Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

river not reservoir

Will you follow me on a short, meandering train of thought? This all occurred to me simultaneously, early this morning.

Are you, like me, a borderline obsessive list maker and goal tender? I keep a planner and myriad lists and charts for habit tracking, miles and paces ran, farm projects, holidays, seasonal work, animal needs, garden jobs, you name it. It helps me “stay on track,” I tell myself, but really what it does is soothe lots of insecurities about my contribution. It gives me an inky representation of my work, because deep down I know that I don’t do enough. Or maybe sometimes I do plenty, but I need the written proof, because no one else knows. Maybe if I die suddenly and someone asks, “What did she do with her life?” they could look at my multicolored planner and see. “Oh, good those habits seem very tidy. Nice.”

What if instead of keeping lists and calendars, instead of charting accomplishments and habits to make myself feel like a good enough person, I get back to counting blessings?

I had this thought early this morning, between a few picturesque moments. I lifted the east facing blinds to see the cotton candy daybreak, and then I walked outside with Klaus. The air was fresh and sweet, the cats were stretching on the sidewalk, campaigning for belly scratches and breakfast, and the birds were singing. SINGING. They produced actual music, not orchestrated by any human, and really beautiful. My mind was mechanically in gear about what to do first today, but the beauty of the moment, the safety and abundance of my life, quite undeserved (Or do I deserve it, a little? Have I fought hard enough for this, evolved enough finally?) overwhelmed me. I came back inside to make two very different cups of coffee, and the thought burst into my mind: “What if you stop counting the things you do and return to counting your blessings?””

I cannot tell you how scary this though felt at first, and then I judged myself for being scared of it. “Why? What is wrong with you?” I demanded of myself. What a clear message, that I have been relying so heavily on self and have been so feverishly feeding my ego, that I need to prove to my own mind so many ridiculous little things. No one else ever sees my lists; it is all for self assurance and carrot motivation.

And then there’s the notion of flow.

A few years ago, just before Pandemic actually, I had an unsolicited and overwhelming experience of Love that has stuck with me and taught me many lessons, the more I reflect on it. Part of the experience was being personally showered with specific encouragement about the ways I had impacted the lives of my friends and family. Dozens of people contributed, and I cried and cried. I wrote something at the time about “Leak Stop” in order to prevent my usual fleeting confidence from forgetting or dismissing it all. I tried to muscle myself into hoarding it all in my heart, you know? And that worked, to an extent. But I don’t think that’s what we’re really supposed to do with Love.

I don’t think we’re supposed to collect Love and keep it for ourselves, just be un-leaky reservoirs that receive lots of water and share it only in emergencies, or maybe grow stagnant. I think we’re supposed to be more like rivers that flow free and strong like the Thompson in Colorado. I think that instead of stopping up the leaks so I could keep more Love for myself, for bad days, I was fine being flexible and open, to share Love more boldly. Receive, give, receive, give, and flow with life giving energy day after day after day. How wonderful to be aligned daily with blessings and purposes. This has been one of my prayers for a few years, and I see it manifesting constantly. Weirdly, haha, I found a way to make that meditation into a task as well. Cool.

And maybe being obsessed with lists and accomplishments ironically stunts my contribution; maybe this lifestyle keeps me too oriented to self and keeps me from allowing Love to flow.

Counting blessings opens me up much more to wonder and gratitude, to magic and limitlessness. Not just small gorgeous details but also catastrophes avoided, abundance realized, joys fulfilled. I know this. I have known it for years, and still I sometimes need the reminder.

Our family has been in a little storm this past month that challenged my ability to stay in the moment and asked me to demonstrate what I have been learning these recent years about prayer, imagination, faith, trust, and free will. Will I spend energy worrying, regretting, and spiraling into what-if scenarios, or will I redeem energy for miracles? It’s been a private and inward job mostly, but the effects are very much three dimensional, very real and impactful to loved ones. What I’m saying is that prayer is a real force. Thoughts are things. And so, it matters where we focus. We have influence, but only by accessing Love. I am so thankful for the redirection this morning away from tasks and ego and back to the Absolute, the Source, the Field, as so many books refer to Love. Back to God.

How scary to realize the thinness of that line, the difference between trusting myself and trusting God.

And how wonderful to relax into being a conduit for power rather than needing to be a source of it, which is obviously impossible. There is only one Source.

Ok gotta go. I have a certain number of miles to run and a list of chores to finish, Ha! Otherwise I am not a real person, ok? I’m mostly kidding.

Harness your thoughts. Direct your energy. Love your life. It’s all here for us to enjoy and share, flowing back and forth.

