As part of the Write for the Fight campaign, I invited goddess of words (and my friend, I’m proud to say) Jo VonBargen to answer one of the questions that was asked of the contributors to the book: What would you want said about you on your 80th birthday? Knowing what I know about Jo, I’m not surprised that what she sent back is a moving reflection on life, full of the humility and humanity that she demonstrates every day. Thank you, Jo, for contributing your wise words and helping the Write for the Fight team raise funds for breast cancer research.
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I would imagine the first comment would be, “Oh, you’re still here?” Those who know me likely remember how from day one I’ve flopped around on the deck of life like landed trout and how unlikely it is that I survived.
Another would be, “You look so good, darling!” This is how you know you’re old. If you do, indeed, look good, it’s a testament to how well you’ve taken care of yourself. If they add the “darling”, it’s probably a pity gesture. Okay, whatever. Bad hair days don’t get to me anymore. Looks aren’t important. It’s what kind of hair you have inside. I think it was Gary Shandling that said that once.
“You’ve kept yourself in fine shape!” I can only thank the stars that no one managed to pee in my family’s gene pool, I guess. Not to mention my obsession of late with naps and thermostats. But I don’t kid myself. These days no one is interested in seeing my cleavage.
Silly remarks aside, it’s an intriguing question. Having only finally begun to mature in my fifties (with a pitifully long way yet to go), they should be telling me I look thirty! Making the worst possible choice on each life decision tossed my way gave me an incredibly soap opera-ish first half of my time here. Truly I can say there was never a boring moment. I can also say there weren’t very many happy ones, except for my lovely children. Lessons learned, though, were 24 carat. They built my character, compassion and world view and were very hard earned; thus I could never even think about dying early and have all that acquired knowledge wasted.
“You’ve always been such a kind person”, people have said to me. I was trained to be kind from a young age. I believed it. I lived it. But kindness can get you in all sorts of trouble if you don’t practice discernment along with it. Extremely over-sheltered when young, I was clueless about the evil in the world, which is where discernment comes in. They seem to have left that part out. There was also too much “turn the other cheek”. I never had a clue how to defend myself, or even that I had a right to do so.
Only recently I’ve finally had it hammered in that everyone that smiles in your face is not necessarily your friend, or worthy of your attention and “kindness”. It’s a raw truth that has probably been the hardest one for me to absorb, even with all the bloody evidence of my past. On some level, I’ll probably die believing everyone has some good in them.
A friend told me, “Because of you, I learned how to love an imperfect person perfectly.” Another life lesson from Dad, bless him. “You must love even the person who deserves it the least, for that’s the one who needs it the most”, he said. I still believe this, in general, because I truly believe love is the only answer to everything. But in a practical sense, one has to be able to love from afar and not get so tangled up with the undeserving that you both drown. This is still a daily struggle for me, because I automatically think of their needs, ignoring my own. Millions of women do the very same thing, every day.
I suppose I could write on this subject endlessly, but to put a fine end point on it, perhaps the most important thing anyone might say is, “I could always trust you. You kept your word.” Trust has to be the foundation of any relationship, doesn’t it? Indeed. There was a time when a person’s word was his/her bond. The ability to keep what someone tells you completely confidential is another aspect of that trust. I learned these things from my father as well. I think he would have been so proud that I eventually took it all to heart, and be very surprised that I made it all the way to eighty!
Jo VonBargen is a Texas author and poet (the Two-Bit Bard) writing about human spirit in order to light a candle in the shadowy places where truth sometimes hides. Posted on the blog are stories, articles, books and poetry, various pieces from her body of work over 30 years’ time. Her proudest accomplishments, without doubt, are her four children, now grown, all of them joyous, compassionate and self-sustaining, and none of them in jail. All else is vapor, soon gone.
See books by Jo VonBargen on the author’s page at Amazon. Her website is at http://twobitbard.weebly.com/ and you can find her on Twitter, too.
