Howdy,
My dad visited us recently.
He has sayings.
One I remember from this trip was: “Go slow, but go, go, go …”
I knew instantly when he said this that I’d be writing something about it, that I’d be using it for a blog post.
Unfortunately for me, I believe this quote expressed so much to me, because I understand.
At least beginning to, which makes me feel old.
The meaning? It’s not much hidden at all, but it sinks in with time—age and injury, and just a bit of rejuvenation, which is the encouraging hope—and it is: “Take your time. You’ll get there, but you must move, and keep moving.” Another way of saying it, use it or lose it.
In the spring my dad had knee-replacement surgery, which has made for a summer of much-improved movement, it seems to me. He’s not fast, though; thus, the “Go slow, but go, go, go …” He’s not trying to be fast: not anymore; his recommendation is, to go slow. But also to go, to keep going, to go, go, go.
You must move—slow, but you must go—and keep moving.
To keep the oil in the joints flowing, without the hard run that can blow things to bits. Things like spinal discs, and herniated things like that (Nacho Libre voice—you’ll have to trust me).
That’s what I know about going slow, but needing to go, to keep going. To rehab and be on my feet and not overly-long sitting in a seat. (We’ve recently been listening to Dr. Seuss’ Oh, the Places You’ll Go!, and, in its beat, it has a wonderful reference to feet—“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose”—and, as you might imagine a few rhythms, so you’ll just have to, oh, go and forgive me. That, and get the short book: it’s great. The John Lithgow audio version is wonderfully done and what we experienced. Boys quoting it in the backseat of the car … which was, silly, really quite neat—whoever you are.)
So, my dad, who says, “Go slow, but go, go, go …” is actually moving quite well, which is swell, previous swelling considered. Yet, as he will tell, he is now hesitant/temporarily-postponing going to getting the other one done. He freely admits the immediate pain (which lasts) and post-op struggle has him gun shy, or should we say knife shy in the scenario of surgery?
He is going slow, but he will go.
And, then … Oh, the Places He’ll Go!
Slow, but go, go, go.
Oh, the places you can go slow.
—Billy
Reading. Writing. Living.
P.S. I get the whole adverb thing with “ly” when it comes to slow and slowly, but who wants to get in the way of rhythm and rhyme, especially in this post?
Word Count: 170,059 / On Pace: 166,650 / Year’s Goal: 200,000
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