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Blog Entry 17 of 141 The Meaning of Life, or at Least the Last 24 Hours

First, a few things about me. I am deceptively handsome for someone who is significantly overweight. Don't get me wrong. I'm not washes-himself-with-a-rag-on-a-stick fat or bury-him-in-a-piano fat, but I could stand to lose 60 or 80. Second, almost none of what I say can be taken seriously. I love to write, and as a previously self-admitted fatty, I am a king of self-deprecating humor. I look for the humor in everyday life, and this is the meaty chunks of which I will write (note: overweight people often use food as adjectives and metaphors). Third, I am notoriously unreliable, so don't expect an update every day. I am a retail manager, which means I work like a dog. Seriously, retail is great for loners and orphans. Just ask my wife. In fact, when a guy shoots up a fast food restaurant and they interview the people that knew him and they always say "He was kind of a loner, he kept to himself." This guy generally works retail. Fourth, do not expect political correctness from this blog. It is my point of view, that on the pallette of life most of us are not even primary colors. Hell, most of us are that dried slop that collects on the brush when you forget to wash it. No one's better than anyone else on my blog. Well maybe we're better than the hippies; can't stand them. Oh, and soccer moms too. I don't really care about your honor student. Oh yeah, also the people that don't watch their kids. Put a leash on Skippy, or I'll whack him with a Ritalin stick.

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Contributed by: William Boucher on 6/27/2006

With Fathers Day approaching quickly, and Mother's Day in the recent past, I have been thinking a lot about all of the things my parents did to make the well -rounded person I am today. I know this to be true, because I looked in the mirror the other day, and I am most definitely round.

The first really nice thing they did for me was to have me. Then again, they were Catholic. It's not like they had a choice. I am the youngest of six. They had me when dad was 44 and mom was 35. I'm pretty sure I was planned. Whether the planning was "I think we should have another child," or it was "Gosh, honey, you sure look great in that dress tonight," is one of those questions I may never know the answer to. That reminds me of a joke. "You know what they call people who use the rythym method of birth control? Parents!!"

Another great thing they did for me was let me be a kid, and not try to protect me from the world. I went to the same preschool as everyone else in the town I grew up in. I rode bikes without helmets. I walked home from school (up hill both ways in three feet of snow and fought off bears with my trapper keeper, but that's another story). I drank from the garden hose. Just think. No helmets or bottled water, and yet, I survived.

Being good parents, they also held me accountable. I learned actions had consequences. Like the time when I was four or five, and I was messing with the steering wheel waiting for mom to get in the car to take everyone to school. Mom smacked my hand, to which I replied, "Thanks mom, I needed that." Or the time I climbed the antennae tower for the tv behind the house and decided to try and slide down it, back to the ground. As I hobbled around it wasn't "oh my gosh, are you okay?" or "Let's go to the hospital." It was more like, "Wow, I bet you won't do that again." This carried through to high school as well. After a night of alcoholic excess, I was praising the porcelain altar the next morning. A speech? No. In the midst of my technicolor yawn mom's only comment was, "Did you get enough to drink?" By the way, Catholic parents revenge is waking you up for the early mass.

Dad was my reality check. When I had graduated college and was feeling somewhat indignant that I, a college graduate, was having a hard time finding a job, he gave me the greatest advice anyone has ever given me. "The world doesn't owe you a thing." I have been proudly self-sufficient ever since. Sometimes I get tired of working hard, but I remember those words and accept that I am only entitled to what I've earned.

The other thing I learned from dad was to make a plan, work hard, and not rely on fate. This is dad's lesson on the power of "if". "If the dog hadn't stopped to crap, he would have caught the rabbit." This also works for the accountability thing as well. Mistake or success, you own it.

There are funny things I remember about dad as well. As much admirable as funny was the way he cursed, or rather didn't curse. I hardly ever heard him utter an explitive. He took other words and substituted them. "Dadgummit" and "Christopher Columbus" used in the explitive tense can be quite entertaining. We delighted in afternoons watching football with him, because he would invariably start napping. He had a habit of periodically shreiking in his sleep that just busted us up. He was also known to talk in his sleep. Topics ranged from Sunday school, to work, and then some. One time, he and my brother, Rick, had a whole conversation while they were both asleep. "Dad, tell Bob to stop." "Bob, stop it!" I wonder if Bob dreamt he was in trouble.

Mom is my heart. I'm her baby. We are eternally connected. Her joy is mine, and mine is hers. We bear our ups and downs together. She treats my wife like a daughter, and loves her, as she loves me. She had no problems getting up with me at six on a Saturday to watch the roadrunner and the coyote. She was there to comfort me and to teach me to stand up for myself when other kids teased me. She was there to console me when my first marriage broke up. She confided her fears to me when Dad was dying. I shared her joy when she and her new husband Dee married. She conitinues to give me guidance and support even today.

Mom's starting her final battle with liver cancer now. All the surgery that can be done has been done. Mom is done with chemo. With no guarantees it will do any good, her main priority now is the quality of her life. I've talked to her about it, and our agreement has always been, if that makes you happy, then I'm happy, too. As all of us kids rush to visit her as often as we can this summer, I have one hope. I hope I can be as strong and comforting for mom as she has been for me.

Pete and Loretta, you did a great job with your six kids. I love you.

Bill

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Showing 1-6 of 6 comments

Submitted By: Annie Hundley

posted on 6/5/2006 @ 4:06:33 PM

Rated Blog Entry

I drank out of the hose until my mom told me slugs lived in there. She's a tricky one. Loved your blog!

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Submitted By: Tabitha Dial

posted on 6/2/2006 @ 4:23:42 PM

Rated Blog Entry

Best to your mother and your family. Love your sense of humor-- which parent does that come from?

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Submitted By: Karen Gilbert

posted on 6/1/2006 @ 1:02:46 PM

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I especially like this: "Just think. No helmets or bottled water, and yet, I survived."

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Submitted By: William Boucher

posted on 5/30/2006 @ 6:25:35 PM

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Brendan, I think it had a patch, on the bottom by a seam. My patch said,"don't wear this to Iowa, Brendan Leonard has the same shirt!" But seriously the best tag I ever saw was on on my favorite pair of jams (remember jams). "Washing instructions: find cool, clear river. Scrub in water vigourously with sand. Ring out water and lay on large flat rock to dry. Repeat as needed."

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Submitted By: Eric Lubbers

posted on 5/30/2006 @ 4:56:48 PM

Rated Blog Entry

A-mazing, Bill.

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Submitted By: Brendan Leonard

posted on 5/30/2006 @ 4:51:48 PM

Rated Blog Entry

Bill -- This is great, especially the ending. As a side note, I am almost 100 percent sure I used to have the same shirt you're wearing in the picture in 1988. Did it, by chance, have a patch that said "Take A Hike" or something like that on it?

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Showing 1-6 of 6 comments

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William Boucher

Brighton , CO

William Boucher has posted 141 blog entries and 1621 comments since joining on 11/6/2005. William Boucher 's average blog rating is 4.96.

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