People, Let Me Tell You...

I am going to be a man that loves you regardless of what you do.  I am going to be the man who tells you that you are acting selfish, mean, lovingly and beautifully. I am going to be what so many parents have warned me NOT to be. I am going to be your friend Owen, whether you realize it or not. Whether you like it or not. Whether you understand it or not.  Whether you notice, or not. Whether we even see each other, or not.

I think people have a misconstrued idea of what it means to be a friend.  I think they think it means someone who supports them in any decision they may make.  A person who is expected to hold them up and assist them in taking the next step, regardless of what it is.  Not me, I’m gonna let you struggle sometimes.  Some seem to believe that to disagree with a friend, is not to be acting friendly. Not me, you will know that I disagree with a decision you have made, if it affects others in negative way.  Some folks believe that being a friend means that your significant other will never implement boundaries, rules of engagement or consequences.  I disagree with all of that.  A friend is someone who loves you, wants you to be happy and allows you all the freedom in the world,  as long as you are not harming them or anyone else.  This is the friend you will find in me.

My friendship is flexible and it will grow with you.  I will grow alongside of you offering guidance and support.  When you are ready to grow away, I will be the rustling of the leaves near by, whispering my support for the light inside of you to grow….grow.   Even if we should be great distances apart, you will be able to feel my care, my interest, my desire for you to experience joy.

Of course the subtleties of our friendship will change over the years.  As you get older, move out of house and start out on your own I will have to let you hurt people.   We have to learn about the power of our negative thoughts, actions and non-actions.   Sometimes our actions hurt others through their resistance and their expectations.  Sometimes we hurt others by being thoughtless and unempathetic. As your friend, I will let you go and experience for yourself.

For now though, as you are under my care, you will be able to feel my friendship in the quiet of your room after you are done crying.  When you understand that I took your toys away for my own good, as well as yours.  You will feel it when you are far away with your mother and it appears that I am missing. You will hear it my voice, in years to come, when you remember me telling you,  “Get off of the computer and go read, play outside or draw.” You will remember the time I did not let you get into a car with some friend or go to some party that felt too unsafe and you will know.  You will see it in the scars and chipped tooth and know that  I DID allow you experience many of the negatives of life for yourself.

I am going to be the best damn friend a person could ask for.  That’s my plan.  That’s really the entirety of my plan, as well.  I hope it is enough.  I hope that I can serve you well dear one.

So here’s to a great friendship. Here’s to the fantastic friendship I feel we already have.  Here’s to mutual respect.  Here’s to all the laughs and other stuff.  I am so lucky to count you as a friend.

Fother

Your Father is a Mother

It’s 4:30 am.  I sit here in the semi darkness, drinking some coffee.  Besides the coffee not being Yuban and minus two or three cigarettes, I am re-enacting a ritual my mother (your Grandma) used to perform every single day.  The low glow that illuminates my face is not orange and brightened by breath as I sit on our couch, though.  When you see me first thing in the morning sitting with my laptop and coffee, you’ll notice the dim white light and fresh air which in stark contrast to my Mother’s routine. The upholstery doesn’t  smell like stale smoke, but it certainly smells better since we sprayed some enzymes on this cushion.

Grandma’s birthday has passed. Mother’s Day has just passed.  My mom has passed.  It kind of all came and went.  Since Mother’s Day it has been occurring to me that my Mom, your Grandma Macy(Gillespie), is alive and well in our house.

I don’t mean  she is walking the halls as a smokey aberration.  Rather in almost every action,  I find movements of her, memories and assumed points of view. As I stand at the sink doing dishes, I peer through the smallish window at you playing.  At the stove making mac and cheese and putting laundry out on the line while you play in the sprinkler.  From all these points of view I have seen myself, looking up through the eyes of my child self and I must say, I look a lot like my Mom.

Not until you were born, in fact not until recently, do I find myself having the same the thoughts or same visual experiences that I imagine my mother having when she was raising my brother and I.  Not until recently have I seriously considered that my depressed and alcoholic mother and I shared much of anything in terms of ‘point of views.’

