It’s happening again!

I’ve mentioned before I’m somewhat psychic. It seems to kick in the most when I’m either very happy or very sad. Or when my head is clear and I’m feeling open and receptive to things. Seriously. It tends to come out in all sorts of different ways though. Last week every time I thought of someone the phone rang as I was reaching for the phone to call them. And it was always the person I was thinking about.

Cue the “Twilight Zone” theme.

Children and animals are known to be psychic as well. When a child has an imaginary friend adults tend to dismiss it as the child’s imagination working overtime. However it’s often a real person that only the child can see! They can be a relative, (or even a stranger,) trying to communicate through the child. This film is one of the best I’ve ever seen about the subject. Ally da Pup often looks over my shoulder when we are at home alone and is obviously seeing something I am not. It used to freak me out but I have learned to accept it. I just assume it’s someone I love who is no longer on this earth, (who still likes to keep an eye on us.)

When I lived in L.A., I used to constantly hear someone walking in my home at 4am. It was always at that time. I would wake up out of a sound sleep and think someone had broken in my condo. My heart would start racing and I became really frightened. Finally one night I had enough and told the spirit/angel/whatever:

“Listen, you are scaring me to death here. I also have to get up really early for work. I appreciate you want to visit and you are welcome, but could you please stop doing it in the middle of the night?”

I never heard that sound again.

One of my most amazing stories happened the first year I was in L.A.. As I have mentioned before my father died around Christmas, thus making the holiday season a tough time for me. On the anniversary of his death I was invited to my cousin’s house for a family party. I was sad that day and missing my Dad very much. I parked my car near her house and started to walk over. It was pitch dark outside and I had to pass a desolate alley. Suddenly I saw a homeless man standing there watching me. I immediately got my guard up. We looked at each other for a long moment.

He said, “How you doing there Baby Girl?”

I stared at him in shock. I looked away for a second as tears sprang to my eyes. That was my Dad’s nickname for me when I was a child and no one else ever called me that.

I looked up and the man was gone. I cried for a few minutes but they were happy tears because I understood my Dad was still with me. He knew I missed him terribly and he was letting me know he was right there beside me.

It was one of the best gifts I ever received.

I’ve been feeling down the last couple of days and have not really been sure why. Just a kind of disconnect somehow. Anyway, I have been thinking about it and suddenly a light bulb went off in my head. FATHER’S DAY. One of my least favorite holidays since my Dad died. I can’t believe after 20 years that I can still feel so sad! I adored my Dad and was such a “Daddy’s Girl.” I look a lot like him. If we went to an event and were standing apart, (each on the opposite side of the room,) strangers would ask him if I was his daughter, “because she looks just like you.” Dad LOVED that. We were also similar in temperament i.e. stubborn and we fought a lot. Dad had been such a player when he was in college and as a result never trusted ANY guy I dated. He would meet them at the door with this look on his face the equivalent of “Touch my daughter and I will surgically remove your cojones with a dull kitchen knife.” Needless to say, I begged him not to answer the door. Didn’t work He had such a joy for life! Everyone loved him. He was one of those guys that women adored and men liked to hang out with.

I’m happy for my friends who are having a lovely time with their family. I would never begrudge anyone for enjoying this special day with their father. I would love nothing better than to do the same! I envy them while I wonder about the “what if’s.” If a genie magically appeared and gave me one wish I would want one more day with my Dad. To talk, to laugh, to ask his advice, to share what my life has been and what’s it become. I would also want answers to the questions I have been wondering about all these years! Finally I would want to tell him how much I love and miss him and give him the biggest hug EVER.

Where is that genie when you need him…

Thus I give you a bit of nostalgia…

When I was a kid:

My Dad and I had Yahtzee marathons. For hours. And it was a fight to the death. None of that wussy “let your daughter win” stuff.

My friends and I used to swing as high as we could on the swingset, then jump out in middair. The swings were right outside the kitchen window, and Mom came running quite a few times. And yes I ate dirt more than once!

The people who creeped me out as a child continued to give me the willies as an adult. I think I had good self-preservation instincts.

I won the award two years running for selling the most Girl Scout Cookies. Yay me! I still love Thin Mints the best.

I used to sneak out my bedroom window after hours and drive around with my friends. There was a streetlight that spotlighted the front yard so it was extra scary. I was always convinced I was going to get caught but never did.

I had a Scottish Terrier from when I was 8 to 21. My dog died within 6 months of my Dad. That was a really bad year.

My best friend had a basset hound that bit every kid in the neighborhood including me. I hate those *%&@# dogs to this day.

My 4th grade crush – Drew L. – was blonde, gorgeous, and a total bad boy, (I think that pattern started early!) He was wonderful to me though, and all the other girls were very jealous. We were probably a challenge to each other because I was brought up to be such a nice girl. Oh well. Best laid plans and all that…

“Bennie and the Jets” was my favorite “slow dance” song. So romantic! Every time I hear it I have a major flashback.

My high school sweetheart dated a total skank after me. Super slutty and trashy to boot. I never did get that one. Still don’t.

I LOVE Westerns. I have ever since I was a little girl. I used to watch them with my father for hours on end. My favorites are “Red River,” “The Searchers,” and “The Cowboys.” Needless to say I am a John Wayne fan.

I enjoy the simplicity of the old westerns. More recently, I watched an awesome miniseries called “Into The West” on TNT, (now available on dvd.)

