What doesn't kill us makes us stronger. That's the plucky platitude from Nietzsche, of all people, who also declared "God is dead." Attempting to annihilate a professional nihilist is presumptuous, but I think my version is truer and bleaker: What doesn't kill us will try again.
I know the manner of my looming demise. Without meaning to (perhaps), my children will be the death of me.
It's my boy this time, trying again, and I should have guessed he'd be the most persistent, as I waited with the other mothers on the beach all those years ago, as our little ones -- junior sailors, none above the age of ten -- sailed bathtub boats across a slice of open water, a last test in a week-long sailing course. We'd set up a picnic to celebrate their arrival and we fluttered avidly, each of us searching for one particular face as they came into view. While the other children beached their boats and flew into the arms of awaiting mommies, my son refused to land, tacking back and forth just off shore, leaving me to lower my arms, to cross them and hug myself.
He tried to kill me last year with a harrowing trip across the Gulf of Mexico in an Igloo cooler. Upon his return he re-enrolled in college with plans to pursue an engineering degree, but just before classes started he got it into his head to finish the job, to bury his mother, once and for all. Surely that was the sole purpose of his next move -- a flight to Jamaica to crew for a sailboat headed across the Carribean Sea, through the Panama Canal, across the Pacific Ocean to Australia.
When it comes to anxiety, I'm a one person power plant. I shit coal fire seven days a week, so I don't need any fuel. Whenever our son jumps shore he leaves behind bills, taxes, pets and property, memories of past reckless behavior and close calls. That's a lot of fuel. I have trouble sleeping because my brain never cools down. I lie there, looking up, and the ceiling becomes a movie screen showing a marathon of snuff films. For a self-professed optimist I wonder why, when it comes to my children, my imagination works in one dark direction. Why can't I make a lighthearted movie, a movie where no one dies in the end, not even me? I should try.
So I was feeling awfully frightened about my son's journey until I researched the trip. Did you know the Pacific Ocean, despite being Earth's largest ocean, is quite shallow? Five feet at its deepest point. That's why there are "No Diving" signs posted all along the route from Panama to Australia.
Along the way they'll stop at many islands. Galapagos first, where the main attraction is the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles theme park. My son dressed as Donatello, his favorite Ninja Turtle, for Halloween last year and he's packed his costume to wear when they visit the park. You get a 10% discount on admission if you arrive in costume.
The next spot of land is 3000 miles West, a sail that will take three hours if the wind is right, to a pair of small islands named Coque and Bull. The islands are near enough that you can literally hop from one to the other, but they are harshly divided by economic conditions. Coque is a wealthy island, and Bull is poverty stricken.
In the 1970's both islands received a cash windfall from an anonymous benefactor long thought to be Marlon Brando. Coque invested in a factory that produces everyone's favorite infommercial product, the Automatic Self-Flagellation Machine -- 29.95 plus shipping and handling, but wait, there's more. You'll receive a satin-lined carrying case, free, just pay additional shipping and handling. I purchased one not long ago, when I'd run out of exciting ways to hate myself. The total amounted to $300.17. I opened the package and unwrapped a rock and a nylon, draw-string sack. Feeling duped, I set the rock on my dresser and every time I saw it my worst fears were confirmed – I'm an idiot. A zero. Can't do nothing right. – and, being so dim, it took me a while to realize, Whoa! This thing really works! Once I felt pleased with my purchase, it stopped working. I think it needs new batteries.
Bull Island used its money to fund a pet rock breeding program, and we all know the tragic ending to that tale. After being shipped out to children all over the world, the pet rocks died in captivity. For a while it seemed like the front page of every newspaper featured a photo of a sobbing child cradling the lifeless body of an adored pebble. Subsequent lawsuits bankrupted the island. Sadly, no one can afford to neuter the pet rocks; they copulate with abandon, and are considered a nuisance. Don't try to take one home as a souvenir, however. They are a protected species. Greenpeace shows up regularly to prevent frustrated islanders from tossing them into the sea.
Every other island is rainbows, coconuts, vegan cannibals, friendly snakes, toothless fish and oregano passing as weed (which still makes you plenty silly and temporarily Italian), and I won't be alarmed until he makes landfall in Australia. It's a fact that everyone who visits Australia is eaten by either a shark or a dingo. Why tourists keep flocking, I'll never know. Maybe koalas really are that cute. It's like New York City, where everyone who goes is murdered, but – The Shows! Oh well. Murder isn't usually fatal and I'm told by those in the know that the experience of being eaten by a wild beast is only mildly unpleasant, no worse than a mammogram.
My son left last week and three weeks ago this coming Saturday, he will get off the plane with presents from his travels. For me, two stuffed creatures – a dingo and shark. From the concourse, he'll raise a fist and yell, "They didn't get me, Mom!"
