When you’ve lived alone, as I have for the past four years, no chicks, no childs, nor man in the house, I’ve unearthed hours back into my day. Oh, yes, I’ve been overwhelmed with busyness, chores, responsibilities, challenges, and plain, old-fashioned work, but my days have not flown by. In my mind, the statement, “I’m so busy I have no time to think,” no longer holds water.
Maneuvering through each day, I’ve been gifted with Thinking Time. That’s provided me an opportunity to give my brain the space to roll around and ponder notions not perviously permitted by my normal, chaotic American lifestyle. Although this phenomenon is definitely a Martha Stewart “Good Thing”, there is a downside to giving my brain the space to roll around and ponder notions not previously permitted by my normal, chaotic American lifestyle.
There’s the rub.
I am starting to think about my Legacy, an excitedly explosive word with various meanings. For many of my friends, wrapping up illustrious 40-year careers, it’s an achievement or, maybe, many, that will continue to exist professionally after retirement and death. Think, accomplishments. For most, it’s a gift of money or other personal property, a bequest by will, left to others. Think, Rich Uncle. As for me, I’m leaning more personally in dealing with this word. Think, self-reflection. And, I’m feeling there’s still a little work to be done.
Not to be morbid but, in 20 to 25 years, I am going to be a Memory. Death and Taxes, remember? To that certainty, I am committed to being a good Memory. Quite honestly, I am very happy in my own skin. Quite content. Proud. Well, perhaps a little tweaking.
I grew up in a hard-working, solid, Midwestern, no-nonsense Iowa family. No complaints. I feel fortunate to have also raised my two girls in Iowa. My Mother was wonderful, selfless, and loving in so many ways. When the chips were down, she was the go-to gal. She was also opinionated, frank and spoke her mind, not that there’s anything wrong with that. But, my Mom was also a black or white woman, pretty rigid, she knew no gray. She had “sharp elbows”. Growing up, that’s what I knew and that’s what I became.
For most of my life I’ve said what’s on my mind and I’ve been pretty frank about it. I’ve never suffered fools. I’ve believed you have to tell the people you love exactly what you think. Unfortunately, if you’re my friend, I love you. In my world, everyone knows exactly where they stand with me. It wasn’t until the past ten years, with the birth of my first grandchild, that I started to want to still be Me but, a softer version. Kindness, that’s the key. Within my Legacy, My Memory, I want Kindness to stand tall.
I blame my son-in-law, Stephen, for that.
Stephen is a successful lawyer by profession, a splendid athlete by sport, and, kind, by nature. I have known this man for almost 25 years, in his presence probably more than he’d choose, and, his heart pumps kindness. Through watching him, I’ve finally realized that you lose nothing of yourself by being kind. May I still be frank about that fact?
Not that Stephen has had an easy time of it with this family. When my daughter brought him home from college, he was nothing we had ever envisioned for her. The guy had some real defects: 1) He wore flip-flops. Always. With everything. 2) When asked, he told my husband he didn’t know what he wanted to do. The horror of it. My husband knew at birth he was going to be a doctor and never strayed from that path. 3) The worst. He turned down a scholarship to Northwestern to attend a small, liberal arts school in Minnesota. My husband earned three degrees at NU and thought the guy must be nuts.
Reason enough for us to send him packing. Thankfully, we faced resistance from my strong-willed daughter (Yeah. Pot. Kettle. Black.).
My own family was equally dismayed. Soft-spoken. Quiet. Gentle. What was that about? They didn’t lay out the Welcome Mat either.
Fast forward to 25-years later, Stephen’s still around and I know I’m the luckiest mother-in-law in the world. I’ve baked humble pie, many times. His favorite is rhubarb. And, in an America that arguably has its own “sharp elbows”, becoming more mean-spirited, spiteful and, sometimes, downright nasty, he’s refreshing. Not perfect. Not without faults. Not me. He’s Gray.
The lesson of Stephen is that, unwittingly, he has made me, I believe, a better person. Now, I still do not do that “kindness” thing 24/7. Probably won’t get there. Not in my lifetime. But, I am trying. I can see, as well, that living with him has made my daughter a better, more well-rounded person. Most importantly, he is nurturing and raising kind children, not perfect, but, kind.
Those flip-flops. Still. His fashion statement. I am being very kind about that.