The past weeks have been a little dicey, as my last post indicates. My husband has not been well, and to make matters more difficult, I have not been well. The flu came at me twice, and I swatted it like an annoying insect twice. A few days of rest and fabulous chicken soup (made by said husband) seemed to do the trick in both cases. Paulie needed a trip to the ER on Saturday, and so flu symptoms were quickly forgotten as we headed over to LGH and took the time to get the thing diagnosed (a post-surgical kidney infection... GAH!) and treated.
Now, the past few days have been restful without any effort on my part; a rehearsal here, a few lessons to teach there have been the extent of them. There are probably a million long-term projects I could be working on, but for now I can't think of a single bloody one. There is a new novel on my coffee table, a bag of junk food newly procured from the convenience store, and a few scratch tickets (purchased from the winnings of my Christmas stocking tickets).
This is a new experiment. I will attempt now, with great trepidation, to not do anything simply because I have the time. I will not do anything on PURPOSE!
Ah.... there it is...The Voice of Reason: "Laura, you have so many things to get done. You don't work a full-time job. You don't have a house full of people to take care of. Get out there and do something!!!" The voice of reason usually sounds like my father, which is inherently unfair, given that my father is NOT the kind of person to push anyone else. He's simply the hardest-working person I've ever met, and so when I don't think I can work, his voice sounds.
My father is the person who worked 3 jobs while attending college full-time, and then continued to work at least 2 part-time jobs while working full-time once he graduated. He married, had 4 children, and made us all feel like the most special people in the world, all the while teaching a full school day, gigging at night, and oh, yeah, getting a Masters Degree as well. In the summers when he wasn't teaching, he added another job to the docket. He painted houses, worked in offices, taught private lessons... he did whatever it took to make sure that we were provided for, both physically and emotionally. He's a bit of a demi-god in my book, and one whose shoes will not be filled.... EVER.
So, of course, here comes my guilt. As people in the biz might ask: "How do you follow that?"
I dunno. I guess I'll stop trying.
The more important thing about my father that I truly wish to be, much more than a hard worker, is a supremely kind and generous person. My father finds a way to make every person in a room feel special, for whatever their strengths are. He remembers names of spouses, children, family, and friends. He asks about jobs and accomplishments. He sometimes touches their arm when he talks to them, so they know that they are his sole focus. When someone cries he hugs them, rubs their back, asks what he can do. He passes a guy asking for money on the street and always has a one or a five on him to give. Sometimes they want to talk. He does that too. He's the guy who makes sure that people have what they need, and always DEMANDS that no one know about it; therefore I'm not going to tell you about any of those things either, just that they happen.
When I have been at some of my very lowest points, my father has been there. I remember being rushed to the hospital for a suicide attempt, and my father wasn't home at the time. When I came to in the room I'd been assigned, it was to my father's arms around me. I immediately started to cry and ask forgiveness. Dad just sat there on the side of the bed, holding me and telling me it was ok. That I was his Little Dolly, and I would be fine. He told me to "take it easy" (his favorite phrase), to take my time feeling better, and not to worry about a thing. While I still have moments where I'm sure that I'm disappointing him to the point of pure frustration, I also know that he loves me more. It's awe-inspiring and scary and comforting all at the same time.
So now, 13 years later, I'm choosing to take another page from Dad's book. I'm going to try my very best to be as good as I can to people (a life-long pursuit, especially for one as snarky as I am!!!), and at least for tonight, I'm going to take it easy.
Now, the past few days have been restful without any effort on my part; a rehearsal here, a few lessons to teach there have been the extent of them. There are probably a million long-term projects I could be working on, but for now I can't think of a single bloody one. There is a new novel on my coffee table, a bag of junk food newly procured from the convenience store, and a few scratch tickets (purchased from the winnings of my Christmas stocking tickets).
This is a new experiment. I will attempt now, with great trepidation, to not do anything simply because I have the time. I will not do anything on PURPOSE!
Ah.... there it is...The Voice of Reason: "Laura, you have so many things to get done. You don't work a full-time job. You don't have a house full of people to take care of. Get out there and do something!!!" The voice of reason usually sounds like my father, which is inherently unfair, given that my father is NOT the kind of person to push anyone else. He's simply the hardest-working person I've ever met, and so when I don't think I can work, his voice sounds.
My father is the person who worked 3 jobs while attending college full-time, and then continued to work at least 2 part-time jobs while working full-time once he graduated. He married, had 4 children, and made us all feel like the most special people in the world, all the while teaching a full school day, gigging at night, and oh, yeah, getting a Masters Degree as well. In the summers when he wasn't teaching, he added another job to the docket. He painted houses, worked in offices, taught private lessons... he did whatever it took to make sure that we were provided for, both physically and emotionally. He's a bit of a demi-god in my book, and one whose shoes will not be filled.... EVER.
So, of course, here comes my guilt. As people in the biz might ask: "How do you follow that?"
I dunno. I guess I'll stop trying.
The more important thing about my father that I truly wish to be, much more than a hard worker, is a supremely kind and generous person. My father finds a way to make every person in a room feel special, for whatever their strengths are. He remembers names of spouses, children, family, and friends. He asks about jobs and accomplishments. He sometimes touches their arm when he talks to them, so they know that they are his sole focus. When someone cries he hugs them, rubs their back, asks what he can do. He passes a guy asking for money on the street and always has a one or a five on him to give. Sometimes they want to talk. He does that too. He's the guy who makes sure that people have what they need, and always DEMANDS that no one know about it; therefore I'm not going to tell you about any of those things either, just that they happen.
When I have been at some of my very lowest points, my father has been there. I remember being rushed to the hospital for a suicide attempt, and my father wasn't home at the time. When I came to in the room I'd been assigned, it was to my father's arms around me. I immediately started to cry and ask forgiveness. Dad just sat there on the side of the bed, holding me and telling me it was ok. That I was his Little Dolly, and I would be fine. He told me to "take it easy" (his favorite phrase), to take my time feeling better, and not to worry about a thing. While I still have moments where I'm sure that I'm disappointing him to the point of pure frustration, I also know that he loves me more. It's awe-inspiring and scary and comforting all at the same time.
So now, 13 years later, I'm choosing to take another page from Dad's book. I'm going to try my very best to be as good as I can to people (a life-long pursuit, especially for one as snarky as I am!!!), and at least for tonight, I'm going to take it easy.
