Open Book

Legacy

In attempting to write a post about my father in the here and now, I found myself overcome with the feeling that it was somehow important to preface current events with some backstory. Important to whom, I cannot say. Me? You? The story itself? I don't really know.

This piece was written in February of 2006. It remains among my favorite things I've ever managed to put into words, less for the actual writing of it than for how deeply its subject took it to heart. Dad keeps a well-worn printed copy of this on the nightstand beside his bed, and thanks me for it, often tearfully, always sincerely, every time we're face to face.

Knowing that he knows? Really, truly knows? Well, it is one of the greatest gifts of my life, both given and received.

______________________

Growing up, I would often find letters tucked beneath my pillow or slipped under my bedroom door. Sometimes to mark a specific event; other times just because there were difficult words, not so easily spoken, that still needed to be said.

I have a smallish wooden box stowed in the recesses of deep dresser drawer that holds every one of them I ever received, my name spelled out across the now frayed envelopes in the familiar, concise block letters of my father's handwriting. From time to time, I revisit the messages he felt compelled to share with me then. The letters have yellowed slightly; the paper has thinned, its well-worn fragility evidence of how often they've been read and re-read in the years since they were written.

I read one, written when I was thirteen, and am gifted with humility, reminded that I once walked many miles in the same shoes my son is currently wearing, trampling on my parents' hearts in the process. My empathy comes naturally. I've been where he is.

Certain habits such as your inclination to not carry through projects to the end and your reluctance to use all of your God-given talents have never bothered me as much as it has other folks. (read, your mother) The reason is that I know youth is not an easy experience and my own background was much the same. However, just as it happened with me, you will wake up one day with the desire to accomplish certain goals. And just like me, you will succeed.

I read another, written on the occasion of my 17th birthday, and am fortified with confidence that my perpetual hopefulness is less a desperate clench than it is a determined grasp.

I want to bring attention again to the bits of advice that I gave you some time ago. I notice that you still have them posted on your bulletin board. I might just add one other pearl of wisdom - your Mom and brother are precious people and should be handled accordingly.

Now that your 17th birthday is near, I know that you realize your Dad has many shortcomings. It is good that you understand people are imperfect. But even so, Jenny, I look forward to our future relationship. I do not expect you to share all of your secrets with old baldy...Daddies are not for that. I do expect that communication lines are to be kept open always. Dads are there when their little girls need help. Dads may be able to give daughters another perspective on things. And most importantly, your Dad wants to do everything in his power to assist you through all of your times - happy, sad, gentle, or tough.

Together, we can rise above anything.

I read yet one more, written during the particularly delightful height of my teenage angst, and understand that leading with your heart does not have to be a sign of weakness. Instead, if done well and with consistency, it can be an impenetrable position of strength.

This is just a short note to tell you that you have been a real joy to me and that I am so very proud to be your Dad. We have our moments of happiness, sadness, friendship and disappointments to remember. We've each learned a lot about each other. I believe you have so much potential to lead a full and satisfying life. You are an intelligent, beautiful, and sensitive young lady. Much of your future depends on what and how you do of your own free will. If you will listen to what I have to say for the next few lines, I'll try to give you a few things I've learned that might help you as you continue to grow up into a lovely young woman.

- When faced with a decision of any consequence, stop and ask yourself, "What is the right thing to do?" Then do it.

- Life means more when you are doing something for someone else.

- You have tremendous influence on those younger than you. Your brother looks up to you. Keep this in mind as you make your way.

- Don't be afraid to show your love and respect for people.

- When you give 100%, the results will please you.

- Keep God ever present in your heart.

I wish you only goodness in the difficult years ahead. I'll try to always be there when you need me. But if I am not, try to recall this letter and all the love with which it was written.

I shared some of Dad's letters with my mother once, in a fit of sentimentality. She read a few, then handed them back, a misty eyed smile on her face. "Do you know what he was telling me during all of this? He'd say, 'It was you and me before she came along, and it will be you and me long after she is on her own. But we will get through it now, because it's you and me today.' I've never forgotten those words. I even remember where we stood and what he was wearing when he said them."

