Almost Famous

Last week, I had a call with someone I had never met before. They joined the call, looked at me and said:

“Jenna, you are famous.”

I chuckled.

I am not sure I would describe myself that way, but hearing those words immediately made me think of a movie.

Almost Famous.

It was the last movie I ever watched with my dad.

It was May 2, 2001.

The last song I listened to with him was Tiny Dancer by Elton John. Just after midnight, after I fell asleep, the paramedics showed up at our house.

My dad was gone.

He was only 49 years old. A month earlier, he had been diagnosed with lung cancer that had already spread to his brain.

He had started smoking Marlboro Reds when he was 14 years old. He was shipped off to Vietnam shortly after turning 18, where he was exposed to Agent Orange. He later spent his career in pest control, working around chemicals for years.

His life had not exactly followed a straight path.

He went AWOL in Vietnam. He received a dishonorable discharge. He had a felony on his record. For years, he struggled to hold down a stable job.

Then something changed.

He applied to Disney.

Again. And again. And again.

Until finally, they hired him.

I was lucky enough to witness the transformation that happened during the last six years of his life. And that transformation taught me one of the most important lessons I have ever carried with me:

Your past does not have to determine your future.

My dad also told me that I could do anything I put my mind to.

My husband and kids actually laugh at me when I say this.

Seriously. They laugh in my face.

They tell me every parent says that to their kids. And I always look at them and say:

“But every kid should believe it.”

Because I did.

And I still do.

I believed that if I made good grades, worked hard and built a career, I could create a different life for myself. I had watched my parents struggle financially. Money was a constant source of stress in our home.

I knew I wanted something different.

I also knew it was possible because I had watched my dad change his own life.

So yes, if you know me, you probably know that I will ask the same question multiple times, in different ways, until I find some sort of pathway to "yes."

You can probably blame the way I was raised.

My dad taught me to keep asking.

Keep trying. Keep knocking.

Eventually, someone might open the door.

When my brother turned 50 earlier this year, it was such a surreal moment.

One of us had officially outlived our dad.

It is a weird thing to track. Such a strange milestone to acknowledge.

My brother and I silently celebrated it in our own melancholic way.

We do not really love our birthdays. They are reminders of another year without the people we wish were here to celebrate those milestones with us.

So we acknowledge them. We let the people who love us celebrate on our behalf. And we carry the people we have lost with us.

I know many of you who know me today hear me talk more about losing my mom.

But my dad had a huge impact on my life, too.

He has been gone for 25 years now.

That is longer than the 19 years I had with him.

Twenty-five years without someone who shaped so much of who I became.

And yet, so much of what he taught me is still here.

Today I turn 45.

Four years away from the age my dad was when he died.

That hits differently.

Especially as I continue building this next chapter of my life.

Starting Sweet Lemon People Solutions has been exciting. It has pushed me outside of my comfort zone. It has made me believe in myself in new ways.

There have been plenty of moments where I have wondered what comes next.

Then I think about my dad.

The man who kept applying to Disney until someone finally said yes.

The man who had plenty of reasons to believe his past had already determined his future.

The man who proved otherwise.

So, on my 45th birthday, I want to remind you of something my dad taught me a very long time ago:

You can do anything you put your mind to.

You really can.

Whatever season you are in right now, believe in yourself.

Keep asking. Keep trying. Keep knocking.

Do not let your past convince you that your future has already been written.

And when someone tells you that you cannot do something, remember that sometimes the most important voice you can listen to is your own.

My dad told me I could do anything I put my mind to.

I believed him then.

I believe him now.

I have four more years before I reach the age my dad was when he left this world.

I do not know what those years will hold.

But I know I intend to make them count.

Happy 45th to me.

And Dad, I know you and mom are dancing together again.

I hope you know I am still trying to make you both very proud. ❤️