The last few weeks, I have been going through it. Please understand that I know my problems are small. My problems are just that; they are mine. I said before that as far a parenting goes, I think of what my mother did and do directly the opposite. It did work for me as far this last episode with my girl. I faced the dragons with a sword in my hand, damned the torpedoes and she is happy and back to herself. I am exhausted.
So I had an HWT written explaining what happened and I was gonna send it in and I was not gonna give a shit that it was Christmas. It was vicious and detailed. It was cutting. It was angry. I was gonna. I didn’t. Something happened this morning that made me change my mind. It wasn’t a friggin Christmas miracle. It was a photo that popped up in my memories on Facebook. It was a photo of me and my Sammy on our last Christmas together. Sammy was one of my day bar customers that I had invited to spend a Thanksgiving with my family. He was family the minute he walked in the door. He and my mother were from the greatest generation and they became best friends up until the day she died. The photo was from the first Christmas without my mother and the last one we had with Sammy.
Why is this relevant? I don’t know. The photo just popped up and got me thinking. I thought about the thousand conversations I had with my Sammy. He would tell me stories about the old days in Albany and the bars. He would listen to my ranting and laugh at my “They will rue the day” attitude. He loved when Don Levy would come in the bar and my day bar boys would make him say that. They loved R.M. and loved it when he was out of work and would hang out with them all day. They loved my poetry friends. They hated all of my boyfriends. Sammy watched over me and for some reason when I was gonna write with all my anger and all of my viciousness; I saw that photo and changed my mind. I just changed my mind.
I will tell you some things my Sammy loved to do. He loved going bulk shopping. He loved Sam’s Club or BJ’s. My mother did as well. Maybe it was surviving the great depression? He loved drinking half and half. The thought of it grossed me out. He loved going to lunch at Marty Burkes (South End Tavern for those of you not familiar with the magic of South Troy) with me and my family. He loved drinking with my brother in law and drinking in general. He was the first person I ever met that was truly a happy wanderer. I know I will never mellow out enough to be a happy wanderer but it was nice to be around. He would pop my angry balloon every time. He did it again today. Bastard.
I always wondered, with all he went through, why he was happy all the time. The truth is, looking back, he just was. I guess that is what happy wanderers do. They are all tra-la-la and doopy do. I am riddled with hormones and adrenaline and am always ready to fight and make my “enemies” rue the day. I am guessing that shit is probably all in my head. Maybe it comes from watching too much TV. Who the hell knows?
I was gonna write something vicious and I didn’t give a shit that it was Christmas. I was gonna. I didn’t. Happy New Year.