He is a wise man, my dad. The words he wrote to me resonate as clearly and as powerfully today as they did all those years ago, albeit for different reasons, viewed through the prism of an altered perspective.

Then, they were intended as a guiding hand as I stumbled through the maze of youth.

Now, I read them as a guiding hand as I stumble through the maze of parenthood.

Lessons from the past, applied to the present. I think this is his legacy to me, the one I'm meant to continue on. And I believe in it, with every fiber of my being.

Together, we can rise above anything.

Love is a very difficult thing to explain. It is also a very difficult bond to break. I am so pleased that you know I care about you and yours much more than some can imagine.

Was it not smart for God to make such a special thing out of the relationship between Dads and their little girls?

All my love, Dad

Was it not brilliant, indeed.

Then again, the better question might be: aren't I one of the lucky ones?

Easy like Sunday morning.

For some reason, I couldn't sleep last night. The good news is that the hours weren't wasted; I managed to clear five hours of recorded goodness from the DVR. The bad news is that my body and mind are calling for an uncivil revolution today; all those plans I made yesterday to tackle a mile long list of to-do's, should-do's, and might-be-worth-doings are, at least momentarily, collateral damage.

There is a remedy afoot, though. A second pot of coffee is brewing as I type.

My husband is the anti-me. The counter-me. The better-than-me. He bounded out of bed bright and early this morning, set the first pot of coffee to brewing, read the Sunday paper, paid the bills, took the dog for a walk and headed off to the office to prep for a busy week to come before I got all the way through two archived episodes of 'Parenthood.'

He is the morning glory to my creature of the night.

But. I will catch up, eventually. I will force my eyes wide open, pump my veins full of artificial motivation and just...start. Just...do. I will do. Today. This very one.

Soon enough.

______________

As you probably have inferred from the six years or so of posts I've thrown up here, I am a big proponent of the power of lists. I prefer my lists on paper, accompanied by a fine point red pen that I can use to mark through each completed task one by one as they are conquered. The sense of accomplishment I take from marking through a written, notated commitment very nearly matches that of actually doing the thing itself.

When we bought this 105 year old home, we paid for a thorough inspection, beyond that required for the actual purchase. We hired a guy who is known throughout the valley for his hard-assery in judging the inner workings of built structures and the end result was a virtual laundry list of maintenance items and enhancing improvements. The ultimate This Old House to-do list. The very fact of its existence makes me giddy; I will leave it to your respective imaginations to figure out how the red-linning of its items makes me feel.

It's been a great thing, this list. We know when we address any of the issues it contains, we're doing right by the place. And not so long ago, we were inspired to take the whole idea a step further.

We're in the process of doing a room-by-room aesthetics inspection, with the goal of an end result that will give us a list of mutually agreed upon home improvements to tackle, as we can, as and when. This way, we are both on the same page, working toward the same goals, with concerted purpose. 

This idea was born, in part, from the frustration that ensues when one or the other of us starts some random home project that either a) doesn't really need to be tackled, or b) should never have been prioritized over the multitude of more pressing needs, or c) was only taken because of an impulse purchasing decision made whilst roaming the aisles of the local DIY store.

Here's how it works: we stand in a room and try to view it in the harsh light of reality to identify everything said room needs to transform it, to make it perfectly "us." There is no limit to the things that can make it on the list and they tend to range from "in our dreams" to "we can save and make this happen" to "why didn't we already take care of this?"

These lists - one for every single room in the house - live in a binder, with a section for each room that holds "before" pictures, color swatches, pages from magazines that inspire, measurements, vendor business cards, notes from shopping (idea browsing) trips, and the like.