The Executive Producer is the illustrious Steven Spielberg, and the Director is Simon Wincer of “Lonesome Dove” fame. Which is another one of my favorites – it’s magnificent!

If you haven’t seen “Lonesome Dove” it is definitely worth renting. Robert Duvall and Tommy Lee Jones are simply outstanding. Wincer is an Aussie, which makes his mastery of films about the American West all the more interesting. Anyway, back to “Into The West.” The acting is good, the cinematography is stunning, and the script is unpredictable. It also without most of the typical “Savage Indians scalp innocent settlers and attack their woman and children” cliche’s. The script also delves into the Lakota tribe with their rituals and symbolism. Frankly, we could all learn something from them… check it out!

Funny story, a few years ago I worked with Bruce Dern on a series of commercials. I worked closely with him and we got to chatting about this and that. I told him – with tongue firmly planted in cheek – that I had never forgiven him for killing John Wayne in “The Cowboys.” A bit of backstory, in the film Bruce Dern’s character killed John Wayne’s character and in fact not only murdered him, but SHOT JOHN WAYNE IN THE BACK. Talk about adding insult to injury, you just don’t shoot an American icon in the back! Anyway, Bruce Dern got somewhat indignant and I thought for a minute I had made him angry. He said “You know Lisa, I shot that movie over 30 years ago, and not a day goes by that someone doesn’t tell me that it was the only time they ever saw their father cry, or they can’t believe I actually killed John Wayne. I had no idea at the time it would make such an impact.” I of course apologized profusely but he wasn’t upset at all. He was just totally bemused by the whole situation. FYI, Bruce Dern in “real life” is the nicest guy ever, so if anyone out there is still upset with him, remember it is JUST A MOVIE.

Must go or as John Wayne would say, “We’re burning daylight.”

One day I decided to open my piggy bank and count how much money I had saved. Lots and lots of pennies. I was most impressed with myself. Afterwards I was going down to the kitchen when something caught my eye. There was an electric outlet with slots that looked JUST LIKE MY PIGGY BANK. Enterprising child that I was, I ran back to my room, grabbed a penny and put it in the electric outlet.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZ!

BAM!

I was thrown backwards, and still remember that electrical shock going through my entire body. My parents came running up the stairs in a panic to see me dazed, but still proudly holding the now FRIED penny.

Never a dull moment in my childhood.

I FREAKIN LOVED IT. 

As did my dad. So much so we used to sometimes squabble over whose turn it was to play. My mother had to act as referee, dividing the playing time. He played harder, and tried to see how far he could move the machine before it tilted. My game had more finesse and quicker hand movements. He was very competitive and taught me to be the same. Whoever broke 100,000, (which caused a special symbol to light up,) would leave it on for the other one to see, (and grit their teeth!) We had SO MUCH FUN. Our matches continued until he died a few years later.

Eventually I moved away, my mother redecorated the house, and the pinball machine went into storage in a warehouse. I always intended to put it in my own home some day but never did.

My mother called me this morning and we were talking about the warehouse, and then veered off to talking about the pinball machine.

Mom said, “Lisa I have some bad news.”

My heart dropped, “What’s up Mom?”

“I don’t remember if I told you or not but there was a break-in in the warehouse. They stole a lot of things. I didn’t know this until the other day, but they also tried to take the pinball machine. Remember how heavy it was? Well, they dropped it and it’s in very bad shape.”

I took a deep breath. “Can it be fixed?”

“No Lisa, I don’t think so and even if they could, it would probably cost a fortune. It’s badly broken. I’m very sorry”

I wanted to cry but I didn’t. We said goodbye and I hung up.

I gave myself a pep talk, “it’s just a thing, it’s no big deal, you haven’t used it in years,” etc.. But I was shocked at how much it hurt. I had so many wonderful memories locked away with that pinball machine. All those great moments with my dad that are now gone. I had some of the best times of my life when we played – he gave me pointers, then tried his best to beat me. Sometimes he won and sometimes I did. But, we ALWAYS had fun.

I know it’s just a thing, and things can be replaced, but my heart is heavy all the same. 

I WANT IT ALL BACK. 

Now, 20 years later, my friends are beginning to go through similar situations. Their parents are aging, they are dealing with various health issues and facing their parents mortality. Some have already lost a parent. I have become the “Go-To-Gal” in these situations. Because I understand. I know what they are going through. I GET IT. I’m glad my friends feel like they can talk to me. I am happy to help however I can. People were kind to me when I was suffering and I want to pass it on.

Yet there is a small, less than stellar part of me that hates being that person everyone always comes to. “Lisa’s been there, she knows how it feels.” I resent having been the first person in my group to lose a parent. It is NOT fair. Why didn’t I get an additional 20 years with my Dad? What a horrible club to be a member of, ( and I definitely would have vetoed that membership if I had a choice. ) A part of me bleeds every time I hear another sad story and I flash back to that unhappy time in my life. It is painful to remember but in a weird way it also helps as well. As time has marched on I have forgotten things about my Dad. I feel very disloyal sometimes not remembering all those details. I also know this is how your mind helps you cope… and heal. I adored my Dad and even although it hurts, I want to remember him, the good times and not so good times.

So, as I hear yet another friend’s pain, I know all too well what they are going through. And without hesitation I will be there for them.

I just wish I hadn’t been the first…