Today, I find myself watching you with her minds eye.  My own mind is filled with the feelings of contented joy and purpose that she must have felt while raising us. The excitement that must have coursed through her veins as Tim and I caught things on fire in the kitchen while she napped.  The profound sadness in her tears when I told her I hated her for not letting me “bob for apples” one summer.  I see, through her memory, the joy of your first water balloon, sprinkler dash and homemade orange juice popsicle.  I remember her smiling as I smile now.

I  remember seeing in her eyes, the same emotion and clarity that I feel when I am with you Owen.  I understand how the loss of this obvious sense of oneness, in the growing and the exiting of our children, must be considered a great physical loss.  

I remember this feeling, I never had, of watching Dad leave for work.  Now, that I am the one who sends off his domestic partner with a “Have a nice day.” and “What would you like for dinner?”  I find that all the years of being raised by my mother at home, with all the passive learning, blossoming inside of me, as I believe ‘Motherhood’ blossomed inside of her.  The ‘home school education’ concerning the routine and rhythms that I would feel so strongly affirmed now.  Something feels right about staying home with you Owen, and doing many of the things my own mother did with and for me.

Was I conditioned to these motherly ways during my lopsided domestic influence, or somehow predispositioned to slide into this traditionally feminine role?  I don’t know. One thing for sure, the ‘stay at home Dad’ is a phenomenon that is growing.  Although it was a little challenging to give up the independence and money that I was making, I find myself utterly content and filled with a real sense of joy when we get  up early in the morning, blast “Eye of the Tiger” or the “Tao of Pooh”.  I Love driving around Black Lake early in the morning, going with you…..anywhere.  I feel a bit feminine and blessed when I am cooking meals for us or when we join up with a bunch of Mom’s for a play date.

I start to understand the loss of self mothers begin to feel when children leave.  I also witness, from this point of view, the pain and sorrow of the traditionally masculine roles the of ‘nine to fiver’. While his job is no more difficult, how painful it must be, to be compelled to leave. There is much less choice and freedom in his day and I can understand the pain and
resentments that exist.

All in all Owen I am very pleased to be your Fother.  I consider it a rare and beautiful opportunity filled with so many role contradictions and creations.  There is nothing that feels more appropriate than this domestic, daily life we share.  It feels strangely familiar and new at the same time.  It is the perfect role for me now and as we look for jobs every morning together I realize that my situation is temporary.  I will not always hear your footsteps coming down the hall, sleepily, to come cuddle up with me first thing.  It is a rare, beautiful time.  I am thankful…..to God, to you, to Moms and beyond.

Leadership

Your dad lacks ambition, Owen. It’s not that I lack drive or a good solid work ethic; it’s just that I don’t need for there to be a particular ‘end game.’ Some people ask me, “Well, what about setting goals?” I set goals; they are just a little more general than others. My goals are contentedness, fullness and happiness. Well, that really gets some people questioning my sanity.

I always thought ‘goal setting’ was a little untrue to the scientific method taught to us early, as a way to determine the truth of any particular function. One of the keys to the success of this process is to refrain from assumption. Not ‘trying to prove’ a theory is taught as an important frame of mind for many professions like science, inventing, exploration, journalism, observation and evaluation. Not limiting oneself to the notions that one can imagine is so important to the function of growth, especially if that growth is to be extraordinary.

I am a good worker. I work hard, with integrity and often assume leadership roles as needed. This has helped to land me jobs as Kitchen Manager, Chef, Sous Chef and various positions in the Food Service Industry that involve being classified as a leader. These days son, I watch as other younger men and women pass by me on ‘The Road of Success’, as it were. Much to the bewilderment of partners and family members, I might add. I am happy to play my part as an informed citizen in the place that I work though. I thought I would try and explain why this is, as some of the people closest to me seem to not understand my philosophy regarding promotions and ambition.

First of all, I believe leadership should be spontaneous, temporary and fleeting. Our society and especially our corporations are built upon the notion that ‘strong, stable leadership’ is the way to strength. Management positions are often vied for, and there are immediate changes in personality when one is promoted… in most cases. And in my case. In almost every instance of my promotions, no matter how cognizant I was of my actions, I changed the way I acted and talked to the people I now supervised. In fact, most companies advise that you change your social interactions with the people you manage. If you used to go out for beers with them, stop. Upon your ‘knighthood’ into management al l of society seems to promote the idea that you are now separate from the others. This ironically dilutes your effectiveness as someone people want to listen to. Retaining the flexibility and relations that got me the promotion in the first place were immediately degraded the moment I put on my title.

