Monday, June 25, 2018

Let it Be

I recently watched the Carpool Karaoke with Paul McCartney that's being shared all over Facebook. I loved it, and every thing about it. I giggled. I teared up. I sang. I hummed. I tapped my toe and snapped my fingers. I was into it.

I didn't realize the backstory on the song, "Let it Be," which has always been a favorite of mine. I didn't know it was about a dream Paul had after his mother, Mary, died, in which she comforted him by saying, "Let it be." All this time I thought it was about the Mother Mary. Does it even make a difference? Words of wisdom, are words of wisdom.

While beginning this blog post, my friend Kathleen texted me a picture of what we call a "Mary tree." She didn't know her timing would be perfect, but she knew, you know?

And when the broken-hearted people living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be.

Thursday, June 7, 2018

All Just Goin' Home

Tracy Grammer’s song, “Good Life,” runs through my head. Could be because nearly every time I get in my car without Wil, I turn on the CD player and press 7. Before I knew she’d written the song about her dad, it spoke to me.
Our fathers’ stories are different. Her father was 20 when she came along, mine, twice that. Her father dreamed of a one-level ranch, fishing with the dogs, a quiet, country life. I guess I'll never quite know of what my dad dreamed. Twenty-two years ago today, he left the physical world as a mystery, and remains one today.

Eventually, her father got “sober as a mountain and his river turned cool.” I am not sure how sober my father ever got, or how cool his river ever became. 

Her father called her up and they “cried themselves clear.” I don’t think it was within my father’s capabilities to do so. I don’t know that it was within mine, to cry myself clear during the time he was alive, even if he’d tried. Chicken or the egg? 

What strikes me most about the song, is Tracy’s ability to write it from his perspective. There is such love, understanding, and healing that comes through in her lyrics and voice. “It’s forgiveness and grace and I wish you were here.” 

“Let it all go now and wipe it all clean, ain’t no time for regret in the great in-between, it was a hell of a ride and I wish I had known, you can worry, you can wander, but we’re all just goin’ home.” 

My father worried. He wandered. I hope he is in the great in-between, free from both. I hope he feels it was a hell of a ride. I hope that he knows that although we didn’t cry ourselves clean on the phone or in person, or even with actual tears, the process took place. Bit by bit, year by year, memory by memory, wiped clear. No regret. Just love. 

Monday, June 4, 2018


The most fortunate are those who have a wonderful capacity to appreciate again and again, freshly and naively, the basic goods of life, with awe, pleasure, wonder and even ecstasy.
This is Wil to a T. The basic goods of his life are appreciated again and again, with pleasure, wonder and (loud) ecstasy. They say that ignorance is bliss, but what is truly bliss, is naiveté. His first delight of the morning is climbing back under his covers after being awake for awhile, and telling me what he wants to wear that day. "Ice cream sundae and pomegranate juice." I pull out a pair of khakis, show them to him. "No, that is Italian ice." The game goes on until I've pulled out a combination neither he nor I had any idea he wanted, and both knowing it doesn't even matter.

We laugh.

Similar games go on throughout the day around meals, outings, shows he plans to record and watch. He gets a new cell phone, one that would be considered an antique these days, a simple sliding-front LG I got for $59 on eBay. He names it Larry, short for Lawrence. Customizes the wallpaper, adds six contacts giving them all a nickname, and using only capital letters. I am KIWI. Timmy is WALDPORT. Someone named TUESDAY is added.

"Listen to Larry's ring-tone," he tells me with glee, "call it and listen. You will love Larry's ring-tone."

I loved Larry's ring-tone, made me think of a fiesta, and left me wanting a Margarita.

"Text me, I'll show you how Larry vibrates," he bosses.

"How cute is Larry?" I text.

Larry vibrates, scoots around on the counter.

"DORBS," he texts back.

We laugh.

"I will go to bed at 8:02," he informs. "We will start the process at 7:57, and at 8:02 we will look at the Links."

At 7:57 I join him as he brushes his teeth, swishes with anti-cavity rinse, puts in his retainers, and climbs into bed. The scoreboard clock on his wall flashes 8:02. "Look at the Links!" he exclaims.

"Do you want to say a prayer?"

"Just a tiny one. We pray for Jesus, God is good. Amen."

We laugh.

Good fortune all the way around.

Sorry Not Sorry

I'm sorry I keep pointing you towards Brené Brown's podcast,  Unlocking Us , but I'm not that  sorry.* I've appreciated ever...