Here's a "before" (aka as it is right now) picture of our living room:

And here's the living room list:

• Paint the walls
• Replace the damaged piece of 6" baseboard molding currently hidden behind the sofa
• Paint all trim - windows, baseboards, crown molding
• Replace the screen in the front window
• Replace - completely -the side window
• Replace the two remaining tube & knob configured outlets
• Re-hang art for optimum display (instead of on existing nails in the walls)
• Organize the wiring behind the entertainment armoire
• Get rid of the 20 year old sofa presently blocking the gorgeous fireplace and replace it with two over-sized chairs flanking the hearth
• Install gas logs in said fireplace
• Buy and hang new drapes
• Replace switch plates/outlet covers
• Buy a throw rug

That's it. Some simple, some a little difficult, some requiring professional help intervention. But it's a plan. One step at a time, with a purpose.

I like it like that.

When this list is in the full-bloom of red-lined beauty, it's going to be a thing to behold.

Can't hardly wait!

______________

And would you look at that? A few minutes spent on a random bit of brain-emptying typing and I've gone and inspired myself to get this day started.

There's no time like soon enough, I always say.

I always prefer to believe the best of everybody, it saves so much trouble.

1. I know, I know. Actions speak louder than words, and no matter how many words I have typed to the effect of "I will be a better blogger," the actions that have followed prove them largely hollow. If it takes a month of Thursday Thirteens to get back on the horse, so be it. Thirteen small parcels of thought transcribed once a week is better than months on end of a crowded mind and empty pages.
2. Rudyard Kipling was certainly a fine practitioner of transcribing transcendent thought into powerful sentences, the title of this post being just one example.
3. I can count on two hands - and might even have one whole hand left over - the number of times I've gotten political on this blog. I have other, better, venues for that. And so, even in light of the tragedy in Arizona this past week, I'm not going to go there now, either. Except to say my prayers are with the victims, the community of Tucson, and even to all of those struggling to make sense of the larger societal issues that have been raised as the result of one very sick man's actions.
4. Maybe one other thing. We don't live in a vacuum. Even though unrelated to Loughner's horrific acts, the tragedy threw open a window of opportunity to create a long overdue dialogue on an important issue: the state of what passes for political discourse in America today. To slam this window shut out of some sense of self-justified indignity is such a sad waste of the potential for a way forward. It makes me sad that instead of confronting the issue like grown ups, we seem all too willing to stoke and perpetuate the problem like a nation of defiant two-year-olds holding our collective breath until we turn blue.
5. Possibly related, a favorite quote from Norman Cousins: "Wisdom consists of the anticipation of consequences."
6. And now I'm done.
7. We've been inundated with sporadic snowfall. A couple of inches fall, looks pretty for a while, and then starts to melt, only to be topped off by a couple of fresh inches. Rinse, repeat. I love it. It's driving others quite over the precipice. But I love it, every last flake of it, and whisper wishes for more of the same into the night sky as often as possible, when there isn't anyone else around to hear me.
8. I am gearing up to take on the Whole Living 28-Day Challenge. The idea is to follow a a four week action plan in order to get a "jump-start on a year of total mind and body wellness." The plan was designed to run from January 3rd through the end of the month, but contrarian that I am, my own personal plan is to start this coming Saturday and finish up on Sunday, February 13th. The word "challenge" is not a misnomer here. It's going to be a month requiring real dedication and commitment, but I'm excited - both about digging in to do this one good thing for myself and about the benefits I know will be gained by the end of it.
9. The hardest action item in the plan for me personally will be the "partial media fast." And yet I'm even looking forward to that, because something tells me it may also prove to be among the most valuable.
10. I am not amused by this story. Let it be known, here and now, loud and clear, I will never relinquish my Leo-ness. Not ever. For better and for worse.
11. We went to see the new 'True Grit' remake recently. Some background: I have an odd, but very real and very intense, aversion to sitting in movie theaters for two hours; I am not a fan of Westerns; and, I had no idea what the story was about going into it. None of that mattered. The movie was outstanding, the cast pitch-perfect, and the story gripping. I cannot recommend this film highly enough. Jeff Bridges' performance was impeccably exceptional and I hope to have a touch of 14-year-old Mattie Ross's moxie in me when I grow up.
12. Random fact: I am still driving around with a pile of wrapped Christmas gifts in the back seat of my car. World's Greatest Procrastinator? I WIN. 
13. I leave you today with this video of 3-year-old Jonathan conducting to the 4th movement of Beethoven's 5th Symphony. It brings me immense joy. I hope it gives you a smile, too.

