We went to my Grandmother's funeral in January. It was a lovely little service, and it was nice to see all sorts of familiar faces, albeit slightly more travelled down the road in age. I took a moment to think back to all the family reunions we went to as kids and those summers at my grandparents' house. My aunts and uncles (and parents) were all the same age that I am now, but with kids in tow. It's weird to relate to your parents as people that were once your age. It grounds them a bit.
Apparently as a young lady my Grandmother was a bit of a firecracker. A gorgeous woman that had dates lined up and would skip out to the theater on school nights. Had a few extra-curricular trysts of some sort. Got dragged home by her mom, and sent away to get her act together, and so forth. She led a movement for the women of the school where she taught to be allowed to wear pants. Scandalous stuff, and a far cry from the rigid (albeit pleasant) woman I knew growing up.
While I was in town I met with my uncle who I hadn't seen in years. Rather than attend a Sunday morning church service, we went out for breakfast to worship at the Altar of Denny's. He dished out on all the wild stories of his (and my father's) youth. How my Dad grew pot that the painters stole, how they accidentally held up strangers with BB guns, got up to shenanigans with their old Datsun, and how my Dad learned to drink with the RCMP before stumbling home late at night and puking in the front yard. My grandparents, apparently, were not amused.
He made one particular comment about how, when he'd call years ago to catch up, my Dad would extoll the virtues of all our excellent grades. My uncle, meanwhile, couldn't quite compete except by nudging his kids along to be more entrepreneurial and adventurous. Being well versed in the Gift of Gab, he told me stories my cousins' ill-advised adventures and academic squanderings and oddball hobbies. And how they all seemed to find their way and have enviable positions and careers and are doing just fine, thank you very much.
Damn, I was a good kid. Did my homework without being told, didn't miss school, stayed out of the way, did my chores, went to church, read my bible, etc etc. I got good grades, and not just academically; if I was graded by adults on what makes a good kid, I bet I'd have a solid 3.6 GPA (losing points for athleticism and general anxiety, probably). I put a lot of time and effort into being Good.
You know what I didn't do? Set off firecrackers, skip school, sneak alcohol with friends, get high, fool around with girls, or get a speeding ticket. I kind of wish I had done literally any of those things. I feel like I missed out on sampling some of the essential ingredients of youth, especially ones that make for interesting adults. Gotta colour in the lines, folks.
Here's my deep dark well of shame from being a kid: When I was 11 I pointed and shot finger guns at another girl in my 5th grade class during recess. Oh boy, I was sent to the principal's office, served detention, and had to fess up to my parents. Even though I never got sent off to juvie school, it seemed to have left some sort of shameful impression. I straightened up from there, I guess. Scared stiff. The guilt of having to admit something like that to my folks was just too much.
It makes me wonder a big WHAT IF, though. What if I learned where the wiggle room was in the world? What if I tried doing my own thing rather than good grades > post secondary > good grades > white collar job? I wish I could've gotten in trouble for no other reason than learning to cope with being in trouble, instead of scared stiff. The one thing I learned really well was how to identify expectations and meet them flawlessly.
I suppose that everyone has a variation of the "I forgot to study for the test" dream, and I'm not any different. But for me those end with failing miserably and an uneasy sense of relief. Kind of a, "Whelp, fuck it. I'm doing my own thing." A little bit defiant and freeing. Between the academic and spiritual expectations and a healthy dose of teenage angst, I was wound up pretty tight. You know what might've helped? Trying a joint at a sleep over with my friends (that I didn't have because I was so rigid with school and church).
My point is that I feel like I missed out on living life even though I met all the criteria of being a Good Kid. And here I am approaching middle age, still kind of stuck in the expectational rut, and all the stability I've tried to achieve is starting to waver like a mirage. I've followed the rules and done what I'm supposed to, only to be laid off three times in a row in recent years. Probably to be four once AI comes for my job. I've become exceptional in my mediocrity, and then doesn't get you opportunity.
I'm not saying I regret my youth or that I wasn't raised well or anything. Just that capturing the joys of life has been a challenge recently, and I wonder what could've been with a looser interpretation of what happiness might look like. And what I might've found if I strayed a bit farther from the designated path.
-Cril
Well I have been searching
All of my days
Many a road, you know
I've been walking on
All of my days
And I've been trying to find
What's been in my mind
As the days keep turning into night
Well I have been quietly standing in the shade
All of my days
Watch the sky breaking on the promise that we made
All of this rain
And I've been trying to find
What's been in my mind
As the days keep turning into night
Well many a night I found myself with no friends standing near
All of my days
I cried aloud
I shook my hands
What am I doing here
All of these days
For I look around me
And my eyes confound me
And it's just too bright
As the days keep turning into night
Alexi Murdoch - All My Days
