I'm a very happy and content person in a general sense. I enjoy life. I'm extremely blessed beyond measure. I am in no way a depressed or angry person. But, I will be the first to tell you I worry about everything. It runs in the family I think. Whether it be micro-managing or paranoia, worry seems to be a genetic vice. I constantly fret over the dumbest details and issues. It's not something I'm proud of, not in the least. But, its simply something I find, especially as I get older, is an unfortunate aspect of existence...at least for me. Not everyone I know is like that.
One person stands out from the crowd, a man who has probably enjoyed his life on a level unparalleled by anyone else in existence. I mean that, too. That is not an exaggeration. He's the one guy I know who could enjoy a cigar with full knowledge that the world was ending and probably not bat an eye. I'm talking about my Dad. He's literally the most laid back human being I have ever known. His sense of calm has confounded, annoyed and helped me for the last twenty four years.
It's confounded me in its depth, in its utter transcendental nature. By that I mean it can adapt to whatever he's going through in life. It rolls with the punches. Times change. Dad does not. You could tell him he has a terrible disease, that tomorrow Siberian assassins are coming to kill him. He'll still be calm. He'll probably even have something funny to say about it. Most of all, he will not panic. The dude does not freak out. It's eerie. He's as calm as a Jimmy Buffet record in a hurricane.
It annoys me because I envy him. I see how calm he remains in hard times, when there's drama or when something generally goes wrong. He assesses the situation from a point of laid back thought. Me? I cuss, yell, turn red and generally have to make ten apologies after the fact. That's not fun. I could stand to take a page out of his book.
When I was sixteen, and knew everything, I could go on a tangent, blah, blah. He'd sit there until I ran out of steam. Then he'd talk to me calmly. He never got angry back. It wasn't worth it. He knew I was wound up tight and also probably a little stupid..as most sixteen years olds are. I never could make him mad. That also frustrated me. Every teenage son goes through their little rebellious stage when they want freedom, independence, etc. It's tough to feel rebellious and cool when your Dad ain't buying it. He was a fortress of calm.
Dad's sense of calm helped me at all the right times. The few times in my life I've done something stupid on a large scale, and everyone was pissed at me, Dad stayed calm and made me feel like it wasn't so bad after all. The first time I ever took my Moms car for a drive, I managed to scrape the garage pulling back in. It was loud. It was bad. I thought I was gonna get crucified. My Moms face turned about eight shades of red. I thought for sure Dad was gonna let me have it, just really tell me how stupid I was and how I was never going to drive again. The first thing he did was manage a half smile. Then he told me a story about how he backed into his mailbox as a teenager. He went out of his way to make me feel less stupid. It floored me. You expect fire and brimstone and you get a shrug and a laugh. That's Dad. He probably thought it was funny as hell.
Another time is much darker, much harder to talk about. Pardon my French, but it was the shittiest day of my life. My Grandmother, or Granny, as we call her, passed away. I hate going to funerals for family members. I despise it. I hate seeing dead relatives. I hate memorial video montages and flowers. I hate the smell of funeral homes. I hate having people telling you they prayed for you when its quite obvious they probably didn't. I hate it all. The one thing that got me through that day, that god-awful, terrible day, was my Dad. He didn't say anything to me about Granny or give me a speech on life and death. He didn't tell me everything was gonna be okay or toss out any false sentiment like everybody else. He was CALM. He was calm in that way only Dad can be, that calm that's wise and gives off the vibe of peace. And man, did I need peace. It was like he knew just what to do. He was very comforting without being depressing. He managed to get me to laugh on the way to cemetery somehow. He put a single hand on my shoulder during the service when I could not control my tears. That hand was all the reassurance I needed in the world that life would go on. He was everything I couldn't be at the time, reserved and tranquil. That really, really saved me from a breakdown. In a room contrasted by honest to goodness tears and people there for the food, in all the insanity, at least Dad was still Dad. As long as Dad can still be Dad, I will find comfort in times of pain. If I find out I have cancer tomorrow, I'll be okay if Dad can still be Dad. It goes a long way in promoting the idea of inherent happiness when, even in the rough moments, one can keep a cool head and find ways to make light of the situation.
My Dad is, bar none, the happiest guy in the room. We went to Vegas in 2008 for my 21st birthday, and I've never had a better time. It was the first time I got to hang out with him as an adult. We played the slots, ate some good food and stayed out way too late. It was epic. When I picture Dad, Vegas always comes to mind. It's a good representation of his personality. On that trip, I got an idea of Dad's philosophy in life. It's simple: Life is short, so have a good time. Enjoy every single minute. Don't waste time worrying about the things you can't change. If you can help it, don't worry at all. Be good to the people in your life. Be open minded. Don't think too deeply about anything not worth the time. Like what you like and if other people don't like it, that's just tough.
I don't know that he'd admit to having a philosophy. He's a pretty humble guy, not the type to make himself sound like anything special. I think his philosophy is more organic than anything pre-conceived. It's my hope that I can adapt at least some of his philosophy myself. It's not easy, not when you're both ADD and eccentric to boot. But I think I can at least come close to some semblance of it. The first thing I'm doing with his philosophy is taking some chances in life, knowing its short and I plan to have a good time. I think that'll make him happy.
"I ain’t here for a long time
I’m here for a good time
So bring on the sunshine
To hell with the red wine
Pour me some moonshine
When I’m gone, put it in stone
He left nothing behind
I ain’t here for a long time
I’m here for a good time"-George Strait
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