Earlier this week NASA released photos taken from their Lunar Reconnaisance Vehicle of the various Apollo landing missions including footprints left behind in 1972. The prints are clearly visible as are the tracks from the lunar rover and scientists speculate that those prints will probably stick around for a million years unless disturbed by a meteor or other celestrial disturbance.
It’s astounding to me that those prints from two years after my birth are still very visible. If they were a sneaker impression we’d be able to identify the brand by the impression of the sole. The lunar surface is not affected by weathering the same way the Earth’s surface is so the impressions made by man will last possibly longer than we will.
Those impressions also made me think about the marks that are made on us by those that love us. The first impressions on us are from those who raised us. My household growing up was ruled by my mother. My brothers and I towed the line for her and if we didn’t she informed my father, whose belt was always at the ready if his bride told him his sons needed correcting. My father was not home very much. He worked all day and then had either community obligations absorbing his evening hours or he was attending night classes at Trenton State.
So my mom was left to rule the roost and control the three boys that were within it. My mom was always at my father for not being home enough and then to make herself feel better she would feed her emotions with food. Emotional eating was part parcel at Murphy’s alley and my mom passed those bad eating habits onto us.
I remember a comedien doing a routine one time about what kind of mom would you want to have when you get hurt or upset–a fat mom or a skinny mom. A skinny mom would give you celery and tell you to exercise and a fat mom would give you donuts and hugs. Who wouldn’t want a donut hug? A sugar high combined with emotional release is a combination that celery sticks can’t match. My mom was a fat mom and for most of my childhood there was an abundance of junk food in the pantry. There were maybe two different times in the 70’s early 80’s when my mom was on a health food kick and there was Crazy Richard’s peanut butter and wheat bread in the house, but for the most part it was chips, ice cream and tastykakes. Enough sugar to tackle any emotional breakdown and heal any hurt.
The impressions she made would linger on the surface of my psyche for 40 years. When I would get stressed food became my friend. When I felt like I didn’t fit in, food became my friend. When life wasn’t easy, food became my friend. So as a preteen/teenager, food and I were best buds! And I have been overweight ever since that time. The impressions left were deep; it’s only been my own celestial event that helped lessen them.
My celestrial event came from watching my wife improve her health and me realizing that if I didn’t improve, my time with her would be cut short! That epiphany was like a meteor disturbing the million year old emotional scarred dusty surface of my soul.
I am so thankful for that revelation and the beautiful thing is how the ripples from my change is impacting those around me.
I came home from work today, headed to Red Robin with the family and then exercised after dinner. The circuit workout felt great! I completed 81 pushups and also did my ab ripper routine.