Simply the Best

a story to remember Tina Turner + life lessons from the garden

Hi, it’s me. Welcome new readers! I’m glad you’re here. The Pacific Northwest weather has been showing off lately so I spent some time getting my hands dirty — not the corruption or murdering kind of dirty, though. Unfortunately.

Tiny pepper plants. May 2023.

I transplanted out my tomato seedlings, basil, and cucumbers, and direct sowed a bunch of flowers, like zinnias, gem marigolds, and sunflowers. I also went to the garden store to “buy more compost” and “accidentally” bought another blueberry bush to add to my small berry patch, and oops! where did this hellebore come from? I enjoy having a garden to escape into, even if only to spend fifteen minutes pulling weeds when I need a stretch break from sitting at my desk.

I didn’t intend to put my peppers out this early — I usually wait until June. They like temperatures to be much warmer, and I wanted the starts to get bigger. But I’m distracted by Life Things right now and accidentally left them outside all night while hardening them off. Then I left them in direct sunlight all day the next day without gradually working up to it. Then I left them outside all night again.

And again.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

Basically, I forgot about them.

A gardener I sometimes watch on YouTube says you’ll never grow anything from seeds you don’t sow. I like this, because I’m a low-to-medium-risk person and like to know everything’s going to be okay ahead of time before I commit to something. If the peppers don’t thrive, I’ve wasted garden space this season. If the seeds don’t germinate, I end up two weeks behind schedule. If Bryan’s chemo is going to disrupt our summer plans, no thanks. I’ll pass. We’ll just box up the cancer and drop it off at our nearest Amazon Returns location.

I need to be reminded to take a chance, to just wander around and see what happens once in awhile. To just toss the damn seeds in the soil and see what happens.

If I were in charge, I’d have decision paralysis all the time. Should we buy these tickets? Should we make these plans? What if he doesn’t feel good? What if we have to cancel?

Bryan’s different. “I’m going to keep living my life,” he says. I think this is the difference between having cancer and being cancer adjacent. I can still afford to fear the unknown. He lives the unknown every day and just keeps living.

It’s possible I stunted my forgotten pepper starts from too much sun exposure or low temperatures. Or maybe not. But I transplanted them to the garden anyway, so I guess we’ll find out.

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I heard Tina Turner died today.

Growing up an 80s kid, this is the eternal picture I have of Tina in my mind. So sassy! I was mostly a prairie-skirt-wearing church kid who wasn’t allowed to double pierce my ears or wear ripped jeans to church, so this swagger was everything. I loved the leather and denim, the spiky hair. I loved the confidence.

I didn’t understand it then, but I know now, as an adult woman who has lived some life, that Tina earned this swagger. She would have been in her 40s when I was a teenager. I loved my 40s. As Bryan once said, “You know some things, and you still have runway.”

Speaking of Bryan, I remember the first time he called to ask me out on a date. It was 2001 and he’d driven down to Portland with our friend Karl, a writer, to visit another writer friend named Don Miller. He thought they should meet. He encouraged them to keep writing, even though at the time, it didn’t seem to be working out.

The following year, while we waited in the general admission line outside Portland’s Rose Garden to see Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band for The Rising Tour, Bryan would read a dot-matrix print-out of an early draft of a book Don was working on called Blue Like Jazz. It was published a year later and spent 43 weeks on the NY Times best seller list.

Anyway, while on this trip, Bryan stood outside of Powell’s Books to call me. Would I like to have dinner with him when he got back in town? Yes, I said, calmly. I would love that.

Then I hung up the phone, cranked up my stereo, and danced around the room to Simply the Best.

A few months later we were married, and this summer we celebrate 22 years. Not bad for a low-to-medium-risk person, eh?

Thanks, Tina. You were the best.

Until next time,

Jen

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Your Turn

1. Do you have a favorite Tina Turner song and/or memory?

2. Are you a low risk person or high risk person? Bryan is definitely more daring than I am.

3. Do you have a favorite age that you’ve already been? So far mine is mid to late 40s.

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News + Notes 🌼

Related newsletters you may have missed:

• The Garden Is Full of Life Lessons (Mar 2023) - The practice of starting something without knowing how it will end.

• Someone Once Called Me a Thought Leader (Mar 2023) - Imposter Syndrome: Will they finally figure out I don’t belong here?

• No Big Whoop! (Oct 2022) - I have fewer fucks to give than I used to.

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This version of Simply the Best from Schitt’s Creek makes me swoon:

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Bryan played a new song for me in the car the other night as we drove through Seattle with our windows down and the sun roof open. I love that we still share music with each other. Also, our daughter drives my old Prius! 🤣