Caterwauling

There’s a saying that I want to ask someone to be a pallbearer so they can let me down one last time.

That’s Jimmy.

Jimmy is the closest thing I had to a dad.

He was born on March 20, but I didn’t know that was an asshole birthdate until I met two others born that day.

He used to say I acted more like his own child than his biological children.

I somehow also looked more like him than they did, too.

Like we were meant to be related in some way.

In any event, he and mom had a sordid history over several decades. I won’t get into it.

About a year after she died, he wrote to me to wish me happy birthday.

I went through all the insanity of should I tell him or nah.

They had a deal that they’d let each other know if they were dying. But when I asked her if she wanted me to honor that, she’d said no. So I didn’t.

I replied back to say thanks and nice to hear from you. Figured if he continued the conversation, I’d tell him.

He didn’t.

I waited for him to wish me a happy birthday this year. He did not.

I made it till about May 28 or 29 and reached out to him.

I said you normally wish me a happy birthday and I was hoping this year we could have a real conversation.

I said mom passed, and I know you guys had a deal but she wasn’t letting me tell anyone.

But now, I really want you to know.

And I know you have memories that I either don’t or I’ve forgotten about.

And it would mean the world to me to have some reminders of my mom.

Well.

Just like the pallbearer joke, leave it to Jimmy to let me down one last time.

It’s now June 30 and I ain’t heard shit.

Doesn’t mean I won’t hear from him.

But … there I was, against my own better judgment … asking for understanding and also some goddamn support from the guy who was the only father figure I have on this fucking earth.

Reminded me of the one time I asked my biological father for help, and he drove me back out of his life for good.

So, it’s clear mom picked a couple winners.

And I didn’t do any better for myself, but at least I didn’t have kids with or otherwise lose 10-20 pretty years to them.

Good thing all mom’s years were pretty ones. Shame they went to any of these fools.

I just know I let her down by even bothering.

After planning out an entire Pittsburgh trip, I see it’s the 400th anniversary of Salem.

Wonder where this witch ends up.

Honestly I just want to do it all.

I’m tired of working and I love my job.

We weren’t meant to be so stressed out, were we? To sit indoors all day and stress-eat?

Or … did I just work so hard in my youth that I ran out of energy?

Like did I give everything I had back then that I accepted that as the norm?

Now I feel guilty for going a normal speed. But I’m really not the slacker I think I am now; I’ve just decelerated to everyone else’s level?

Or, as the meme goes, I’m gonna get a “3” anyway and have no higher title/reward to aspire to, so just be happy and get things done to my own liking rather than worry what anyone else thinks?

It got me thinking in Hollywood Studios, as Kelly yelled at me for not saying what I wanted to do — that I kept guessing what SHE wanted to do.

I told her repeatedly, if I were on one of my solo trips, I would just be following the wind as I was doing WITH her.

But maybe she was on to something. I’m always trying to figure out what bosses want, rather than what I want.

Well, I figure out what will keep love notes at bay. Rather than, say, what would get me a 4.

They need to offer me a trip or something and attach some goals to it. Fun goals.

Hiring a Republican is not a fun goal.

Rounding up Republican woman and clubbing them over the head for voting away my rights?

Now that sounds motivational.