R.I.P. Davy Jones

I started this blog in the first place because I missed Jani Lane so much.  Yeah, you read that right.  I didn't want to talk in a public place about my children, my work, or my writing.  I have many loves and hobbies, and despite years of message boards, none of these interests had ever called me to blog.  When Jani died I was compelled.  I knew no one who loved him as I did, and I thought that even if I were the tree falling in a lonely forest, I could make a sound.  I thought that having a public way to express my grief would help, and it did.

Before there was Jani, there was the Monkees.  Their 20th anniversary hit me right at the cusp of adolescence, in all its obsessive glory.  There were pictures in my locker, scrapbooks of lyrics, hours of fantasy with a very groovy soundtrack.  I still have the scrapbook, the music, and a replica of the necklace Davy Jones wore in the daydream believer video.  I have been wearing it for the past week.

I, like most, think that Davy died too young.  But, he did get to see his music redeemed (which is something Jani Lane will never get to do).  He did get good write-ups in Rolling Stone; his music is understood, and loved, now.  Before the fickle world gave in to the Monkees' charms, many of their fans were already there, and I was one of them. 

My children are familiar with the songs "Pillow Time," "Daydream Believer," "Sometime in the Morning," "I Wanna Be Free," and "As We Go Along," because I have sung them as lullabies since they were born.  As I said in my first post here about Jani, that's maybe the best gift I can give back.  It's the least I can do after Davy, unknowlingly, led me through my troubles with song, and led me to this very moment.

Wordworth said, hundreds of years ago,
"What we have loved,
Others will love, and we will teach them how". Rest in Peace Davy, for we will keep you alive.

Wear your pink wig.

     My three kids are very small. Small enough that our lessons are still one way: I teach them things, and they absorb them like little sponges. It's occurred to me that one day, these lessons will start to go the other way, that I will also learn from them. I figured it would be through what they get at school, like the diameter of Jupiter or something. I figured these lessons would be academic.

      I'm not the kind of person who goes looking for lessons babies can teach. Yes, they cry it out and get over it; yes, they prioritize play. Yes, their bodies and minds are flexible. Yes, they have fewer prejudices. But they also have nothing else to do all day, and minimal life experience.  It's obvious.  That said, there are the moments when I look at one of my small children and think, I could take a page from that book.  And I do, for a while, and then I forget that I had.

     I don't know by what standards I'm a snappy dresser, but by any standard, I'm a flashy one.  I dress to stand out, with bright colors and funky shoes.  Now that I'm a mother, turning heads seems like one-of-those-things-you-shouldn't-do.  Women get to a certain age, and it seems, are supposed to become autumnal.  Neutrals only, please.

     My daughter hasn't learned this lesson yet; of course not; she's 5.  She wears whatever the hell she wants, and people think it's adorable.  Pants with skirts, mismatched prints, two different shoes...you name it, she's done it.  It doesn't even occur to her she shouldn't.  And every time she does (which is nearly every day) I have one of those moments, those I-could-learn-from-this moments. 

     Until this one time.  She's been begging for a pink wig and the last time we were out shopping, what do you know.  She wore it all the way home (and proceeded to tell me proudly she was finally a blonde).  Anyway, the day of ballet class came, and the pink wig emerged.  I was surprised she wanted to wear it, but hey, in her eyes it's the most glamorous thing she owns.  So on it went.

     That wig - which makes her hot and itchy most of the time - did not come off the whole class.  She fussed with it a few times, and otherwise, treated it like any other permanent body part.  I overheard girls by the studio window telling their moms, "Look!  That girl has pink hair!"  "Cool!" said the moms, and kept on walking.  No one thought she was a nut and, if they had, she wouldn't have noticed.  She was too busy being glamorous. 

     I know there are boundaries.  I know that we have impressions to make.  I know that sometimes we have to act our age.  But most of the time, we don't.  This was one time my girl taught me a lesson and it stuck.  I have a pink wig too - it's in the Halloween bin.  But it's the metaphor that matters.  My pink wig might be my knee-high sneakers.  It might be my big eye makeup.  It might be my saucy attitude.  Not every day; she knows that much.  Some days are right for the pink wig.

 

Wear your pink wig.  Sometimes.  As long as it's not never. 

 

Use it up.

     Many people know that if you don't wear your pearls every now and then, they'll dull.  The natural oils from our skin actually infuses them.  Since I inherited my grandmother's pearls, see this is a metaphor for what I'm about to say.
     After my grandmother passed away last year, my mom found all kinds of unused items in her drawers.  My grandma wore only white sleeveless shirts, and would wear them until they were ragged.  Good for her, for not subscribing to the disposable world we now live in.  On the other hand, there's a middle ground.  When she needed new things, she would get them, and have trouble using them.
     I learned countless positive things from my grandmother's life.  She was strong, smart, kind, musical, glamorous, funny....I could go on.  I am surprised, now, at what I've learned from her death.  I do this too, Grandma.  I'm afraid to use all these great things.  I reach for the worn-out socks before the new ones.  I have clothes with tags, make-up I've received as gifts and never cracked open.  I'm always waiting for that perfect moment.  Suddenly I realize: this moment is NOW.
     This, my grandma, combined with timely small lessons in my own life.  A lipstick I was saving suddenly is hardened and stinky.  A sweater with tags on it, saved from last year, is too big on me now.  I never got the chance to enjoy these things. 
     I'm not saying we should all consume more; quite the opposite.  I think that in consuming well and fully the things we have, we will realize better what matters to us.  I can better prioritize when I'm not hoarding all the newness.
     I resolve to USE IT UP.  I will wear my grandma's aprons until they fall apart.  I will use the disposable tissue pack that she used to carry.  I will wear her scarves, and maybe even her lipstick.  I'm not going to save my best things for rainy days, or glamorous days, or special days.  Today is that day. 
     Do you do this too?  Do you reach into your jewelry box and shy away from the best things?  Do you keep those fancy boots in the back of the closet, because it's not the right moment?  Well actually, it is.  Pull it out.  Use it up and wear it out.  You're alive today.  It's a beautiful place to be.
     Wear your pearls.  Whatever they may be.  Go wear them.  Right now.