Cousin Dickey

I woke up this morning on the other side of something. Felt nice to have whatever that was behind me finally and what ever is headed this way in motion. Thought about my dead cousin, Elvis, a compass, and some other stuff then did what I obviously needed to do. Shook things up.

Radical nothingness from a place of calm cluelessness. Did something that used to be last, first; didn’t even do something that is usually first; bobbed when I normally weaved on the walk; saw flowers where there used to be grass; took some summer stuff from the back to the front; stowed some winter stuff where the summer stuff used to be; and fed these worlds to whoever will gobble them up before having what will likely be breakfast for lunch. Just another day is the life of “Who is the guy and what did he did with the Gil we used to know?” Realized all I have and how to give it even more thanks to all of that.

Thanks to lessons learned from Teachers of life disguised as parents, Elvis Presley, and Cousin Dickey, not to be confused with Cousin Brucie. Cousin Brucie was the voice of WABC Radio, 77 on your dial, right from NYC and into my youth with all the hits that used to be hits, are the hits, and will always be the hits long after Murray K said here’s the Beatles and the Fab Four said Hello Goodbye then stayed forever. Cousin Brucie is still around and still looks like Cousin Brucie. (That is creepy like most clowns are creepy). Cousin Dickey died quite a few years ago. He taught me a lot of lessons while he lived.

Cousin Dickey mattered. He lived life like he knew something. He did know something and I just begin to know that something about me and understand that he knew it about him all along. He knew he mattered. He knew it was alright to have. To have peace and answers that you just knew even when you couldn’t explain how you knew. To have the call to taste life on fishing boats and oil rigs and still understand others lived other lives in other ways. To have a light in your eyes when you were with other people, just because you were with them. To have the knowledge that we are here now and tomorrow is a crap shoot at best. To have people that love you, sometimes get you, often don’t get you, and that love you all the while. Cousin Dickey lived a lesson in life many just don’t learn. We have to know what we have to be all that we can be. We have to look for what we have where it feels right and do things that are right for us because those things feel right for us. We have to find ourselves before we can really be anything to anyone else. Cousin Dickey mattered. He mattered because he celebrated all he had and all he had to give because of all he had.

The first lesson of life is understanding what we have. We must be taught that we were put here for a reason, that reason is important, and it is alright to be happy to be alive. My Teachers taught me that. They pushed me back inside myself for answers about gifts, how to know them, and then how to hone them. My Teachers came in all shapes and sizes. They still do. The first lesson is the lesson of life that we must continue to learn all along the path of life. We must learn to have. We have all we need to have and what we have improves the more we work at it. What we have gets better and better as we do what we must do to really understand what we have. (By George, I think I have it. Now, if I were a Rich Man….Opps, bad form to mix musicals in writings.)

Then we can learn the second lesson of life. How to give. Sometimes folks get stuck on the first lesson…how to have. Sometimes have gets stuck at have to. We have something and it becomes a chore. A thing we have to do. A thing we have to take care of. A thing we are stuck with. We begin to have to do things. We forget ourselves because we have to do what others want. What others think we should. What others said would be best for us. What others will approve of. What just have to. Then we begin to long. To miss. To long for ourselves. To miss ourselves. To wonder why others have and we don’t. Why others are lucky and blessed and……..holy shit, what a load of crap. It drains even typing self pity. Self pity is not something I have and not something I ever want to have. Some of my best Teachers taught me that….by example, good and bad. I learned and celebrate what I have.

When we know what we have, we can give. Just give. It is easy to give cause what we have blossoms by the bushel basketful. We focus on what we have, what we have multiplies, and we give it away. Give it because that is why we are here. To learn what we have, hone what we have, and give away what we have. The winner at the end of this journey will have given away almost all they had…..and still leave behind tons that matter.

Cousin Dickey left behind a lot. He left behind enough inspiration to span decades, shine from the beyond, penetrate the granite like cluelessness that is my soul, and make me even happier with what I have. Good Teachers are like that. They came, They had, They gave. They conquered. To have is to live. To give is to live. Cousin Dickey lives. I am glad he touched my life and still does.