My mother wore combat boots. I love saying that. Unfortunately nobody gets the reference anymore. If I did my homework I would be able to tell you exactly when sport parachuting took off in this country but that would be subjective anyway since most people think it still hasn't and, well, I've got news for you, it has.
Sometime in the sixties I think; or at least that's my frame of reference. I was a little bitty thing out there on the field with my even littler brother in Portage, Michigan. There was a club called Pegasus and my dad was a professor at Western State and he and a bunch of students started this. I don't know why. Viet Nam maybe. Go figure. They were all there and then not and then back and then in between in the air.
My momma jumped out of a plane because it looked like a good idea, I suppose. Or because my daddy did it and she wasn't one to be left on the ground like a cheer leader or a campus wife or anything like that. She tells me that she made that one jump and it scared her so bad she decided she was going to keep doing it until she stopped wanting to shit herself on exit (my words, not hers, she would never).
My momma just kept on jumping because here's the thing, fear goes freaking NOWHERE, unless you're an asshole and then you deserve what you get. The thing is, you've got a choice, you can make friends with fear or you can struggle. Momma made friends. Weren't too many women making friends with fear like that, way back then. Back then. Sounds funny to say but it feels like yesterday.
In 1970 we left Michigan and came east to be Yuppies. Certified and everything, I swear my parents had papers. Left teaching, joined Corporate America and away we went! Had to find a jump club though, didn't we? I thought everybody's parents jumped out of planes and maybe they just went to different drop zones but I also thought pot was legal and my parents just perfered beer and until I was thirteen my world was perfect. Oh.
I'm still trying to work that one out.
Momma was competant. That's saying a lot. Not many skydivers are what I'd call competant. Most are what I'd call suicidal idiots, or clorox in the gene pool. Or something. Some are stellar. My brother was and is stellar, but he's another story.
I made my first jump the day after I turned sixteen, back when you still could jump out of a plane at sixteen if your parents felt like signing the waiver. I would have done it on my birthday because my birthday was a Saturday but the winds were too high. I had to wait until sunrise on Sunday and then the winds dropped and out I went.
Momma drove me to the bar that night, all covered in dropzone dirt and feeling like the world was on fire (which it was) and Momma said, Heather Mary (that's my name), if you can do this, you can do anything. Any. Thing. Ever. That is required of you.
All my life. My momma wore combat boots. And yes I can. No matter what it is.
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6 comments:
Wow.
My mother always told me, "You can do anything you want to." When my life was split asunder I decided that was a lie. Because it doesn't always turn out the way you wanted.
But I swear I can walk through anything. And she could too -- I saw her do it. She wore spangles.
My kids' mother wears cowboy boots. I like that.
Yes, you know, sometimes the price is too high to pay and sometimes the road is one ungodly mess. But it was really about being able to do what was required of me, no matter how hard, awful or heinous. It is required of me. I thought at first that she meant the world was my oyster. That wasn't what she meant at all although that would have been an added benefit if I'd wanted. She meant that if I could throw my body from the plane, defying all life saving instincts to do otherwise that I could and should walk through any fire necessary. Took me years to work that out.
Spangles! Lovely and wonderful. I love spangles.
CG. What happened?
CG's mom wearing spangles: it's perfect. She always seemed like a movie star to me.
My mom told me that I could do anything I set my mind to. Not sure exactly what that was supposed to imply. I remember it being about doing what was required or expected or implied. She could tell me what was expected with a glance or a raised eyebrow. Still can sometimes.
Your mom and me are from two different continents and generations and- Americans can be hard for me to get along with right away - especially if you have to (does Nanny need to talk?) .... but I always thought your mother was so... how should I put it....normal?.. wow what does that make me... It must be the strong woman, skydiving and animal thing - I loved being in your moms house. Go figure.... I miss her and you.
Annica, you are so funny! If you've read the Nanny rant tonight then I suppose you know she probably does! (that poor girl, I'm doing the best I know how and she is too)
I miss you too
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