When Linda was going off to college I wrote her a letter. Today is your party, Jessica, as you leave for college, and even tho you are my niece and not my sister and I never went away to college as you are about to, today I felt like I wanted to write you a letter too.
The older I get, the less I am sure of, and the less advice I try to give. Actually as I think about it, the letter I wrote to her was because I was so scared. She was the first to leave and go away, and as much as our personalities clashed, she was doing something that was terribly frightening to me.
And Jessica, I was the oldest; I don’t know if you know that….I rarely mention it.
Allright, I mention it all the time. But you know what that means, right? Even tho nobody told me that I was responsible for my brothers and sisters, I felt I was. So I guess I thought she needed my advice.
But you are a totally different story. When I look at you I am not frightened for you. You have grown up with the best parts of your mom and dad, and I am so proud to be your aunt. You have your head on straight (do people even say that anymore?) and you make good decisions. You are so smart, and funny and clearly comfortable in your own skin that I am excited for you but not scared.
So no advice for you today Jessica. Go off – do good – enjoy this time of your life. You are going to do great and nothing is going to hold you back. Get outta here you knucklehead!
However, as long as I am writing this I do feel like there might just be a few things I could share that might be helpful…
First of all if you ever need anything don’t hesitate to call me, because whatever you need I will get for you.
Except money. If you need money I think you would be better off going to Jeff or David or somebody. But other stuff. Of course it might be better to call your mom and dad, but it you need anything that your mom and dad or Jeff or David can’t provide, call me ok? Or somebody. Call somebody. Why do you think you have a cell phone anyway? To talk to your friends? You call home, Missy.
And, don’t play any of these choking games I’ve been reading about. You wouldn’t do that anyway. But don’t. Actually no games. Don’t play any games at all. Not even cards or Monopoly. Just study. That is what you are there for, for God’s sake, what the heck are you playing games for anyway? Is that what life is all about for you Miss Rogers? Games? Do you think it will be all fun and games when you get out here in the real world? No, my friend, it will not.
Now it seems obvious from recent family history that you will probably need your appendix taken out at some point. So just go over to the med center and introduce yourself so when you go there in the middle of the night some snowed-in weekend in February they will know who you are.
And no snow blowers. That goes for the whole family. No more snow blowers. Have I made myself clear?
Let’s talk seriously and realistically about drinking for a minute ok? No drinking. Ok that’s covered.
Because here is the thing about drinking. You have one drink and before you know it you are looking like me at the end of Sue’s wedding. Or David’s wedding. I don’t know if you were there. Unfortunately I am not sure what all happened, but there is evidently a picture of me in a cowboy hat I’d like to get back. Anyway the point is once you start drinking you buy a ticket to Hot Messville. And, Jess, that is a bad look for anybody (... and everybody has a camera!)
Have I mentioned no ladders?
You know Jessie-girl, life is like a box of chocolates. I never understood what that meant, but it sounds good. Actually I think life is more like a spider web. I’ve been thinking about them a lot because evidently spiders just LOVE high rises. I have no idea why, but I have 30 or 40 spiders on the outside of my windows. And these are big old dudes with beards, not the itsy bitsy kind. And they are furiously covering the entire windows with their webs.
Here is the weird thing. There are no other bugs up here. So what do they think they are going to catch? Are they doing some artistic wrap of the building? Or is it just my apartment? Are they trying to encase me in here? And they are making so much noise!! It sounds like roaring almost, like war, like….wait, is the Air and Water show today? Anyway, you work hard all your life and you end up in some Twilight Zone episode where the spiders are coming to get you and you can’t find your drink…
You know J-dog, now that I think about it, life is like an Air and Water show going on BEHIND you, so you hear all the roaring and you keep getting distracted and snapping your head to see NOTHING because it is behind you and life is like that with all the distractions that seem important at the time, I mean you could really hurt your neck if you don’t figure out that all those noises are just noises and nobody is going to crash into your building and anyway if they did they would get caught up in the magnificent spider webs that are now covering your windows…
Look Boo, I gotta dip. So let’s review.
Stay in your room except to go to classes, and only talk to teachers. And the people at the med center. And be good to spiders cuz they talk to each other and these guys are clearly really mad at me.
Let me know when you graduate, ok?
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Father's Day - Finally!
Over 20 years ago, my Dad wrote his eleven children and their families a letter. No more Father’s Day celebrations. He saw it as a “stupid Hallmark holiday” and he asked us to please forget about it as far as he was concerned. He loved us, he knew we loved him, let’s not feel obligated to tell each other so just because some Sunday in June rolls around.
He was serious. And when Dad is serious, even tho his letter was warm and funny, we listened.
See, when my father believes something, he lives it. He’s never been a go-along, easy way out kinda guy. When he commits to something, he sticks it.
100% Irish, he never wore green on St. Patrick’s Day because if you were REALLY Irish, you didn’t have to show it.
A strong Catholic, he was never a meek follower. He “got involved”, which for my father meant leading the way.
And as a parent, if Dad decided, no amount of pleading, whining, cajoling, crying, arguing or “three act plays” would change his mind. Once Dad believes he is right, Katie bar the door. Go pound sand.
Which is not to say he decided issues in some knee-jerk fashion. He thinks things out, measures consequences and costs, and prays about the important decisions beforehand. So good luck to you if you think you are bringing new information to the table when challenging him on one of these beliefs.
