LA's Subliminal Message: GTFO

When I first got to Los Angeles, people would cynically tell me, “Oh, give it time, you’ll become jaded,” or “You’re so new here, of course you love it...now.” I’d secretly hate them and vow to never stop thinking about this land of opportunity I call home. I work here, I play here, I drink sweet potato coffee here. (That is a real thing and it’s better than pumpkin spice, I swear!)

The last few weeks, I’ve come down with a minor case of the blues. Not sure there is a real reason. I’ve just  felt uninspired, unmotivated, and quite frankly, a little hopeless. I haven’t wanted to write jokes. I haven’t wanted to sit through an open mic. It became easier to wake up and run 5 miles then binge watch episodes of “Shameless” until it is time to go to work. I have barely even worked at promoting my voice over business. (Which, is going really well...so I can’t even imagine how much MORE work I could get if I spent some time marketing myself again. All I can do is say “Thanks, past Maggi. You really busted your butt to help me out this month!”)

I know these minor blues never seem to last too long. In fact, my desire to create something has been bubbling under the surface for a few days. I’ve tampered with writing a new joke. I’ve written a few journal entries. But it doesn’t seem like enough. The craving to create hasn’t been satiated. So I decided to go for one of my famous photography walks. A long walk to clear my brain and just let the city inspire me.

Even The Flowers Try To Escape

During my 3 mile loop this evening, I found myself shooting a noticeably depressing pattern. Fences, gates, trespassing signs. “NO” came up a lot this evening. It dawned on me that LA, the place I call home, may have been subliminally telling me “NO” and “Get Out” this whole time. Everything has fences. Everything is locked away telling passersby to steer clear. It’s been in my face this whole time “You aren’t welcome here.” No wonder I’ve been feeling down. My city doesn’t want me!

Safe Trash

I mean, even the trash cans have fences. Does our trash need to feel safe? What do we need to feel safe from? The mountains of couches and forgotten furniture on the curb?

Here’s the thing, how could I encounter so many polite people this evening in a place so seemingly negative.  I crossed paths with nothing but, “hello’s,” “have a great night’s,” “what’s up,” and “My dog is friendly.” Is no one else affected by LA’s hint to “move along?”  Or, are we all passively noticing and just trying to make the best of it?

Questions circled my brain all evening. Is everyone an onlooker? Is anyone doing anything? Are we all just outsiders looking in? Is this why my comedian counterparts hate the people here? Our environment has been poisoning us with messages of negativity, whispering “You don’t belong here” or “this place is too good for you.” It’s no wonder everyone is so jaded here.

Outside Looking In

NO Playing Outside

It’s also no wonder that I’ve made some of the best relationships here. People who are warm, kind, generous in spirit and creative. My hypothesis? These people don’t see the blockades. They are too busy looking for the open window.

God Closes A Door, Somewhere He Opens A Window

 "Come To My Window" Melissa Etheridge
I chose this song because of this lyric: "You don't know how far I'd go to ease this precious ache, and you don't know how much I'd give, or how much I can take."
I'll look for the window of opportunity. And really, how much can I give? How much can I take? A lot. Just you wait Los Angeles. I'll crawl through that window and make it my 'b.' You'll see.










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What The Heck Am I Doing, Barbara Streisand?!

Tonight, I had the pleasure I witnessing a true legacy perform onstage. Barbara Streisand. A woman who has made a career out of being herself, knowing what she wants and never wavering. She is an original feminist. A loud Democrat. Phenomenal singer. Effervescent.

Truthfully, I didn’t know much about her going into the show. I felt like, she was just one of those “must-see” acts in our lifetime. Barbara really truly was/is a must see. Her “show” was pretty simplistic. A screen lit up a few images behind her, an amazing orchestra, and her voice. Her big voice.

I sat through most of this show wondering if in her 50 years as a performer, if she ever felt like I do; questioning every move I make and wondering if it’s enough. Am I doing enough?

Something strange has happened lately; I’m trying very hard not to beat myself up over it. I’ve grown shy of getting onstage to perform stand up. It’s too difficult because every open mic I have my soul crushed by other comics that don't care about anything anyone else is saying onstage. There is no comradery, no support, no fun. And I question why I am putting myself through this kind of lukewarm torture. I am letting myself settle into the things I know and understand--creating radio and working on my voice over business because it’s easy and comfortable and I’m successful at those things.

