toy mogul

my mother's nickname for the man, coined when we were kids, was "the toy mogul." she came up with this after one night at my house. his mom drove him over to eat spaghetti and hang out, things that were a lot less fun to do once everyone got cars and driver's licenses. he had some kind of tech toy with him, i can't remember what at this point. 'course, this was the mid-1990s, long before it was commonplace to have a bag in which you carry a computer, an e-book reader, a smartphone and a music player. (or maybe that's just me.) my mother was amused, just tickled to no end, by the man's deep love for all things technological.

the next day, she said to me, you know, i'm glad you got to be friends with that toy mogul.
[eye-roll] mother, whatever do you mean by that?
that kid is brilliant, and he loves those gadgets of his, doesn't he?
why yes, i suppose he does.
i thought so. keep him around. you won't be sorry.

my mother was prescient, it turns out. and nothing has changed. a decade and a half later, the man is still a toy mogul. he was just before his time; nowadays, we all are. i damn near bought an ipad last night, just because of its usefulness. of all people, the man talked me out of it... but only because there's going to be a new one coming out soon. buy it then; it'll be much better. but he was the one who was in touch with this long before. he owned a newton, for god's sake.

i find it the height of amusing that my mom saw all of this coming. she saw his innovation, his love of the new and high-tech. (this has been driven home HARD during the computer-loving glee that has been the misanthropy bowl on jeopardy. more on this tomorrow.) something about that struck her, and she thought enough of it to make a comment to her surly, sarcastic, snappish teenage daughter. and y'know, his technological affinity, which translates into his highly logical frame of mind, is one of my favorite things about him. my toy mogul, then, now and forever.

made it, ma. top of the world.

i never called my mother "ma." my dad will occasionally call my grandmother that when he's annoyed with her, but it was never my style. i called her "mom." short, sweet, to the point. there are a lot of things i want these days, first and foremost a job. but today, three years to the day after getting that call, all i really want? well, it's her.

i've been told that she wanted to be a lawyer when she grew up. she worked for lawyers when i was a kid, and she was a damn fine paralegal. but she always wanted to be the one arguing the cases. when i was a little kid, all curled up in her office with the code of alabama as a toy, i told her i was going to grow up to be a lawyer, and she would encourage the hell out of me. when i argued my "cases" in my high-school mock trial programs, she'd challenge me, help me refine my points and sharpen my analyses. i was good. and i was good because she made me good.

but the bitch of it is, she never got to see it happen for real. i was halfway through 1L year when i got that call. i hadn't talked to her in forever. i can't even remember if she knew i was in law school or not. i think so. but that's the way these things work when reality, complication, etc. set in. the night before my divorce was finalized, i lay in the arms of my man, a boy she always loved when we were kids, and cried like my heart was broken (because it felt like it was). i wept for the loss of my marriage, even though it was what i wanted. my heart broke for the mistakes i made, the sorrow i caused us both, all of that. and when i was able to choke out a sentence, what did i say? "i want my mom." because i did. who else do you turn to when your walls are crumbling, when you're hurt, sad and confused? wounded babies cry for mama. apparently, so do wounded women.

today i wore black, i played our old song. i looked at myself in the mirror and noticed all the ways i've grown to resemble her. with my hair red, it's uncanny. i celebrated the legacy of the woman who made me who i am. it just sucks beyond belief that i reached her goal, attained her dream, and she didn't make it to see. all i can do is make damn sure i live up to the standards she set. no time to rest on my laurels now.

[exhalation]

whew. that was an adventure and a half. so many people, so much activity, so much hustle and bustle. when we closed the door behind the last guest at 1:00 AM, i was so knackered i could barely keep my eyes open.

but we laughed, we ate, we played rock band with a pack of really sharp little kids (who NAILED "smells like teen spirit," despite having been born a solid decade after "nevermind" came out). it felt like one of those scenes from a movie where you look at the house from the outside and all you can see is light and laughing family through the windows.

i don't know why i was so apprehensive in the days leading up to this. as is my custom, i built it up to be way more high-stakes than it was. i put so much pressure on myself for things to not only be perfect, but to reflect back onto me. this was actually a good exercise in letting go, being out of control, and just... breathing. and it's funny; it felt so nice to just be a helper, then a guest.

there's a lesson here. breathe. smile. as the owner of my beloved washington capitals, ted leonsis, likes to say, "be positive - be happy - show gratitude." and enjoy the party.

thanks

on this day of thanks, i want to call some people out for being amazing.

1) my parents. they rock, and i love them.

2) the man. thank you, love, for EVERYTHING. i love you more than words can say.

