Roots and Wings

It’s been 11 years since Rickie died and our family’s world changed. And I’ve been thinking about that lately as the anniversary approaches. 

My children were in their 30s and 40s when he died. My grandchildren between the oldest 29 and the youngest 3. And we also had two great-grandchildren then, 7 and 2 years old. 

We’ve had some other tragedies since that have caused great pain and have affected the lives of my children and grandchildren.  It’s changed their worlds. And they have carried on, making changes to persevere. To have a good life.

Rickie and I always tried to make life good in spite of the usual setbacks everyone has. And to give the kids and grandkids adventures they maybe wouldn’t have had without us doing what we did. For many years they had the experience of life on 54 acres in the middle of Texas. Part of a large working ranch that had been broken up and sold, we referred to it as “the ranch”.  For city kids, it gave them and us a touch of life we might never have had. Floating down the rivers, deer hunting, campfires, taking care of a place you are entrusted with. 

After Rickie died I took what resources I had and used them to give us all the adventure of Colorado and all that entailed. Snow like we’d never seen, mountains, skiing, horseback riding, rafting. I was fortunate that Sarah and her family came to be with me full time. This gave me the adventures of a young grandchild again as the others were all grown up and making their own lives with homes and jobs and even children. Still, as at the ranch, they came and had the experiences. They learned new things.

Things have changed once again and now I’m in New York. Who would have ever thought that! My children and grandchildren are spread out all the way from China and New York and places in between! Oh, how I wish Rickie could see where we are today, not just physically but in our lives.

There’s an old saying that the two things we can give our children are roots and wings. And I think that’s what Rickie and I tried to give them. I struggled with the decision to leave the ranch back then. But a friend told me I didn’t know what they’d like in the future. Maybe they’d rather be by the ocean or on the west coast. And my leaving would teach them you can pick up and create a new life, no matter what happens to you. 

And I think that’s the life lesson we all learned, myself included. We only have one life. As Seth Walker said his mom told him - “make it sweet, make it crazy.” 

Wouldn’t It Be Nice

Everyone has a soft spot for the music that was the soundtrack to our own teenage years. The music my siblings and I listened to, specifically the older ones of us seven kids, was a more innocent music than the hard rock, loud beat, heavy metal, punk, sounds that came along later. 

We had Paul Anka, Neil Sedaka, Ricky Nelson, Annette, Connie Francis, Fabian, the Everly Brothers, Lesley Gore, Elvis, Chuck Berry, and others. Their music was soft-spoken. It had words that told a story, usually about teenage angst, broken hearts and break-ups, dating your best girl or boy. We also had the syncopated groups with backup singers. Diana Ross and the Supremes, the Temptations, the Four Seasons, the Shirelles. 

And we had the beginnings of a different music. James Brown, Janis, CCR, Aretha, and all the ones that provided the backdrop to the Vietnam War. And of course, we were there for the British Invasion. The Beatles and The Rolling Stones the biggest names. But also Gerry and the Pacemakers, the Animals, Herman’s Hermits. 

Many others too numerous to list. It was a great time for music that was more about the words and less about the hard, loud, what I like to call screaming. Ha! The songs told a story. And that story was our story. We were the ones with the broken hearts, the ones trying to find ourselves, the ones growing up. They weren’t three words you often can’t even hear repeated over and over. We were readers of books, we were writers of diaries where we put on paper how we felt. Where we told our story. Our counselors were our best friends and our music. Our parents didn’t anguish over our teenage problems and even if they did none of us average families could afford counseling. Most of us never even heard of such a thing! 

In among this group of singers, and bands, and storytellers, we had The Beach Boys. Who told us if we all only had a beach and a surfboard, and a little deuce coupe, and blonde hair, everything would be perfect. And we wanted that. We felt it was in our reach, somehow. If everybody only had an ocean.

Rest in peace, Brian Wilson.