Go for the Gold

My Golden Gate Bridge, turned out to be made out of gold, after all

 

I didn’t know why at the time, but I knew, I didn’t want to live the way I was living. Without getting into too much detail, I was 18 and thankful that I even graduated from high school. My dad died one year prior, and my mom was a mess. I ran away, and I ran fast. It took me only a day to pack, buy a ticket and go across country. Problem was, I was only honest to myself, because I didn’t have plans to come back. I told everyone that I was going on vacation. After a month, three older sisters and a boyfriend back home, not to mention a mother who demanded to know when the vacation period was up, the lie unfolded. One of those three sisters worked for Continental Airlines, sent me a free ticket home with a gift wrapped threat from mom, and I was back home within days. I was in a safer place for everyone. I was back home, back with my boyfriend that everyone loved and pregnant within two months. My mom died one month later. Thank GOD, I came home.

When I first came home, I was angry. I didn’t understand why people couldn’t let me go. It wasn’t about the fun or different experiences, which would be reason enough, I felt that the people that loved me were selfish and didn’t understand me. How can I go from peace, creativity, and pure happiness to being forced to come back to a coke infested, OC driven, drug dealing apartment? I got pregnant! My life was over now, there is no coming back from this. My mom never could admit that she was wrong. Even she knew that her advice wasn’t the best at the time. I remember what her guilt looked like. I moved back home with her and that month we spent together was a replacement of the years we should have had.

17 years later, I still wonder “what if I didn’t come back from San Francisco?” What would my life be like? Years ago, I would ask myself; would it be better? Would it be worse? Now, I feel at peace that it would just be different.

Independance

Your music is pretty and so soft to my ear, please play louder so next time it’s clear

But I can’t, they don’t like it; I’m not doing it right

You are, be yourself, this isn’t your fight

Thanks for liking my music but not everyone should

I love it and play louder, because everyone would

It’s different and dark and sometimes too deep

It’s peaceful and calming and puts me to sleep

So you’re not scared with the tunes and notes that go low

I feel comfort with the sound that I know

I will play for you anytime that you need

If you can’t, it’s ok, I’ll take the lead

Your love for my music is enough to keep on

Promise to play even if I am gone

Memories are so powerful even though it’s the past

I might be your first fan but I won’t be the last

You taught me my talent, my gift from within

My life might be over but yours can begin

You are my music, my love so how can I leave

This isn’t the time that you have to greave

How can I play, what will be the sound

This your time and you’ll find your ground

My music is wrong, it’s not the same without you

It’s not about me, it’s about how you grew

Hip Hop Off the Anger Wagon

I grew up watching the Brady Bunch, but looking back that was even dated for my time. My household and family dynamic was similar. My mom was a stay at home housewife with a ton of kids, and had that extra hand, while my dad earned good money to support a beautiful house. The difference was, my dad worked not one, but two, very blue collar jobs, and my mom’s help was her mom, my nana.

My dad was diagnosed with Lung Cancer when I was 15. He just retired, and was supposed to start his relaxed life after working himself to death. At first, he would just sit around and not know what to do, and it didn’t take long before he started to get frustrated, bored, and eventually sad. I never saw my dad sad up to this point. I asked my dad the question that sometimes, I still regret, “Dad, are you scared of dying?”, and for the first time, I saw my dad cry. His answer was honest, I wasn’t prepared to hear it, but from that moment on, I knew I was capable to ask hard questions. I was also capable to absorb the answers. My dad died two years later when I was 17. I knew I had to help my mom.

Moving forward 3 years later. My mom was adjusting to her life without my dad. It wasn’t an easy task, because he took care of her, and she wasn’t equipped with the life skills to support herself. I thought those three years were the worst, but it wasn’t until my mom got sick that I was about to repeat history. A cold, we thought; after all, we just lost our dad! Within 24 hours, my mom passed from a stroke due to complications of pneumonia. I knew I had to help my nana.

And that’s what I did. My most important job was taking care of family that was left behind by someone else. In the process, I became a mother at 21 years old, and had a great career, but my job was always back at home. I’m a caretaker-

I used to be bitter and angry about it, always thinking that life wasn't fair, but I realized that it was those tough moments that prepared me to be the mom "the ultimate caretaker" that I am today. And a very strong woman you always rises to the top. Most importantly, sometimes you have to put up and shut up.

I'm not a lyrical gangsta, I'm just a genius with the words, let me make this clear just in case you have not heard; I know which words to choose, and I know which words to lose, more importantly, I know the battles, I will lose!

We all have a story that unfortunately we will tell, mine just so happens are about the times I just fell, but my story is the truth and not a bunch of lies, those who fall the hardest have no choice but to just rise.