XOXOXOXO

friday 5 at the farm, late may 2022

Hello friends, happy Friday! And happy Memorial Day Weekend to everyone stateside. In Oklahoma, we are bouncing back from a week of luscious rainfall and unseasonably cool temperatures, and we are happy about all of it. The relief, the return to normal, the weird rhythm. Our pond is brimming, my rain barrel is full, and the gardens and pastures are deeply hydrated but not flooded. I think the four leggeds were growing weary of sheltering in place, haha, but they are now luxuriating in abundant sunshine, so no worries.

Little Lady Marigold enjoying breakfast at daybreak, with Klaus supervising
(look closely in the distance).

Here’s a short and sweet Friday Five at the Farm to catch us up.

ONE: The pizza garden is as planted as it will be for a while, and everything is growing measurably, especially since the rain. I need to do some more weeding and distribute more compost and shredded oak leaves, but overall I am thrilled with how this little experiment is progressing. It actually almost looks like a giant green pizza, ha!

TWO: I am happy to report that Zoom, our little pandemic hatchling, is now laying eggs reliably. She provides several small, bantam sized, off-white eggs per week, and I am so proud of her. I am sad, however, to report that the three little peeps who hatched this Mother’s Day have since perished. One by one, the broody hen who hatched them brought them out to learn normal chicken things, and one by one they did not survive. Next time we have a clutch warming, I will prepare a nursery like we did in the old days, to ensure their safety. Sometimes letting nature take its course works out; sometimes it does not.

THREE: Did I tell you yet that Little Lady Marigold received her first ever shearing? Approaching her Lazy W anniversary, we wrangled her up (Klaus helped), got her into the bright yellow halter, and imposed on her a haphazard but weather-appropriate, all over haircut. She looks so much smaller now, I can’t believe it. Her svelte little lamb figure really accentuates her menacing stick legs. And the heaps and mountains of sheared off wool are an amazing sight. I keep intending to give it to the chickens for their nesting boxes, but I don’t want to stop looking at it.

FOUR: Family fun abounds! Handsome recently brought home some exciting news from the Commish which heralds a brand new chapter not only for him but also for the entire agency, and I am so proud and happy. We are also preparing for a big party here next month, to host the entire Public Utilities Department. I love any big party, and I am beyond excited to see old Commish friends and meet new faces! Also, Jess and Alex are doing great, working hard as usual and spending time with us often, for which we are so thankful. Alex’s mom sweet mom Araceli was in town recently and joined us at the farm for dinner al fresco. The pups swam, and the weather was perfect. That same weekend, we gathered with dozens more friends and family to celebrate my sister Angela’s birthday and her seven years of sobriety. Our other little sister, Gen, flew in from LA to surprise her, as did Ang’s son and daughter in law. Over Father’s Day next month, Mom and Dad will be in Spain visiting my brother Joe and his family, so we had a small brunch for them while so many of us were together. SO much to celebrate right now! We are soaking it up. Letting the joy settle deep in our bones.

FIVE: Thank you to everyone who has been following the interviews! I sure had fun writing about my husband, and I have several more folks lined up. This next series will be about individual people I just happen to find fascinating, not necessarily pandemic questionnaires like last year. If you know someone who would be a fun read, send me a note!

Okay, that’s it for today. Gardening never stops, the animals keep me busy, I never have enough time to read all the books I want to read, and life is jaw-droppingly beautiful right now. I hope you feel the same. Thanks for checking in!

My dreams are tied to a horse that will never die
~Sting
XOXO

BW part 3: take me to bed or lose me forever

First, let’s do that circling back I promised regarding BW’s take on villainry.

We covered in the second interview installment that Brandy regards most villains in most stories to be the better character for four solid reasons. We also established that if anyone ever considers him to be the villain in their story, that he would take it as a compliment to his efficiency, among other things. Let’s further explore his controversial views on The Walking Dead, specifically how he views Rick versus Negan, as leaders.

“Rick was weak and worthless as a leader.” Ha! Suffice it to say that BW cannot stand that character. He describes the man as having no vision, not being a unifier, and just bad at preparing for contingencies. As for Negan, BW asserts that aside from the shocking baseball bat scene when Glenn died so brutally, everyone would (or should) admire the rebel for the community he had built, for the hierarchy he maintained, for his people’s safety, etc. Of course Negan also wore a black leather jacket, was smart, fun, and unapologetic, all qualities we know BW believes are any villain’s advantages. “People say they want a swift system (of justice) but in the moment they are scared of it. You’ve gotta remember the context.” We spoke at length about how the baseball bat scene forever stained Negan’s popularity for viewers. I wondered about BW’s own human flaw, how he might lose favor with his people.

