In Dirty Dancing, Johnny says, “It’s not on the one, it’s not the mambo. It’s a feeling, a heartbeat.” He then put Baby’s hand over his heart and placed his gently over hers. Then he said, “Gagong, gagong, gagong.” He knew at that moment, teaching her to dance required more than words.
Roger was the teacher in our family. He taught Tyler, Sam, and Max to tie their shoes, swim, and to ride a bike. It’s never been my strength due to my general impatience and lack of skills in instruction. Because Baylee was not even three when Roger passed, I had to teach him to do all those things without Roger’s help.
We were at a Jacksonville High School baseball game when Baylee finally tied his dinosaur high top Converse into the perfect, bunny-ear bow.
“I did it!” His smile was toothless, and his eyebrows were raised high.
I couldn’t speak. It was my greatest accomplishment, until I taught Tye to drive a stick.
Tyler was in college when he got his car which is a standard transmission, so I had to teach him or he wouldn’t be able to use it. We went to a parking lot at The Commons in Jacksonville and he learned. We weren’t happy with each other for some of it until he stalled it quick, hit his chest on the steering wheel, and made it meep. (His horn is the meepiest of all meeps.) We laughed, composed ourselves, and didn’t quit. Now I’m teaching Max how to drive a stick, but words aren’t working.
It’s difficult to teach something to someone when words don’t work. I attempt different ways of saying things in words, because it’s what I know, but it just doesn’t cut it when trying to teach someone to drive a stick.
“Too much clutch,” I say. “Try again.” The Jeep engine cries.
“Too much gas. It shouldn’t sound that loud.”
“OK. I’ll try again,” he says patiently.
“Lift the clutch up half-way and gas it until the Jeep starts moving.” It stalled.
“Don’t let go of the clutch so fast. It’s like a dance.”
He’s getting it and could probably find his way around town if he needed to, but maybe I should have channeled my inner Patrick Swayze and realized that driving a vehicle with a standard transmission isn’t something to be taught with words, it’s a dance with rhythmic heartbeats like gagong, gagong, gagong.
I’m managing on my own teaching the kids. It takes longer and they’ll probably not be as proficient in certain traits, but all of them can tie their shoes, ride a bike, swim, and some can even drive a stick shift.
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It takes a a lot of patience :/\).
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You have been amazing and done amazing with each and every son. You have all gotten through the biggest tragedy and still love and support each other EVERY DAY. Roger is with you in spirit and he’s proud of you, too. I’m so proud of you, too.
Driving a stick….yes, it takes time and there are many, many stalls and jumps and much frustration…but one day, it all clicks and you forget you didn’t know how to do it. If I had to do it today.. even learning 30 years ago, I KNOW it would not be smooth at first for me , either. But it would come abd it will come for Max, too. Breathe ♡♡
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Thank God for automatics. Your uncle lee taught me when we were dating to drive his 440 GTX hot rod, I mostly laid rubber everywhere because of the heavy duty clutch. I really hated stopping on hills!
Max will do just fine because he has a great mom for a teacher.
😘 auntie sue
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Do you have photos?!
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no thank God, i could barely see over the dash…i needed.a pillow.
auntie sue 😂😬
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Dear Max,
Just let the clutch out, and put the pedal to the metal!!!
Love,
Uncle Lee 🙂
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