Author: Mark Myers

I am a husband of one, father of four daughters, a dreamer, a builder, a believer, and most enjoyably a writer. In 2015, I became a reluctant Childhood Cancer Advocate as we lost our youngest daughter Kylie to the disease. Kylie taught me to steal joy from even the worst of circumstances and I will always be on the lookout for happiness among the thorns of life. Join me for a generous helping of laughter and tears.

Learning to Drive on Streets of Gold

.Reading time 6 minutes.

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Okay, what’s the first thing you do when you get in the car?

Check the mirrors.

No, the first thing is to buckle your seat belt.

Oh, right. I forgot. My car doesn’t have them.

What? Even my parent’s old car had them. But nobody used them in the 70’s. I used stand in the floorboard and help dad drive. What are you driving, an old clunker?

No. It’s brand new. I don’t know what kind. It reminds me of the Barbie Dream Car we had. Only it’s bright yellow.

Of course it’s yellow… You think it’s safe?

We don’t have accidents here.

Well, I’m going to buckle up, if that’s okay. It’s terrifying the first few times you ride with a beginner.

Don’t worry, I’ve done this before.

WHAT? You aren’t supposed to be driving – you don’t have your permit yet.

We don’t need them.

Permits?

Well, permits or even cars, really. Most people walk.

But there are cars?

Oh, sure. I don’t think it would be paradise for some people without them. There’s this racecar guy who just turns donuts in the fields outside the gates like he won a big race. You’d get dizzy if you tried; like that time on the teacup ride.

Yeah, yeah. No one will ever let me live that down. How are the roads?

Perfect. What would you expect? We don’t have orange cones, a DOT, or widening projects like you deal with. They were perfectly planned ages ago.

So traffic isn’t bad?

Nope. No lights, signs, or speed bumps.

Well, I guess we will skip ahead to lesson nine if you don’t have to deal with that stuff. Any Roundabouts?

No. But you can teach me. It’s okay.

Well, the next lesson is dealing with weather emergencies. Any storms there?

No, not really.

It doesn’t rain?

Yes, it rains.

How’s the traction on wet gold? Slippery?

Surprisingly good.

Okay, well I’m not sure where to start then.

While you’re figuring it out, I have a question for you: How’s mommy?

You want the truth?

We do believe in that here.

She’s not good, baby. She misses you every minute. We all do. She has a job now and is working hard. But nothing can distract her from the fact that you weren’t supposed to die. You should have had a full, long life – gotten married and had children of your own. You should have been standing at our funeral… not us at yours.

I will be. Only I’ll be standing on this side holding your hand.

Is it wrong to say that I long for that day?

No, I get that. What about my sisters?

They miss you too, of course. We talk about you all the time when they come home from school. They seem to have found places and people that make them happy. When Jenna goes to college next year it will make it harder on us to have an empty nest because it will magnify the fact that it shouldn’t be empty. Mommy loves her little chicks.

I know.

But why ask me? Can’t you see all of that? I thought you would be looking down on us.

I am. But I see things differently now. I don’t see in part anymore; I see the whole. I don’t like that mommy is sad, but from here I understand just how truly short the time is until I’ll see her again… Life is a vapor. It’s like when I had a bad chemo day; we knew it was only temporary and I would feel better again. I just had to hold on.

Will you tell mommy to hold on for me?

I will. But it’s hard for us to think like you – from that perspective. We see your friends getting older and taller and it reminds us that you didn’t make it past twelve. You never got to grow up.

You should know that I did get taller.

What?

You do grow up here and my body is perfect now, remember. No cancer. No radiation or chemo to stunt my growth. I’m not the shortest in the family anymore!

You always wanted to be taller than mom.

(both laugh)

Oh. There’s the guy turning donuts in the field. He’s so happy, I wish you could see his smile.

Hey! You’ve been driving this whole time, haven’t you?

Um… Yes.

Then why did you let me give you a lesson when you didn’t need it?

I didn’t need it, Daddy. But you did.

 

Happy 15th Birthday, Baby. Oh, how I wish I could teach you to drive.

How the Squatty Potty Has Me Doubting Everything I’ve Ever Learned

.Reading time 4 minutes.

It started as a joke. I had never heard of this thing called the Squatty Potty, but anything with such a name must be investigated. When I went to Amazon and read the reviews, I was hooked – laughing my butt off. I slowly found myself believing that this might be a revolution in elimination. As a sample, I offer this haiku left by a satisfied user:

“Oh Squatty Potty
You fill me with endless joy
Yet leave me empty.”

There are many more – some that will make you howl with laughter and maybe pee a little, although the squatty potty won’t help with that. My research even led me to Dookie the Unicorn and this compelling ad:

Then I saw the price and this is where I leave you. I am not about to spend $25 on a piece of plastic no matter how funny and glowing the reviews! I made my final decision and thought it was over. Along came Christmas. I’m one of those people who is impossible to buy for. My dresser is full of bright t-shirts with pithy sayings. This year, my daughters went in together and, you guessed it, wrapped up a Squatty Potty for me. It was a joke, but no one’s laughing now.

Everyone tried it and let me just say, it works – Big Time! Believe the hype. I’ll spare you the details unlike some of those hysterical reviewers.

I do, however, have some major complaints.

First – Toilet time for a man with four children has always been somewhat sacred. I have done some of my best thinking in the lavatory and believe that I could have solved some of the world’s greatest problems had life not beckoned. And now it is gone. Average time with this product leaves just a few seconds for coherent thought.

Second – The thing is like a magnet. We have four toilets in the house and yet I find everyone moving to and in mine. The packaging should include a lock for the door.

Finally, and most importantly – Using the toilet was one of the first things I learned to do way back when my feet dangled from it. Now at the age of forty-nine I have discovered that I have been doing it wrong all along. What’s next? Is this an isolated situation? What else am I blundering?

  • Have I been breathing wrong all this time? Maybe if I had learned better I could breathe underwater… or through my ears.
  • Perhaps I walk wrong and if I perambulated differently, I could do it faster… or longer… or on my hands.
  • Would my penmanship could be neater if I had learned with my feet?

 

This is where I have a major issue with the Squatty Potty! It has me doubting everything I’ve ever learned. The very foundation of my life’s instruction has been shaken to the core by a little stool – okay, a lot of stool – and I’m not sure how to reconstruct my existence.