(Don't) Pose for the Photographer...

Today, I was going through closets, trying to rid myself of more stuff. A good deal of that "stuff" was the remnant of about 16 years of my life that brought back memories... and some of them not so pleasant...

and then I saw it. My parents' wedding photo album. It'll be 50 years old next August 27... and it would have been their "golden" anniversary.

The album was in remarkable shape, despite its many trips from house to apartment to house again. The black and white photos taken in 1961 were amazingly well-preserved. So I stopped my task of cleaning to sit for a while and have a closer look. Something told me I needed to do that.

The clothing back in the early '60s looked so uncomfortable, yet so very stylish. Lots of shiny fabric and lace things. There was a picture of the guests going through the receiving line in the vestibule, and nearly every lady had on a pillbox hat. Guess they were all the rage at that time - at least they appeared to be in the little town of Denton, NC. Looking closer at the group, I almost didn't recognize my Pa-Paw, who you hardly ever caught smiling, much less doing so in a photo. He was almost beaming as he reached to shake someone's hand. It was a happy day.

I found a picture of my mom and dad, posing for their cake cutting picture. I could tell it was posed because mom didn't have on her engagement ring or wedding band. Must've taken these shots prior to the wedding ceremony.

Posing...? Hmmm. Not at all, really. It was unmistakable. The happiness radiated from their eyes. The way dad cradled mom's hand in his as they cut the cake. They way they both smiled, and the fact that, even though this was to be a "formal" pose, you could tell my mom wanted so badly to smash that cake right up dad's nose and laugh in that unforgettable way she always did.

I had gone through much of the past sixteen years of my life "posing." I tried to be the best girlfriend/wife/step-mom/friend/etc. I could be, but it just never felt quite right, no matter what I did. Look at my pictures over that time period, and you'd see a well-trained, perfectly-timed smile. Look deeper inside, though, and you'd find a lost, miserable soul who knew she was posing.

So as I sat there, almost meditating, something struck me. Wow. My parents were nineteen when they married. I was so far from being REMOTELY ready to think about marriage when I was that age. But they did it with a level of bravery, maturity, humor...and love...that was amazing. As their daughter, I was fortunate to see this "partnership" at work...and they made it work every day for almost 17 years until mom passed away at the age of 35.

The more I gazed at those photos, the more it became apparent to me that I have a combination of my mother's and father's smile, as well as the sparkle in their eyes. Definitely mom's quick-thinking sense of humor and mischievous nature. How do I know this? Because I've seen it in my own recent photos... and it's been noticed and remarked on by friends and people that I don't even know. Maybe it's because in that moment right before the flash, that finally, I look at where I am and who I'm with, and for that split second, I feel just like mom and dad did in that photo. Happy. Hopeful. In love.

I close the album and smile...without having to pose.

The Great Paper Chase...

Here it is 11:00pm. I promised myself I'd be crawled in bed by now. But no. I'm staring at piles and piles of crap. The last couple of years of my life on paper. It's overwhelming. I just want to open up the window, shove it out and hope a good strong wind blows it far away...and with it, all the memory of the sh*t I allowed myself to endure....and pay for. (Yeah, I know that ended with a preposition.) I just wish I'd wised up a little earlier... like almost TEN YEARS AGO???

Lessons learned are sometimes hard. Sometimes they stay with you longer than you'd like 'em to. They tug at your purse strings. They keep you from your dreams -- like The Boss said... "One step up and two steps back." I know... that which does not kill us... blah, blah, blah.

All I want to do right now is close my eyes and make a wish that when I wake up in the morning, my office is neatly organized. All these damn bills are GONE. The slate has been cleaned, and the door is wide open... I can start fresh. Where and how I want. I can take a dream job doing what I LOVE to do and not have to worry about how the salary cut will affect me. Oh, the possibilities.

Ouch. Damn paper cut brings me back to reality.

"What the Sam Hill are you doing???"

That's one of my favorite lines in "To Kill a Mockingbird." Even though she sometimes spoke before she "thunk," Scout Finch always seemed to have no problem expressing herself...and it always (at least in her mind) seemed to be for the common good.