Are there takeaways here for your own career? Do you have a baseball bat which you are cautious to use, however right it may seem? “In my professional career I soft serve disappointment quite often, because I know some people cannot handle it.” He usually tries to “coach people up” constructively, when inwardly he might be inclined toward a more direct and maybe vicious redirection. BW’ baseball bat is his word choice. He also chooses not to take vengeance legally or physically on people who have hurt our loved ones.

So where does all that Negan energy go? How do you redirect it? “Lots of yelling in traffic or at TV. shows.”

Now let’s look at how he identifies with the cool car element.

If you know Brandy even just a little, you know he is a car guy. He understands cars and car culture. He appreciates a wide variety of makes and eras. And he is a skilled mechanic and body guy. It’s a passion by which he has come honestly, as both of his parents were also avid and talented hot-rodders.  Besides Harvey and Judy, many of Brandy’s favorite people over the years have been car folks, the salt of the earth people you meet at car shows and in little garages. So many instant friends over the years.

And he freely admits to having “a little problem” with collecting cars. As an adult, Brandy’s vehicular collection has expanded and evolved almost monthly. He is always buying and selling something to satisfy a new curiosity, so much so that our friends and family often joke that they don’t know what to expect us to be driving. We have a farm full of treasures already, but I know he is always looking to the high-octane horizon.

What other cars are still on your wish list? An A-Team van, a General Lee, and a Mach 5 (from Speed Racer, please refer to his one unfulfilled career longing). For this project he would use a 1972-1980 Corvette, dirt cheap base, and go from there.

Until recently, he would have included a Batmobile on his bucket list, but during Pandemic he actually built one! Slowly, frugally, and with limitless passion and ingenuity, our very own Batman transformed the rusted shell of a 1964 Ford Thunderbird into his very own childhood dream come true.  

What are your intentions are for using this gorgeous product of your blood, sweat, and tears? “Get it to run well enough that we can easily drive it places, have it at the circle drive in the Bethany Children’s Hospital, seeing kids climbing on and sitting in it. Doctors or nurses can hold kids, drive ‘em around, have fun, no worries. Just purely there for the kids.” This man has a heart for children who are suffering and missing out on the fun parts of childhood due to illness, abuse, or disadvantage. “That’s the only plan,” he continued, “Parades would be just for fun, not the purpose.”

We commiserated on how much both his Mom and his Grandma would have loved this Batmobile. They both loved cars and racing, and together they sewed him literally hundreds of different Batman capes and costumes over the years.

How many Batman costumes do you have now, as an adult? “Total of 5. There’s the ‘89 Keaton armor, Desert Batman, Batman Begins UD replica, Arkham Knight UD replica, and the Affleck (Nightmare Batman).”

I asked this man whose outer world has endured so many changes over the years, how does he address God?  “Depends. Sometimes it’s the old structured prayer of, Heavenly Father, and having the conversation. I’d say more often than not, my conversations with God just happen in the moment. And it’s just like talking to Him… asking for help or comfort or peace, or to control my temper when I’m going in somewhere difficult. Unfortunately, that’s probably 90% of my prayers, or just calling someone’s name in my head. You know, it’s hardly ever audible. Nothing wrong with audible, it’s just really more of a thought. An ongoing thought process, a conversation.”

This is quite a departure from his upbringing in a Pentecostal church, where Brandy says he was taught to be “loud when you pray.” But now he says, “It feels more natural to me when I know God can hear my thoughts, and I know He does. And oftentimes when I need Him the most, I’m somewhere I can’t be loud. In the past I would have let that get between (me and) prayer. If I can’t say it aloud it doesn’t matter. It’s a pretty big difference,” he said, one he had never really thought about before.

In the twenty-plus years Brandy and I have shared our lives, we have seen untold beauty and deep joy. We have seen a lot of darkness, too. I have witnessed Brandy ride wave after wave of hurt and disappointment. He has faced so many various crises head on, endured so many fundamental catastrophes that might have destroyed a weaker person, and watched unsinkable ships really truly sink, right before his eyes. Watching his faith-walk from the outside, you might wonder what has stayed true. You might ask what remains of his church life, for example, compared to those decades when he never missed a Sunday, only prayed aloud, and knew what he knew was absolutely true, period. I asked him to articulate some pillars of his faith and non-negotiable beliefs. He answered in a measured way but with conviction:

“Well, I know there is a God, period. The idea of being agnostic or atheist, I just can’t imagine. I’ve felt too many things and frankly seen too many things that I absolutely know there’s a God and I know He hears us. He, She, It, you know, whatever, right?” He laughed, “I know God hears us. That to me is an unshakable faith. I know that when we’re in need He can help.”  Brandy addressed the difference between God being able to help and always doing exactly what we ask of Him. This insight comes up sometimes in our discussion about the Law of Attraction. “Faith is easy, knowing God can.” It’s knowing what God will do that gives Brandy pause.

