HAPPY FATHER'S DAY 2015

It has been 41 years.

Some days it seems like yesterday.

No question about it. I was a daddy's girl and proud of it. I still remember the day I found out that he was sick. I remember sitting by the window in Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital nestled in his shoulder crying my eyes out. There was nothing that he could say or do that would make this any better. He had always been able to fix anything for me.

But he couldn't fix this.

It was one of life's defining moments for me when he died. The loss of my dad had such a huge impact on me. I didn't think anything or anyone could take his place in my heart. He pushed me because he knew that I needed to be pushed. He was tough and he was fair. Justice was a big part of his personality and he passed that on to me. He made me focus because he knew that I could sometimes be scattered. He was proud of me no matter what.

He sang "there she is, Miss America" when I walked in the room.

I've tried to pass those kind of memories on to my daughter. There is something special about that kind of relationship and he would have absolutely adored her. I don't have a lot of regrets about life but I do regret that he couldn't have known her. If he spoiled me that is only a small speck compared to what he would have done with her. She would have been the apple of his eye.

So, another Father's Day without him has come and with it a little piece of my heart still breaks. 

But, I am so thankful that I had a father that I could hold dear to my heart. 

I have wonderful memories that are such a part of me and that now make me smile.

Happy Father's Day Daddy.

Miss you?

Doesn't even come close...............

IT DOESN'T FEEL LIKE 37 YEARS

37 years ago.

It seems like yesterday.

Thirty-seven years ago my dad finally succumbed to the cancer that had ravaged his body for the last few months. It was strange. We only found out that he was terminal in May. We had gone to Santa Barbara for a check-up and found out there that he may not even make it home. He had lung and brain cancer. He remained coherent almost to the end. A couple of days before he died he stopped recognizing family members but he still remembered me. I remember sitting holding his hand knowing that it wouldn't be long and I'd never see his face again.

I was a daddy's girl through and through. 

I'd walk into a room and he'd sing, "there she is, Miss America." I grew up with a strong sense of self and belonging but when he died, I felt like an orphan. I got my first taste of mortality and I didn't respond well to it. I realized life and relationships aren't permanent and from then on I kept everyone at a distance to steel myself against further loss. It didn't help that my mother died three years later. It truly shaped the way I looked at life, family and friends. 

From him I learned how to be tough and face any challenge. I learned never to knuckle under when you knew you were right. He was private, cerebral and I learned that you didn't talk about your business. I got his dry, snarky sense of humor and his quick decision making skills. I learned to take people at face value because sooner or later they will always show you their true self. He pushed me to be all that I could be which was funny because the only thing he wanted for me was to find a nice Jewish boy, settle down,  get married and have babies.

But I was a wild child.

When I was turning sixteen, my dad got driving lessons for me and bought a beautiful yellow mustang and parked it in the driveway. Smart of him NOT to teach me how to drive. It would be a case of the immovable object meets the irresistible force. Anyway, once I got the car I learned how to drive VERY fast and I still think I was the first once that felt the need for speed. I'd scream up to the Four Queens and jump out and tell the valet to hold the car. Then I'd go in and in my sweetest, syrupy voice say, "Daddy, I need money." He'd look at me and then say, "how much do you need honey?" I'd run out the door and be on my way.

What I didn't realize at the time is that he personalized my license plates with "ROSE" so that he could keep tabs on me. Even when I went to school and he didn't have the local police department keeping an eye on me, I'd get busted. When I went to school I took a run up to San Francisco to a Stephen Stills concert. I started to go back stage and who do you think the security guard was? My cousin. 

My dad knew before I hit the door.

So thirty-seven years later I still miss his counsel, advice and lecturing. 

I guess you could say I still miss my dad.

TO TELL THE TRUTH

What is truth?

Well, it all depends on what your definition of "is" is.

So I got this wonderful award and, surprisingly enough, it was difficult to make up five different stories. The truth was wild enough but the lies were tough. Some of the more colorful events of my life needed no enhancement. I had fun........what can I say? 

So I decided to weave a little bit of truth in all of them. 

I was at UCLA and a friend that I knew dated Mark Harmon. My divorce was a bit nasty at first but the billboard .......well, that would NOT have happened. I always wanted to be wonder woman and I did go to a house in Laurel Canyon but it was Stephen Stills that was there, not the group Pink Floyd.

So there it is. The truth is that I was naive enough to believe that tin foil would jam the radar guns. I was also blissfully ignorant of the fact that my license plates said, "Rose." I always thought it was sweet of my Dad to do that for me when all the while he was keeping tabs on me. My girlfriend and I would get into all kinds of trouble because I got to drive all the time. I loved driving and I loved driving fast. 

