A Starving Artist on Your 56th Birthday

I think that it's an important thing to go forth in your everyday life knowing not just why you do what you do, but who you're doing it for.  And.  I'm speaking both personally and professionally,  of course, but, I do.  I think that it's a hugely important thing to take note of.

Like, every Sunday, right?  You walk out your door at 10am, or 1pm, and before the end of the afternoon, you will have found a pick-up game of basketball somewhere and played yourself into the ground.  Why is this a thing?  Or, you've known since you were a Sophomore in high school that you wanted to be a lawyer, and here you are, and you're killin it, and of course you are.  But why was this so important to you to begin with?  You had to kick off your 30th Birthday with a Maker's Manhattan, neat.  You had to read "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie" to your first graders, first and foremost.  You had to roast a chicken as your first home-cooked meal in your new place.  You had to do these things, and without question.  Awesome.

What's your rationale for all of this?

I just feel like we go about our everyday lives inspired by a variety of different people all at once, and man, I don't know, just take a second to swallow that concept, if you will.  The idea that you get to carry around this network of inspiration with you all day every single day?  I don't care if you think that sounds cheesy, that's an awesome awesome thing, honestly, that's a friggin gift-and-a-half.  But, then, if you reeeeally think about it?  I believe that there is very nearly always one central person outside of yourself that you do these various things that you do for.  A person whose influence stands so tall that it dwarfs your self-importance. A person to whom the voice in the back of your brain goes "Aw.  Man, You would just love this." 

For that person?  I have my Mom.  In all things.

Some words about her:

My Mom never made any sort of money, but she was always the busiest person for miles, the most generous person for miles and, hands down, the happiest.

She took pictures of everything.  No kidding, she single-handedly kept Kodak FunSavers relevant.  I didn't understand it when I was younger, but I understand now that she just didn't want to miss anything.  She didn't want to forget.

She could not cook or bake to save herself, but she loved doing it.  So hard.

She was thrifty.  To a fault.

She loved white zinfandel.  Boxed.  And she pretended like she "wasn't a big drinker.  Do you know I've only ever been drunk twice?"  ... ... ...

She was a terrible liar.

She had an intense shoe obsession (and the fattest feet in the universe...Sorry, Mom).

She came to every single game/team meeting/rehearsal/show/field trip of mine.  She'd bring snacks, and she'd offer rides home, and she'd make us feel like we'd just done god's work.  Every time.

She never questioned anything that I wanted to do.  Ever.  Rather, she supported me without question, relentlessly, and bent over backwards to do so.

She talked about dreams.  She talked about practicality.  She talked about the importance of maintaining both of those things, evenly.

She talked about the importance of resilience.

She talked about the importance of "sticking to your guns".

She talked about how I needed to tell her when I was considering having sex for the first time so we could, "...You know.  Just talk about it.  I won't try to talk you out of it.  We'll just.  Talk."

She consistently aspired for "Better".  I don't know if she ever felt like she got there, but I do know that she never backed down from the fight.

She loved like it was her job.  I believe that to her, it was.

Today, my Mom would have turned 56 years old.

I can't remember what her voice sounds like anymore, but every day, I attempt to walk about my Everdayness in an effort to make her proud.  In the hopes that I could potentially hear a "Good girl!"  or "What a fun thing!" from somewhere out in the ether as opposed to "Well.  I don't...I mean, I'm not sure if that was the best idea?"

I carry her around with me because she was the kind of person that you just always wanted to keep around.

I aspire to do that, to keep her around, as long as I am able.

I aspire to reach her level of Badassery.  Be half the Warrior that she was.  Half the Woman.

I aspire.

And strangely?  That's very nearly fulfilling.




Happy Birthday, Mom.