Sunday, May 5, 2013

Lost in Memories on a Rainy Day



This is such an appropriate song for such a rainy weekend. Besides, I love this song and I love Bonnie Raitt. She takes me back to a happy time. She takes me back to those long often 15 hour journeys by car or rather van in order to haul all of my stuff to arts and crafts shows. We listened to lots of people in the late 80's and early 90's on those drives besides Bonnie, Rod Stewart, Bruce Springstein, Chris Isaak, John Cougar Mellancamp, Tina Turner and other people who were hot during our "hot" years. It was a lot of work getting ready for those shows. We'd often work for 48 hours straight before we'd actually pack up and leave. We've driven on little sleep and with a deadline looming and we'd arrive with little or no time for set up. We even got locked inside a convention center in the middle of D.C. once and had to beg the security guard to let us out. He did release us but not our van at first. The husband of the lady, a customer, who'd so graciously opened her home to us, had to drive across town to pick us up. By the time he reached us, we'd finally talked the guard into unlocking the gate so we could leave. That wasn't our latest night. For all of my obsession with planning, I never seemed to plan those trips very well because being late was our norm. All of our friends and the show promoters came to expect it. The problem was my poor husband's lack of time. I would carve or sculpt my whimsical characters and creatures and he would assemble for me because he was just much better and neater with power tools. I could have done it myself if he'd have let me but he insisted on doing assembly. The only problem with this was that he always waited until the last few days to do this task and I usually had a large amount of pieces that needed his assistance. Even working together, it would still take far longer than we anticipated. It certainly didn't help that we were both...and are...perfectionists. I think it is that singular trait that has prevented me from making much money with my art with the exception of the pieces I designed for Enesco and they reproduced. And, even with those, I had it written into my contract that I got final approval on the products they created from my designs before they went to market.

Despite all of that hard work, I do so miss those days. Steve and I worked together and were together most nights and weekends. Totally unlike these days when he's always at his friend and business partner's farm nearly every second he isn't at his 9 to 5. And me, I've become a slacker in lots of ways. I keep having great ideas and a multitude of inspiration but I just can't seem to get another business off of the ground. At the time, I didn't realize how happy we were or how much Steve helped me. I don't think I appreciated him enough because part of me resented the fact that I had to rely on him. Now, I wish he were here more and lending me a helping hand and even a shoulder to cry on when I need it. I'm practically joyous when he is here but there is another side of me who has come to accept solitude. For many years, whenever I was alone, I always had to have the TV or radio on. It wasn't so much to entertain me but rather to occupy my mind and to keep me from thinking about things I didn't want to think about, all of the sorrows and losses of life. Lately though, I'm learning to enjoy the silence and accept the losses and bear the pain. There are times though that I still want to hear Ms Bonnie's beautiful voice cutting through the silence and carrying me back to times that I remember fondly. I know they weren't always happy and sometimes, I truly wonder why all I remember are the good times, the fun times, the laughter not the tears because I lost my mother during those years and that was the greatest loss I'd ever encountered in my life.

But it is with great affection that I remember the highs and the joys. I remember being fit...I certainly miss that body....., active and fitting into the cutest clothes. I remember turning heads...not so much these days. Something they don't tell you when you're young or maybe they do and we just don't listen, time is a thief. It sneaks up on you and one day, you wake up and realize that you are old and you will never be young again. Try as you might, you can't regain that body, that vigor. You can't recapture those times, not even the laughter knowing what you know now. And that is why, hearing the songs that bring back those memories is truly a bittersweet experience. It's kind of like the ending of the Waltons...if anyone remembers that show from the 70's. They would all say goodnight to each other as the lights went out in their house to close every show. Mama told me that her family used to do that. So she, Daddy and I started doing that every night. After Mama died and then Daddy, it was a long time before I could watch the Waltons because it brought back that memory. It was a very happy memory but it still made my heart ache with the loss. 

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