Spring the horse from the barn.
Let the dog out of the house.
Scoop the shit out of the henhouse.
What are we waiting for…?
I spent a whole lot of my years trying to be something … to be someone and do things that my parents and the neighbours would have approved of.
I was always secretly watching from the corner of my eye to see if they were clapping their hands or frowning. Even after they were long dead.
Expectations weigh on us like concrete boots strapped onto our feet by the Mafia. We just stand still with a silly grin on our faces as they pour the concrete to send us to sleep with the fishes. DUMB.
I’m trying to live my life now like I have feathers instead of concrete attached to me.
I used to blame my father for being cold and uncaring and perhaps making my life more difficult than it really should have been.
I was young. It was useless energy expended on being negative and finding a scapegoat for my sorrows.
We all have sorrows. We all have tribulations. We all have miracles.
Hell, I was born into a rich, peaceful society with limitless possibilities. Billions don’t have that luxury.
My Dad wasn’t perfect and neither am I, nor will I ever be. But that doesn’t give me any reason to dwell on the negative when I can use that energy and forge onwards doing things I enjoy, hopefully helping others who are struggling.
As a parent, I imposed the same sorts of ideas and values on my kids that I grew up with, forcing the sweet little round critters into square holes where they didn’t want to go. It’s a shame that we learn so many lessons about ourselves by inflicting our raw character on our innocent little offspring.
Perhaps we should live our lives backwards and emerge into the world as elderly grandparents filled with knowledge and wisdom of what makes people tick. Maybe there’d be less violence, fewer wars. More love. More kindness. I don’t know.
I’m working more hours as a bartender this month than I’d like to. I want to work one or two shifts each week for the pleasure of being around people and doing something totally different than what I’ve done before.
Putting in four or five stints a week is like taking mind-blowing sex and making it a chore. Orgasms are always better when there’s some waiting and delicious anticipating space between.
A paycheque and tips at the end of the night are kind of nice, but that’s not the reason I chose to do this.
I have to remind myself that I made this choice.
If others try to slap concrete shoes on me because that’s what they have on their feet, then I have to step away before the concrete sets.
I’m choosing to work where I want to work because I love it, to play at what I love to play. The expectations of others should have no control over me. My expectations shouldn’t control you.
As always, I’m a work in progress.
I have my own expectations.
I want to be creative in all areas of my life, and live large, or at least larger than I have for many years. There should be luscious internal music meandering like a river through the days of our lives.
That’s my expectation for me. Just me, not you or anyone else.
Not my parents’ expectations. Not the neighbours’ expectations.
And when people look at me and my expectations, that’s what I hope people see.
No lectures. No finger wagging. No disappointed looks. No fretful expectations.
Just me shaking it off, letting that horse run free out of the barn.
Man On The Fringe 
Aug 09, 2015 @ 12:10:10
Hey, Lar.
I’m pretty sure that we were raised in the same household, so let me give you my take on things. Please don’t think that I’m adding to the cement boot syndrome . . . I just want to offer another perspective. I know that I had a mother longer than you did. And as a girl, I probably received some preferential treatment. Well . . . not probably . . . I DID receive some preferential treatment. The flip side of that is that you, and the other boys, learned how to honour and respect women. I’m certain that Dad was a good role model in that area.
I’m sorry that you felt pressured by expectations of your parents and neighbours. Siblings were probably a pressure too, since you had 4 older siblings putting pressure on you, but I prefer to think of those “expectations” as positive forces to motivate you to do better in life. At our next reunion, maybe we can play “Whack A Mole” — you can whack each of your surviving siblings to make up for past hurts!!! : )
I think that a parent’s responsibility should be to offer opportunities and to role model values that he or she feels are important. I think that a parent should give their children lessons, guidance, pass on their values, then give them wings and let them make their own choices in life. I think that our parents did that. I never felt that I was burdened with concrete shoes. I’m sorry that you felt that way, and I’m sorry if I contributed to that feeling in any way.
When Dad told me that I should be a teacher, since it would be a good job for a wife and mother, I listened to his opinion. Then I decided that I would do it my way. He supported me in the decisions that I made. He may not have agreed with my decisions, but he didn’t ever express that to me. And I appreciated that so much.
I know that he was opinionated. He had strong opinions about sexual intimacy outside of marriage. But he was really 2 generations removed from you. He could have been your great-grandfather, based on age. His opinions were based on his upbringing, and they were pretty strict back then. My friend was raped repeatedly by her father from the age of 4. I’ll take strict attitudes over that any day!!
I’m happy that I learned from my parents’ backgrounds from city life and from country life. Our Dad showed us that he had to work hard to support his family of five. He never shrugged off his responsibilities. We were offered gardens to nourish our bodies and souls. We always had pets, because that is what the children wanted. He even built a cage for our hamster, Susie, so she could have more room to run. We were offered some religious training, but it was not mandatory after we were able to make our own rational decisions. I’m happy that I had that exposure and was given the opportunity to make my own
choices. We were given the opportunity to participate in sports, music lessons, swimming lessons and self-sufficient activities. For several winters, Mom spent hours out in the cold making an ice rink for us, so we could enjoy winter activities. Dad allowed me to use the family car to learn to drive. But he insisted that I would not drive his vehicle until I was able to pay my own way. I may not have liked it at the time, but I think it was a wonderful lesson. Life is not always handed to you on a sliver platter . . . better to learn that before you start paying your own way. We always had summer vacations — always with the children along. When baby Larry was in diapers, we made a trip to the East coast. How easy it would have been to leave the baby with a friend or relative. But you were included in the vacation because you were an important part of the family unit. And of course, there were always the moments when we would break into song and urge Dad to sing “In The Little Red Schoolhouse”. We would giggle when Dad would sing the line about the “spit ball”. So out-of-character for such a dignified man! The family may not have been perfect, but our parents gave us so many things that some people never experience in their family lives.
I feel very proud that I come from a family of different interests. All of us have chosen different paths in life, and I think that is a good sign. Creativity may not have been the main focus in our family home. But it wasn’t discouraged. Dad helped me build a marionette for art class. And he drew an awesome picture of Sam McGee smiling in a wintery inferno when I was studying Robert Service in Grade 7 or 8. He had an artistic side that I didn’t have, but he spared me the humiliation of showing that to my teacher and classmates. I wish that I had saved those treasures in the same way that I saved Mom’s letters.
Dad taught me to fill in my own income tax forms. That skill has spared me some accountant’s bills over the years. I have many friends who have no idea how to complete a basic income tax form. And I know that Mom taught you skills related to investing that have left you in good stead in your adult years.
I feel that I was given feathers at home and the opportunities to go forth based on my family’s values. I may not have agreed with everything. What child does? As adults, we have the luxury of forming our own opinions based on what we have learned as children. So I’m not interested in shaking off the past. I will embrace what I have learned and hopefully put it to good use in the future. I think that you have done some of that yourself without realizing it.
I just wanted to share my view of life at home. I know it wasn’t perfect. But
I hope that you can reflect on the past one more time. Hopefully you will be able to find a few feathers lifting up those cement shoes. If not, I respect your opinion. I know that each of us sees and experiences life differently.
Love from your opinionated — but loving — sister,
Betty