Inspired By A Third Grade Drop Out

My father was a third grade drop out. He then went to work digging ditches for to help his family out. Imagine that for a second, you, 7 or 8 years old, digging ditches with a bunch of grown men, not going to school playing with friends.

There was a sense of family / humanity back then, also a rule in the country that you help out your neighbours, you do what is right, you always work hard, and are always kind. Look at the world today, this is no longer the rule, and only a hand full of parents teach the golden rules. Even the police motto changed from “serve and protect” to the new ridiculous, “vigilance, courage and pride”. I liked the earlier motto, it reminds them that they are police officers to help, not to bully.

For those who have read my blog to now may know the respect and love I have for my father, nothing new. He was a jerk at times, but aren’t we all? But there was this way with him, he always loved people. Never turned away anyone needing help, and always tried being the best man he could be. So when I saw this YouTube vid on the wisest man was a third grade drop out, it reminded me so much of my fathers words, and it reminded me to “Be a better me”. I am at rock bottom, but with no place to go but wallow here, or go up, I’ve been working on the later by working of goals to get me there.

I am an inspiration junkie. I love those YouTube vids that make you wanna jump up and be somebody. Only the inspiration dwindles until the next time you watch another one. The yo-yo effect will not make me a better me though, but this video made me feel like I was listening to my fathers words reminding me who I am, how strong I am, and to not give up. “This too shall pass”, he would quote to me all the time when things got tough. “As long as you keep pushing through, this too shall pass” he said.

We need more dads like this, this is a real man. This is a man I would love to know. To have the courage act with kindness, the respect to be early, to help others for the sake of helping, this is a great person to look up to. I am grateful this person speaks.


I effed up again!

Ever have one of those days, weeks, or months where you just can’t do anything right? Nothing you say is right, what you do was wrong, and even breath incorrectly. Sheesh!

That has been my life! OK, a little over dramatic I know,  but this passed 7 days has been one thing after another. I cooked the wrong food at work, then I burned the right food, then I forgot to make the other food. What is with my head? I can’t seem to get things flowing right.

At home I become a dropaholic, anything and everything I drop, break, crack and dent. I spilled our wash water all over the floor, I dropped the food on our now wash watered floor. I stubbed my toe on the crazy little corner that shouldn’t even be there. Then a part fell off the car, yup, driving along merrily and then it just fell right off. Random pieces of my car are trailing the highways. I hope it wasn’t needed because it is long gone.

While I drive I am taking the most attentive care to obey the speed limit. I have a lead foot so, I’ve been trying to be very good. There I am driving along doing the speed limit and everyone is honking at me, fingering, and shaking their heads at me. I keep telling them if they don’t like it, go around me. But no, they have to stay behind me and flick their high beams at me. Like that’s going to make me get a speeding ticket to make them happy. Yelling at me and fingering me is not going to make me speed for you either, so, GO AROUND! There is three lanes so, it’s not like you have any reason you can’t go around me.

Then the icing on the cake, I said the wrong thing to the person I love the most in the whole universe. My daughter. I popped her bubble on an idea she shared with me and I just reacted like a total jerk. I of course realized after I said it and, tried to back track but too late. The words fell out. I didn’t even know where those words came from, I don’t feel them at all. I want her to express herself, I want her to share with me, I want her to take her leaps of faiths and try new things. I was just a jerk so how do you fix this. Say I’m sorry right. I did, I did again and again but it still doesn’t feel right, and she doesn’t seem to be as excited about her thought anymore. Maybe if I stab myself to make her feel better? No, that won’t work, again, being overly dramatic. I just feel like crap for my behaviour and words.

This passed 7 days is over but this stretch of crap keeps going on. Like the never ending song, or never ending story, only worse. How is it worse than that? It’s happening to me, that’s how.

OK. Stop whining and figure this out. Shit happens, so how can I make a shit pie that tastes a lot better than it smells? I think I just have to laugh at myself, and then try to do better the next time, or day. Or take a really long nap, like Rip Van Winkle.