I believe leadership should be fluid. The best instances of leadership occur as needed, sometimes by more than one person. I witness ‘group leadership’ daily where I work. Often it seems that the people that are getting paid substantially more than I have the least understanding of what is actually going on where I work. This is a common complaint amongst the working class. In the end analysis, I am not convinced that management positions are any more than a training position. This, if viewed this way, makes perfect sense. How else to really get a feel and appreciation for what everyone is doing, than to step back and get a “super vision” of the situation. I often am reminded of the military training technique that puts a different person in charge for every single training mission. No complacency, no laziness, no assumptions, no guarantees of power and exclusiveness. You are a leader, for now.


So, I don’t take promotion hints and offers these days because I like who I am better as a regular. I feel just as empowered, if not more so with this title. I can say whatever I want and not be responsible for others actions. Why would I want that? Sure more money would be nice, but there are multiple studies out now that prove that after a certain amount of money, happiness is not increased. I have lots of freedom, I make plenty of money and I still assume leadership roles when appropriate….then I slip back into the rank and file, where we all end up eventually anyways. At ease.

Great X-Mastations

Hey there little elfkin. Just wanted to reflect with you, a bit, on your first holiday season. We are now in early January and approaching your first birthday. This is my favorite time of Winter, after Thanksgiving, Christmas and News Years. It is much more quiet, peaceful and generally reminds me more of the Jesus Christ than the weeks previous.

You seemed to enjoy your first Christmas. You kind of got the whole 'open your present' thing, but mostly you were only invested for a minute or two in any one gift. You had little expectation for what Christmas was supposed to be and it was nice to see you so happy. But your amazingly happy most of the time. People comment on it, randomly in the grocery store, family get-togethers and what not. It has only been in the last couple of weeks that I have noticed you crying more when something has been taken away that you were using or interested in.
You cry now when you want something or when something happens that surprises or startles you. This is all fine and well, and totally natural. It is also a little sad. The little creature that seemed perfectly happy just being alive, may be transforming into the little human that we are ALL more familiar with.

A great man, or at least a very good man that I know once told me, "All of life's pain comes from expectation."
He was telling me this as he easily brought me to my knees in some friendly sparring. Though he was using this to demonstrate the ineffectiveness of trying to predict or anticipate an attackers intention, he also brought this notion up when discussing life's more mental and emotional pains. I have found this to be one of the most profound truths in my life. Another profound truth, that seems to run perpendicular to our societies ideas of happiness.

As far as the holiday season is concerned it abounds with expectations. We expect to get some gifts, we are expected to give some. We expect people to smile (even if faked) and tell us how much they like our present. They expect to hear from us how much we loved they're present. We expect to get a 5X7 glossy photo of friends and relatives who otherwise are mute for the year, and they kinda expect us to hang they're likenesses on our refrigerator. We expect the car next to us to LET US IN! We expect there to be ham. There should be wrapping, lights, trees, chocolates and record spending. This is the ultimate time of expectations, ironically at a time when we claim to celebrate the opposite quality. Giving without any expectation is the declared goal, but few of us attain that goal, in fact few of us bother pursuing it. The fact is son, the more I find myself living without expectations from other people, or even myself....the happier I am.

As we come upon your birthday, a son was born on the coldest day of the year January 13th. I will intend to father you with no expectations. I expect I will fail at times with this. Maybe though if I just intend it, with no expectation of failure, I'll be more successful. We'll see I guess. Love you, Pa.

Movement

As I lay in bed, with your Mom's uncles playing to a captive audience just on the other side of the wall, I find it hard to sleep. I also find myself thinking a bit about how different I am from this group. This is fine, and possibly preferable to having and extended Sheldon family that was more like me.

Everyone here, in this rather large group, surfs a lot. Once and sometimes twice a day they go surfing. Yesterday I listened to a story of one of the younger nieces taking the dog out on the board. Rasta is the dog's name, and apparently he stayed up for about 2 minutes. Which is longer than I think I could manage incidentally. Though I don't think I will be trying anytime soon. Everyone comes up to you Owen (as we are here for your Great Grandmother's funeral service and 'everyone' really does mean everyone) and says; "aww....looks like you got yourself a little surfer here." I don't think it will be long before you are out there, paddling out to catch a couple of waves. Not long at all. From the dual-master degree college students to the professional model, everyone surfs here.