Of course I'll be happy to see him and also annoyed. The shark is huge, with a hideous smile and cold marble eyes, and I'll have to hang it on the wall and pretend to adore it like everything else he's given me from pre-school on, every glittery, construction paper craft. Like the damn macaroni necklace I've been wearing continuously since 1991. Now this shark. Jesus Christ, why can't he just draw something for the refrigerator like all the other kids? Didn't we pay for an art degree?
When he attempts to embrace me, I'll hold him off with a stiff arm. He stinks! Worse than a dead God wearing a polecat coat. The old me would have wanted to roll in it like really bad dog, but I'm stronger now since I've survived this latest assassination attempt. The hug can wait until he's had a shower.
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Comments
Does it help to know you provided plenty of laughs?
If we could harness anxiety we could fuel the world! Yours is priceless in this form. But aside from benefiting from your ceiling snuff films, I am wishing you lots of sailor hugs and stuffed sharks from your son.
Do they still sell those self-flagellation doo-hickeys? I've yet to discover an exciting way to hate myself. My self-hate is dull as dishwater - and dirtier.
But you can't.. all you can do is greet him with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle outfit and that will say it all. Of course holding some of your famous food might be nice too.
Man I could not deal with this hahaha
HUGGGGGGGGGGG
"When it comes to anxiety, I'm a one person power plant. I shit coal fire seven days a week, so I don't need any fuel. " I believe you; anxiety is the lifeblood of motherhood.
I love the rainbow in this.
R♥
Having been murdered three times so far, I can assure you that worst of it is the initial shock: "That asshole fucking murdered me." That and the dry cleaning bill if you bleed alot.
In me best Aussie accent:
G'day mate. N'worries, th' wata's a beet shaaky ta die, but we won't be in any deep watah. Tha's whay the reeely beeg ones ah.
Hang in there and if you're on pins and needles the whole time, remember to check that voodoo doll from Haiti at customs when going through the Panama Canal.
--r--
It took you this long to figure out eh?
:D
This was totally hilarious perfection Bell :).
Rated for pleasure in being able to use that word twice so far today.
I got a 'kick' out of you?
Your comment ref:.,
`
How to blog @ Kerry's . . .
His post about success . . .
You want a bargain deal?
`
I have a old TV for sale.
It has rabbit ears on top.
It's the `black and white.
?
Make me a offer? cheap.
?
I like polecat coats, hat,
pants, and no tease cat.
As to Nietzsche, just before reading your piece just I happened to use the same quote in a comment on another blog. Christopher Hitchins, as he was dying, wrote a profound piece about why that quote is full of it.
I'm happy to discover you writing and wish to read more.
Lezlie
Enjoy your reunion with your son -- after his shower, that is. :)
But I may die from laughter. Damn you Vance!
Why just this last week my child got some dreadful rash! I'm certain she's going to eventually kill me. They'll find me clutching my purse and a credit card, with a doctor's bill in front of me, and they'll simply bury me that way.
You are an incredible mother who's raised an even more incredible son. You've instilled in him such a fearless spirit of adventure, yet he still comes home! What more could a mother ask for? I have to keep mine close by continuously bribing them with offers of free groceries and help with their rent. Loved this.
R
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Then again, I'm not yet a mom and thus have no idea how I'd feel if it was my own progeny dropping everything to go on a voyage to strange climes....
I wish him safe travels, and I wish I could reach out and give you a hug and my support - I, too, shit coal fire seven days a week (thank you for that phrase!), and know your pain.
Hang in there and good luck to both of you.
I think your son is living out your fantasies and taking the concept of an examined life in too physical a sense. I don't know what I am saying, at this point. Once they smell you need to take measures!
Delicious post, once again
"When it comes to anxiety, I'm a one person power plant. I shit coal fire seven days a week, so I don't need any fuel. Whenever our son jumps shore he leaves behind bills, taxes, pets and property, memories of past reckless behavior and close calls. That's a lot of fuel. " FANTASTIC.
Jon -- You've got such a kind heart, that I know it did.
Choochmuck -- I was hoping you'd tell me it gets better. Damn! (Email me so that we can catch up!)
Deborah -- Whenever I start feeling scared and persecuted, I think about all the moms and dads with kids in combat zones, and how they must feel. That makes a sailing trip like this seem like a "three hour tour."
jlsathre -- Like a tooth nerve? Those are the worst!
Dirndl -- Yeah, you know I'd hang the shark up on the wall.
Joan -- Maybe because kids don't want to be like their parents? So they deliberately set about doing things exactly the opposite way? Or maybe because we feel all the anxiety for them and they see us being silly with it and that takes all the fear away?
Pauline -- Actually, I'm BETTER now than I used to be!! =)
Christine -- It's the shoes that will do you in.
ccdarling -- Thank you. I have to believe that the more people who are certain he will return home safely, the more likely it is that it will come true.
