When I was a kid, I had the BEST babysitter. She was a supermodel, dreamer, caretaker, writer, confidant, inspiration, and a second pseudo mom. Stepping into my mom's white tennis Reebok sneakers (not literally), she fulfilled the spectrum of matronly duties while my own mother was going back to college to be…big surprise here: an elementary teacher!
My babysitter made whatever my brother and I wanted for lunch: toasted, golden grilled cheese sandwiches cut into trianlges and perfectly placed on either side of a warm and creamy bowl of tomato soup. We gallivanted across the street to the pool every day in the summer. While we lunged and splashed in the chlorinated water, she read an array of novels. Before and after the pool, she even let us watch MTV. I admired the beauty of her handwriting so much, that I would spend hours at our kitchen table attempting to form my letters just like hers, making them slant like palm trees in the wind.
She talked to us like real people, not babies. She listened to us and valued what we had to say. A child advocate, she was always looking out for the best interest of her little people. A diplomat, mediator, and lawyer…she skillfully convinced my mother to let us have a kitty! Our first and only pet (besides the short-lived iguana), a tiger cat, named Snickers. Our teenage mom was the coolest, most supreme babysitter! I put her on a pedestal, and she’s still there.
So life goes on…over the weekend, my babysitter sent me an email wanting to know if my brother was okay. She had seen some pictures of him on Facebook, and she was worried. Her care for us didn’t end with our stumbled and rocky stride into adulthood. Jake and I are just now getting our sea legs. I guess we're just late bloomers.
We’ve both lost fathers, my babysitter and I, and I think it changed us and created an unspoken bond.
Ironically, Jake also contacted me over the weekend. He wanted to inquire about how to go back to school for a graduate degree. My brother is doing well. That is not a line of bull pucky. He moved to Rifle, Colorado in June.
His dream.
I pushed him, maybe unfairly, after we traveled there together last summer. I wanted to be able to live vicariously through him. He is an avid outdoorsman. I wonder if he could have been a close friend with John Muir. He takes things to extremes with his sub-zero temperature, one-man sleeping bag cover that he calls a “tent.” I also love nature, but I am not quite as daring as he is. He makes for a much better story.
Jake, still a kid, not a self-absorbed teenager like me, was smart enough to take advantage of a trip out West with my Grammy and Grampy Schmouder in the 90's. So, when we went to Colorado together last summer, he was my tour guide. I kept expressing my amazement (in overly dramatic outbursts) at the landscape, and Jake, kept bringing me down to Earth. I think he even said he wanted to take my camera and smash it underneath his foot. I was THAT kind of annoying tourist.
I love my brother more than anything in this world. We are incredibly different people, and yet we are the same. My babysitter knew this about us eons ago. My brother was the charismatic charmer. He would fearlessly walk up to a new acquaintance and announce, “Hi! My name is Jake,‘Jake the Snake,’ and I am going to knock your block off.” His innate desire to solve potential problems with fisticuffs, forced my parents to cringe while the victim of his verbal barrage gave a careful, intimidated laugh.
Jake and I connect in a way that I suppose only siblings can understand. I tend to get defensive on his behalf, even when I know he is wrong. I like to hope he feels the same way about me. It’s indescribable to know we have each other’s backs.
So, the truth about Jake is that he has worked as an assistant manager for Wal-Mart in Gettysburg for the last five years, ever since he graduated from Shippensburg University. The safe route was for him to transfer to Rifle, Colorado with THEM to pursue a dream of Rocky Mountain life. That is exactly what he did this past spring.
His Saturn wagon tires were probably still warm from driving across the country when he realized he HATED it. Not Colorado. Wal-Mart. Which, was what I secretly hoped would happen all along. I try not to voice my jaded ideas often, but I am not a fan of Wal-Mart. Yes, I am a hypocrite. I shop there. Still, I don’t feel the need to validate my opinion with an explanation.