I sat through the show wondering if Barbara too, ever felt terrified of the very thing she wanted to do. If she ever questioned why she is doing it. Because I am terrified. I lost sight of what exactly my end goals are. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’d like a hole to crawl into now. Preferably close enough for pizza delivery but far enough away that no one would willingly make the trek out, even on a Sunday morning with no traffic.

But, after her show, I felt so inspired by her stories of her career that I came home and wrote 4 new stand up bits and several more jokes. The months of writer’s block...gone! I didn’t for one second wonder “Why are you writing this?” I just did what felt good and made me happy to stay awake until 2:30 am.

Are the jokes any good? I don’t know. I’ll try them out at an open mic next week. I’d even stretch to say I’m excited to try them out. The problem really is, I just forgot what the hell this is all for. Why do I want to perform stand up? What’s the end goal? How are any of the things I’m doing going to help me get there?

I just don’t know right now and that has to be okay. Is it the money? Hello no. None of this pays anything. Is it the fame? Maybe a little. Do I feel better when I've created something, inspired by a personal truth? Absolutely. The better part is when someone else connects with it. When someone says my words motivated them to do xyz...now THAT is the best feeling.

Can’t I just get paid to be creative? Can’t I just get paid to share my life and maybe help a few people along the way?

The answer is yes. I can. WIll performing stand up, writing sketches or hosting podcasts help with any of that? Maybe. I suppose. I don't know. But this is my path. No one else can pave it for me. These are the things that make me happy, albeit difficult sometimes. The heart ache, the self doubt, the endless curiousity, and painful uncovering of my past, the late nights, tough discussions and critiques….that’s the stuff you don’t see. What you see...is the finished product. The perfectly tailored 5 minute stand up bit. The 2 ½ minute sketch I wrote. The planned, inspirational blog post.

The point is, let’s stop beating ourselves up for living our lives. Not everyday is going to be the most focused, or full of creative genius writing, or great stand up sets. Barbara Streisand just got up every day and did what she loved. Whatever her passion project was that day. (You don’t become an EGOT winner without loving and doing lots of things!)

So to answer my own question, “Am I doing enough?” Most of the time, probably. Did Barbara ever have those feelings? I’d say most definitely. But she pushed through the doubt because she lived her life. Fully and passionately. We have to love life. Because, creativity is sparked by the people we are surrounded by. They can fuel your self discovery. Which may have been exactly what Barbra Streisand was saying this evening. “Be a person who needs people....For those are the luckiest people of all.”

From the Movie "Funny Girl" her signature song People

She had a mind reader, Babyface, Seth MacFarlane, and Jamie Foxx all join her onstage at some point, and I really thought to myself "Wow. Anything is possible." If you get a chance to see her perform, take it. She truly is a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Please Feed The DJ:The Food Phenomenon Behind The Scenes In Radio

Dj’s are a very hungry group of people. For the most part, they are underpaid monetarily, and overpaid in food. I can’t count on all of my fingers and toes how many “new” restaurants I have tried on behalf of the radio station I worked at. And it doesn’t stop there. Sales people  are always bringing in samples from their clients or the clients just drop by with a platter of delicious sandwiches, lasagna’s, tacos, BBQ, Chinese food, bagels…so many bagels, donuts, cakes, ice cream sandwiches, cookies, cupcakes…you name it, someone has brought it into the office for everyone to try.

Now, remember how most dj’s are seriously underpaid? We pay rent and then wait on our Costco sized box of ramen noodles ready to pounce on the new Mexican restaurant opening in town for an endorsement deal. We are all so hungry. Literally.

I’ve never worked in a normal office, where you take customer service calls and place orders to make things that get delivered to people who want what you are selling. (Isn’t that what an office is?)  But I’m going to go out on a limb and say that radio stations always have some kind of food being delivered or catered, more so than any other kind of office. (It’s so easy because most of the time, a restaurant wants advertising but can’t afford it so they pay their bill in free food for our meetings/live events/holiday parties/lunch on Tuesday etc. This is called “trade,” or “barter.”)