Brings to mind the Sunday at church when Dad was at the lectern announcing a fund raiser that he was chairing (Dad was in the lectern often, either leading prayers or doing readings or in some other way living his belief that the church was people, not the Vatican, and that people of faith needed to be involved to keep the church intact and relevant) and some rather conservative parishioner had the temerity to stand up and challenge the idea of the fund raiser because it was going to include “gambling”.
When I say the earth stood still, you have to understand this was in far more conservative times and NOONE had ever stood up in church to object or even question anyone on the altar. Not too many years before, the altar hadn’t even faced the congregation and the whole service was in Latin. But here was this guy, pretty righteous in his manner, taking on my Dad in front of a Sunday morning crowded Mass.
My mother and all of us were, as we were every Sunday, in one of the front pews off to the right. Actually we were probably taking up two of the front pews. There are lots of reasons why we always sat in the same place, but it is interesting when I think about where it was. Up in front – you bet. Fully participating, absolutely. But not in the middle. Not in the prime attention getting or statement making spots. To the right. Out of the way but not out of the picture.
Anyway, Dad answered the guy. He never hesitated, never broke stride, and calmly explained why this made sense. The guy never knew what hit him.
But as time has gone by and Dad has had his Father’s Days free of Hallmark cards and bad ties, I’ve been less ok with the ban.
As much as Dad never minded leading; the Army troops he was in charge of, the parish he belonged to, the family he spawned, the business he created; he is actually a very private guy who doesn’t enjoy public personal attention.
But there is another side of Dad. He loves opportunities. Maybe he was so successful as a salesman all those years because he just loves finding and then thinking about how to take advantage of an opening, how to fix a problem, how to surprise the people he loved with remodeled kitchens, bicycles, or chocolate doughnuts.
Maybe that is why he has always watched the sales flyers and the coupons that come in the mail. Maybe there will be an opportunity too good to pass up.
Well, for me, that is exactly what Father’s Day represents. An opportunity. It isn’t important who gave me the coupon, but I have a great big one that says for this one day a year, it is absolutely ok to risk everything and stand up when you are supposed to be quiet and risk embarrassing Dad by saying how much I love him, how much I respect him, how often I judge my actions by what I think he might say.
I’m sure he will have a very well-thought out response. But luckily, I am my father’s daughter. And this is what I believe.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad, with all my love.
He was serious. And when Dad is serious, even tho his letter was warm and funny, we listened.
See, when my father believes something, he lives it. He’s never been a go-along, easy way out kinda guy. When he commits to something, he sticks it.
100% Irish, he never wore green on St. Patrick’s Day because if you were REALLY Irish, you didn’t have to show it.
A strong Catholic, he was never a meek follower. He “got involved”, which for my father meant leading the way.
And as a parent, if Dad decided, no amount of pleading, whining, cajoling, crying, arguing or “three act plays” would change his mind. Once Dad believes he is right, Katie bar the door. Go pound sand.
Which is not to say he decided issues in some knee-jerk fashion. He thinks things out, measures consequences and costs, and prays about the important decisions beforehand. So good luck to you if you think you are bringing new information to the table when challenging him on one of these beliefs.
Brings to mind the Sunday at church when Dad was at the lectern announcing a fund raiser that he was chairing (Dad was in the lectern often, either leading prayers or doing readings or in some other way living his belief that the church was people, not the Vatican, and that people of faith needed to be involved to keep the church intact and relevant) and some rather conservative parishioner had the temerity to stand up and challenge the idea of the fund raiser because it was going to include “gambling”.
When I say the earth stood still, you have to understand this was in far more conservative times and NOONE had ever stood up in church to object or even question anyone on the altar. Not too many years before, the altar hadn’t even faced the congregation and the whole service was in Latin. But here was this guy, pretty righteous in his manner, taking on my Dad in front of a Sunday morning crowded Mass.
My mother and all of us were, as we were every Sunday, in one of the front pews off to the right. Actually we were probably taking up two of the front pews. There are lots of reasons why we always sat in the same place, but it is interesting when I think about where it was. Up in front – you bet. Fully participating, absolutely. But not in the middle. Not in the prime attention getting or statement making spots. To the right. Out of the way but not out of the picture.
Anyway, Dad answered the guy. He never hesitated, never broke stride, and calmly explained why this made sense. The guy never knew what hit him.
But as time has gone by and Dad has had his Father’s Days free of Hallmark cards and bad ties, I’ve been less ok with the ban.
As much as Dad never minded leading; the Army troops he was in charge of, the parish he belonged to, the family he spawned, the business he created; he is actually a very private guy who doesn’t enjoy public personal attention.
But there is another side of Dad. He loves opportunities. Maybe he was so successful as a salesman all those years because he just loves finding and then thinking about how to take advantage of an opening, how to fix a problem, how to surprise the people he loved with remodeled kitchens, bicycles, or chocolate doughnuts.
Maybe that is why he has always watched the sales flyers and the coupons that come in the mail. Maybe there will be an opportunity too good to pass up.
Well, for me, that is exactly what Father’s Day represents. An opportunity. It isn’t important who gave me the coupon, but I have a great big one that says for this one day a year, it is absolutely ok to risk everything and stand up when you are supposed to be quiet and risk embarrassing Dad by saying how much I love him, how much I respect him, how often I judge my actions by what I think he might say.
I’m sure he will have a very well-thought out response. But luckily, I am my father’s daughter. And this is what I believe.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad, with all my love.
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