Songs To Remember Me By

earlier this morning, i thought about songs that resonate most with who i am. songs i would want played at a gathering upon my passing. their styles are completely different, but they still capture who i really am. the first is frank sinatra's "i did it my way". the second is survivor's "eye of the tiger".

when i think of "i did it my way", i think back to an early childhood memory. a first--learning how to ride a bike. my parents bought me a junky, but cute, little red bike at a garage sale for the experience. the same thing many parents across america have done for years. that's where the normalcy of the experience ends. unlike most, if not all, parents and their children, who use this opportunity to bond and work together, i chose to do it my way. i learned how to ride a bike alone. it was my choice. something i was adament about, too.

i rode around in circles in our garage for hours one afternoon until i got the hang of it. i fell--a lot. i remember getting pretty banged up, too. but i never cried, at least not outloud. instead, i got back on after each fall, determined to master the ability to ride. doing it my way. i remember my mom opening the door now and then, usually after hearing me fall, asking me if i was ok, if i was sure i didn't need any help. in my 5 year old voice, i would insist "i am FINE" and i wanted to "do it MYSELF". so, she would go back inside, i'm sure standing by that door all afternoon until i had finally, at last, learned how to ride that little red bike. in my later years, i apologized to her--and my dad--for not having been able to share in that experience with me as most other parents do. i thanked them for not interfering and letting me truly learn it the way i wanted to.

i remember when i first heard "eye of the tiger". rocky 3. 1982 or 1983. i went to see the movie with a friend, who was equally enamored with sylvester stallone as i was, not to mention our common "girls kick ass" attitude. something about that song resonated deeply with me. it sparked my own ability to survive. i had survived 8 years of teasing and harassment from school bullies. i had survived being raised by a father who was loving one moment and violently hateful the next. i had survived years of family gatherings where alcohol and teasing were the norm. i had survived my mother's on-going pressure to make my only goal in life to be a wife and mom.

the name calling. the screaming rages. the aggressive quieting of my feelings, my thoughts, my desires. betrayal. ignoring. that was my childhood. and i had survived it all. and today, all these years later, having survived a host of other messes, including divorce and sexual assault, i'm still alive and kicking. maybe more weary. but that spark is still there. that kick ass attitude. it is, afterall, who i really am. and no one or no experience will ever destroy that spark.

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speaking of the rocky movies, for 10 years now i've wanted a punching bag (the standing kind) and gloves. if you have something like this that you no longer use or is collecting dust, i'll gladly take it off your hands. :)