Stay in Your Lane

I love the quotes addressing parents to allow their children live their own lives. Recently, I’ve needed the gentle reminder. With one daughter at my alma mater and the second of three applying currently, I’ve made more than a few references to, “when I was there…” followed by the ever-popular, “when I was your age…” and “we used to…”

So, when I come across beautiful adages on social media, I appreciate their message and try to heed the advice.

You will teach them to fly, but they will not take your flight.

You will teach them to dream, but they will not dream your dream.

You will teach them to live, but they will not live your life.

Beautiful, right? I agree. But not easy to put into practice. Why? Because how can I resist comparing my college years in the early 90s when they are literally wearing every article of clothing I did back then?

I mean, really, girls. I’m talking to you now. The mom-jean? We knew they weren’t cool 30 years ago and I take comfort in knowing you’ll cringe too later and probably worse than me and my friends since there are only about eight photos from my college years, not 64 KB.

Yes, I will try not to chime in and tell you how great that bar used to be, or how we all used to love the hockey games, but maybe don’t Facetime me wearing that white turtleneck tucked into high-waisted button-fly black jeans?

However, should any of you don a braided, brown leather belt with a brass buckle looped around itself with the ‘tail’ hanging over – all bets are off. I will then wax prophetic about White Claw being an imposter, just Zima 2.0 for the sugar-free generation.

The Secret Posts - Part Two

Secrets can be weighty. Whether you’re holding your own or someone else’s, you can physically feel its presence. Now, sometimes the weight comes from a secret about something negative – a problem at work or school or with a friend or significant other or a health concern. These are the secrets that weight on our shoulders like those cartoon anvils or gives that ‘pit in the stomach’ feeling. But sometimes the secret’s weight is the opposite. Good secrets can give you a lift and put a spring in your step. Waiting until the magic week 12 (or whatever the doctor advised) to announce a pregnancy, holding back sharing the news of a college acceptance or job offer until the ‘deal is sealed’. These too are secrets that are weighty but instead lift the weight. In a perfect world, we’d all have more of the positive kind and less of the negative. But one thing is for sure, we’ve all got them.

Secrets. Big, small, kid-size and adult-size. Yours, mine, our parents’ and our children’s. We’re all holding on to them. Try as we might to be open, honest and transparent – we’ve all got something we’re holding. Everyone we interact with is also holding a secret, for good or bad, but probably both.

I think it’s just human nature to hold secrets and to ask others to hold them for you. They are essential to relationships and can provide a true litmus test between two people. Recently, I’ve discovered as my children have gotten older, when they ask me to not to reveal something they’ve told me in confidence, they really mean it. Gone are the days when, ‘don’t tell Dad’ was a cute thing to say to me to keep them from getting in trouble. (I assume there were many ‘don’t tell Mom’ instances as well) Now they confide and expect the level of secrecy once only reserved for the adults in my life. Previously I shared just about everything they did – good, bad, naughty, and especially funny. Now I hold back and hold in. Just another life transition I’m learning the hard way. Secrets are secrets, even when I don’t agree they need to be secret.

So where am I going with all these thoughts on secrets? Do I have a good one to spill or a bad one to confess? Stick with me for another week of observations - and don’t keep it a secret.

The Secret Posts - Part One

“Don’t tell anyone, but…”

I am currently the keeper of roughly one dozen different versions of the end of the above sentence.

Maybe I have one of those trusting faces. Or possibly I put people at ease and make them feel comfortable spilling their secrets to me. I’d like to think it’s because I am known as trustworthy person and loyal friend deserving of the privilege of secret keeper.

Some of the secrets have been and are currently minor, personal confidences while there are always a few major life-altering whoppers. Both types give me anxiety, but I take the secret-keeping very serious.

There was a time last year I held so many secrets from different people I thought I would burst. I began to imagine a spreadsheet in my head and even contemplated writing them all down to keep them straight. Don’t worry, I didn’t. The urge to write is tough for me, but I know better than that in this situation and resorted to simply keeping my mouth shut. Also tough. Secret keeper is not a position I enjoy, yet can’t seem to shake.

The relief I felt when hearing the secrets were finally ‘out’ or public knowledge was physical for me. I could feel my teeth unclench at every mention of the information I held inside. You’d think I’d learn not to accept any more confidentialities, but just two days ago I heard those words again from another friend, “Can I tell you something?” I almost said no, but of course I put my hand on her arm and said, “Sure, anything. You can trust me.” And I meant it, but as soon as she spilled her confession, I immediately regretted allowing her to confide in me. I don’t like knowing this particular secret. Thankfully, this one has an expiration date and soon it will be public knowledge. Until then, well I’ll be avoiding a certain group and suddenly too busy for coffee on Thursday mornings through the end of April.

As with this big secret, most expire on their own. Thankfully the information becomes public or moot. But now it’s got me wondering – as a writer- what’s the shelf life of a secret? At what point is it acceptable to assimilate into a story? Obviously – “All names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to acutal events, local, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.”

Maybe my friends should think twice before prefacing me with, “Don’t tell anyone, but…”

You’ve been warned.