic dinosaur battles... Until Kokomo...
We stopped at a little place called Sherrill's.... I'm not sure if its still there but there was an amusing sign out front that read... "Eat and get gas here." And like my kids today... my Brother and I had to use the bathroom everywhere we stopped. And against our Mothers instruction we took our dinosaurs into the bathroom with us.
We were miles down the road before we realized that my little Brother had left his dinosaur standing on the back of the toilet. We begged her to turn around but she was on a mission and it didn't involve rescuing a wayward T-Rex. He cried....we cried. I gave him my dinosaur but we were still a dinosaur short. The play was over... the battles had come to an end... forced out of our imaginations by the lost dinosaur.
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