After more thoughtfulness, he continued: “It’s unshakable to me that we’re supposed to take care of each other. You know, be good to people, I think I’ve probably grown more in understanding that than I ever did before. That’s actually a commandment. It’s not just something we do to feel good. It’s a commandment to take care of people.”

How do you define a miracle? “I think miracles can be big,” he offered matter of factly, having himself witnessed firsthand the disappearance of cancers and many other supernatural events. “I’ve seen the dead raised up.” But also, “I think the more miracles we see are the simple ones. The things that we just don’t expect to happen that are good, the things we shouldn’t receive that we do, the ability to do something we didn’t think we could. The knowledge you didn’t know you needed it, the strength…”

He trailed off, reflecting aloud on the long stream of help God has provided throughout his career. In his work at the Commission, Brandy has for years relied heavily on prayer and miracles. He is a talented leader and proficient solver of complex problems, but he credits much of his ongoing success to a deep wellspring of knowledge and wisdom that is only accessed by prayer. He says that God has been there for Him on steep learning curves when he was brand new to the industry, during intense meetings when important outcomes are at stake and the players are powerful and combative, and in the fabric of innumerable human relationships of every variety. The miracles are big and small, left and right, day after day, year after year. And he is thankful for them all.

He talked about living as if you see miracles in everything, and I completely forgot to ask for his take on the famous Albert Einstein quote about the friendliness or hostility of the universe. But my heart fluttered to be reminded that my husband, for all his pragmatism, chooses to see miracles everywhere, every day.

And yet, this artistic, miracle mining, privately spiritual man still considers himself a pessimist. This is one of the dichotomies that frustrates and infatuates me all at once. Here was our exchange:

“You consider yourself a pessimist still?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, definitely. I’m always assuming and planning for the worst.” He was a little bit too ready to defend his position.

“But you’re still in awe of miracles.” I challenged him, way too aggressively.

“Well yeah. And they may be that much sweeter to me because of that.” He smirked.

Dammit. Checkmate.

Tell me about paradigm shifts in your life overall. He paused thoughtfully. He acknowledged there have been many over the years then zeroed in on the fallout from his mom’s sudden passing in 2013: She was the glue for their family, and everything changed overnight when she died. Brandy had to delay his own grief to keep things together for his Dad for a time, then the church community fell apart, and finally he had to cope with a brand new realization that the closeness he had always trusted with his Dad was gone, too. It was shattering. “It shook me to my core and made me question everything.”

This massive paradigm shift launched Brandy, maybe against his will at first, into a brand new life perspective, and gradually he cultivated gratitude. He was good at recalibrating, at reinvesting his love and attention in the people who remained, and in finding other outlets for service and worship, with the church gone. He began to see, among other things, that his relationship with God was not dependent on a church building.  “God’s not some floating cloud over a pulpit in a building that only lives in the sanctuary. I feel God as much in a bad meeting when I need Him as I ever did down at an altar praying for hours. It truly feels more like a relationship. Much more accessible now.”

There is still plenty he doesn’t understand, but he feels stronger for it all. “I lost so much family and history but also was freed of baggage and drama, freed of ongoing hurt, of being used.”

He explained how this trauma in his family makes him so much more eager to help strangers, because there are no strings attached; there is just the joy of meeting someone’s needs without being abused or becoming too attached emotionally. “I want to just give people things, feel good, and walk away. Not stick around long enough to be hurt.”

Overall, how was your Pandemic experience? He thought about this for a while and answered solemnly, “There was a lot of hurt and pain with it, the death and sickness, the worry for people, but what (bothered me) was how people treated each other.” The crescendo of day to day fighting on social media greatly dimmed his state of mind in the worst of those first months. He said that it opened his eyes to the fact that people are not always as nice as they appear.

And yet he was happy to see how quickly people adapted for work and stayed productive.

What good came out of the Pandemic, for you? For him personally? “It was a blessing and a miracle to enjoy the gift of a year at home so far from retirement, time to enjoy the farm and our life together.” He said he “will never forget that, makes me envious of people who continue to work from home.” It all left him feeling thankful for our marriage, that we were actually happy during that time. During the spring of 2020, Brandy adapted pretty quickly, shifting naturally into emergency response and big time safety and provision mode. Then, eventually, he relaxed and started creating. Over the course of thousands of conference calls and with a trusty pair of ear buds, he built the Batmobile. He also tackled dozens of infrastructure projects around our property, in the midst of unprecedented (sorry, I couldn’t resist) professional workload.