Consonants -- You've tried the regulars right -- booze, drugs, cults, terrible relationships, hair shirt, dead-end job....
Linda -- He does love my shrimp and grits. I could meet him with a bowl of that.
Larry -- They have one, and he's called twice. But it's so expensive. I'm just glad he's on a nice boat that has things like satphone, an EPIRP, GPS and all the other things a boat should have.
Mumble -- His own boat seemed like an Igloo to me, or might as well have been. We'll see if this better equipped boat equals a better (and more comfortable) outcome. He should be back in around 4-7 months.
Fusun -- I was tempted to eat Skittles while I typed.
Stim -- I figured you'd have some inside information about the process. Your experience is a huge relief. I can spring for dry cleaning!
Dunniteowl -- I wish I could put on an Australian accent. Everything sounds like much more fun, harmless, when they say it.
Sophieh -- I know you a have some special people in your life that you worry about just as much. The mother-child bond is strong, but not magical, and although I might not worry so much about someone I didn't feel totally responsible for....I have loved others just as much.
Trilogy -- Pain. Worse than a migraine, or being eaten by a dingo.
Art -- I'll wear those rabbit ears and an old, ratty bathrobe, knee socks too. Look away -- if you can. Or let the horror sink in. Either way!
Abrawang -- 5 feet deep...right!? Even I could touch bottom (with two inches to spare).
Luminous -- I did read the Hitchen's piece, and when I was writing this I thought of him and how what didn't kill him DID try again. And succeeded. Seems like he should have beaten it. If anyone could buck a trend it would be him.
Brazen -- xoxo to you too. No tears right now. I just got an email and he's fine. So maybe I'll sleep tonight.
Lezlie -- Ha! The flames are only mildly unpleasant, no worse than a mammogram.
Bea -- With all the dogs my son grew up around, he should be regularly dingo-whisperer by now! I'll keep y'all informed. Dontcha worry about that.
Scarlett -- There is an inherent whole lotta hurt built into that statement, so much so that the "makes you stronger" point seems like not so much to look forward to.
Trig -- I'm thinking of you and your son in the military. I hope when he gets stationed, it will be somewhere with a log flume and cotton candy all hours of the day and night.
Greenheron -- I hope you know I'm not really wearing a macaroni necklace right now. But I might make him a handprint in plaster and make him hang it on his wall. What kid doesn't want his mother's handprint on the wall??
Thoth -- I just don't understand why he can't stay put. What's so bad about staying put? Anyone....?
odetteroulette -- The best you can hope for is that you die without paying the bill. That way you get the satisfaction of sticking it to the man.
Margaret -- Free groceries are better than lottery tickets. You're a good mom too.
Unbreakable -- Genius! I may actually ask for one of those. Except, wait...I thought all the fish were toothless.
Mango -- Thanks. I'm to the point where I have to laugh. Otherwise my power plant will blow up.
mypsyche -- With what you've been through...my journey must seem like a cakewalk. I know in most respects I'm lucky and within that luck I can find humor in my anxiety. There is a height of anxiety (valid anxiety) where no humor can pass, and I hope I never had to experience that.
Algis -- I thought when his nine-pound head came out, I was done with all this "impact."
Alysa -- I haven't given up hope that he might one day live a conventional life. Nothing wrong with that, right?
Clay -- Who knew, indeed! I do worry that with the water being so shallow he might ignore the signs and dive anyway and break his neck. Oh dear.
Belinda -- Wait! What next adventure?
Fernsy -- I think you're on to something. He's bundled my frustrations with his own to the extent of some explosive -- leaving.
Firechick -- I really appreciate your kind words of encouragement. This kind of worry is often unproductive, but when I write about it, it doesn't seem quite so.
Momsacomic -- I've always thought that daughters -- at young adulthood anyway -- were more stable than sons. I've heard from others, that that isn't necessarily so. I always love to hear about young women who haven't let the "big bad world" hold them back the way it did me (and probably so many others). They're heroes in my book.
Tom -- My dad said the same thing when my brother died. I think whatever religion he ever had died then too. I always tell my son and my daughter -- Don't do anything that might kill you. Your Papaw can't handle anymore loss, and when people love you you owe to them to keep yourself safe. I hope they've listened.
Lucy -- It is like that. Or it's like having to pack it into a lunch sack for them every morning, hoping they'll keep track of it and keep it from getting wet!
I think this trailer is a good start.
Gabby -- Sharkfin soup? Maybe? Or pet rock soup or turtle soup....I've heard of jackfruit but never tasted it. I did see a can at the Thai market....hmm....(Surely your daughter has some recipes for such items to share?)
And thanks for the comments on my virtual Valentine piece.
It’s comforting to know that there are others beside me who lay at night worrying; perhaps we should exchange popcorn recipes.
Fabulous story as only you could tell it.
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