Will Rogers was many things. He was an actor, a comedian, a philosopher of life in general that for the most part I thoroughly agree with. He said that worrying is like sitting in a rocking chair. It gives you something to do, but doesn't get you anywhere! That one little statement fits me to a T. I come from a long line of worriers. My grandmother was the worst, although I am much like her in that department.
My uncle, her oldest son, lived in Ohio. He would visit every year like clockwork, however, every time he was packing his car to leave she cried to point of hysteria "because she was never going to see him again." I would have thought that was not the happiest of send offs for him year after year.
I was in a terrible car accident almost thirty eight years ago, but I continue to worry that I will get in another one.
But, I think that my father was the best worrier of the whole lot. He was always worried that my mother would find out that he visited relatives while she was working on the weekend. He worried that she would find out that he had purchased probably the fifteenth radio that she had told him he didn't need. He had a transisster radio fettish! He just knew that she would find out that instead of getting a haircut, he had purchased a little gizmo. Gizmos were my father's downfall. He absolutely loved stuff that did "stuff"! He was the love of my life.
He never tired of telling me about a rattle that he bought for me when I was two months old (1944). It was a pink telephone receiver. He told me that when he gave it to me the very first time I shook and shivered with delight. It gave me a visual of the two of us. I can still "see" him telling me that little story years ago.
He was quiet spoken, a non-disciplinarian, soft hands that he had to constantly use a special lotion for to prevent splits in his nails and a ponderer.
My father pondered on lots of things. He was a Will Rogers reincarnated. He would ponder if the television would bother mom while she was doing her college course in bookkeeping at the age of sixty something. He would ponder if it was worth the money to call me long distance to tell me that he was in the dog house again. You see, he and I were "buds". We told each other things that most fathers and daughters don't. He knew that I had his back!
By now I'm sure you think my mother was terrible. Not! She was a saint to put up with the both of us. I am sitting here chuckling thinking of the three of us. What a trio we were. My sister was almost twelve years older than I and was gone and my brother was four years younger than I was and was busy doing "guy stuff" with his friends
As we grew into adults, I lived in another state, my brother was in the Navy, and my sister also lived in another state, but was much closer and could keep an eye out for the two of them as they grew older.
One day my dad called and said, "Annie (mom hated that he called me that) I'm in the dog house again." Of course, I said, "Oh, Daddy, what did you do now?"
"Well, you see I wasn't paying attention and I poured a can of Stop Leak in the gas tank instead of Heat. I have to take the whole gas tank off the old Plymouth. I have to hurry and get that gas tank drained and cleaned before I pick up your mom from work." My reply was, "Oh, Daddy, why are you talking to me on the phone when you should be fixing it quick before she finds out?"
Yup that's the way we were. I am one of the luckiest people in the whole world to have had my dad for my dad. I also knew that my mom probably knew every single thing that dad and I thought we kept from her. She was a mom you know. Oh how I loved them.
Will Rogers also said, "Do the best you can, and don't take life too serious.."
I worry about that, Will Rogers! Oh well, gives me something to do.
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