I have never been much of a goal-oriented person. If there was something I was wanted, I wanted it immediately. Much like many people of my generation. The MTV generation. I am sure there is a letter linked to it, but I do not care enough to look it up.
My summers as a youth were for the most part lazy. I lived by a lake, I swam, saw friends, was shipped off to sleep-away camp for many summers. Nothing special. So it seemed at the time, camp for me would in my later years turn out to be one of the happiest times of my life.
Many of the stories people tell me or that I read involve a summer spent trying to attain a goal. Endless visits to the lake to climb the tallest diving board, only to slink back down the ladder again and again until finally, as the summer comes to an end, the person walks barefoot across the board that stretches out in time and distance and leaps. Their hair wet and heart pounding with as much fear as pride when they emerge. Goal achieved.
The part of the lake where the younger kids and families went to in my town was simply called, "Island Beach." I can tell you it is much larger in my memory than it is in actuality. About 100 yards out is a floating dock. Again my memory is increasing size and distance. Maybe it was 100 feet. Whatever the distance, if you were under a certain age you had to do a swimming test to get a little tag that would spend the rest of the summer pinned to your bathing suit. This tag said, "I passed the swimming test and I can swim out to the dock if I want. So there."
I passed that test more than one summer, but it was never a goal. I had grown up with swimming lessons, so passing was no big deal. And the mysteries of being able to hang out on the dock were not as mysterious once you were dry and realized you had to swim back.
Summers for me were a time to just be a kid. Not a kid you would read about in a novel. Not a kid who found a dead body, or bounced a ball for 79 hours straight to make it into the Guiness Book of World Records. If I did have goals they were always to lose something, weight, my virginity, my brother teasing me, myself lost in a moment laying on the grass swearing I could feel the earth's rotation.
My youngest daughter and her friends have made this summer one with a goal. One very specific goal. This summer, this group of five girls have decided that they want -- no need -- they need to raise enough money to buy tickets for a concert that will not take place until next summer.
The plans and chatter are endless. Selling old items, calling in to a radio show offering a cash prize. Setting alarm clocks to remind them to wake up and call. Making jam to sell for $5 a jar. Car washes, baby sitting, and even begging to be paid to clean their own rooms.
They have a goal. They have the ambition to follow up and the motivation to keep at it. I watch, I listen, I offer ideas. Mainly when I am not annoyed at the chatter, I am honestly impressed.
These are the kind of kids that are written about in books. These are the characters that make up a good movie. These are remarkable humans. I see into their futures and I see the tenacity continuing to grow, the goals they will create and achieve. I am slightly jealous.
If I am the one who instilled such stalwart values in my daughter it was by accident or default. I can not even claim that I had the goal to raise ambitious children. Just happy ones.
It is summer now in Texas and when I am not hiding away in my air conditioned happiness I will venture to take the children to the lake. It is not a walk down the block as I had, but it is worth the drive. The wood of the docks is such a familiar feeling, it is as if I am walking in my past.
I have become the mom who regales my children with, "Well when I was growing up there was a lake..."
My only goal for summer since moving to Texas has been to survive it. Ignore it. Avoid it. And on the occasional trip to the lake, enjoy it.
How is it that I have nurtured beings who have goals while I remain floating without an anchor? I am still the person who wants things immediately. I have not learned how to plan, plot, work toward and ultimately achieve any goal in particular.
I am completely apathetic about this awareness as well. I do not feel remorseful, or driven to pick up a sword. I feel no shame or guilt.
I am a watcher. I am a thinker. I prefer to sit on the dock and watch others attack the water over and over again trying to get the perfect dive.
Then I see that it is my children diving. My children with ambition. I am filled with unwarranted pride. I smile. I encourage. I bear witness. I may not achieve much else but deep thought and pleasure from what I have been given, but I am happy. Happiness alone is a goal worth striving for.
My summers as a youth were for the most part lazy. I lived by a lake, I swam, saw friends, was shipped off to sleep-away camp for many summers. Nothing special. So it seemed at the time, camp for me would in my later years turn out to be one of the happiest times of my life.
Many of the stories people tell me or that I read involve a summer spent trying to attain a goal. Endless visits to the lake to climb the tallest diving board, only to slink back down the ladder again and again until finally, as the summer comes to an end, the person walks barefoot across the board that stretches out in time and distance and leaps. Their hair wet and heart pounding with as much fear as pride when they emerge. Goal achieved.
The part of the lake where the younger kids and families went to in my town was simply called, "Island Beach." I can tell you it is much larger in my memory than it is in actuality. About 100 yards out is a floating dock. Again my memory is increasing size and distance. Maybe it was 100 feet. Whatever the distance, if you were under a certain age you had to do a swimming test to get a little tag that would spend the rest of the summer pinned to your bathing suit. This tag said, "I passed the swimming test and I can swim out to the dock if I want. So there."
I passed that test more than one summer, but it was never a goal. I had grown up with swimming lessons, so passing was no big deal. And the mysteries of being able to hang out on the dock were not as mysterious once you were dry and realized you had to swim back.
Summers for me were a time to just be a kid. Not a kid you would read about in a novel. Not a kid who found a dead body, or bounced a ball for 79 hours straight to make it into the Guiness Book of World Records. If I did have goals they were always to lose something, weight, my virginity, my brother teasing me, myself lost in a moment laying on the grass swearing I could feel the earth's rotation.
My youngest daughter and her friends have made this summer one with a goal. One very specific goal. This summer, this group of five girls have decided that they want -- no need -- they need to raise enough money to buy tickets for a concert that will not take place until next summer.
The plans and chatter are endless. Selling old items, calling in to a radio show offering a cash prize. Setting alarm clocks to remind them to wake up and call. Making jam to sell for $5 a jar. Car washes, baby sitting, and even begging to be paid to clean their own rooms.
They have a goal. They have the ambition to follow up and the motivation to keep at it. I watch, I listen, I offer ideas. Mainly when I am not annoyed at the chatter, I am honestly impressed.
These are the kind of kids that are written about in books. These are the characters that make up a good movie. These are remarkable humans. I see into their futures and I see the tenacity continuing to grow, the goals they will create and achieve. I am slightly jealous.
If I am the one who instilled such stalwart values in my daughter it was by accident or default. I can not even claim that I had the goal to raise ambitious children. Just happy ones.
It is summer now in Texas and when I am not hiding away in my air conditioned happiness I will venture to take the children to the lake. It is not a walk down the block as I had, but it is worth the drive. The wood of the docks is such a familiar feeling, it is as if I am walking in my past.
I have become the mom who regales my children with, "Well when I was growing up there was a lake..."
My only goal for summer since moving to Texas has been to survive it. Ignore it. Avoid it. And on the occasional trip to the lake, enjoy it.
How is it that I have nurtured beings who have goals while I remain floating without an anchor? I am still the person who wants things immediately. I have not learned how to plan, plot, work toward and ultimately achieve any goal in particular.
I am completely apathetic about this awareness as well. I do not feel remorseful, or driven to pick up a sword. I feel no shame or guilt.
I am a watcher. I am a thinker. I prefer to sit on the dock and watch others attack the water over and over again trying to get the perfect dive.
Then I see that it is my children diving. My children with ambition. I am filled with unwarranted pride. I smile. I encourage. I bear witness. I may not achieve much else but deep thought and pleasure from what I have been given, but I am happy. Happiness alone is a goal worth striving for.
Should I finish my book, that would be a goal achieved and yet my children will always be my greatest accomplishment.
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