Say It Right

A while back, my younger son loaded some music on my ipod. I've been listening to it this morning. I like this one.

Susan

"Say It Right" by Nelly Furtado, Nate Hills and Tim Mosley

Traveler

"Please be a traveler, not a tourist. Try new things, meet new people, and look beyond what's right in front of you. Those are the keys to understanding this amazing world we live in." Andrew Zimmern

Have you ever stayed at a hotel where the chairs by the pool or the chairs for the beach become a big issue? Guests running over to the pool before breakfast, and putting down their towels and staking their claim? Being eyed suspiciously if you look in the direction of their chairs, when in fact, you might be just enjoying the gorgeous view or thinking about whether you want your Margarita on the rocks or blended?

I think these chairs are amazingly wonderful.

Susan

Demons

She has a new, exciting but challenging opportunity in her life, and she seized it. I say to her, "You can do it!" because I am certain she can. But it is pushing a lot of her buttons. Have you ever noticed that? When we step out of the usual day-to-day, and especially when we start to get what we want, we also end up confronting our demons. That should not be surprising; right? It could be that her biggest demon is "You're not good enough." It is a common monster in many of our lives, or at least it seems that way to Susan. Not unusual at all.

She recently had a memory, one she had not thought about for decades. Her father would call her into the living room on Sunday afternoon, and he and the mother would be sitting there. Her mother didn't talk, but her silence conveyed to my friend that she was in agreement with what Dad said. "You are nothing but a disappointment to your mother and me." Now it's likely her father said other things, too, but this very ominous statement is the one my friend remembers the most.

I have never met her father or her mother; both of them passed away years ago. But she has told me a lot about her dad, and there was a lot of good there, too. He was a good man in many ways, and he gave her a lot. She says he made her feel loved and special and pretty, and all the things a little girl needs from a daddy. But this statement that she thinks she heard every Sunday, "You are nothing but a disappointment" is a big demon of hers. I told her that her father must have been a very powerful person in her life, perhaps the most powerful person ever, for that statement to have carried so much weight. She shared this with her therapist, who said it seems to have influenced many of the things my friend has done throughout her life.

"Your dad hung the moon," I suggested, when she told me this story, and she nodded and started to cry. I know my dad certainly did. He put it up there in that big, dark sky. "He was the first man you ever loved," I added, and I got tears in my eyes, too. "With that pure love of a little girl."

So she is confronting her demon of Not Good Enough. She knows what some of my demons are, and I told her I think of mine as Muppets. Monsters. Demons. Okay. But ones that are really not all that scary, once I get to know them. The thing is, I have spent a lot of time and energy trying to avoid them and run away from them, when they are just big, adorable, cuddly things with green and orange fur. And although they can be scary, I want to share a secret with you. They are really my friends. Yes. You read that right. They are my friends, and are just there to help me. If I will let them.

How about you? You have demons, too, if you are a human like me. Could you begin to visualize them as Muppets? Can you begin to sing this song? I'll sing along with you.

Susan

"Mana Manam" written by Piero Umiliani. Muppets created by Jim Henson. Some are property of Disney.

Susan, My Susan

At work, I overheard my colleague's conversation with a customer and knew that I was needed, so I began to walk over to her register. I heard her say, "I'll ask my su..." meaning to say supervisor, then she saw me and said, "Susan." So it came out, "I'll ask my Susan." We laughed and I called her "My Karin," and for the rest of the shift, and even a few days later, people were saying, "My Susan."

I like that. I am their supervisor, which is my job and I am good with that, but if I had my druthers, I druther be their Susan. It is wonderful to belong to someone; don't you think? Oh. I suppose if it turns into some weird stalkerish, possessive thing it's not fun at all. Jealousy can be an ugly emotion. But to belong to someone, and have someone belong to you, can be lovely.

This has always been one of my favorite songs. It is an old standard, and it's about belonging and travel, two of the best things in the whole, wide world.

Susan (Your Susan)

"You Belong To Me" written by Pee Wee King, Chilton Price and Redd Stewart

Personal Shopper

Today I felt that I should stop in the secondhand store that is in the same shopping center as where I work. I really wasn't excited about it at first, but thought who knows what I might find. So I obeyed my intuition, as I am learning to do. I popped in there on my lunch break.