Pandemic also gave him a deeper appreciation of the Outreach we had been doing previously. Being kept away from the public showed him how much he missed being out and helping people. Overall, despite the obvious heartaches, he will remember the pandemic times fondly. “Lots of goodness came out of it,” he concluded sweetly.

If you were to give a TED Talk, lead a master class, or write a book, what would your big message be to the world?  This question lit a fire. He declared that if he ever finds a solution to the universal problem of wasted energy and ego-driven conflict, that’s what he would share with the world. Brandy laments all the time and energy that gets wasted on petty, short term problems and power struggles over who will get credit for work done by a group or a team. He expressed a deep desire to reinvest that wasted time and energy into things that really matter, into projects that will last longer than six months or into the happiness of children and the cohesion of teams and families.

What mark or monument do you want to have left on the world? He paused a while before answering then said, “Well, high level, I hope to leave things better than I found them, and not in insignificant ways. I hope that by the time I die there are still people who love me.” And he paused again, his voice heavier when he spoke again, “I hope to have created something that made life better for people, ongoing.” We talked about that for a while, and he explained that he doesn’t want all the stress and sacrifices we are enduring now to be for nothing. He also elaborated on the ripple effect, day dreaming aloud about the hope that helping one young family could lead to someone gaining an education and using their life to help the world at large in even bigger ways.

Arranging fun activities and making happy memories for children is vital to him because he had such a great childhood. He treasures his countless good experiences as a little boy and teenager and wants to spread that to other children who seem to be missing out on their youth. Simple joys and life pleasures can mean something lasting, and he wants to push that energy out into the world, for strangers, for loved ones, for anyone who will receive it.

Beyond that, he hopes to develop employees who go on to develop other people, and maybe there will be a small vein of better managers out there, “People who will learn how to treat people well while still driving excellence.”

Our conversation turned to Jocelyn and Jessica, who are quickly approaching ages 27 and 25, respectively. He hopes to have taught our girls things that will actually benefit them, hopes to have passed on the best of his generational gifts. We were robbed of so many years with them, so he craves lots of it now and believes there is still time for everything that matters. He always seizes a random chance to help in practical ways or talk openly and boldly about the hard things, because we know all too well that time is not promised.

Brandy freely admits he would have answered these questions so differently 20 years ago. He used to be more concerned about cash, credit ratings, and so many other financial measurements. While he may be less worried about those markers now, he does say there is never enough money. We have more than enough for ourselves, but the resources do not match his drive to make a difference in others people’s lives. There is always more to do for people, always further ways to serve.

What are your mottos and mantras?  “Choose Joy, Love all the People, Go Be Kind, Be the Change, Teamwork Makes the Dream Work,  and Ubuntu (me/we, I am because we are).” Besides a classic Bat symbol, “Me/We” is the only tattoo he would seriously consider.   

Then I asked, what are the Great White Buffalos in your life? He immediately balked. He claimed, despite having watched Hot Tub Time Machine with me multiple times, to not understand my question. I even whispered great white buffalo dramatically, and still he evaded me. Eventually he laughed and said that he could not think of anything in life that he hasn’t just “made to happen.” I actually love this.

As we wrapped up our long conversation, I asked what questions were you worried I might ask you? This man laughed and said without hesitation, “I thought you would ask me more about girls.” Ha!

And that, friends just about sums it up.
XOXOXOXO

near miss & a new friend

Yesterday midmorning I was driving north on Harrah road, toward the park for a run. I was in the right hand lane, slowing gradually nearer the school zone, far away from all other cars. Just as I passed the gas station on the west side of the road, a gray pickup with a camper shell exploded out of the intersection and raced right up alongside my car, definitely aimed for it. I hit my brakes and fishtailed just a little bit, and very much against my nature I also laid the palm of my hand on the horn, simultaneously. It was all instinct, not anger, though within seconds of narrowly avoiding a crash all that adrenaline did turn to anger. The pickup swerved just a breath away from hitting me, and the driver blended slowly into the right hand lane, just in front of me.

My hands were ten and two and shaking. I took several deep breaths and continued driving, even more slowly now, and eased a greater than necessary distance from the gray truck in front of me. I was nearing the park to stop for a run and saw that he, too, was headed there. He used his blinker, drove slowly, yielding to pedestrians the entire time, and parked in the shade.

