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My friends call me Elldee. And breaking the half century mark has been highly motivating: happy wife, mother, writer, teacher, day dreamer.

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Put on another record and dance

Put on a record.
I was dropping in on my various social medias and stopped long enough to check my email and get caught up.  I saw a newsletter post Molly Green had made a couple weeks back about being your own support, cheerleader, life fixer because we lose those that do that for us over time, and sometimes, as Molly said, our friends cannot be there with those wise words to set us gaily on our way again every time.  She started it off talking about her dad which I could tell was hard for her.

In the process of reading her post, I remembered a day my father and I were chatting on the phone.  I was feeling down about not being able to have children.  So many years had gone by, and I had reached the point when life didn't seem to have room for children any more.  I was sad that I had accepted and moved on.  He said, "Put on another record and dance."  Molly's "Buy your own roses" and my father's long ago advice seemed tied together, saying the same thing.  You have to pick yourself up and get along in life under your own power. 

I returned to school, picked up my bachelors degree and then my masters (carried a full-term pregnancy the last year!).  I just kept putting on another record and dancing my sorrow out and my journey in.  Some records play for quite awhile, some get changed so swiftly the tune doesn't even get a chance to settle into my heart's rhythm. 

It's been nine years since my dad died.  Losing him was one of the worst events in my life.  For some odd reason he called all his children the day before he died.  I was the one that wasn't home that day and missed the call.  But he had taught me how to stand on my own feet, dance on them when I thought I had lost the beat not just from those words he had given me but also through example. So no "Play it again, Sam" moments when the worst has come. 

Thank you, Molly, for reminding me of a day almost twenty years ago on today of all days: Father's day.  I thought I would not be able to visit with him today, but that was not the case.  Happy Father's Day, Dad.
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