I could learn a lesson from her. Sometimes the "Cecil Jacobses" in my life just get me so riled up, I want to meet them out on the playground and beat the livin' tar outta' them. It almost happened yesterday at one of my regular staff meetings. I finally couldn't take it any longer and "What the Sam Hill-ed" the conversation at hand. Just brought it to a complete stop. Well, they made me angry! I told them what they were talking about was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever seen or heard -- in fact, it was just plain hurtful, and I didn't agree with it one bit. Just like the kitchen table scene from the movie, everyone froze for a second, as I felt my face warming and tears beginning to fill my eyes after my exclamation. Thanks to my own "Atticus" (and you know who you are), later, I was able to calm down and make it through the day.

But as I get older, I see more things like young Scout. Things that just don't make sense. Things that are downright ugly. And I find myself saying, "What the Sam Hill are you doing?" or just wanting to tackle them on the playground and beat some sense into them.

Lately I realized that there are a few of my musician friends who are willing to take time out of their own busy schedules to go support other musicians in their efforts. But is the favor returned? Heck, no. They just keep promoting their own best interests. Always gotta have the biggest, bestest show, always gotta have the first, longest solo... and heaven forbid someone who actually wants to grow and learn asks to join in with them..! When music becomes a competition -- a battle of the egoes, it's lost its true essence -- forgive me for asking, but isn't music the stuff that is supposed to bring us together and put us all on the same page? And the most hurtful thing is that some of these people were the same ones who re-ignited my interest in music and singing a few years ago... so what happened to them? What the Sam Hill are you doing????

Oh, I could go on and on, but my lunch hour's almost at an end. I need to brush the playground dirt off my dress, wipe the dust off my hands, and get back to work.

Thank you, Miss Jean Louise Finch. You are my inspiration.

Living "Out of the Box"

I kinda let this blogging thing go for a while. Almost 4 months to the day, to be exact -- May 11. Wow. How far I've come!

Okay, thanks to the help of my "Yes Man," I've discovered that the "Little Boxed in Girl" really likes it better when she opens the lid and peeks out to a world just waiting to be experienced. So, I grabbed my box-cutter, ripped open the thick cardboard and extra-strength packing tape, took a deep breath...and it felt great.

What have I done since my "great escape?"

• I wrote and sang a song to someone...without music to accompany me. I felt as if I were baring my soul.

• I woke up early enough to watch an oceanfront sunrise for the first time.

• I discovered that late-night skinny-dips are heavenly...and devilishly fun.

• I decided to start letting go of things (and people) that are "energy suckers."

• I went to a bellydance class on a whim one Saturday, and it made me feel beautiful.

• I sang at a restaurant with a good friend...with about 5 minutes to prepare...and the people liked it.

• I went for my first evening motorcycle ride... through the country... and it was breathtaking.

• I made a difficult decision for the right/best reasons and am learning to live with it.

• I took a risk and trusted someone enough to share an experience that happened a long time ago from which I haven't fully recovered. The moment I did, I felt a tremendous weight lift off of me.

• I started taking swing dance lessons.

• I realized that my "Yes Man" was the love of my life, and now, we're both learning to live "out of the box" together.

Ain't life grand when you take a little chance or a risk, and it feels GOOD? Now...What's next? :)

"Closed Off Little Box Girl"

Okay, late last night I had a conversation with someone who I consider very special. We were discussing the topic of life (don't roll your eyes!), and he mentioned the movie, "Yes Man." So I took a look at a few of the clips of the movie and really got a clear picture of how my life is right now.

I'm the "closed off little box girl" who's afraid to crawl out and take a chance and do something that could be scary but also could be one helluva lot of fun at the same time.

Yeah, that's me.

I've had some relationships and life experiences that caused me to crawl back in my shell and lose trust and faith...in others... AND in myself. I think I've missed out on life, and from today forward, I'm not going to miss one more opportunity to experience something new. Something potentially scary. Something potentially humiliating. Maybe not illegal (I gotta keep my job)... but maybe just on the verge. Just say "What the hell," and go for it. I'm gonna say what's in my heart and not worry if it comes across weird. I'm gonna be honest with myself. Authentic. And if I feel like getting up and dancing by myself -- or with someone else -- I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna sing like I don't give a damn who's listening.

Whew! That feels good.

So, thanks to you, dear friend. You are my "Yes Man." Maybe not as scary and weird as Jim Carrey... but darned close. I like that :)