I am one of those people who mull over everything. I am a muller, I am a person who can not let things go until I make things better, or at least made my best efforts to make things right. I will try to see that it’s OK to make a booboo and learn to move forward. But what if you screw up repeatedly?

I suppose it’s all part of growing right?

Don’t ask your daughter what to do when you keep effing up, all she is going to say is: “I don’t know, it’s your problem.” Gee thanks hun for your great advice. heehee she was a fountain of help hey?

Well I will think on it more and maybe just take a long nap. I hear the Great Northern Catskills are a great place to sleep.

What do you do to stop the series of troubles or screw ups? Or stop mulling?



A bit ago I was missing my father, a lot. And just wanted to say hello to him, ask him some fatherly advice. Since he died I felt like sending it out into the universe how I miss him. So I thought with Thanks Giving coming up and with the whole idea that we are to give thanks on this day, I thought it only fitting to thank my mom.

It’s no secret that we are like fire and ice, we do not see eye to eye at all. As a parent now  I try to understand her. Why she did and said what she did. I think that mom was sad for a long time, since I was adopted I feel like she resented me. She was all done raising children in her mind and now there is another baby in the house. I see that my mom, I think, may have had some mental troubles as well. She did not do well in crowds, she gets flustered and panicked. She is also up and down in moods so perhaps Bipolar. Either way, I know my mother loved me and I love her in our own strange way.

How wonderful it is to have a mother teach you to make cookies and let you lick the spoon, or even better, the bowl. My favourite memory as a kid was when my mom would make jello, she would make a little extra so I could have a 1/2 cup of warm jello before it cooled into the firm wiggly squares. I loved to drink the jello liquid while it was still hot, I still do and so does my daughter.

I was a very active child, a tom boy by all true meaning. I love that mom would get mad at me every time I came home with another cut, another nail through my foot, another gash and needed stitches. The best was when I came home with most of my flesh torn off most of my entire body from a major wipe out. She would get almost sick with worry that it would leave a scar.

“I don’t know if your nails will grow back in, why can’t you act like a girl? Why can’t you play with dolls? Why do you insist on this wild behaviour? You are not a boy and boys don’t date girls that act like boys.” She would say.

Mother would try many things over the years, I know she would stress out about what to bring to the pot luck dinners, and worry about what the other women are wearing. I know my mom never seemed to fit in with the other ladies. I know she felt a little on the outside no matter how hard she tried to fit in, to be a part of the women in the church.  I felt her pain, her tears of not understanding why they all won’t include her or even be nicer to her. Mom tried very hard. When dad couldn’t work anymore, mom went back to school and became a  nurse. She was in her 50’s. She was always doing her best to do what she could for her community, her family, and her neighbours. I respect her very much for all her hard work.

My mom was still in the 1800’s with the idea of a perfect lady. Some of that I agree with, respecting a woman is a big one. But a woman is not needing to be absolutely dependant on anyone else to be considered a lady. And there starts some of our arguments. I want to trust a man, I want to have a husband. I just can’t settle for any man, even if that means I am single my entire life and die alone. I will not settle for just any man just because he’s a “good church member”. Or just because he is “her choice”. But I love her for worrying about me and telling me to “get a man”.

When I was raising my daughter I looked at my parents for “what not to do” and “what to copy”. I believe that once you are of an adult age, you choose what person you want to be and make those changes. I can’t blame parents for everything that is wrong with me, I am to blame as I have freedom to make changes. As a parent, I tried to give my daughter the good things I loved about my upbringing. Like Sunday dinners my dad would cook dinner for breakfast and breakfast for dinner, and mom would set the table and burn the toast. Like learning the value of hard work and the willingness to sacrifice yourself to help another person. Lick the cookie batter bowl. Playing games with my daughter. There are so many I can’t list them all, but as the years go by I learn to value what mom did all those years ago and even still. She is trying her best, to be her best parent she can be, best friend, best person she can be.

I love you for that mom, thank you for all you taught me, and thank you for all your love. It’s not easy to be a great parent, never knowing if the choice you made was right or if you picked the wrong battle.

Happy Thanks Giving to my mom and all you parents out there. Thank you for trying everyday to be a better parent and learning from your mistakes.