There was a huge swarm of women around the rack of women's slacks. It all looked boring to me, a bunch of black and brown and navy blue slacks. So I was over looking at something else, and this woman yelled out, "If anyone's a 2, here are some nice white ones. Banana Republic." She held them up. I thought she might be talking to friends she was shopping with, but I guess he was just yelling it out for anyone who might be around. But I suppose she was really talking to me.

I went over, and saw that there were so many shoppers at that rack because women's slacks were half off. I took those slacks into the dressing room, and I imagine you are way ahead of me now. They belong to Susan.

A few months ago, a friend had given me a pair of white slacks she didn't want any longer, and that is always a smart kind of look for summer; right? But since I have lost weight, they are too big for me. This pair of slacks that I got today are actually more of an ivory color, which is a better shade on me than white anyway. Very pretty, with nicely designed pockets and buttons and smart cuffs at the hem. Fully lined, and I imagine you get the picture. They are awesome. $6.50! How about that?!

It's like that other shopper was my personal shopper. Wowzers! This intuition thing really works.

Susan

The Bridge

We were listening to a song, my friend and I, sort of humming along and singing along, and I said, "This is my favorite part." She, who has some musical training, said, "That's the bridge." Then she added that often when we listen to music, I get all excited when the bridge comes. She explained simply that it's the connecting part of a song.

Sometimes I don't even care for a song, but I like just that particular part. The other day, I heard a song I had not heard in many years, "Daisy Jane" by America. I remember when my sons were little and we would take road trips, their dad and I would let them help choose the line up. This was back in the day of the cassette tape, long before ipods and satellite radio.

They liked the America tape we had, and the younger one particularly liked "Daisy Jane." I am going to share it with you, and let you know that my favorite parts begin around :51 and again at 2:08. Game. Gaaaaame. Blame. Blaaaaame.

Singing along in the car is one of the best things to do.

"Daisy Jane" written by Gerry Beckley

Father's Day

When I was a little girl, my stomach often bothered me. It is not surprising that I would have diarrhea or vomit, that my stomach would hurt. My mother would say it was the flu, but looking back I don't think it was very often the flu. Our home was a scary place. My mother was a scary person. My stomach hardly ever hurts anymore. I have a good life, one where there is no reason to be upset or scared or sad. I can't even remember the last time I threw up.

My father died a week before my 18th birthday, which means he has been gone for a long time. I remember the first time I was ill and threw up, after he was gone. I was an adult person, and I had never thrown up by myself. He would always go in the bathroom with me, and hold my head, and keep my hair out of the way. Throwing up is scary. There is a lack of control to it that frightened me, but he was always there to stay with me so that I didn't have to throw up alone. He would help me rinse out my mouth, brush my teeth, and he would get a cool washcloth for me. It was comforting.

I remember when I was married, telling my husband at the time that story, and he looked at me strangely and said, "Susie, I am not going to do that." He thought throwing up was icky, which it is. And I didn't ask him to, but I would have liked it if he would have held my head while I threw up.

Is that weird? That it is one of the tenderest memories of my father. He was not an affectionate man. I remember being a little girl, and jumping up in his arms, or getting on his lap, but like a lot of fathers, once I got to be a little older, he kept his distance from me. He didn't hug often, and I can't ever remember him saying, "I love you," although without a doubt, I felt loved by him.

I hug a lot. Not random strangers, but the people I love get hugs. I say, "I love you" a lot. One of the wonderful young women I work with gave a week's notice that she was quitting her job. Management doesn't communicate well, so no one told me. A few people knew that yesterday was her last day. When she told me, I felt so sad. I adore her, not just because she is a valued member of my team, but she is a lovely person. I said, "Oh, Daniela...." and hugged her. She said, "This is why I didn't tell you until today, Susan. I knew you would do this, and then I would cry, and I couldn't do this for a week."

It is just the way I am. If you have to throw up, just tell me and I'll be that person who goes into the bathroom with you and holds you so you don't have to throw up by yourself. You don't even have to be very careful not to get it on me, because sometimes vomit is projectile and you have no control. I just don't want you to be alone and scared. I'll change my clothes if I need to.

Maybe you prefer to be alone when you throw up, and I will respect that. I try to be respectful, but I really want to help. I don't want you to be scared and alone. And I guess when I say that, what I am really saying is that I don't want to be scared and alone.

So this is my Father's Day post. This is what my dad meant to me; that when he was there I was not alone and I was not scared. Every child should be so lucky.

Susan