A little self-therapy … soothing my soul with a voice from the past

 

We’re moving into a year in which none of us knows just what may happen, and we’re a little tense. Seems like a good time for something to soothe our souls. Which got us to thinking ... what helps when we need a little self-therapy to ease the mayhem? Join us in these days leading up to 2025 – we’ll post daily Dec. 28-Jan. 1 – as we share some of our favorite ways to get through these troubled times. 

By Mary Kay Roth

About a decade ago we were forced to take away my mom and dad’s car. It was not pretty. My parents were in their 90’s and we feared they were getting dangerous on the road. But after giving up on any sort of reasonable intervention we resorted to nefarious methods: We covertly started hiding their car keys and eventually had their automobile towed away.

My mom understood, more or less, but my father did not take this well.  Over the course of the following months he left me countless phone messages. Every single day. 

Now, I’m going to admit this is weird. But when I’m feeling angst and stress, and even the glory of a daily sunrise fails to provide relief, I rely on my dad’s voice for a session of silly self-therapy.

“Mary, this is your dad, Bob Roth.  Your Pop.  Old Man Roth.  How are you doing?  You know, I went out to the garage to get my car and it’s gone. I’m a little mad, damn it.”

“Mary, this stinks.  This is a bunch of baloney. You better be getting on the stick.”

“Where in the hell is my car? You’re in deep trouble now, deep doo-doo.” 

Eventually, of course, my dad begins to escalate ... cajole ... threaten.

“Mary, that car is still gone. You're a good daughter.  We need that car. Bring it back or your name’s gonna be mud.” 

“Little missy, I’m gonna call the police.”

“You better get your fanny in gear or somebody’s butt’s gonna be in trouble.”

“If you don’t bring back that car you’ll never drive again. You’ll be an outcast forever.” 

One of my very favorites in this long stream of messages comes when my mom apparently breaks in while dad is leaving me a message.

• “Bob, what are you doing?”  
• “Who is this?
• “This is Ardell, your wife.  Bob, forget about that damn car and go get dressed.”   

I have no memory of who told me to save these messages, but I am forever grateful.

And I have no deep analysis for why they make me feel better.  They are pretty fierce, yet whenever I listen – I start giggling and crying all at the same time.

I guess the simplest reason is that I simply love hearing dad’s voice.   

But perhaps the real miracle is, no matter how angry he gets, dad almost always ends each message with “I love you.” 

I’ve always been drawn to this special line in the children’s book, Where the Wild Things Are …  "And Max, the king of all wild things, was lonely and wanted to be where someone loved him best of all."

 

Truly, who needs therapy when you know there are indeed people in the world who loved and who love you best of all.  No matter what. 

“Now, Mary, damn it, bring back that car.  So, how are you doing otherwise? How’s life?”

“Mary, you know I still love you. Call me, sweetheart. Bye, bye.”

“I love you, hon.  I’ll be waiting for your call … about that car …”