Marrying George Clooney

my dad was a worrier. big time. he was the kind of guy who if you were ten minutes late, he’d be standing outside the restaurant pacing. and within twenty minutes he would have called the police telling them you’re a missing person, and or there must have been an accident and he was sure, absolutely sure. And then of course when you showed up – because of traffic, or a phone call, or just because you were running late, any number of reasons – all hell would break open. “I was worried sick, worried, sick….” this was his nature.
he was a worrier.
he was emotional.
he was also very lively, and oh so funny but, when he was worried, he would go straight to angry & pissed, uh oh. there was no place called logic in there. it was his nature. and this is a trait that he so lovingly passed on. no questions, no, “hey kids which one wants the worry and which one wants the sarcastic attitude?” i raised my hand for the worry. me, me, me, i’ll take worry. it felt more up my alley.
and so began a long journey.
i am in awe of folks who don’t worry. seriously. who believe that life will work out perfectly. who look at worry as as a mere obstacle, a few bumps, but hey. i am always waiting for the road to open and suck in every car, mine of course being the crunchiest….
i worry. i worry about the big and the small. i worry about our financial portfolios and how much more they’ll shrink until i can’t see them anymore.
i worry that i’ll never ever write something of tremendous value ever again.
i worry that i will run out of gas in the neighborhood that leans toward KKK meetings.
I worry that i will out grow my new tee shirt before i even wear it.
i worry.
and tonight ken & i had a whopper. it started out very calm and matter of fact, but than i brought up a no-no….ken’s retirement. and for the record, ken is content & happy & i of course worry about his being so content & happy. he’s treating his retirement like he’s on vacation. nothing phases him. and there are at least 25 more years like this. a big long vacation.
hey hon, i think the AMEX CARD is late … cool.
hey ken whatdya wanna do about the bad water pump? ahhhh, i don’t know. let’s wait.
hey ken baby, we need to send our taxes to mark. yeahyeahyeah.

okay.
so, here’s the deal the full on truth deal. he acts cavalier. i go frickin’ nuts. i get so wound up i wanna scream. and scream i do. i am like a pit-bull (sorry hollye) with a dash of chanel added on for sexiness & cuteness. and i just go on a major worry campaign.
thinking if i holler and scream and kick i’ll feel better…. it’ll get done faster.
but then today, i had a remembrance. a lovely sweet moment. and it went like this:
my dad was often swirling, and he would swirl and get nuts, and my mom – oh, yes, little miss stability slash miss even-keel 1967 – would sit down next to him, and grab his hand and look him in the eye and say, “don’t worry, sam, everything is going to be just fine. everything.” and he would exhale, calm down and all his anger would dissipate and after a few moments, he was like new. the anger, the fear, the worry would vanish. he didn’t need her to be just as nuts, or play into his crazy worry fears, he needed her to say: EVERYTHING WILL BE FINE. and the breathing became more normal. all felt normal.
my mother was far from a saint, she was impetuous, and irrational and impulsive like the best of them. my god, she would buy a new stove on a dime … just because.
but, she got it down perfectly with my dad.
she could see his worry, his fear, the doubt creeping in, and that was her cue – she had the golden key and boy oh boy she did use it.
i think anyone who has the capacity to understand the root of something, that enlightened moment, to know what someone needs and just give it straight to him or her straight, no questions asked, that’s a women or man who is a okay in my book.
my mom wasn’t a great mother, not by a long stretch, but she loved my dad good, and for that i am eternally grateful.

so here’s to getting it right. if you have the key, open the door.
just open the door.