But I will rise the highest, way beyond what you can see; you are so low, I only hear your desperate plea. If you don't have my back, get off it fast; after all, I have the means to reach deep into your past.

You can really only use so many fucking tissues, so please get over the mommy and daddy issues, cause as I head up North, and you head down South; Keep my fucking name out of your mouth.

This is the end of your plotted head game; you didn't know me from jump, and I'll put you to shame! I thank GOD that I was treated so bad, otherwise I could have settled for what I just had.

I am thrilled that your hurt and rightfully so, cause you finally realized what the hell you let -You crossed the line, not one but two- you crossed the line between me and you.

So from this point on, I bid you goodbye- It's way over-due to find the right guy.

 

What a Wonderful World

I remember the day my son was born, he was so tiny. I was so young and so scared, but I had an overwhelming sense of strength and power. I couldn't believe that this little person was completely dependant on me. There were times that no matter how tired I was, how sick I was, and even how busy I was, there is an inner-strength or "power" if you will, that needs to be there for that little baby. I don't want to discount the father's in this world, especially single father's; however, a mother's power can be compared to any comic book hero out there.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2VCwBzGdPM&feature=kp

A baby doesn't stay a baby; they grow up to be teenagers. All those motherly super powers start to get challenged and compromised. My son started making his own choices, and some were not in the best judgment. I started to feel less powerful when I couldn't protect him and save him all the time. After all, what kind of super hero am I? I started getting really tired, and always felt sick, and that inner-strength was depleted. I felt defeated.

 

 

I realized that every good super hero had a side kick; I needed a side kick! I can't do everything on my own. I started reaching out and asking for help. My son was now at the age that he didn't need my power, in fact, he needed to find his own. We started working as a team. I think one of the best lessons learned was that I didn't always have to be powerful in his eyes, experiencing my venurability was just as important. He needed to view me as a person, and not just "a mom." I needed to start seeing him as a person, and not just "my son."

History Repeats Itself

 

 

February 3, 2014

Dear Jamie:

This is a thank you letter. Knowing you, you are laughing your ass off saying “of course it is, oh Randi.” Being the brains in our little operation here isn’t easy, but being the driving force behind it isn’t either. We make a really great team; in fact, we always did.

First off, I am not writing this to get a really great Valentine’s Day present, even though, we both know, I want one. I’m writing this because you deserve it. There are very specific qualities in a person that I admire the most which are; consistency, loyalty, forgiveness, and humor. It’s because of you that those qualities are so important. It acted as a very good guideline for me when developing relationships with friends, co-workers, etc. For high school sweethearts, boy you really set the precedence for relationships. You were always so patient and understanding. I remember breaking up with you because after graduation, I was moving out of state, and instead of being hurt, your focus was my future. I’ll never forget you saying “You’re my Randi, if it’s meant to be, it will be.”  I don’t think you understand how significant that was at the time. If you asked me to stay, I probably would have, and you knew it, but you chose not to. I needed to leave Boston at that time, and I am a better person because I did.
 

“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.” – Lin Yutang

 

Through both of our failed marriages, our kids, and my many moves around the country, we always maintained us, and let’s face it, Facebook wasn’t around then so it took more work. Thank you for meeting me half way all those years.

Lastly, you were right. OK, I admit it, just this once, you were right. If it was meant to be, it will be, and it is. You can’t write this kind of love story! After all the back and forth, and back and forth, I am sure our friends and families are thrilled that we finally landed the plane. I know that I am. After all this time, you still tell me that I am “You’re Randi”, and if someone as special you can always think that way about me, I must be pretty special too. Thank you for always keeping me close to your heart.

P.S. I hate jewelry, but I love to travel. http://www.reluctantpanther.com/

02128

 

Est. 1975

 

Let's start with the basics that are not very basic at all. I think the basic fundamentals of a person are truly what are most important. My name is Randi Young and I am thirty eight years old entering my first year of college. I grew up in East Boston, Massachusetts which many refer to as the 02128. I haven't met too many people that had the privilege to experience the 02128 and not gain a certain pride, appreciation or at the very least a strong opinion about it.

I always loved to cook. I actually always loved to eat and cooking became a convenient hobby. The best thing about being a great cook is that you create a fan base which worked out great for me because my overall talents are limited. Food can really bring out the best in people and create a wonderful network and start the most wonderful conversations and it is alright to leave that conversation open ended or even better; an action! "Can you teach me how to make that" or "Can I have the recipe?"

My friends, family and colleagues would describe me as a hot headed Italian woman from the city that has a heart of gold and loyalty that is very rare. Fortunately, once my layers are peeled they realized that I am a person worth keeping around. Perhaps it is because of my meatball and sausage gravy (yes, we call it gravy in the 02128 NOT sauce!) that created my personal network through "open ended" conversations.