It’s remarkable how quickly you can gain weight working in radio. It’s easy to sit at the control board, ice cream sandwich in one hand, computer mouse in the other just reading today’s gossip headlines and eating. Readin’ and eatin’. (Actually, I’m doing that as I type. Munching on popcorn and writing. Munchin’ and writin’. LOL) You are around listeners in a bar where all you want is a drink to relax, then someone says “Hey! They are giving away free hot dogs; you should get one.” Three dogs and two beers down, you are fat and happy and no longer do Jane's ramblings about her kids favorite TV program annoy you at the live show.

I have had my fair share of ramen, praying that tomorrow Jimmy John’s was going to stop in with samples. “All you have is bologna. Ok. Beggars can’t be choosers.” Talk about a glorious day when the boss wanted to take you and your morning show partner out for lunch, just because he didn’t want to eat alone. This always meant left overs!!! The problem is, I’d always be so hungry and malnourished that I would eat that entire pecan salad from Applebee’s because “the dressing wouldn’t keep anyway.” Way too many mozarella sticks and no togo box later, I had a food coma that left me guilty for days.

Now, add in an eternal struggle with food...perfect recipe for an emotional disaster. After those lunches with the boss I'd be obsessed with running and high protein diets for rest of the week. Come Friday morning my cohost would think I was ill and acting like a b*tch because I worked out too hard and ate too little even though Steve in sales brought in that box of donuts from Fred’s Gourmet Donuts. “Just one. I need to even out my blood sugar.” I’d get through the rest of the day, tying up loose ends for the weekend and managed not to snap at my cohost again the rest of the morning. A quick apology, snag a donut for the road and off I was to enjoy the weekend. Full of guilt and ramen. (And hopefully a date to somewhere nicer than Applebees.)

This cycle is vicious and tough to break. Now that I work at iHeart Media in Los Angeles, I feel like the stakes are MUCH higher. There is food 4 out of 5 days of the week. This is no exaggeration. Pizza, cake, Chinese, taco platters, fruit platters, sandwiches, ice cream socials. The worry is the same, but what’s being served is slightly different. It seems, healthier.

Los Angeles has some of the best dining in the country. Never have I ever tasted such pure, organic, fresh foods before. The seafood is unbelievable. Vegetables are crispier here. The fruit…so sweet. And the amount of options for restaurants is incredible. I just had Korean BBQ downtown last weekend. I swear there were no preservatives. All made fresh. From scratch. Delicious!

What’s being offered as a “reward” or as a “perk” or “payment” in the kitchen at iHeart Los Angeles is by far the healthiest cuisine I’ve seen at a radio station yet. Pico de gallo and corn chips, fruit platters, salads, sherbert. Sure there are cakes and bagels and Chinese food to mix it up. But the offerings are healthy, and the portions are smaller because there are so. many. people.

I look around the office and not only are there some of the most talented people working in programming, creating content for the world to consume, but there are some of the most good looking sales staff I’ve ever encountered. Everyone dresses like a million bucks. People are thin, tanned, and in shape. Their hair is well done, make up on point. People look good here.

This is a bizarre spot to be in.  Terrified to have some sherbert for fear of the extra calories added to my day and worried that I just can’t possibly scarf down another PB&J sandwich when I get home. I mean, I want to look so good! Fit in with all the beautiful, talented people. Yet the thought that ramen noodles are on the menu again tonight has me dreading leaving the office looking for a way to box up some chicken and broccoli to take home.

The struggle is real and I believe that people in L.A., outside of the radio station feel it too, because everyone is so beautiful here. For example, I went on a date with a guy to a sushi restaurant. I ordered a roll, and he ordered a roll. I noticed about half way through that he hadn’t touched his sushi at all. When I asked him about it, he said “I just like to order things and look at them. I can’t eat this. I’ll get fat.” Verbatim. I scarfed down my sushi and then a few pieces of his. (Because really, who only eats one roll of sushi. I’m always hungry again in like 2 hours!)

People are obsessed with what they put into their bodies in this city.  And they should be! There is more variety of fruits, vegetables and meats than anywhere I’ve ever lived. I’ve also never SEEN so many things labeled “organic.”

