Sand Castles and Pipe Dreams

So, I was at a function the other day and I ran into a mentor from when I was 9-10 years old. I mean, this person, I looked up to in the literal and philosophical sense. I had not seen this mentor in years, the mentor that told me I could be anything I wanted to be, do anything I wanted to do. It was also at this time that I was carrying my Holly Hobby book jotting down whatever struck my fancy, so I really saw myself as the next Judy Blume. When I saw this mentor and was asked what I had been up to, I said I had published two books and was about to release my third. Want to know the reply? It was, "You didn't do that stupid self publishing, did you?", and continued to cruelly tease. I swallowed hard, held back the waterworks and said, "Actually, yes I did."

I was crushed. Simple as that. I believed this person when they told me that I could be anything or do anything. I look at this picture, at that little person, with cake on her lip and dress, and see it that she really believes it as I do 31 years later, but now I am doing it with the understanding that maybe that mentor didn't really believe in me.

I came home feeling like Dorothy probably did when Toto pulled back the curtain on the Wizard and found it was just a man. That's how I felt about this person. I idolized him/her (trying to be PC here.) and suddenly the curtain was pulled back. It was an icky feeling, that of being fooled. I couldn't even tell my touchtone, Phillip, about it...until today. Phillip's response was astounding, heavy. He asked me, "Does what he/she said make what you did any less of an accomplishment?" Floored...that was me. It's about measuring your success based soley on doing right by yourself, not by the presence or absence of compliments, nor by the presence of negativity of others. I got in the shower and thought more about it. I thought about making sandcastles by the shore of South Haven, making them intricate and grande. I know they are not true castles made of mortar and stone, but it doesn't make them any less real to me or others that might choose to see them. Then like the comment made, an enormous wave crashes on the shore and when the tide pulls back out, what is left is a bunch of sand mounds, descriptive of nothing, not even close to resembling the maids' quarters of the castle. That is what some people try to do...they are the tidal waves on top of sand castles, the destroyer of dreams, crushers of imagination.

But I guess we have a choice here. We can bury our feet in the sand, burrow down and stand tall when the waves crash or we can let ourselves be carried out to sea. I don't think that flower-haired little girl would be crushed, she would burrow down. So, I choose to do the same. And really, the only person that will receive the raw end of the deal from this small wrinkle in time is my mentor, a person that I no longer consider to be all that great and I held him/her dear to my heart for all those years.

It sucks growing up, some times, because it's no longer rehearsal on the stage of life. It's for reals, man. But like my sister, Misty, she lives in the real. When I released Spring's Beginning, Mom, as all moms do, tried to get the sibling to say how happy they are for one another. Misty did her famous eye roll and scoffed at Mom. Mom asked her why she was acting that way and Misty's reply was one of the best compliments I have ever received. She said, "Because I'm not surprised. If Jenny says that she's going to publish a book, then she's going to do it, and she did." Thanks, Misty. I love you very much. And to my husband, Phillip, thanks for keeping it real and keeping me true to myself. What would I be without you?