And This Bird You Cannot Change

Tonight at my parents' house, we were celebrating my sister's birthday with her. Along with my sister, my parents, and my two daughters, my 82 year old grandma was there. After dinner, when Lisa was opening her cards and gifts, my dad turns on a baseball game.

My dad loves baseball.

So he and Grandma are talking about it, because Grandma likes baseball, too, and Dad says he could watch baseball all the time. Someone else said they could do something all the time. So I said, "I could write all the time."

My grandma looks at me and says, "Have you got anything published yet?"

No, I have not. I told her there was one story that I was considering making some changes to, and attempting to publish, but she was just smiling politely by then. So...I told her it was about vampires. (hee hee!) (Grandma is quite religious.)

Then all the way home, in the car with Shelby, I'm thinking, I really should have told her that, actually publishing something wasn't important to me. I really should have. But I didn't. I let it go. Why? I dunno. Because I respect her? Because I don't stand up for myself as often as I should? Who knows.

But then I got to thinking...about my uncle Jerry. Why, you ask? Well, guess what? I'll tell you.

My uncle Jerry, my grandma's youngest son, was an artist. All his life, he was creating art. It may have been something he painted, it may have been something he penciled, it may have been something sketched in charcoal. But that's what he did.

When I think of what people term as a "hippie", I think of my uncle Jerry. Not that I view this as a bad thing. (I think that, if I had been born a couple of decades before I was, I would have fallen into that movement wholeheartedly.) He served in Vietnam, though he hated every part of that war. Then he grew his hair long and built a house out in the country for his wife and himself. But his hair wasn't the only thing he grew. Yes, I'm almost positive Jerry grew him some happy grass out there, too. But he never held the same job for very long. Oh he worked most of the time. But usually his wife was the one with the steady income. Jerry wasn't a 9-5 person, if you know what I mean.

So years passed, and his only daughter, my cousin, grew into an adult, just like I did. He and his wife divorced, as they grew into different people, or, maybe they were always different people. But for whatever reason, he moved on. He spent some time in Colorado, then he ended up in a trailer park in Florida with other like-minded people, or so I'm led to believe. But Jerry continued to create art his entire life. He never had a lot of monetary success in doing so, though I think he had a collection on display at our local library for some time. But he continued to do so, regardless. That was just who he was.

He died a couple of years ago. I think he was 57. One of his neighbors found him in his trailer. He'd suffered from a heart attack, just like my grandpa (his father and my father's father) did. And I remember after his funeral, my grandma was so proud when she told us all...that he'd just told her the week before that he'd sold a painting. She said she just knew he would've sold more if he were still alive.

But I don't think that was the point with Jerry. I mean, yeah, I'm sure he was probably ecstatic to have sold a painting. But...it probably didn't mean any more or any less to him than the rest of his artwork.

So what's my point? I guess it's that, when it comes down to it, I write for me. I mean, yeah, I thrive on the comments and the statistics of my stories here on mibba. Who wouldn't? But at the end of the day, I do it for me. If I publish something when I'm 57, hey, that's great. But I don't know that I care if I ever do at all. It's just who I am. It's a part of me. And I have a newfound respect for my uncle Jerry, as I'm sure, having my grandma for a mother, though she means well, he surely lived with that all his life.

I think it's important to accept who you are, and to accept other people, whether they accept you in return or not. And when the day is through, if you're pleased with yourself and enjoy what you do, that's all that matters.

Life is too short to waste on waiting to be accepted. And I'm sure my uncle Jerry would agree.


Free Bird - Lynyrd Skynyrd

If I leave here tomorrow,
Would you still remember me?
For I must be travelling on, now,
'Cause theres too many places I've got to see.
But, if I stayed here with you, girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you can not change.
Lord knows, I can't change.

Bye, bye, it's been a sweet love.
Though this feeling I can't change.
But please dont take it badly,
'Cause Lord knows I'm to blame.
But, if I stayed here with you girl,
Things just couldn't be the same.
Cause I'm as free as a bird now,
And this bird you'll never change.
And this bird you can not change.
Lord knows, I can't change.
Lord help me, I can't change.