Don't send me angry emails. I'm not wanking about my mother. My mother is 85. A different generation. A different kind of mom. I was not raised in the time when every kid deserved to win, got a trophy for just showing up, was special. My mom lived through the Great Depression, WWII, sent a son off the Vietnam, struggled to raise 6 kids through the economic malaise of the 70s, and watched her grandsons go to Iraq and Afghanistan. She grew up on a farm, on land our family has owned for over 200 years and she is a tough old bird. She was a tough young bird too.
When things didn't go my way and I wanted to whine and be hugged, my mom would say: "Stop it, Susan. Whining is not attractive. Get up off your ass(she's a southern lady so the word was different) and fix it." I never once heard from my mom "It's not fair" or "you deserve it" or "That's just not right." We were expected to achieve, to be special, and the very act of being either was nothing special. It was expected. An achievement...look mom I just won this national speech contest...well, that got you a nod from mom. Complaining about anything was more likely to get you sent to clean a bathroom.
When I was a young woman just figuring things out and life was more difficult I used to wish I had that kind of mother, the kind that would say, "I'm sorry dear. It's not right. You don't deserve this. You are wonderful." But now that I'm older, have raised my own family, have lived through interesting times, good days and struggles, I'm glad that old gal was the way she was. I don't expect things to be other than they are. Good days. Bad Days. Doesn't matter. I wake up every morning at 5 a.m. and I start to work. There is no going gently into my golden years. Whatever circumstance throws my way, there is no whining and I've still got things left to do.
I don't know why I woke up thinking about this. Maybe it's because sometimes how I was raised and the new generation are wolds apart, and my practical "fix it" "It's just how it is, move on" attitude makes people think I'm a touch bitchy at times. Or maybe because the dynamic of the Indie Market is changing and everyone seems to have their panties in an uproar these days. I don't do uproar. I don't look for villains. And I don't complain...well, unless its to my mother. There is something so steady and constant about mom, it's like a battle rallying call. I'd give anything for my mother not to have dementia so I could pick up the phone, whine to her, and hear "Stop it, Susan. Whining is not attractive. Get up off your ass and fix it." Or to show her one of the books I've released and just have her nod. A nod from mom was a pretty great thing. I miss Dorothy. I wish she were well.
As always, I wish you Peace.
When things didn't go my way and I wanted to whine and be hugged, my mom would say: "Stop it, Susan. Whining is not attractive. Get up off your ass(she's a southern lady so the word was different) and fix it." I never once heard from my mom "It's not fair" or "you deserve it" or "That's just not right." We were expected to achieve, to be special, and the very act of being either was nothing special. It was expected. An achievement...look mom I just won this national speech contest...well, that got you a nod from mom. Complaining about anything was more likely to get you sent to clean a bathroom.
When I was a young woman just figuring things out and life was more difficult I used to wish I had that kind of mother, the kind that would say, "I'm sorry dear. It's not right. You don't deserve this. You are wonderful." But now that I'm older, have raised my own family, have lived through interesting times, good days and struggles, I'm glad that old gal was the way she was. I don't expect things to be other than they are. Good days. Bad Days. Doesn't matter. I wake up every morning at 5 a.m. and I start to work. There is no going gently into my golden years. Whatever circumstance throws my way, there is no whining and I've still got things left to do.
I don't know why I woke up thinking about this. Maybe it's because sometimes how I was raised and the new generation are wolds apart, and my practical "fix it" "It's just how it is, move on" attitude makes people think I'm a touch bitchy at times. Or maybe because the dynamic of the Indie Market is changing and everyone seems to have their panties in an uproar these days. I don't do uproar. I don't look for villains. And I don't complain...well, unless its to my mother. There is something so steady and constant about mom, it's like a battle rallying call. I'd give anything for my mother not to have dementia so I could pick up the phone, whine to her, and hear "Stop it, Susan. Whining is not attractive. Get up off your ass and fix it." Or to show her one of the books I've released and just have her nod. A nod from mom was a pretty great thing. I miss Dorothy. I wish she were well.
As always, I wish you Peace.
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