My new approach? Embrace it. Enjoy it! Food is beautiful here. Tasting (just like looking) is not only encouraged but expected! I’ve finally come to a place where I know what foods make me really sick (dairy and red meat and vegan cheese, if you can call that food) so I avoid them. Rather I take walks to the local fruit truck to snack on mangos and pistachios. Walking, hiking and yoga are all extra parts of my life now, mostly because they are free to do and partially because parking is costly and time consuming.

So bring it on, LA! I’m ready to taste everything you’ve got. Unless it has dairy in it. Seriously, I’ll be sick for days.

 

"Eat It" Weird Al

"Don't you know that some kids are starving in Japan/So Eat it. Just eat it."

Thank you Weird Al, I will.

HEY LOS ANGELES RADIO-Orlando Called. It's Too Soon To Play "Pumped Up Kicks"

Tonight on the way home I was flipping through the competition (other radio stations) like normal. Who’s saying what? Who’s playing the new JT? What is our competitor giving away? I stumbled across a station playing “Smells Like Teen Spirit” by Nirvana which led me to a funny thought to share on Twitter right away.

I stuck around (because my focus was on completing the hilarious Tweet) and the next song was “Pumped Up Kicks” by Foster thePeople.

This song was the debut single for the group which did extremely well on the charts in 2010 and 2011. It’s still a damn catchy tune! So catchy I caught myself singing along. But have you really heard yourself sing the few words you DO know?

‘Yeah, so what, Mags. Who cares? Why is this important?’

 “Robert’s got a quick hand/He’ll look around the room/He won’t tell you his plan/He’s got a rolled cigarette/Hanging out his mouth/He’s a cowboy kid.”

Catching the imagery yet? Let me continue.

“Yeah he found a six-shooter gun/In his dad’s closet, in the box of fun things/I don’t even know what/But he’s coming for you, yeah he’s coming for you.”

I’m shuddering typing these words.

“All the other kids with the pumped up kicks/You better run, better run, outrun my gun/ All the other kids with the pumped up kicks/ You better run, better run, faster than my bullet.”

Make sense yet? Let me spell it out for you.

Last weekend, Orlando, FL became home to what the media is calling “The Worst Act Of Terrorism” on American soil since 9/11. I’m pretty sure that Orlando is still trying to recover, let alone heal and I still haven’t gone one day without debating whether or not news released about Omar Mateen or the Pulse nightclub shooting is worth blogging about at my job at KOST 103.5.

While Orlando is still trying to cope with a huge loss, the rest of the country is still standing around with our thumbs up our butts trying to decide if we should ban guns or Muslims or both. Meanwhile, a station in Market #2 is playing a song about opening gun fire on a bunch of kids. “You better run…faster than my bullet.” Come. On.  It’s too soon. The wound is too fresh.

I’m not a programming expert by any means. I just love this crazy business called radio and may be acting like a sensitive Sally on this one. (I wouldn't even be offended).  But even when I was programming a country station in East Central Illinois, any time a really devastating storm rolled through (i.e. Joplin, MO), I would pull songs like “Tornado” by Little Big Town or “Blown Away” by Carrie Underwood from the rotation, just for a little while. My philosophy….no one is going to be angry over the things I didn’t play; I never wanted to give someone the opportunity to be angry because of something I did play.

Perhaps the Foster the People tune isn’t directly about terrorism; but the imagery painted by the lyrics certainly could be construed that way. All I’m saying is that a little sensitivity goes a long way. “Pumped Up Kicks” is NOT a hit single right now. Heck, the band isn't even on tour. It can quietly disappear for a few weeks and no one will be wiser to your tricks big shot program director.

I’m disappointed in you, radio station-I-will-not-mention in Los Angeles. You should know better.

 

Foster The People "Pumped Up Kicks"

The lyrics are pretty powerful when you can clearly understand them. I'm not saying that this song should be banned from airwaves forever nor that we should sensor our content for listeners; rather give them a chance to heal and form their own thoughts, feelings and opinions about a situation before we shove our own ideologies down their throats. I know that's not how the world, let alone any entertainment media works, but we can all be a little more sensitive, right?

 

 

Follow me on Twitter @MaggiMayfield

Or SnapChat me @Maggiontheradio

 

Thoughts And Prayers Are Nice But Are They Enough?: Looking For Hope While Orlando Begins To Heal

Today. Its 12:30 in the morning. Thank you for a new day. Thank you for the opportunity to hug my family, drive to work and debate with my coworkers later about what the heck happened yesterday.

