Inspirations
GBE
2: Blog On
Week
#132 (11-24-13 – 11-30-13)
I
am inspired by people who do things without regard to the “heroic” accolade.
I
am inspired by love in the atmosphere.
I
am inspired by kindness.
I
am inspired by goodwill towards ALL mankind, not just those you know
personally, not just those in your immediate sphere of influence. ALL MANKIND.
“Mom…don’t
nag. I know, I know, I should visit with
Dad more. But, our relationship is half his responsibility too!” I could see my daughter was upset. Visibly her eyes flashed and audibly her
voice was beginning to crack. We had,
once again, touched upon the tender topic of her father.
He
is currently in remission from lung cancer, stage four.
Their
relationship began tenuously. When I
confirmed I was pregnant at the age of 26, with five years of marriage under
our belts, he told me he was too young to be a parent. I became the overbearing, over protective,
over indulgent Mamma Bear. Her father became
the aloof, had to work out of town, wouldn’t take her with him to the ice-cream
store unless his good friend also was relegated baby-sitting his son who was
the same age. (Thanks Randy)
Disconnected,
we cohabitated for many years. Holding small grudges against one another,
disdain quickly permeated the household.
The
divorce was ugly. We won’t go into that
now, for this essay is about inspirations.
My
daughter was thirteen and wanted to join in a function through school. Since those practices were to be held on the
same day as her “mid-week” visit with her father, I told her we would have to
make certain to get his approval. He
didn’t approve. She couldn't participate.
She
wanted desperately to be a cheerleader.
After deciding she just had to try and making the “cut”, that particular
squad’s coach quit. I volunteered to be
a stand-in until they found someone. (three
years later, they found someone) Upon
meeting my diverse squad, I realized very quickly that accommodations had to be
made for the emotional growth of these beautiful girls.
My
daughter’s biological father came to a few of the games she cheered at. We encouraged her to go with him to dinner
after the games. We encouraged her to
interact with him. We felt a good
relationship would be good for her emotional growth.
In
the public school my daughter attended, nearly every child on that cheer squad
came from a broken home. Many didn’t
know one or the other of their parents.
Some wished they didn’t know the parent they lived with, coming in with
bruises. All needed loving
attention. (I was given that large
family I had wanted in my youth!) Shortly
after accepting this temporary position, that paid me a whopping $68.45 per
month, my daughter was moved up to the next level of cheerleaders and off my
squad.
As
a public school team, we used the uniforms on hand. (they were about 20 years
old) Of the sixteen young ladies on the squad, two were not afraid to ask their
parents for the money to buy new white tennis shoes. My wonderful husband never said a word when I
happened to buy a “few extra” pairs of shoes. He helped me wash and alter uniforms for
children we may or may not ever see again.
He cooked dinner for our gaggle of geese; sixteen Black, Hispanic, and
Asian girls often spent the night with their blond haired, blue eyed coach and
her equally white husband. The girls
would often play with my hair and tease me telling me I had “old white lady
hair”.
My
daughter now lives in her own home about a half an hour away from me. She and her significant other have often
invited her father over, to which he has declined every time. My daughter works two jobs and her beau often
works out of town. They have a spare
bedroom and have invited her biological father to spend the weekend. He has always declined. He has never met her beau and to the outside
observer, it appears he does not want to.
He is in remission from cancer and does not want to reach out to his (to
my knowledge) only child. How sadly selfish.
But,
this essay isn’t about me….I was purely selfish in my indulgence. Working with those wonderful young ladies was
something I wanted to do. They kept me
young, laughing, and “in the know” about the local gossip. I was more excited
to work with them than they were to have “made the squad”!
My
inspiration was the quiet man who attended the games of his stepdaughter and
whenever he knew about them his biological daughters, called his daughters
diligently, sent money to his daughters so they could buy “themselves”
something, paid his child support on time without complaint, went “without” so
children he didn't know could eat the snack he provided before every game (we
usually bought a peck of apples and a box of graham crackers for the players
and the cheer squad to share), the man who urged me to spend time with my
sister as she succumbed to cancer, the man who became more involved with his
sister’s children when they lost their mother, the man who make certain I take
care of myself so he will have someone to pester. I am inspired by the man who tries to make the
world a little bit less harried for those around him no matter the hardship to
himself.
leigh
