June | 2014 | BulgingButtons

I don’t know about the term favorite, exactly, but I have made more than my share of mistakes. I try to learn from them, at least now I do. When I was younger I just tried to forget them. Sweeping them under the rug of my dusty conscience seemed like the easiest and most effective course of action at the time, so that’s what I did. No harm, no foul, right? Not really, but if nobody knows then nobody can tell.

I make it sound like that was decades ago, and most of it was, but old habits die hard, and hardwired patterns of behavior aren’t easy to change. I’m constantly struggling to evolve, but I find myself fighting my old destructive ways at nearly every turn. I sometimes feel so chained to my former failures that future successes seem out of reach. But that’s baloney and I know it. When I’m feeling that way, my intellect tells me to shrug it off and keep moving forward, but my reptile brain wants to curl up on the couch and let the world go by without me. Fortunately this doesn’t happen too often. Mistakes and all, I’m a pretty happy girl.

Now on to my “favorite” mistake. Or maybe the quotes should go around “mistake” instead. I guess the biggest thing that I did that maybe I shouldn’t have is push for marriage to a guy who really just didn’t want to marry me. Maybe he just didn’t want to marry anyone, I’m not sure. We were together for a long time, six years, and I was ready to move on to the next phase of our lives. I was ready for marriage, honeymoon, house in the suburbs, kids, dog, the works. He was not. I had a bachelor’s and master’s degree and was moving forward in my career. He was an enlisted guy in the military, with a couple of years of college to his name, but no credits to speak of. Too much partying.

We were different in a lot of ways, but we really liked each other. We loved each other. We could do it. We should do it. We did do it. We got married and he went back to school and we bought the house in the suburbs and we had the kid (one, just one, he said) but we never did get the dog. Things were fine. Really. Fine. And then they weren’t. We weren’t communicating and he told me I was crazy, except that it turned out that I wasn’t. He moved out, three weeks later we got the dog. She’s very loyal.

Would I do it all again? That’s an impossible question. Would it be right to do it again? Probably not, knowing what I know now, but I can’t imagine my life without my son, and without his father, well, you figure it out. So yes, that chapter of my life, and it was a decades long chapter, would qualify as my favorite mistake. Parts of it were really great, and parts of it were really awful. To this day there is still fallout from the whole thing, but overall we’re grown ups and we’ve moved past our hurts. Our son is what binds us and we keep that knowledge in the forefront of our current relationship always. All in all, I’m really happy with the dog.

June 15, 2014
by BulgingButtons 8 Comments

Random Stuff My Dad Used to Say

My Dad was an unusual man. He had many interests and would plunge into projects and hobbies full force, sometimes to the dismay of my ever tolerant mother. He built a greenhouse out of lumber and plexiglass in our backyard, and he set up a firing range for pistols in our basement. He was not your typical medical doctor next door in the suburbs. He was made of slightly different stuff. He was well educated and quirky and truly one of a kind.

My dad had so many sayings it would be impossible to compile them all here, but I want to share a few of them in honor of Father’s Day. Some of these make me laugh, others make me cringe, but they all passed my father’s lips many many times.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

I like that one. I didn’t really get it at first, but he patiently explained to me that just wishing for something won’t make it so. Anyone can wish, but you have to act on those wishes in order for them to come true. Oh… you mean, like, work? Yep. Work.

A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

Ok, so this one isn’t his. Apparently Lao Tzu said it about a billion years ago, but it stuck with my dad and now it sticks with me. It’s much like the one about eating an elephant, but Dad never said that one. He would be opposed to eating elephants. Anyway, this saying is another one about working toward your goals. No matter how big our dreams are, we will only reach them if we begin to follow the path that leads to them. Suck it up, take chances, and go for it. That last part is mine, not Dad’s.

Give time time.

Huh? In the later years of his life, my dad became very ill, primarily with Parkinson’s but he had other health issues as well. This became his go to quote during his declining years. I guess it means slow down. He had to slow down (he was never speedy to begin with), so maybe this quote was to remind himself that it’s ok not to rush. It’s ok to take the time you need to accomplish what you’re attempting. I’m still not sure about this one. Maybe with time I’ll understand it better.

Buy only what you need.

And we have just entered the land of irony. If “need” means 23 miniature brass cannons, 74 glass paperweights, and 6 garden hoses, then he nailed it. This man who preached a frugal lifestyle had a penchant for collecting things. As I mentioned earlier, he had varied interests, so he had varied collections to match. He was a regular in the gift shops of the art and science museums, and after his retirement he became a darling of the local estate sale agents. They would even put items aside for him. An entire bookcase full of antique family Bibles is one result of that particular obsession.

Bibles weren’t the only books he was passionate about. He had a huge library and he read every word of every book that he brought home. He would sit up in bed and underline passages and make notations in the margins and add in newspaper articles about the author or the topic. Each of his books on art, history, religion, philosophy, botany, nature, and politics received similar treatment. He loved the Time Life books, subscribing to several series including one on the Old West and another on Anthropology. At dinner he would share his learning with us, and challenge us with “penny questions” both about his topic, and about current events. My brother and I wanted those pennies! They were like gold coming from my dad.

My dad was one of a kind, and he taught me many lessons, both formally and through his example. He could be charming or irritating, suave or abrupt, cuddly or prickly. He was complex, multi-faceted, and exceptionally intelligent. He was a lot of things, but above all, he was my Dad.

Happy Father’s Day, Daddy. I miss you.

June 11, 2014
by BulgingButtons 6 Comments

Shut Up and Listen

I felt it coming on, but didn’t know how to prevent it. About twice a year this happens. For some unknown reason I develop an unpleasant and irritating malady that leaves me without much of a voice. I rasp and scratch and my top volume is barely audible. It’s easier to just clam up and not say a word.

This, of course, wouldn’t be much of a problem if I were a monk who had taken a vow of silence. Or anyone who had taken a vow of silence. I, however, have taken no such vow. In fact, I am bound to do the opposite. My job is to teach, and in teaching I generally use my voice. During these times, though, I have to think of something else.

Fortunately for me I have access to technology. My lessons this week have been delivered with the support of powerpoint presentations, and in those presentations I have shared the voices of others. Poets, athletes, entertainers, and ordinary people have shared their voices with my students this week. They have learned through not only my voice, but the voices of many others, from around the globe. There have been voices of the able bodies and physically challenged, the wealthy and the poor, the successful and the downtrodden.

In class we listen to music, get lost in poetry, and think about our place in the world. We challenge ourselves to be our best, and by doing so to make a positive impact on our world.

Sometimes losing our own voice allows us to really listen to others, and in so doing to learn from them and make our own message more clear.