Fifty people no longer get to do that. Fifty three more are going to have wait a while to get healthy enough again before they get to experience the joy of a cup of coffee or the rage of morning traffic while their favorite morning radio personality fills them in on the latest Justin Beiber gossip. 

For the first time in quite a while, I spent the entire day avoiding my phone, avoiding social media and avoiding the news. That was tough.  But boo-hoo, right? Remember the aforementioned 103 people…then their entire families, friends and the entire city of Orlando?

My reaction was strong. Instant tears. The only person I called was my best friend, who happens to be gay. I had the unfortunate duty to break the news to her as she was waking up. The tears didn’t stop. They haven’t stopped. I suppose that’s the funny thing about emotions and the human condition, these things don’t disappear with a new day. They can't. They rollover like our cell phone minutes when we all still carried a flip phone.

 

 Orlando is home to the “Deadliest Mass Shooting In US History.” Wow. Let that sink in, the gravity of that statement. It has taken me all day to really put into a cohesive thought my feelings and my reaction to this shooting. This is quite the terrorist attack; as the shooter, Omar Mateen, will probably successfully divide even further, this country with all of the hot button topics addressed here.

The LGBT community was hit hard last night. The very little I’ve been online checking Facebook and Twitter, my gay/lesbian friends have a shared feeling of fear and of hopelessness. The feeling that all the work and progress we’ve made still isn’t enough. The feeling that there are still more people in the world that hate them just because they are themselves.

The Muslim and Afghani people must also be terrified. Omar Mateen was affiliated with ISIS; too many people still refuse to learn about our American born or immigrated Muslim & Afghani friends because it is easier to compartmentalize our feelings of fear. 'The Orlando shooter was brown, so all brown people are bad!'

Omar Mateen legally obtained these guns. How much more gun control can there possibly be? It was also brought to my attention that there needed to be some kind of help. Fifty dead people and fifty three injured, requires quite a lot of bullets and reloading. Reports are saying they are looking for another suspect. Let the conspiracy theories begin. (And I’ve seen them starting to swirl on Facebook…i.e. “Another distraction for the American people as the government passes more laws without us knowing.” Oh, boy do they get worse.)

With the transgendered bathroom issue, the deeply seeded racism because of 9/11, and the ever revolving debate regarding gun control, ISIS did quite the number on Americans today. We are a nation that is angry with our government. We are having a hard time listening to one another because rather than learning to NEED each other, we are focused on being right.

There is no doubt in my mind that this is not the last of the violence. But, I really don’t think that ISIS picked a gay club because they hate gay people. I think they picked a gay club because we as a society can’t make up our minds on how to feel about the LGBT community. One second we are okay with them having their pride parades and being represented on television (even if some of us are saying things like “I don’t hate gay people, just don’t hit on me” or “just don’t make me watch it.”). The next second, half of us aren’t ‘okay’ with the LGBT community in our bathrooms. (I recognize how broad this statement is, but for arguments’ sake, let's roll with it.) No doubt, we like to debate this and we all like to be right and decide how others should live their lives.

The gun control issue is just about as bad as talking about abortion. I have a right to the choices I make for my body just as I have a right to bear arms. There are laws. They are strict. Let’s debate who is correct some more.

Throw in a shared fear of Muslims because of our deep-seeded racism. Wowza. This is quite the mix. If we weren’t divided before, you can sure as hell assume that we are now.

The worst part is, is that we aren’t. People are angry and the online posts on social media reflect that. We are scared. We feel helpless. No one can wrap their head around this and dammit, nobody should be able to.  But, are thoughts and prayers going to help? Are they going to bring anyone of those fifty people back? It will take me days to even begin wanting to read the profiles of the victims.

So what do we do? How do we feel un-helpless?

Yesterday was one of those days that makes me hate what I choose to do for a living. The media will be in circles over this for the next several weeks. Replaying the hate and forcing us to relive the terrorism, desensitizing us all and normalizing this monstrous act.

As a person in media, I hate to do that. I hate to force it down your throat repeatedly. Because you know what? Hate is not the only news. It just happens to be the only thing we report.