As I am up with you early, I see you playing with the paraphernalia of the performance of last night. The used gear is neatly stacked in hard cases, with one left provocatively open. Right now you are fascinated with one of the 20 harmonicas that have been left out....apparently for your enjoyment and education. All of Coral's uncles, and there are 4 of them, play guitars, pianos, harmonicas, and sing with a respectable proficiency. All of them seem to have their own specialization. All of them love to perform. In fact, that is how I met your Grandfather Sheldon, for the first time. He was playing a guitar and singing at a local Olympian restaurant.

And talking. So much talking. Granted there are a lot of people, here in Coos Bay, gathered at the old Sheldon house. With that said, your mother and her father's wife talked for the entire trip here, just the two of them.....for six hours straight....non-stop. This is something your mother occasionally mentions to me as one of her dislikes. The fact that I don't talk that much on car trips drives her crazy, and i think she thinks it means we aren't "living". I see now, what I am being compared to. This place was like a bee's hive the other night. You and I retired early for the evening, as we fell asleep to hum of the jabber. This is a fine thing, it is just not my cup of tea.


I am struck by how different I am from this group. I prefer quiet evenings, quiet mornings and dry land. I am not nearly as theatrical or entertaining. I have tried to be these things and had mild successI was in popular boy choirs, at an early age. I sang in an opera, competed on the state level in High School with my voice and sang in a rock band, for a brief time. But these days, I would rather listen to the wind blow or talk radio. I understand the value of such people in your life, Owen. It is a good example to express yourself freely and without shame. Though I sing to you, quite a bit, I don't suppose that I will be whipping out any instruments any time soon.

I plan on teaching you some things, most of which I have no idea what they will be, but I think my offerings to you will be much different than what I am seeing here.
The piece of paper stuck on the late Great Grandma Dixie's refrigerator admonishes to "Never...stop moving." This seems to be the conventional, and widely acclaimed wisdom of the day. Perhaps even the mantra for most of civilization, for the last several generations. One could argue though, that it is this quest for constant movement and growth that has gotten us into predicaments we find ourselves. I guess I will be the family member to urge you to find the silence, the stillness, the emptiness in your mind and cherish it. I can attest to you that peace and happiness can be found there. It is not as flashy, it is not as much fun, perhaps, but it is another, valid path to contentment. The only one that really worked for me. With that said, learn an instrument if you desire. Almost all of my friends, it seems, play an instrument or two. Be theatrical if you wish, many great stories can be passed on this way. Be whatever you want to be, but know it's ok to be different than what is prevalent.

Wememberence Two

I am going to talk to you Owen, about your Grandma Macy; Penelope (Peni) Jean Gillespie. July 14th 1949 (i think) was when she was born, and she died at the age of 56. She died very young, in this day and age of science and medical miracles, and she died before she got to meet you. I know for a fact she would have absolutely melted at seeing you. I know for a fact she loves you, and is caring for you. To not get to see you, her grandchild, is probably one thing she has determined to change next time around.

Peni was born in Winnipeg Canada and traveled with her family down to California. I hope her other son, my brother Tim will correct me if I am wrong in any of this. In West Covina she went to high school and worked full time eating large quantities of 'Kraft Macaroni and Cheese' late in the evening, before going to be for school the next morning. Kraft Mac and Cheese would go on to be a staple in the Macy household, for two more generations...perhaps longer. Mom had 3 brothers and 3 sisters, a mother and an alcoholic/abusive father. The bit about the father is based on stories from her, but also seems entirely possible. Mom was born after World War Two and everyone was just starting to deal with the psychosis that war leaves behind as it's fruitand seed. Peni met Marshall sometime in California, she was 18 or nineteen, I believe. Dad was serving in the Coast Guard and they would meet during his leaves. They fell in love, and bore two children.

My first memory of Mom is that of being loaded on the back of a bicycle, mom and I pedaling into the warm air. I can remember the smell of the new bicycle tires, I can vaguely remember the sights. I remember the feeling though, so strongly, and I think these feelings are responsible for my life long appreciation for the bicycle.