Thank the good Lord that we didn't do any major damage to ourselves.  

We used to go four wheeling in the desert but I don't think a Mustang was designed to go driving through rocks and tumbleweeds. We would drive through my high school and the lunch area yelling, "curb service!" We loved to drive down the Strip after a rain and splash the tourists by driving through the puddles and laughing hysterically when they got totally drenched! While at school we'd get hungry for tortas and do a run to Tijuana. And, of course, I'd drive. While driving down one of the hills from my dorm room after a rain we started doing donuts. Again, laughing hysterically. We thought we were invincible. I'd would have killed my daughter if I found out she did anything like that.

We just loved to hang out and it didn't matter if we had a place to go. We just loved to drive around.

We had T-shirts that said, "I'm with trouble."

It made no difference who trouble was. We were inseparable.  We'd just laugh and point at each other. Trouble followed both of us and we had the time of our lives. When we got busted our eyes would get as big as dinner plates and we'd look at each other and then at our parents. Sweet little ole us???? 

My theme song was Fun, Fun, Fun by the Beach Boys. One of my dearest friends in high school dedicated that to me. He would always tell me it fit me to a T. However, I didn't have a Thunderbird so it had to be changed a little bit. Instead of "till daddy takes the T-Bird away" it would be changed to mustang. We'd sing that at the top of our lungs and the usual laughter would ensue. I had an 8-track in my car and we'd turn it up full blast and drive off. 

Laughter was a huge part of our lives.

Life was just as it should be.

Fun.

Fun.

Fun. 

MEET THE PARENTS

July is always a tough month for me.

It's been 36 and 33 years

and even though the pain is gone

the reflections are bittersweet.

I don't think that you should learn the lesson of mortality in your early 20's. It changes you and, in my case, not for the better. My parents death shook me to my very core and removed the feeling of security. It served to cement the knowledge that nothing in this life is permanent and that knowledge has followed me, in varying degrees, until this very day. It not only followed me it shaped the way I looked at family, friends and life.

I didn't need or want to know that. 

I'm not sure what to write. I know that I miss them; their counsel and just their very presence. I believe that my life choices would have been very different if they had been here. I think if I had to decide, I'm more like my dad. He had a dry sense of humor and very quick decision making skills. He was more cerebral and very private. My mother was a wonderful cook and could make anything grow. She had a tender heart and showed every emotion on her face. She was hysterical and my dad likened her to Lucy. When I see some of the characteristics in writing I realize I'm a blend. I know that genetics obviously play a large role in development but, since I was adopted, I can tell you that a lot of it I picked up by osmosis. Either that or my biological parents were a carbon copy of my parents.

I really do wish that my daughter could have known her grandparents. That's one of my biggest regrets. They would have spoiled her rotten and to my mind, that is exactly what grandparents are supposed to do and I am certain that when my daughter has children I will most certainly follow that wonderful tradition. Spoil them and then send them home.

It's weird. July 9th is the anniversary of my mother's death and it is also the birthday of my daughter's almost mother-in-law.  When I was born I was premature and was in an incubator for 3 months. I needed to reach 5 pounds so I could go home. I was sent home on November 17th and that is the same day that I brought my daughter home from the hospital when she was born. My mother's birthday was May 26th and that is the day I got married. I could go on an on about coincidences with important dates in my life. It always seems to happen that way for some reason. Is that weird or what???

So July is a month of reflection for me. My parents would be in their 90's if they had lived. The other VERY strange thing is the age they were when they passed away. My mom was 59 and my dad was 61. They seemed so old to me......I mean, parents were old. They looked old to me and they acted old.  I'm almost the same age as my mother was when she died and I can't see myself as being old. I don't look it and I certainly don't act it. Come on, I am not ready to be a grownup!

That's the trick that age plays on us. Our bodies, no matter how in shape or toned we are, do age but our minds don't catch up. I still feel the same way that I did in my 20's except  I just have a little more experience under my belt. Well, a lot more experience. This is when I look in the mirror and  hate my neck. I've never been tempted to get a face lift but I have been tempted to refresh my neck just a tad. That's the thing about aging. You really do miss your neck. Also, when you walk down the street in your 60's, not many turn around and say, "whoa, baby"!

You know, I may be more like my mother than I realize. I started this post kind of blue and missing my mom. She was also a random thinker and she'd come up with stuff out of the blue and I'd look at her and wonder where the heck did that come from?  Well, I don't have to look far to find her. She's right here.

Hello mom.........your daughter is keeping up your glorious tradition and you'd be happy to learn that it has been passed on to your granddaughter. 

We're all just three little peas in a pod.