I briefly considered driving somewhere else to run, I am so averse to confrontation. But I talked myself into staying because I had done nothing wrong. I just felt weird and conspicuous for having honked. I also didn’t know if the other driver felt he had done anything to warrant being honked at, and maybe he would think I almost hit him, you know, and try to fist fight me and I don’t know how to fight, not even in a video game.

My inner life in complicated.

Anyway I stayed.

I also pulled into the parking lot slowly, also yielded to pedestrians, and parked as far from his truck as I could. I did my weird little warm up, started my podcast about an unsolved murder, and started jogging. I was plenty nervous, and I don’t know exactly why. I just hate conflict so much.

The park has a smallish oval loop sidewalk for walking and jogging. I was going counterclockwise and the other driver was walking clockwise. We passed each other head on a few times before we both looked up and acknowledged each other. I pressed a thin smile at him and raised a hand for a low commitment wave, and he nodded softly and also smiled, but he looked sad. He was elderly but not frail, clean cut, polite, focused, and walking alone.

Around mile six I paused at my car for a drink of water, and I saw his truck pull up behind me, perpendicular to my bumper. I paused my stupid murder story and waited as he reluctantly put his truck in park and stepped out into the now blazing sun.

I took a deep breath and assured myself everything was fine. His posture was steady and gentlemanly. Polite. Cautious. He removed his ball cap and opened both hands and said, “I nearly hit you there, I pulled out and scared you, and I am so sorry.” His voice broke my stupid heart. Any defensiveness still in my body dissolved into either shame for honking at him or compassion or maybe amazement at his quiet nobility.

“No I am sorry, I never honk, I am so sorry I honked at you!” My chin started trembling. I was sweaty from running but also cold.

He shook his head and cut me off (haha) saying, “No, I didn’t mean to, but I did almost hit you.” He spoke more firmly this time. He went on to explain that the woman driving behind him had been speeding in that school zone, and she scared him. He felt she was about to slam into him from behind when he saw the opportunity or necessity to race out of the intersection, but all of it was so jarring, so sudden.

I tried a second time to apologize, and I extended both of my hands, not metaphorically. We shook hands normally at first then held hands, and I started weeping a tiny bit behind my scratched up cheap sunglasses. Had I not been sweaty I might have forced a totally inappropriate and unnecessary hug on this stranger (bad hugs are my hobby). It turns out, the verbal exchange was infinitely sweeter.

He said several more times and in a few different ways that he was sorry, and I said I was sorry. I thanked him for coming over to talk to me, told him I had been worried about it (the murder story barely kept my mind occupied), and told him his generosity made me feel so much better. I told him I was so glad that woman didn’t hit him. We agreed we all got lucky and wished each other a good rest of the day then shook hands again (I resisted the urge to invite him for Thanksgiving, because are we friends now?).

As he left the parking lot I started my murder story again, continued my run, and exploded into confusing tears. And the crying was only partially because I am in pre-ovulation. The tenderness and nobility he showed by approaching me and starting that awkward conversation was just so stunning. What an example he sets by this.

Since presumably we live at least somewhat near each other in a fairly cozy community, it is likely we will see each other again. I know now that if we do, it will be comfortable. But even if not, he made an impression on me and reminded me it’s ok to make the effort to keep neighborly bonds intact. We don’t have to go through the days ignoring strangers and neighbors, pretending we are islands or neglecting the effect we have on each other. He did not hit me. He was neither rude nor reckless. No harm was done aside from the momentary panic. He had no obligation whatsoever to ever mention it, but he did.

I swear my intention of honking my car horn was strictly to alert the oncoming vehicle to my presence there, not to express anger. But since I felt the anger immediately afterwards, all of it made me so nauseous. His boldness to resolve the conflict not only allowed me to let it go; it also inspired me to be bolder with neighborliness and more humble about my mistakes.

I am a nervous hugger, too, so there’s that problem. All of this also reminded me sometimes excessive handshakes are enough.

THE END.

BW part 2: the people who loved him into being

Thank you for checking in for part two of my interview with Handsome, aka BW, my amazing husband and the Lazy W artist in residence! If you haven’t seen part one yet, click over and enjoy.

Fred Rogers provided us all the notion of calling upon and thanking all the people from your life who “loved you into being.” I asked Brandy about his, and he surprised me with mentions of not only family mentors but also friends, people whose influence shaped important parts of his personality.

Brandy named childhood friends Larry, Rob, and Erin, who all showed him how to be comfortable, how to get “out of the house and out of the rut,” so much so that Brandy says they all three ruined him for adult friendships, ha! Now he gauges bonds based on how easy and natural they feel and by the absence of drama or competition, as he enjoyed with these guys.