I remember mom cooking mac and cheese for me in Texas, and sending me into the living room with a big dill pickle to suck on, while I watched Electric Co. I remember Mom looking down on me from a window of our apartments in Florida, as I negotiated a fight in parking lot. Emboldened by her 'presence' I declared, "My mother will kick your Ass." Looking back for confirmation, all I saw was her silhouette shaking it's head from side to side. I remember Mom breaking down and buying Tim and I a 'Slip and Slide'. I remember her throwing my first and only birthday party. It was awesome.
I remember Mom holding me in her lap as she drove me to the hospital after falling out of an U.S.Army truck whose tailgate was Not latched closed.


After the divorce from Dad, Mom went to school full time, worked full time and provided for Tim and I in a way that was truly remarkable, providing us with not only food and shelter, but with an Apple IIc, and relatively fashionable clothes. Against a lot of momentum, Mom fought her way back to upper middle-class, buying a house, starting her own business and eventually helping me to buy a restaurant.


Grandma Macy was the best mother a kid like me could have asked for. So many of my life skills I learned from her, because she thought it important that I do my own cooking, laundry and cleaning. She taught me to stand up for myself, and she also stood up for me. Like the time when we moved from Tallahassee to Durham, N.C. and the my new teacher would paddle me in front of the class everyday for asking her to repeat herself, as I did not understand a single word of 'southern drawl'. A letter sent to her by that teacher, explaining the reasoning behind my public humiliation was spellchecked, misspelled words circled and graded with a big, fat, red ink "F".

For my childhood and much of my adult life, my mother has been a hero to me. A fighter with such raw courage as to make anything seem feasible. The world seemed comfortable and safe to me, largely due to her. I love her very much, and know she would have LOVED to meet you.


In the latter years, her and I had some rough times. The relationship of Son/Mother fractured a bit and a real rift formed between us. If you want, someday we can talk about the last part of her life. For now know she was Irish and without a doubt, one of the best cooks I have ever had the privilege to be served by. And, she was a fantastic Mother!!! Those three things should be enough for you to begin with. Maybe we'll talk some more over some King Taco Salad.

Ma

A long time a ago, I owned and ran a restaurant in downtown Olympia. It was a quaint vegetarian/seafood place, with a focus on locally grown and organic foods. With the help of my mother, my girlfriend and several other friends I was able to own and operate my own business for 3 years. Then we had to close shop, due to a lack of income, ...well technically that is.



The failure of the Pleasant Peasant Restaurant and even the opening of it were driven largely by fear. I was fearful that if I did not take the opportunity to buy the restaurant at that moment it was presented, that I would not have another chance to do so. I was afraid that If I did not come up with some sort of economic plan that I would end up in poverty for the rest of my life. I was afraid that my family and peers would look at me as a failure, if I did not do something with my life that 1.) changed the world. 2.) made me a little renown. Towards the end, the financial fears were cumulative and completely dispiriting.


Perhaps if I had managed to work some sort of goal relating to the monetary success of the business, I would still be working there. Actually, I lacked lots of prerequisites for operating a viable company. Mostly though, I wasn't convinced that I was where I wanted to be. In the end I ended up accomplishing both goals, though not in the way I had anticipated.


This morning your mother and I are headed to a breakfast potluck. This is the second of gatherings that aim to reunite everyone involved in what was, in the end, a respectable attempt to change the world for the better. We all had our various takes on what we were doing, and I think we affected our local world in a positive way, generally speaking. There will be ex-girlfriends, old flames and old conceptions present, I am sure. The caliber of the people attending though, ensure these to be in passing. At one time though, at least for me, some of these people evoked heady emotions and in some cases anger and confusion. It is by these kind people's grace (and mine as well I suppose) that we all meet, in what I suspect will be harmony.


I wanted to make special note of your mother, Owen. Who for the past year or so has shown a lot of trust and patience in agreeing to accompany me to the various
functions that have reunited me with so many people from my past. She has shown graciousness and true friendliness in situations that I would find VERY challenging. So, know this about your mother......she is a kind, loving soul who has sacrificed much of her comfort, to aid both you and I. It is up to us to let her know it is appreciated.