As a person in media, I believe that we report on things that are rare and extraordinary. It just so happens that the rare and extraordinary are hate-filled acts of crime and terrorism.  Which means that the reverse has to be true.

As a person, living and sharing this world with you, I believe that kindness is so common and that love is all around us.

As a person, who had a strong emotional breakdown yesterday because of the devastating news in Orlando, I’m not sending my thoughts and prayers. Rather, I plan to continue to share kindness and love. and I encourage you to do the same. Give it as freely as you feel comfortable. Document it. Post it online. Share those stories. No matter how small. High fives, giving a friend a ride, donating blood, giving a homeless person a meal, sitting with an elderly person to have a conversation. These are the stories that will keep us sane over the next few weeks as the media endlessly reports this. These stories of kindness and love will keep us united.

Stay in love with life, my friends.

 

 

Pink- "Who Knew."

 I saw her perform this live shortly after my ex husband and I separated during a show I went to with one of my dearest friends. Pink, a proud LGBT activist, is strong and, like most strong women, she feels incredibly deeply. This song always spoke to me as losing the most important people in your life way too soon or without even realizing it. Although I knew no one affected by the tragedy in Orlando, many family members and friends did  lose someone and many more were affected. The range of emotions they will go through the coming days, months even years...my heart breaks for them. An appropriate song for those who lost someone yesterday way too soon.

Apartment Hunting In Los Angeles Is The Worst Thing Ever

May has been an incredible month for me! It has been the highest grossing month in terms of voice over work. Hash tag Humble brag. But, I’ll ignore your momentary judgement, because I had to bust my ass and work really hard to save up, which means I’ve had to sacrifice a few things. Make enough money to save up for my own place? Or go out on the open mic circuit and continue to work on jokes in hopes of being seen by the right person that wants to hear my television pitch. Money triumphed…this time.

So, I’ve begun the process of apartment hunting; this is the goal I’ve been working so hard to accomplish. But the process is exhausting. Everything is done online, but you can’t get access to information about making an appointment until you sign up through this rental company’s website. Then you email and wait. Text a million craigslist ads and every single one is a scam. Or already filled.  Then there is that magical moment where someone actually picks up the phone!! But then you tell them that you want to move in 2 weeks and the reply is always the same. “Call me back then.”

What? Why? Don’t you want my deposit right now? Prorate my rent for half the month and call it a day. Are there people really roaming around right now looking to move, tonight? Is their stuff packed and ready to go, right now? Are these people refugees? Who is moving today that hasn’t already picked a place to go?

What I’m finding out about living in Los Angeles is that everything is at our disposal. If you can’t do it right now, someone else can. If I can’t get what I want here right now, I can go somewhere else. We have everything and expect it too.

This doesn’t just apply to tangible things either. There is this sense that people need to be able to give whatever they’ve got to get what they want. People in the biz work harder and faster than anywhere else I’ve lived. (And that’s been quite a few places).

You want to be rich/famous/powerful/insert your own idea of success here…then at a moment’s notice you need to have time to record, edit, create, write, be funny, spontaneous, thoughtful and have the best idea anyone’s ever heard. This sounds ridiculous, right?

That’s what I thought when I was told repeatedly today to call back when I’m ready to move. But it occurred to me, that this town always gets what it wants. Those who can ebb and flow with the forever changing and unpredictable heartbeat of the city are the ones that make it to be rich/famous/powerful/insert your own idea of success here.

But, are these the people that have to sacrifice to get what they want? Did they have to work late nights? Did they have to skip out on fun things? Maybe. Is the apartment going to make anyone rich/famous/powerful/successful? No. But I started planning ahead so I could FIND a decent place in a geographically desirable area. Now, apparently, just like everything else in this town, I have to compete harder, faster and think smarter than everyone else just to have a home.

I knew this town could be ruthless….but shit. I didn’t expect it to be so over housing, too. A bruising to my ego because you don’t get my talent? Pfffft. Dealing with that emotional trauma now, is a breeze. Being told my money is no good because it’s not useful “today.” Whew…that landed like my 22 year old self after a night of binge drinking. Heavy and hard.

SO, I suppose this is me pullin up my knickers to do the dirty work and get smarter and faster and work harder than everyone else that wants my apartment too.

Happy Apartment hunting. Welcome to L.A.

