Having
arrived at a certain age and come through a bout of cancer, I find myself
taking stock.
Some
decades ago I decided that one of the shortest roads to happiness would be to
lower my expectations. In retrospect, it would have been more accurate to say I
needed to get in touch with reality.
Check
out the lyrics of this beautiful iconic entry in the American songbook:
“There’s
a someone that I’m longing to see,
I
hope that he
Turns
out to be
Someone
to watch over me.”
©
1926 George Gershwin and Ira Gershwin
Boy,
did that, and almost every other song I heard, give me the wrong idea. That’s
the trouble with exposing children to things that they don’t understand and
can’t handle – song lyrics, Bible verses, loaded guns.
It
sounds good, doesn’t it? Someone taking care of you and all your worries for
the rest of your life? Who does that?
No
one.
By
the time I was in my late twenties I knew what I wanted: a partner, a friend.
Someone who did not lie to me or cheat on me.
Against
all odds, and after several Mr. Oh-Hell-Nos, Rick and I got together, and we
were friends, and we were partners, and we played music together, and we took
care of each other, and we drove each other crazy, and we laughed a lot, and we
raised a couple of great kids.
Our
marriage wasn’t a fairy tale – name me one that is - but it was a good if
sometimes hard life. There wasn’t a lot of money most of the time, and that was
the hardest part.
Then,
before Rick and I could share our old age together, he died.
So
“happily ever after” was a crock from the get-go.
Yeah.
I was raised with a ton of unrealistic expectations, or as I think of them now,
lies.
What
about you men? What was the crock you were fed about your place in life and
relationships?
Do
you like women? Do you resent and fear women? I think that a lot of men resent
and fear women. That is made clear by how women are treated, and how some men
speak about women when they think we are not around.
When
I was young I accidentally overheard men talking about women a few times. It
was enlightening. It didn’t make me feel like men saw me as an equal human
being. It made me feel like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of a man’s shoe.
I
say that in sadness, not anger. I burned through my anger at men as a class
decades ago. I know how many good men there are, by which I mean decent people
doing the best they can. Now I think someone is an asshat when I experience
them as an asshat, regardless of classification, by gender or anything else.
There
were dreams I had in this life.
I
meant to spend my adult life touring all over the country as a
singer/songwriter, eventually ending up doing it with Rick.
I
started out doing it solo in my twenties, and in my thirties and forties did a
lot more of it in the trio, Women, Women & Song. We went up and down the
West Coast a few times and had a lot of fun. Wrote a lot of songs, did some
radio, did some television, made some recordings, played the Northwest Folklife
Festival every year.
But
then I had these children.
Being
childless is an asset in the life of a traveling singer/songwriter; that or
having a stay-at-home spouse to mind the family, and it is mostly male
singer/songwriters who have that arrangement. Rick did his best when I was out
playing music, but he was not a stay-at-home spouse. That was one reason I left
the trio in 1991 and went home. That was the end of my touring days.
Most
of all, in my youth I hoped to make a difference for the better in the world. I
worked hard most of my adult life trying to prove to the mean voice in my head
(my mother’s, it turned out) that I had worth, that I could make a difference.
So
now, at a certain age, having had cancer, looking my life over, what do I see?
I
did the best I could. Sometimes great, sometimes tragically wrong, mostly
somewhere in between.
Now
I write, and I sing, and sometimes make people laugh, and sometimes I listen, and
I love people.
I
am beginning to think that I am enough, at last.
You
are, too – enough, I mean. Who you are, what gifts you have, what you bring to
your life. You have nothing to prove.
Funny
how it’s easier to say that to the whole wide world than to myself.
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