Joy is not in things; it is in us.

1. How did I let so many days slip away, yet again, between postings? I resolve, six days late, to be more mindful and present here in the coming year. Maybe not daily as that seems the impossible ask of myself lately, but regularly, at least.
2. It would be a shame to waste the momentum that the Reverb 10 project brought to bear on my blogging habits. Even though I shrugged off the latter half of the December prompts because they struck me as either redundant or, in some cases, a tad too new agey for my tastes, it was a beneficial exercise. The best part about participating - far and away - was meeting so many wonderful, new-to-me bloggers, several of whom I have come to wholeheartedly adore. For that alone, I am eternally grateful.
3. A Richard Wagner quote serves as the title to this Thursday Thirteen post, and it has quickly become my personal mantra for 2011.
4. Speaking of the new year, I actually managed to stay awake for the midnight ringing in excitement for the first time in a while. We let off a couple of sparkly fireworks on our front sidewalk just as the ball dropped in Times Square to welcome 2011 with a bang.
5. It was a dual celebration in our house, as January 1st is also Jake the dog's birthday. He turned one in a flurry of kisses, rockets bursting in air and clinking glasses. He was equal parts bemused and oblivious.
6. During the coldest parts of the past several weeks, Jake has been spending a day here or there at a local doggy day care. I know, I know...it sounds ree-donk-ulous, but lemme bear witness: the people who started this facility are geniuses and life savers. He loves going. My energetic, extra large pup gets to spend the day in the company of others just like him, wrestling, playing, running, exercising and generally living the doggy dream. When I bring him home, he is flat out exhausted. And everybody knows: a tired dog is a good dog. It's a brilliant win-win.
7. I spent nearly four hours yesterday cleaning out my loft office at the bookstore. It's a tiny space, but it was filled with 15 years of ... well, the only polite word for it is "crap." And also dust. But now it is a shiny, dust-free, organized, efficient, productive-making work space. All of which, in solidarity, comprise the keys to my own personal happiness.
8. Mom and I have threatened to take an annual mother-daughter trip for years. And years and years. For so long, in fact, that the idea expanded to include my now-grown daughter. But to date, that's all it's been: an idle threat. This may be the year that changes. While visiting my folks over New Year's weekend, Mom pulled out a file folder filled to the brim and beyond with things she wants to do and places she wants to visit. (Proving the apples really don't fall far from the tree, I have a similar collection. Only difference, mine is in a binder, cross-tabbed and footnoted.) And out of this file folder came a newspaper clipping. My mother carefully unfolded it and said, "This is where we're going. You pick the weekend, I'll pick up the tab, and we're doing it. This year."
9. I'd never heard of this place she wants to go, but I have to say...the more I learn about it, the more I find myself daydreaming about losing myself in its environs for a long weekend, in the company of two of my favorite women, bonding, eating, reading, laughing, relaxing, and - in short - luxuriating. See for yourself.
10. See? See?!? IT'S AMAZING. Serious business. SERIOUSLY. We're gonna make this happen, people. You just watch.
11. A shameful confession: I have become rather addicted to the stupid CityVille game on Facebook. Freakishly obsessed, even. And this after giving all of my FarmVille workhorse Facebook friends snark and grief for eons and eons for the same offense. How did this happen? I have no idea, but I think it might be some sort of social media karma at play. Be careful out there: it could happen to you!
12. I have another new obsession, but this one is not so embarrassing. In fact, this one is rather pleasant and fun. Refreshing, it might even be said. Ready? Cranberry juice ice cubes in my diet ginger ale. Rocks my world.
13. We're under another winter weather advisory 'round these parts. I just stepped outside, where the temperature has dropped precipitously over the last hour or so and a rainy snow is starting to fall. Could another "snowbound" weekend be in my immediate future? A girl can dream, can't she! Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!