 

Ray Charles "Hit The Road Jack"

And dontcha come back no more no more no more no more....

This is exactly how I felt when the leasing agents/officers said "Call me when you are ready to move in!" Ouch. Kicked to the curb. But, now we will have this lovely song stuck in our head.

 

Dear Mom: Aging Is A "B" And You're Doing It Beautifully

 

Dear Mom,

I thought through my entire life that you have never aged. To me, for some reason, you have always been 36 years old. I think this was the age you were when I remember really paying attention to what it meant to be a woman. Yes, even though it took me a while to show you I am attentive. I am your entire front row and your number one fan. Whether you know it or not, you have been and still are a great example of what it means to be a woman and a good human being.

Remember when I went to prom? I don’t know how old you really were, but to me, you were 36. Pre-prom, I was embarrassed that you wanted so many pictures. But your wise 36 years knew better and took them anyway, because you knew this was an important moment that you wanted to cling on to together for many years to come.

Then there was that time I graduated high school. You couldn’t possibly have been 36, but I remember you as such. Jeez, I couldn’t be bothered hanging out with someone so old. This was an accomplishment I wanted to celebrate with my friends. But you worked your ass off too, sacrificed and goodness knows what else to watch me walk at graduation. Your experience helped you turn your cheek with patience and you threw a party for me anyway. You were still proud and wanted to spend time celebrating an accomplishment that you too, were a large part of.

Sometime later, I went away for my first big-deal-grown up job. You were still 36. Somehow, that seemed more approachable, but I still wasn’t ready to take advice from someone who hadn’t been on an interview in…jeez, however long. You knew better and gave me your ‘life lessons’ anyway.

One time I got married, and I thought you were still 36. I was about to make a huge life decision and all I could think was “What does my mom think?” I went searching for the youthful, yet oh-so-wise 36 year old that I didn’t mean to ignore until my late 20-somethings.  You were there but you weren’t 36 anymore! Life had shown in your beautiful, human face. It was like I was discovering you for the first time, and as one of my favorite people. You didn’t look 36 like I had remembered, but you felt the same. You said the same stuff. This time I wanted to hear it. I craved your advice and wisdom. I wanted to hear all of the stories about when you got married, got your first job, graduated, went to prom, or even just stories about your own mom.  I just wanted to talk to my mom and the friend I didn’t even realize I had all along.

Then one time I got divorced. I wished you were 36 because then you’d have the energy to stay up all night and cry over several bottles of wine with me.  I’d even take a night full of your infamous “life lessons.”

Well, you aren’t 36, and that is OK! You are my mom and you are aging beautifully! I’m getting so close to 36 and I’m wishing I had spent more time watching you age so gracefully.

You do it with a sense of humor. “Aging ain’t for the faint of heart,” you’d giggle with your best friend over mutual, pesky aches and pains.

You do it with a sense of wonder. You like to get up and check it all out. You will stop at every garage sale, just to see, to touch, to learn and to explore. “I wish I had that kind of time,” I’d tell myself. Really, I envy your patience and ability to 'live-in-the-moment.'

You do it with curiosity. During a visit, you didn’t even hesitate to climb aboard a 4-wheeler and take a few laps around the yard. I’m pretty sure you squealed like a little kid and I’ve never laughed harder watching you have so much fun!

You age with courage. You speak your mind better than anyone I know.  You stick up for people that don’t (feel like they) have a voice.

You aren’t physically 36; I'm angry at myself because the years have flown by and I haven’t taken full advantage of that front row seat I have. Please know, I’m watching you and still learning what it means to be a woman and a good human.  I aspire to be just like you: a timeless, classic, beautiful soul.

Love you,

Mags

 

 

 

Rod Stewart "Forever Young"
I picked this song for a not-so-obvious reason, although it fits well for this subject matter. I remember my mother, sister and I would take so many road trips. My sister and I piled into the backseat of her gray Nissan Pulsar, feet dangling out the window because of how stinky they were after a long day of walking around. This song was played in heavy rotation on the radio and I remember watching mom in the mirror mouthing the words to the song. The hills rolled passed our speeding car and I just sat thinking about what this song was all about. Little did I realize this is all about parents trying to keep their kids young forever. But Mom, I want you to know, to me, you will remain "Forever Young."