Be You

I learned long ago that revealing me had a way of inviting others to show themselves in return. It was never a guarantee. But it didn’t need to be. The freedom of being honest was reward enough. These many years later, even understanding this truth, being me still takes effort at times. Maybe in another ten years, I won’t have any filters left. (Some people refer to that as dementia.)

I devote a chapter in my book to vulnerability and the importance I attach to being vulnerable. I also write in another chapter about a time in my life that I attended group therapy for my own issues, followed by ten years in which I stayed on as a peer counselor. During those years, I learned to be honest and raw, both in terms of sharing and listening. I had the best of training.

Yet, without conscious effort and continued practice, it’s still easy for me to revert to just saying enough, not really saying much, flying under the radar, and of course playing nice.

I not sure what my dad was thinking, but he nicknamed me “Sweet Sue” before I was born. Yikes, that’s a lot to live up to. (I don’t always succeed. But really, I’d be so dull if I did, don’t you think?)

As always, it’s necessary to bring this post back around. Besides telling you about a few chapters, what does any of this rambling have to do with the book?!

Well, last week Rick and I spent the day exploring. We used to spend many days venturing out to learn about unfamiliar areas. We’d turn at unknown corners, visit local restaurants along the way, discover new treasures, always happy at the end of our adventure.

The last six years have put a kibosh on our exploring adventures… moving, settling in, elder care, old job commuting, a new job with a tiny bit of commuting, passing of my mom, working on the house, creating a sustainable garden, writing a book, and last but certainly not least, Covid.

We set out to visit Rollins Lake. It’s located in Colfax just up the highway from Auburn. Neither of us had ever been there. As we ventured out, it became clear that not much had changed; we still like to turn right when we should turn left because, maybe, there’s something up there to see. We drive and drive until we are convinced it’s time to turn back. New ground to cover is always exciting.

Once we finally arrived, we loved the lake. The gate guard let us drive through to learn about the area, trusting us to come back. We will return his kindness soon and pay the $14 to spend the day. We loved it, a great place to kayak and swim, and a cute little restaurant that serves fish tacos. I say yes.

But we decided since we weren’t going to spend the day at the lake, we would eat elsewhere. We chose The Red Frog in Colfax. We had heard about it and wanted to try it before we took friends there.

Think rustic. Then think again, even more rustic, but with a spotless restroom, a friendly staff, good pizza, and great watermelon margaritas overlooking the canyon with the possibility of seeing the train coming through. We sat on the porch, which was actually the bar. The five or so people at the bar clearly were regulars, playing dice with the bartender. Oh, and misters, I can’t forget the misters which kept us cool.

It had been way too long since we sat reminiscing about this, that, and the other. In just over an hour, we laughed, chatted with the waitresses and the dice players, and most importantly, righted the world’s wrongs by talking about whatever came to mind.

On our way back home, instead of traveling down Highway 80, we drove the side roads. I learned about two cities/towns (not sure their stature) that I knew nothing about. Beautiful country, lovely feeling as we drove through. A small handmade sign on the side of the road caught my eye, “Be You.”

My mind shifted from the pleasant scenery to thoughts of releasing my book. Writing a book, especially a book about your life, is the ultimate “being you.” It’s scary as hell if I’m honest, even though I have faith in myself. It’s vulnerability at its finest.

I enjoyed the next town down, but had to ask Rick two times the name of the city. I was distracted as my heart raced just a bit. Thank goodness Rick set Pandora to our baby boomer generation. Tinman by America came on, an old song I still love. I turned up the volume and drifted back in time, letting my fears drift away.

“Oz never did give nothing to the Tinman that he didn’t, didn’t already have.”

Apparently, the song was built around this sentence (critics say the lyrics after didn’t mean much.) As I listened to the music, with its great rhythm, I couldn’t care less about the rest of the lyrics.

“Oz never did give nothing to the Tinman that he didn’t, didn’t already have.”

I brought my kids up watching The Wizard of Oz. It was Amy’s favorite movie. I made her a Dorothy outfit for Halloween one year. I still have the basket she carried to gather her candies. Believing in home and the heart was a valuable lesson.

Almost fifty years later (scary number), listening to these 1970’s lyrics, I took away the reminder that I’ve always had what I needed to speak my truth. It didn’t take the Tinman to teach me that. It only took me finding the courage, yet another lesson from Oz.

Be you… here’s me coming at you soon.

10 Comments

  1. Good morning my friend, enjoyed reading your Be You
    writings this morning ❤️
    Being you and speaking your mind is definitely not easy, but like you said we would all be so boring if we all acted and spoke the same language, not to say some language I don’t appreciate!
    Love your little girl photo 🥰
    Looking forward to your book my friend!
    Stay young at heart my friend 😘

    • Good to hear from you, my dear friend! Hope to be able to connect in the near future on a trip down to the Bay Area. Thanks for always supporting my writing endeavors! I appreciate your responses. The little girl in the photo is Amy. She dressed as Dorothy one year. I still have the basket. Stay well, and I’ll reach out soon to plan a visit. 🙂

  2. Thoroughly enjoyed this, Sue. Your writing is inspiring and flowing. It makes me want to see what’s next in your thoughts. Thank you!

    • Thank you, Lisa! That means a lot to me, your comments always do.

  3. Agreed! Sweet Sue! It is and will always. Your dad was right.🙏🏾😘😘

    • Thank you Lalo. My dad is somewhere smiling. YOU are sweet!!!

  4. Hi Sue enjoyed reading this. I find the older I am, the easier it is to be me. I think it is about not being concerned what someone else thinks and realizing that it really doesn’t bother me. We have been to Rollins Lake and think it is a peaceful little place, with a bonus of being so near. What were the two towns you passed through ? Tell Rick hello.
    John

    • John, Thanks so much for your response. I love it when my readers respond. It’s not all bad getting older, that’s for sure. Rick says hello back. We just took the old 40, the road north of 80 that snakes along next to the freeway. Some cute little towns in there. Hope to see you guys soon!

  5. I always love reading your blogs. I can wait for the book to come out. Love you 😘

    • Thanks my dear friend! I’ll be saving you a copy for sure!


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