Mrs. Boren was a next door neighbor all throughout Brandy’s life, a woman just slightly older than his parents who nestled herself into his young heart in myriad ways. Family legend includes a particular time in Brandy’s grade school years when she assured him that, “Sometimes a boy’s gotta do what a boy’s gotta do,” referring to the rare but righteous necessity of a fistfight when standing up to a bully. She offered this wisdom quite against what his Mom had already said, but she never backed down from it. As often as this sweet story has been told over the years, Brandy insists it represents the tip of the iceberg of Mrs. Boren’s influence. He said she was always available on her front porch when he got home from school, even in his high school and college years, ready to listen. She would offer him a cup of coffee and gently press stories and good values into his willing ears. She provided a safe and unchanging place for him, his whole life. She grew apples and roses. He describes her as being, “Soft with her flowers but hardcore in fighting for what was right.” My goodness this became a pillar of his character.

Anyone who knows Brandy also either knew his Mom, Judy, or has heard enough stories about her to feel like they were friends. Deeply influential to her youngest child, she was the person who bestowed on him his “tilting at windmills” tendency. She was often up in arms, impassioned for one cause or another, always ardently defending the defenseless, throwing all of her worldly resources (as well as what spiritual resources she could access by prayer) at whatever crisis had presented itself that day, for friends and family and even strangers. Like Brandy, Judy never knew when to say, “That’s not my problem.” It was both a blessing and a curse for her, as it is now for her baby boy. Judy was a joyful welcomer to everyone at holidays, as Brandy strives to be. She was also a music lover, a sometime street racer, and a fearless conservative happy to mobilize for any local candidate she deemed worthy. Brandy continues living with so much of her influence. He also has her laugh, which since her passing in 2013 has often caught me quite off guard.

Brandy described his Dad, Harvey, as a willing worker, a man who would be out there in the trenches with his guys, wearing an owner-manager’s shirt and tie, shunning the comfortable office chair to instead help mount a bumper or spray a car with paint. He said his dad worked so hard that he was constantly in trouble for ruining his clothes. Harvey taught his son by example to never ask your employees to do anything you aren’t willing to do. As a result, Harvey’s employees always cared about him.

Brandy meandered around these memories a bit, laughing to recall how often he had witnessed his Dad arguing with dishonest customers to defend his employees. Hindsight gives Brandy this appreciation: “Dad ran every business he was in the same way, whether it was owning the body shop, running the police department, the Sherriff’s Department, dealerships, he made sure the employees knew he was working with them.”

I would say the same about Harvey’s son. He proves year after year, crisis after crisis, and in every imaginable kind of work environment that he is more than willing to be right there in the thick of it all, never assigning anyone to do what he is unwilling to do. As with Harvey and his shop, Brandy’s team cares about him greatly. Both men have always been protective of their people, maybe to a fault, unafraid of conflicts with the public or with outside forces. I think their industries are much better for these passed down traits, even if the appearance sometimes makes them unpopular.

Brandy’s upbringing had an especially vivid religious coloration (matched only by his spiritual evolution as an adult, which we address in part 3). I asked him about the formation of this part of his personality. He thought for a moment and said, “I was born into it, more than anything. It was the central theme, with only a close second of politics in my life. It was probably formed as much with Grandma’s (influence) as it was Mom’s.” He reflected and explored some memories aloud for a few minutes then shared something beautiful about his Grandma Goldie, who was the Pastor and preacher of his childhood church congregation: “Just everything Grandma did was spiritually motivated, and she wasn’t preachy about it. She just lived that way. She exuded spirituality, it was beautiful.”

Goldie Goddard was a formative role model for him in many ways, including but certainly not limited to the church house. I only knew her for a few years, but she made a deep and beautiful impression on me, too. Her legacy is vibrant. Which of Grandma Goldie’s qualities do you think you inherited? He thought quietly for several moments, offering a few warm hums while he thought about her. “Boy that’s hard to say,” he finally broke the silence, “To think that you’ve picked anything up from someone like her is hard to imagine, because she was just so cool.” Another long pause, then, “The way she loved to have fun, she really did, she was someone who loved to have a good time and loved to be silly. She loved dress up. She loved making costumes, I think I got that from her.” He remembers sitting and playing in his Grandma’s sewing room, “just making something out of nothing, you know she loved that.” Goldie also loved video games, which Brandy certainly still does. She taught him to play, to play with kids, to enjoy and embrace the fun luxuries of modern life, despite what people might assume about her being a conservative female preacher. “She enjoyed TV more than she let on. Driving! You know, she loved cars.”

