About Me

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N Y C and Nashville, United States
Hippie, Gypzy, Biker Chixie. Yep, that's me. www.bikerlady.com and www.chromecowgirl.com - my websites and I welcome your comments in this blog called Down the Road a Peace. Because, after all "do you wanna a peace of me?" : ) I'd love to hear your thoughts, so share them here. Personalize the topic and make it your own by sharing your own experience relative to the topic at hand, or let's create a new topic. U R Loved by Me.


My Poppi. John F. Mullins HAPPY FATHER'S DAY!

John F. Mullins is my father. He is the most AMAZING man in the world to me. I love him more than any MAN in the world. Just like I love my mother more than any WOMAN in the world. These two, no matter what the heck kind of B.S. growing up arguments and spats, and junk that got in the way of a decent parental relationship with their kid, who, by the way, is the most outrageous of the bunch, IT'S all good in the hood with us.

Look at how FREAKIN' cool my father is! I just think this dude is the bomb. I mean he was restoring cars as a greaser guy way back when...he's a brilliant artist, too. When I think of how my father sacrificed to put food on the table day after day and dealing with unemployment issues from labor strikes and layoffs, this man is a hero. I remember as a little girl seeing my dad's hands totally scarred and cut-up from day after day working with metal, fabricating and so on for his job. They were permanently stained with oil and grease from working on cars and at his regular job as a "tin-knocker" sheet metal worker.
It wasn't until he retired that his hands actually looked normal.

My father has been dealing with health issues and its hard to for me to be so far away, here in Nashville, slavin' at the due payin gigs, workin hard to make the career a reality so that I can eventually earn a decent living. Oh, he doesn't want me to give up on it...he wants me to be happy.
Then it becomes the question of, when you can't afford to go home to be with you family because you're just working hard to make ends meet and opportunities happen for a better future for yourself, you ask yourself, okay...where's the quality of life anymore? It's a struggle. See, bratty celebrity people like that Paris girl, well, she doesn't EVER have to worry about this sort of stuff. Maybe she'll be blessed with truth and be able to open up her heart to see the reality that folks struggle with.
I remember watching the first series of the Simple Life, and how the two stars were spilling the milk all over the place giggling, whilst they were trying to learn to work a farm. I cringed at the site....thinking of all the hungry mouths around the world. Including ours growing up....see, we didn't have a whole lot of money so milk consumption was carefully monitored...and with a brood of kids and a gallon of milk to last quite awhile, milk was really a luxury...a precious commodity in the Mullins household. Seeing those girls wasting it for television fodder, well, I actually teared up thinking of how hard my father worked and how very challenging it was for he and my mother to keep within a very impossible living budget...for the groceries.
But times have changed. This man is retired and enjoying life rather beautifully with lots of grandkids and amazing children of his own who are all strong, healthy and balanced people. We are blessed with a very loving and awesome BIG family. The best!

I spoke with him yesterday morning and he told me ALL about his wood carving club. How cool is that? I mean, what fun. He carves animals and paints them. The talent this guy has astounds me. He's always getting into something and doesn't only just do it, just to do it, no he takes it to the cosmos and wants to go to the wall, learn everything. He doesn't even buy all the fancy dancy tools....he just uses the most minimal resources and creates masterpieces. That's what I love so much about him too, is his resourcefulness. He's really great at that and was sure to teach his younguns how to be resourceful in this world and to NOT rely on others for things.

My father gets pissed off at the characters that come in to my life and say how they're going to bring my creativity to the light of day, and then don't. They sort of lead me on. I hate that too. I try not to tell them what's going on because it's not fair to get their hopes up like mine get all jacked up by the folks cruising into my life saying that they want to help me with my music, and art stuff, and then don't. I don't even know why they try to help me, quiet honestly, it's all just talk and hype...for what reason? Who knows. But my Poppi loves me no matter what and always trys to offer great words of encouragement.

He's a hard core New Yorker. Born and raised in Queens, New York. We've got other family hailing from Brooklyn...so we're Queensters and Brooklynites. Tough bunch....with some Long Island thrown in there. Borough background. He don't take anybody's sh*t. Smart as a whip but doesn't flaunt it. Sort of surprises people with his intellect. He lets people talk and talk and talk...he's more the quiet observer. Every word he speaks means something. He's got quite a word pool to choose from...but he's a King at taming the tongue. A quiet contemplative with a loaded gun of intellect. It's fun to watch a know it all just drain their vocal cords filling the air with all kinds of nonsense...my father just pops the moment with a paragraph of hard truth, and it just stuns the other person. They don't know what to say but fumble for words because, most often, my father has completely discounted their shallow opinion and blowhard surety with a mere string of words that are pearls of wisdom.

Oh how I MISS being with this man.... He's so much fun to hang around. A good soul. Now, I'm not a daddy's girl. He's not that type of Poppi. He digs everyone of his kids....but everyone's gotta cut their own path. There has NEVER been any handouts. No sir. No ma'ma. No handouts. Earn your keep in life. Take responsibility at day one out of the womb. Hell we didn't even get a college education. There was no money for that. It was earn a trade, save your money, then go to school.

I was out of the house at 17, fumbling through life like a baby chick wandering around the Adirondecks all alone. But, I've always been a hard core survivor type of chick. The folks taught that, or forced that upon us. Sink or swim. But don't call us to send you a life preserver. Preserve your own life, kid. And, you know what, we all turned out pretty cool. I love you madly, Poppi, for this upbringing because I am a strong and powerful, resourceful and rather fearless female as a result. And Emma, you had alot to do with this, too...so thank you.

Poppi, I LOVE YOU MORE THAN WORDS CAN EVEN SAY. Thank you for the gift of Life. You're the coolest Dude!! Thanks for never telling me to act like a lady, when I was always just this girlie, hippie biker chick with Rapunzel-length hair.
I just think you're incredible and I want you to know that I wish I was there with you so much! I pray to GOD that all this hard work results in a wonderful career so that I can afford to come home again and anytime I want to, so that I can be with everybody!!!
Peace Poppi!!!! Much love, your wild child.

1 comment:

Salena said...

Good for people to know.