Booktrope Publishing’s 2012 anthology Write for the Fight: A Collection of Seasonal Essays was released as an e-book on March 5 at BarnesandNoble.com and on April 6 at Amazon.com. It will be available in paperback later this month. Co-authored by Tess Hardwick and Tracey M. Hansen, it includes essays from a total of 13 writers. All author royalties will be donated to the National Breast Cancer Foundation.
When Jo VonBargen writes, I read. When I don’t feel like writing, I read what Jo writes. Her talent inspires me to begin again. Thanks for letting her write such a wonderful column.
I’m totally with you, Caleb!
You better be around at 80, cause I don’t want to live in a world without you – seriously. I tried to ennoble all that crap I’ve gone through too, tried to make it look necessary and worth all that time and energy, but fortunately I got to live long enough to finally call it by its real name – crap. So we’re slow studies, but the beauty is that I know at 80, you’ll still be asking questions too. And the only two things we’re ever called on to be by life is curious and of our word. So you’re on a roll, Baby!
Lovingly,
C
P.S. And many thanks to our younger version – you, Laura – for bringing us this blog.
Thanks, my dear Christina! Once again you yank me back to the real world from my lofty little nest! LMAO!! It’s so true. It’s crap. But I find I’m getting better at avoidance and not stepping in it quite so often! Now if I can just manage to fly the coop and not live in it anymore! #worthygoal
The idea of being any kind of version of you two makes me giddy! Thanks, Christina. xo
RE: “You must love even the person who deserves it the least, for that’s the one who needs it the most.”
How true, Jo! It can be hard to do, but at some point we are all that person who desperately needs love, aren’t we? I’ve posed this 80th birthday question to myself and had a hard time answering it. Bravo for doing it with such finesse. : )
Diane, indeed we are that person! And I think every relationship mistake I made was out of that kind of desperation! Thanks so much for reading along, my friend!
What a great essay! Thank you for sharing your words and bright spirit as well as your support to Write for the Fight!
Many thanks, Laura! So sweet of you to say. Appreciate your taking the time to read it!
Thanks again, Laura, for hosting my essay here on your blog. I’m so honored to appear next to your name anywhere! You are truly a wonderful friend and a stand-up, stand-out chick who is a stellar example for all women! Loved doing this piece…it couldn’t be for a more worthy cause!
Caleb, you light up the twitterverse! That an author with 57 books under his belt likes my writing jazzes me to the moon and back!! Thanks so much!!
Jo, your words make my heart happy. Thank you, and I’m so glad to have you as my guest. xo
Caleb has *57* books?!? No wonder he’s so good.
Beautiful sentiments from a beautiful human being. Love the compassion, yet the humor. Why do we take ourselves so seriously! Seriously!
Jodi, that’s so sweet! We just have to laugh at it all, don’t we? You just know the gods of mirth are up there elbowing each other and howling at our foibles!
By the time I’m 80, I’m planning to have lost what few inhibitions I have left. I’m going to say whatever I think to whomever I want–who’s going to belt a waist-high old lady? If I want to dance on the table, I will (I’ll probably be the only one enjoying it, but what the hey, maybe I’ll inspire a few young guys and gals to get up there with me). I hope I’ll still be hiking and kayaking and writing and enjoying my friends and family. I’m going to check out Jo’s blog right now. Thanks for an entertaining post, Jo and Laura!
Pam, I hope I’m spry enough to get up there on the table with you!! Love the attitude….and thank you!
Ha! Love it. You will be an entertaining 80 year old, Pam. Thanks for stopping by!
Oh you two, I love these!
Such wise (albeit hard to learn) lessons.
Love!
Indeed, Galit! Appreciate your reading along!
Brilliant essay Jo and thanks for making it available Laura. Leaving a comment is difficult because all I can do is echo what others have said already. Suffice it to say I love Jo’s writing without reservation.
David, you’re a gem, my friend! If no one else reads my stuff, I know for sure you’ll be right there. You are faithful to the core and I love you for it!! Many thanks…
Thanks for your comment, David, and I wholeheartedly agree. Geez, what was life like before we got tuned in to the art of the Texas bard?! I don’t even want to remember.
“I could always trust you. You kept your word.”
Just perfect, Jo. Loved it!