I think some idiot (checkenginelight.blogspot.com) once said “each day is a blank canvas for us to paint how we see fit.”… I think Gracie used the term ‘Pollyanna‘, and perhaps she’s right - but I’m a man, and men never admit they’re wrong!
Ok, color me misguided. How’s that.
If anyone tells you their life goes as planned - it’s akin to the feller that “always wins at the blackjack tables” whose car gets repossessed.
Life’s like being a mediocre boxer. We get knocked on our ass upon occasion - get up, experience some success, and then find ourselves reeling on the canvas again. We can either get up - face the certainty of what we’re experienced allover again - or opt for Plan B.
My mother was your normal 50’s, 60’s mother. Cookies, Koolaid, “the best” at getting grass-stains outta the knee of jeans from a slide into 2nd base in the front yard. Nice family dinners, clothes folded neatly away in my drawers - and there not to be proactive with advice, yet a leaning post of wisdom when the situation arose and help was needed.
My mother, perhaps heard from someone else - I dunno, passed down to me “the secret to success is how you deal with Plan B.”
Wind hits the three legged easel, it’s knocked to the ground - the canvas is ruined… the canisters of paint are now mixed with grass blades, dirt - and other colors. Our dream of hitting a home run, being the boxing champion of the world, swiftly hit home when we’re jarred back to the floor.
What now?
I hear tell there’s a highway between Vegas and LA where it’s nothing but straightaway Interstate - no hills, no potholes, no struggling 18-wheelers trying to make it up the hill. You set the cruise at 80 - and before your know it, you’re there.
Me, whilst I cuss at the jolts from the holes - turn off the cruise until the car in the left lane passes so I can finally get around the trucker - and enjoy the bend on 435 North that trains my eyes to downtown on the West… The wondrous Sports Complex to the East.. And eventually toward home, dead ahead to the North.
Northwest Missouri State College. No, that didn’t work. Maple Woods - time/age of my life, huh uh - a mistake. William Jewell College. Goldilocks, finally, “just right.”
Marriage uno. “Til death do us part.” Or, actually (and I remember it well) the text written by her Baptist preacher father “entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee - for where thou goest, I will go, and where thou stay, I will stay.” Then that night seven years later she came home to announce “I’m attracted to others at work” - I was like “whaddabout that entreat me stuff”….
Paint the canvas, oops, on the canvas. Ok mom, Plan B it is.
Gulp, “ahm, until death do us part” - accompanied by a baby tear inside, the second time I’d said it. Ok, plan B. I’m rolling along - dealing with Plan B wonderfully! In spite of, one by one, my nuclear family falling - and the accompanying grief - I was dealing with Plan B. Some 20+ years of dealing.
“Victor, it’s 2am, I’m too drunk to drive - I’m just going to spend the night with my sister.” She musta really been drunk to believe that the person she was snoozing next to was fully equipped with a Harley, a full length beard, and a penis was actually her sister. Now her sister is gorgeous - I think someone slipped something into her drink. Hehe.
Can one say “til death do us part” three times? Well, that’s where life finds me today. Dealing with Plan B has been interesting, to say the least. I’ve grown, in some respects - and slipped in others. Kinda like an average boxer I reckon.
And you? Financial troubles? Broken marriages? Been heartbroken? Lost a job? Loved one? Perhaps unsatisfied with your mental state… your physical state… your economic state?
Sure, we’ve all had our easels tip over. The paint mixes, we get up on the canvas - and we say “here I am muther dubber, try and knock me down now!”…
If we don’t do that, we eventually hit ‘rock bottom’ - which probably isn’t sucha bad thing… how’s the song go? “Been down so long it looks like up to me”?
I don’t have a profound ending. I haven’t become the light heavyweight champion of the world. I’ve flirted with ‘rock bottom’. I even tire of getting up off the canvas. But I/we must.
There are so, so many out there with experiences hella more extreme than our own. Buck O’Neill couldn’t play in the Major Leagues because of his color. Couldn’t eat in public restaurants. Couldn’t fill up the team bus at the majority of gas stations. So what’d he say? “I was right on time.”
The pic recently of the Iraq vet having only one limb left. Waller in pity? Voice out against Bush/policy? Sue? No… he said “absolutely don’t have pity for me.. Me? I’m lucky, life is blessed. It’s the ones that don’t come home we need to be concerned with.”
My son’s boss recently lost his eight year old child to cancer. Their only child. Somehow, he has the strength and courage to go on. Some months later, even the ability to smile, enjoy life.
Wow. I’ve had two divorces - big deal. Trivial in comparison. I AM blessed. My Plan B is not near as difficult to deal with as theirs.
People are truly remarkable. When that easel is knocked over, the wind has blown us off too onto that rocky bottom - look around. We can learn from others - in the way they react (both ways.)
Recognition dealing with this Plan B ain’t quite so difficult helps. It’s not fun to see others come thru much worse shit than we have - but oh what an example. “Ain’t it awful” becomes “God bless them.” Tears for one’s self - are suddenly pointed to those less fortunate, more challenged than our own self.
Live’s a marvel. People are marvels. I marvel at life, people. ‘Bout all I can think of. No matter where you’re at on the spectrum - never give up - or never forget there IS up. Love, Victurd.
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