This post isn’t about Wal-Mart. I have an older blog post that has already addressed my reasons for corporate mistrust. I don't want to beat a dead horse here. Tonight I want to reflect on lessons in life. My little kid brother is temporarily without employment. So what?! It’s not the end of the world. He is avidly searching. He has a small stash of cash to get him through the interim. He is persistent and he knows how to persevere. I am not losing too much sleep worrying about his situation. He is self-sufficient. He is a work horse. And if he is unsuccessful, I know it won’t be from lack of trying. If all his avenues are exhausted, he can move home and stay with me. I still have plenty of home renovation project ideas up my sleeve to keep him busy.
His bachelor’s degree is in environmental science. He is smart and much more outgoing than I could have ever dreamed of being. We had a great upbringing. No, it wasn’t perfect, but we were LOVED. As a result, we now know how to love others, and we stick to our guns.
No one I know likes to be told what to do….unless they’re experiencing a crisis and looking for direction. Insecurity breeds unseen arm flailing. Even people who appear to have their lives together from the outside picture window, might be a blubbering mess inside. I know people who are gorgeous and successful, yet they still grasp at straws in their personal lives. Lowering one's standards for crappy companionship doesn’t typically lead to a happily ever after type of ending. I am not judgmental. I know it's not always easy to be alone, and I have stayed in relationships just to have the security of someone being physically present.
I admire women who hold out for awhile and select life partners based on personality compatibility rather than on exclusive physical attraction. What will matter when you’re 70? Tattered pictures of your vain and inflated youth or a lasting emotional connection?
I also had one of the best college roommates. I was clueless at the time, but looking back in the rearview mirror; I now know that she was masquerading as a life lesson. I was being groomed on how to stop trying to fit in with everyone else. She taught me that if you get left out of a group or shut out of a relationship, it’s not because you’re deficient, broken, or because you need to change something about yourself.
Unless, of course, you have controllable hygiene problems or you’re a mean person.
Then you should change.
My freshman roommate at Susquehanna University was a real musician, thinker, writer, reader, student, and spiritualist. But more importantly, she was a GOOD person. She frequently put others before herself. She would waylay her studies to counsel or encourage a friend. Handpicking her words, she would craft letters and notes to a cornucopia of friends. Why? To brighten their day and make them feel important.
This was another person I placed high upon a pedestal. She was everything I wanted to be, but wasn’t. Playing her guitar for hours, she would serenade me with her song. Yet, she too experienced self-doubt, as we all do at some point in life. I think her desire to achieve perfection and originality burnt her out. She took a break from school for awhile. This didn’t stop me. I still wanted to be her. I admired her resolve.
Her Mom said she was the "happiest sad girl" she had ever met.
I hope she is just a happy girl now.
Hmm…
My favorite folk-music group, The Weepies, is the background music for my thoughts tonight. Their music also fits with the end of one of the best long weekends in my life.
Thunder rumbles in the distance, a quiet intensity
I am willful, your insistence is tugging at the best of me
You're the moon, I'm the water
You're Mars, calling up Neptune's daughter
Sometimes rain that's needed falls
We float like two lovers in a painting by Chagall
All around is sky and blue town
We live so high above the ground, satellites surround us.
I am humbled in this city
There seems to be an endless sea of people like us
Wakeful dreamers, I pass them on the sunlit streets
In our rooms filled with laughter
We make hope from every small disaster
Everybody says "you can't, you can't, you can't, don't try."
Still everybody says that if they had the chance they'd fly like we do.
Labor Day has come to an end.
Back to school tomorrow.
How does this rambling blog post relate to education?
Kids who believe in themselves, know who they are, and have a strong support system are more likely to have the confidence and inner strength to resist peer pressure. I don't know if that statement is supported by research or DATA. Frankly, I don't care. I simply believe that children brought up with people who genuinely care about them and are involved in their lives will be more inclined to exhibit compassion, tolerance, and kindness. Better chances of becoming a thoughtful leaders.
All things this world needs more of.
Time to get off my soap box for the night.
Good night, Buster.
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