Happy Birthday – I Took Away Your Rear-view Mirror!

Much like 58 years ago, last night we took another ride…this time it was me assuring you it was going to be fine. But then you knew that didn’t you? This time was probably a bit different than the one long ago when somehow before I even appeared, you were assuring me it would be OK by morning.

You always did like a party and last night was no different. All kinds of people running around making sure you are tended and most of all loved. The flashing lights and young stud muffins in uniform. Some things never change.

But that 20 minute ride did let me reflect on some things. You resting comfortably all hooked up and never questioning “where” we were going. It never mattered to you where we might be going, it was the trip and the fact that we were going that excited you. Always. You always figured no matter where you ended up, we’d find a way to do whatever or deal with whatever. Make it a party. Break the rules. Laugh. Live!

I, on the other hand spent 20 minutes in that flashy box having the feeling I was traveling backwards. I couldn’t see out the back window, I couldn’t see out the side windows. You know..the feeling you get when you get to a stoplight and the two cars on either side are moving forward yet you feel like you’re rolling back? That kind of backwards. Weird. Not real. We’re always moving forward yet in our mind somehow we go back.

Ok. I get it. I really do. Maybe it was your silent message to me last night. The way to get to the long road and destination…for you…97 years worth..is just keep going forward. Don’t look back. Don’t let yourself slip into that backward feeling. Throw away the rear-view mirror (and the side mirrors for that matter) – just trust that you’re moving forward. Always. No matter what.

Yes, I’ve watched for now 58 years how to drive and explore and go places never having a rear-view or side mirror. Hell, you always drove like that. Laughing and basically saying – “fuckem, they are behind me, so they don’t matter. They are the ones that better watch out, because I am in front of them” and pedal to the metal you went. Most of the time that scared the crap out of me, it seemed out of control. But somehow, we always managed to end up just fine. Trust and fly.

Yes. Again, last night you just trusted. Again, this morning we are just fine.

Actually, I am better than fine. I am spectacular. It’s my 58th year on this planet. Yes, there have been some hangovers from choices I made at the Angel Bar…drunk off my ass, choosing this “next life” – and choosing YOU to be the designated driver for this trip. Did I mention I was drunk?

Granted, many people along my path have looked at me questioningly as I careened down this road. Many have even asked. “My God, were you raised by wolves?” Well, Yes. Yes, in many ways you were the lone wolf. And like any good mother wolf, when you thought I could fend for myself, you allowed me to take some hits, get bitten, fall off the cliff, get lost in the woods and just in general be the wolf in my own way. Yes, there were a few times you licked my wounds – just long enough to get the bleeding to slow, and long enough to give a speech about what I might have learned from falling off whatever particular “cliff du jour” had come my way and howled a bit to get back out there. Back in the saddle. Ride. Go.

My way of wolf is more like a goat. A mountain goat. Born in the sign of the goat, I still climb. On everything. And life is no exception. Yes, I stumble on those rocky ledges sometimes. Even fall and have to start the climb at the beginning, but the top, the quest, the peak is always in sight and is the goal. And sometimes goats climb because there is a wolf on their tail.

And last night was no different. In your demented and damn near comatose state, there was the glimmer of the wolf biting my ass. Approving. Disapproving. But all the same, the message – climb, run, fall, stumble, succeed…dress better…joke, laugh, get in trouble, start trouble…but never ever look back. No rear-view mirrors. They are behind you and they don’t matter. Whatever, whomever “they” are.

So Happy Birthday to me! I will spend part of it with you. We will eat cake. Maybe we will eat cake first. And I will celebrate you. For you have gotten me to where I am. It’s not everybody that gets a wild, drunk-from-a-past-life driver like you and nothing like being raised by wolves to have the saying “Jump Sundance” feel so right.

I’m jumping Mom, Yeehaaa! Let er rip!

– J