Goldie was a stellar home cook who established many of Brandy’s present day food obsessions. “Yeah, the food. The sugar. God she loved sugar. I got my sugar tooth from her probably!” Dear reader, to this day, if I make his Mom’s famous lemon ice box pie recipe, I hand the empty but still thickly coated cans of sweetened condensed milk to my husband, and he almost always tells a story about Grandma Goldie. I love it. Eagle Brand Time Machine.

He had still more to say about this woman, specifically about her marriage to his Grandpa Eddie: “I noticed their relationship before I noticed Mom and Dad. You know, as a kid you don’t really appreciate your parents’ love relationship, but I noticed Grandma and Grandpa were different. They were just always so loving, and so lovey-dovey, you know smooching and holding hands, all the time. It was okay to be good to each other. They were one of the few couples like that, who really loved to do for each other, not just one doing for the other… They did for each other constantly. And loved to, you can tell.”

What qualities do you admire in other people? BW was hesitant to answer this at first. He claims to often have trouble seeing the good in people out in society, but taking the question less abstractly helped. As he explored his heart for the people in his own life, the words and affection flowed.

Brandy gushed about our friend Meredith’s passionate love, the way she “lives the gospel of support and love, beyond just words.” He included Mer’s parents, Tom and Raylene, citing how much they love each and how they demonstrate their church’s motto, “Love All the People.” BW described this couple as “passionate in their spirituality,” and I could not agree more.

He talked about his friend and employee Geoff’s innocent, well meaning drive to help, not for any gain but just truly to be a help. Another colleague, Mark, possesses calm and reserve which Brandy admires. Those traits are a great cooling balm to Brandy’s constantly hot spirit at work. Maribeth taught him that you can be the smartest person in the room but not act like it. She showed him how to “help people in ways that doesn’t make them feel stupid.”

More friends filled his mind, David and Keri. This is a couple with longevity and endurance. They have been through hell and are still grieving so much. “They are open about their pain. They show their pain, they are still strong and strong together and love each other and love their community. They set very high standards from other people and are not ashamed of that.” He admires how David and Keri have managed to set up a force field of well being around their home. He thinks it’s admirable to value your peace and center so much that you can speak up for your needs and stand up for your values.

Now he was unstoppable. He sat up a little straighter as he listed people in his life and their good qualities.

He talked about Brandon and his “undying desire to be the first to passionately give.” Also Dennis, who has seen and done so much in his life yet is passive about his knowledge and experience. “Sometimes we forget what he is capable of, because Dennis doesn’t have to be at the center of anyone’s attention. He’s happy to let others take the reins yet always stay nearby to catch his friends. Dennis is a fount of knowledge, but he doesn’t have to pour it on everyone.”

My husband got misty when he named Jessica (our youngest daughter) and her way of, “clinging to the possible, especially because it takes a lot of effort from her, plus her desire to care for others. Jess shares that caretaking urge with Alex (her husband).” We guess that their mutual love for helping others might have been part of how the Universe drew them together.

Brandy admires selflessness in his wife and her ability to “care about strangers in a nanosecond.” He admires that drive to care for others’ physical spiritual, mental, emotional health. He said, “I think it’s a pretty cool ability to take on or absorb others’ pain, but I don’t want it as a trait for myself because it looks exhausting,” ha!

Maybe you would see someone as accomplished and widely talented as he is and assume he mostly values similar achievements and capacities. But those rarely catch his attention. In general, he just loves people who are genuinely kind. Our neighbors Rex and Cathy, also our new neighbor Tucker, are all truly kind and happy people, “just enjoying life and the people they love.” He affirmed, “It’s not cliché to say that’s where the riches are.”

What would you say to Jocelyn, if you could reach her? “It’s okay. We understand. We love you. We just want you home.”  He elaborated gently that he would not tell her we expect her to live here, just that we want her back in our life. She is greatly missed.

Which of your ancestors would you like to sit down and interview?  “Probably knowing what I know now… Victor.” Victor Goddard was Brandy’s maternal great-grandfather, a small town Oklahoma entrepreneur during the civil rights movement who famously passed away on Halloween. Victor was known for never showing leniency to children learning to play checkers, a tradition his great-grandson keeps to this day. “Well, he just had such a colorful although not good history that as a kid who didn’t understand, I’d love to ask him why on some things and see if you can separate fiction from fact or family story. From that I just mean he was at some pretty pivotal historic moments of mankind. He wasn’t just the old man playing checkers I knew.”

Friends, I cannot wait to get part three ready. It’s my favorite. He’s my favorite. Thank you for reading!

“Sometimes a boy’s gotta do
What a boy’s gotta do,”
~Naomi Boren
XOXOXO