3) my friends, non-blog and blog. a few in particular:
a) the high-school crew, those who knew me when it mattered. (love you all, boys and girls.)
b) the law-school crew - i miss y'all more than i could ever imagine.
c) my blog friends. y'all have sustained me through it all. thank you, thank you, thank you.

take a minute to love your nearest and dearest today. give thanks. it's worth your time.

dads say the darnedest things

oh, for the love of all things sacred and holy [that i don't believe in].

i am a daddy's girl, even at age 29. i always have been, i always will be. but it's funny how the relationship changes as you move from child to teenager to adult. of late, i find myself the solid and responsible voice of reason in the daddy-daughter dynamic. and for my long-time readers, y'all should know just how crazy that really is. take tonight, for example. i'm here on the eve of a huge final exam, and as a study break, i decided to go with my folks to dinner and to a show here in the beautiful metro area. you'd think that a man twice my age would be acceptable company in a public, social situation. and you'd be wrong. perhaps the problem here wasn't so much my dad, who is a warm, funny and gracious man. it's a two-pronged issue.

first of all, daddy is a proud subscriber to esquire magazine. he has been for, like, 35 or 40 years at this point. (i am, too, actually. that's a damn smart magazine.) they had a list a few months back that described one thing a man should do in each year of his life. the list stopped at age 58 (the age my lovin' daddy is now), with this last piece of advice: "you've made it this long; you can do basically whatever the hell you want now." greeeeat. that's exactly the wrong thing to tell daddy, and he's taken it to heart. the filter is gone. any semblance of social graces is gone. it's daddy, uncensored.

oh, and the whole "daddy getting high before going out" thing does no one any favors.

sigh. i mean, i can't claim 100% innocence; i've been known to get ragingly drunk in public and do things like make out with the man in the driveway of a hotel, or roll an ankle and damn near faceplant in the middle of a major street. but when i need to behave, i can behave. it's reaching the point where that's not the case with my dear ol' dad. it's enervating. i find myself wanting to crawl under the dinner table, and WAY worse than i used to be embarrassed when i was a surly teenager. sigh.

i don't WANNA be the grown-up!

fire and rain

this is a bittersweet day for me. this would've been my mom's 58th birthday. i've written about her before, what happened, how she got sick and how she went. but i'm not really interested in focusing on the end of things. it sucks that she was so plagued with illnesses mental and physical over her life. but there was a lot of good in that woman, and i miss her on days like this.

she was a force of nature when she had her wits about you. so damn brilliant. no one could compete with her brain. (i like to think i take after her in that.) when i graduated from law school in may, my dad and i had about five minutes to ourselves in the midst of familial insanity, and he said to me, "your mom would've been so damn proud of you." that was probably the most meaningful thing i was told during all of that. she wanted to go to law school, but it never happened. she taught kindergarten and worked as a legal secretary instead. she'd have been great at it.

when she left us, i played the live version of "fire and rain" by james taylor from his album one man band on a non-stop loop for about a week. i thought i'd have more time. don't we all. but i've since made peace with what's happened. she's free. that's what matters. i have my memories of her, and i have the knowledge that i've done right by her legacy. i've grown into what she wanted for me. that's enough for me.

top of the world, mom.

parents: a meditation [TRUE STORY]

this is the time of night that's designed for smoking cigarettes, drinking bourbon and being alone. i am doing one of those things. (i'm more of a vodka girl myself.) it's times like this when i start thinking about my family, about my choices, and about how i got to be who i am.

i am the daughter of a music man and a tortured genius. that's probably the most succinct way to put it. my daddy (all southern-raised girls have a "daddy") is a brilliant guitarist. he was a professional musician for a very long time. but for a couple of intervening circumstances - my birth, mainly - daddy would be bad blake. basically, he curtailed that dream to be my dad. and seriously, i am my father's daughter. a lot of women worry that they're growing up to be their mothers. i am PROUD to grow more like my daddy every year. i am so, so grateful that he changed his life to raise me. despite some of my failings, he did a damn good job. i got my work ethic, my sarcasm, and my tenacity from him. all good things to possess, in my mind.

but there are two sides to every coin, two halves to every lineage. every kid has a mother. my mother was a force of nature. i get my passion, my politics and my intellect from her. this is a woman who, as a teenager, faced down the klan in rural georgia to make sure little black kids got to preschool. she was beautiful and she was BRILLIANT. but, as is so common with the gifted, she was also troubled. she had addictions. she had demons. her brain, her greatest asset, turned out to be her worst enemy, and her mental illness took her down HARD. i suffered for that, but nothing at all like how she suffered. the demons kept us apart for years. i couldn't deal with it. and, just like some kind of movie, that's the way things ended. i got a call one super bowl sunday, letting me know she was gone. it's still hard to think that. so much was left unsaid. i played "fire and rain" on repeat for days, weeks, months, trying to wrap my mind around it.

mental illness is the worst kind of illness. it's so hard to understand, so hard to watch. i occasionally wonder if that might be my mother's biggest legacy to me; i, too, swing wildly from one extreme to the other. but i keep coming back to the center. the tenacity of my daddy, tempering the passion of my mother. breathe in, breathe out, move on. one foot in front of the other. i think, in the darker moments, that my parents' twin legacies to me will be my saving grace through the insanity of my life. i had the good fortune to be born of two rather extraordinary people. i just hope i can live up to my bloodline...