I love that feeling of being genuinely surprised by something, someone or even by myself. But, I do not like having surprises pulled on me. There’s a difference. For instance, I made Charlie swear on the sanctity of our marriage that he’d never throw me a surprise birthday party. I honestly don’t think I could recover from being the worst dressed person at my own celebration.
See, I’m a gal who likes to plan, to have all my ducks in a row. And that’s a good thing. I mean, it’s served me well for over sixty-five years. But lately, I’ve come to the realization that sometimes I can get so focused on doing something my way that I get tunnel vision. When I close myself off like that, it prevents me from seeing there might be other ways of doing things, easier ways. I can’t see for forest for the trees. Not good.
I think my Grampy Gilbert said it best. Grampy was a Registered Maine Guide. Folks from away would come up to Maine to go hunting or fishing, and they’d hire him to take them places they could never have found on their own. Story has it, Grampy Gilbert dropped out of school after third grade and came to Maine from Quebec in his teens. He spoke French, of course, and French-ified English or Franglais, as we call it, but, basically, he was illiterate in both languages. However, Grampy was blessed with a love of the outdoors, an amazing internal compass, a knack for showing people a good time and the kind of good old common sense you can’t get from book learning. He just had it in him.
Whenever Grampy took me fishing, we’d get to talking and he could see how bull-headed I could get about stuff. More than once I remember him telling me, “Mon p’tit chou (my little cabbage, doesn’t sound like a term of endearment, but it is), mon p’tit chou, I learn early on, it’s good to have a plan, but don’t be stubborn about it, eh? Keep your eyes open for ‘happy accidents.’”
“Me? I decide to leave Quebec when I’m a young chipper. You know, find me a better life dans les États-Unis. My plan? Go to Woonsocket, and work in the mill like my brother, Henri. Make a lot of money. Marry some fancy gal.”
“But I get to Maine and first, decide to visit my cousin Ralph here in Mahoosuc Mills. And the very next night, at a dance, who do I see across the room? Your grandmother. Mon Dieu, my heart skips a beat. So, I work up my courage and ask her to dance. Sweet thing, she takes pity on me.
When I take her in my arms, c’est ça, eh? We just fit. Right then and there, my big plan flew out the window. Your Mémé was the happy accident that changed my life.”
So I guess it’s always good to be reminded: Live your life with purpose, but stay open to happy accidents.
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
Hear Ida Tell It: Happy Accidents