Papa Billy

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

...has stories for dayzzzz, my friends. He should write a book. I tell him this all the time.

He did the 70s & 80s just about as badass as the movies depict a muscle car drag racing/Harley Davidson biker who always manages to narrowly avoid death or prison by good fortune of unknown origins. We are talking spectacular crashes which skidded to a stop on the car's roof, wheels pointing to Jesus...being clocked at 120mph on the curvy Bucksville Rd ON A MOTORCYCLE...fist fights that included tire tools...diving in alligator infested lakes in Louisiana...bar scenes straight out of a Lynryd Skynyrd song, specifically any that include guns...and so much more.

I hear these stories and I think about how I started to wild out around age 16, myself...but, I certainly pulled back the reigns once Dylan came along. I thank my lucky stars for that boy. Lately, though, I feel like some of dad's genes are reactivating in my DNA. Not necessarily going totally off my rocker...just that I need to enjoy my life more. I have always felt a big responsibility in keeping others in line or safe, and I am realizing more & more what personal cost that came with. My dad's philosophy is that bad things happen no matter what and you might as well enjoy your life. I will never forget talking with him about his two brothers who have passed away. He didn't make any excuses or place any blame...he just said, "They enjoyed the ride. It was their life and they lived it how they wanted to. Nobody could have changed that." and I know he is right. They all have a saint/guardian angel in their oldest/only sister...and no matter how many times she got those boy's asses out of a sling...they went right back to Troubletown.

I think I was sincerely triggered when these girls came along. Brooklyn was a heartache unlike anything I'd ever known. I was terrified that something could take them from us and bring that heartache back. So, I took what I already knew from the health store, studied some more, and wound up with a working knowledge that pretty much everything is going to kill us. We ate organic, tried to stay as natural as possible in dealing with sickness, and Naiya got cancer anyway. No matter how vigilant I have tried to stay...life is going to happen. And, it is going to be beautiful, and bizarre, and joyful and painful. People are going to make their own choices and face their own consequences. I have to enjoy my life again and let go of feeling personally responsible to save them. This isn't some veiled attack on any one person in my life...I feel personally responsible for pretty much everyone. Have I met you? Yes? Then, I am worrying about you, too.

Listen, I'm not advocating drugs or alcohol (with a nod to the good Dr Gonzo) but I haven't really had either in a very, very long time. And, a few weeks ago, when I had a couple of those yummy summery Loconut rum drinks, I relaxed just enough to realize exactly how tightly I was wound. I took the first deep, cleansing breath in years. I've decided to just be me. Let the chips fall where they may. I want to have SOME FUN. I want to adventure again and have faith that it's all gonna work out in the end. I'm gonna love the ones I'm with and not give two squirts about what anyone else thinks about it.

Anyway, this is my Tuesday declaration...I'm (at least) half-hellraiser and I'm ditchin' the smokescreen, y'all.
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