Don't Have Heroes, Be One

    It's been a little while since I wrote to you directly.  There's a reason.  I've been sorting some things out lately.  Trying to fit the pieces together.  Trying to get a grip on what is happening. 

    But the truth is, I'm not the one who needs the grip.  My grip is pretty good, to be honest. 

    It's like I'm a mountain climber, making my way up toward the top of the mountain, and all around me, I see dear, beloved friends and family who are also making the same climb.  My spikes are set.  My ropes are tight.  And I'm looking over at them yelling "You are going to fall!!!!!!!"  Because they are.  For a multitude of reasons.  And they look back at me and shrug.  They know it too. 

    I really am at a loss to explain it, but for some reason, a majority of the older men in my life who I have spent a long time looking up and emulating have really gone off the deep end.  I am stunned to be watching them crash and burn, waiting for them to pull out of their nose dives, and it just isn't happening.

    So what do I do?

    And please, spare me the platitudes.  Don't write me any bullshit like, "Just be a good listener."  I know that.  I did that.  I listened until my head was spinning.  I tried to offer advice to people who I should be asking for advice from.  I tried to give counsel.  Want to try something odd on for size?  Have your male role model breakdown in front of you and tell him to knock it off and act like a man.  Or, even better, just sit there in despair and bitterly wish it. 

    One thing about me is I don't like celebrities.  I don't want to meet the people whose work I admire.  I don't particularly want to hang out with them. I know in my heart of hearts they are just like I am.  They might play guitar better than anyone else on the planet, but after 24-Hours of being in the same room with them, I'm ready to throttle them just like anybody. 

    It's probably a result of being exposed to so many famous people as a kid.  I saw lots and lots and lots of celebrities and politicians and artists.  I saw their hangers-on.  I saw the makeup people they bossed around.  I saw the screaming fans.  I saw it all, and it just seemed ridiculous. 

    Now, don't get me wrong.  I have people I admire.  I admire the President a whole lot.  I would buy him a beer any day.  I admire a wide variety of artists and authors and actors and writers and founding father's and more.  But they aren't my "hero's."  I don't have any.  I don't want any.  Call it a result of my job.  I can tell you with all certainty that any person on the planet is capable of anything you can imagine, as long as they are given two things: The opportunity, and the motivation. 

    And the list of those possible things runs deep and wide, folks.  Very deep.  Very wide. 

    I had a conversation with my sister last night, which is noteworthy because she and I are not on speaking terms.  We've talked twice on the phone in the past year.  I saw her once, at a funeral, and we didn't say more than three words.  It's stupid, I know, but it is a reality. 

    So she called me and asked me what I thought about someone we both know, one of the people I am talking about here.  She asked me if it were possible that this person would ever do anything so foolish as to hurt themselves, or someone else.  And you know what I told her? 

    Hope not.  

    I hope not, and I've talked about it with that person, and they've assured me it won't happen, but you know what?  I can't say for certain.  It is out of my control.  It is beyond my reach.  Furthermore, at the end of the day, it is not my responsibility to chase after that person to get help, make ammends, stay healthy, come home, or what have you.  It's on them.    

    I get into this conversation alot with Agent Provocateur.  She's one of those people who assumes jurisdiction over every person's well-being who is in her life.  If you are close to her, and you have a cold, you can bet she is running to your house with a box of tissues.  She takes it further than that as well.  She is one of those people who will become physically ill with guilt that she didn't "Do Enough" to help someone if they are on a downward spiral.  

    Tonight, she and I were talking about drunks at bars.  She was saying how she raced after a friend who was trying to leave a bar, trying to stop this person from driving drunk.  It was a whole big scene, with flocks of people trying to prevent this person from doing something that would harm them, or someone else.  I just laughed.  I promise you, you will not see me doing this.  I might beat your ass to stop you from driving.  I might take your keys and chuck them into the woods.  I might call the cops and tell them where you went.  I might give you a ride home.  I might do a whole lot of things to help you if you are open to it, but I guarantee you that I am not taking responsibility for your stupid ass.  That's on you.  

    And if you don't believe me, you can ask my son.  

    When Enemy Blog Jr. was five years old he was running down a gravel driveway at his pre-school.  I told him EVERY day not to do it.  Every day he didn't listen to me.  Every day I raced after him to grab him and keep him from falling.  One day, he took off on me, and I said, "Whoa!  Stop!"

    And he didn't. 

    "You're going to-"

    POW! he went face down into the stones, and all I heard was shrieking.  I ran over to him, picked him up, and saw his lip was busted up and there were stones in his face.  All the mom's and teachers came running over to us.  All of them were saying, "Oh my god" and "Awww, poor thing," and you know what I said?  I said, "Serves you right, dummy."

    I caught SO MUCH FLAK over that, let me tell you, but to THIS DAY when I tell him to stop something and he doesn't listen, I say, "Okay.  See what happens."  And you know what?  He stops. 

    My boy suffers for the simple fact that he is a boy.  I expect him to be tough.  I expect him to be strong.  My widdle biddy baby girl is a different story.  Her, I baby.  Of course, I plan on teaching her the fine art of combat with edged weapons as soon as she is old enough to hold one, but that's really just for when she starts dating.  That being said, those are the two people I love wholly and unconditionally.  No matter what.  I would risk life and limb for either of them without hesitation, and destroy anyone or anything if need be. 

    But all the rest of you motherf***ers are on a conditional basis. 

    Even those who I've gone into battle with.  Even those who brought me into this world.  I love you all to death, but goddamn, if you're going to act in a way thats an embarassment to the both of us, don't expect to hear much from me.  I'll call at Christmas.  Vaya con Dios, muchacho.

    You see, I don't believe in pity parties.  I don't believe in whining.  I don't believe in rolling over and showing your belly and hoping someone takes mercy.  And I don't believe that people who set the events of their own demise in motion, and are too entrenched in their own chaos to knock it off will come out of it any other way than if they decide to.  No matter how much I ask them to.  No matter how much I wish it were so. 

    And I'm not going down with that ship. 

    I can trace my bloodline all the way back to the Merovingian Kings.  To Aethelwulf.  To Fulk the Red.  To freaking King Charlemagne.  And to some of you who are reading this, I can probably trace yours along the same exact line as well.  Maybe it's time you took a good look in the mirror at how you stack up to that noble lineage and what you'll say to them when we go to sit in that Great Hall.  Do you really want to tell them how you laid down and gave up?  I would hope not.  We come from warriors and kings.  I'll never be anything less than that.  If you choose to turn your back on who you are, I can't help you.

    I won't help you.  

    I'll tell you that you are about to fall.  I'll extend my hand and say, "I've got you while you refasten the riggings."  I'll listen to what you have to say and give you my thoughts.  But, if none of that works, and you plummet to your doom, or you crash and burn, or you self-destruct, guess what? 

    You did it to yourself.   Serves you right, dummy. 

    

    

    

Comments

[Heather]

I really couldn't have said that any better myself. All the listening in the world can't help some poeple and in the end it only brings you down with them. It may seem harsh but sometimes the best thing you can do is walk away.