What My Mom Taught Me: Just Do The Next Thing

Summary

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Episode Summary: "What My Mom Taught Me: Just Do The Next Thing"

Main Theme & Purpose

In this heartfelt episode, Sasha Stone reflects on her complex relationship with her mother, the generational contrasts between them, and the profound life lesson her mother imparted: "Just do the next thing." Through personal stories and cultural commentary, Sasha explores resilience, the value of hard work, and the nuances of family bonds in a divided political era.

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Key Discussion Points & Insights

1. Family Bonds Across Political Divides

• Sasha introduces the ongoing disconnect between her mother’s and her own political worldviews, highlighting how they consciously avoid political topics to preserve their relationship.
  • "My mom doesn't read this substack. We sit on opposite ends of the great divide, but she doesn't hold my political shift against me, even if she doesn't understand it." (00:15)
  • Notably, Sasha appreciates that her family, despite deep differences, never “went no contact.” (01:40)

2. Mother’s Early Life & Sacrifice

• Sasha traces her mother’s journey from beauty pageant star in her early teens ("at 14, she was pretending to be 16 to compete in beauty pageants" – 02:30) to a single mother of four by 25.
• Sasha candidly describes the hardships her mother faced, dropping out of high school, working nights, and raising children while young and largely unsupported.
• There’s a sense of inherited guilt from recognizing her mother’s deferred dreams: "We felt guilt throughout most of our childhood for having taken her life away from her." (04:40)

3. Childhood in Topanga Canyon

• Rich imagery of a rustic upbringing among animals and nature, contrasted with the era’s “harder, rougher” parenting style.
  • “Back in the 1970s, parents didn’t coddle their kids. We grew up like weeds. We had to learn how to survive.” (05:20)
• Sasha notes her gratitude for the resilience such a life built in her, especially compared to what she sees as overprotected, polarized generations of today. (06:00)

4. Resilience: The Lesson of "Just Do The Next Thing"

• Central to the episode is the refrained advice from her mother: "Just do the next thing."
  • “Her words have often echoed in my mind over the years. Just do the next thing. Keep moving forward.” (06:25)
• Sasha draws a sharp distinction between understanding what shapes a life and blaming one’s parents, expressing nuanced empathy for her mother’s imperfect efforts.

5. Living With & Surmounting Regret and Adversity

• Referencing the film "The Edge" by David Mamet, Sasha shares the message that people “die of shame” because they become paralyzed by regret rather than taking action. (07:02)
  • Notable Quote (from Mamet film):
    • B: “Most people lost in the wilds, they die of shame.” (06:35)
    • C: “And what is that, Charles?”
    • B: “Doing the next thing…” (07:05)

6. The Practicality and Spirituality of ‘The Next Thing’

• For Sasha, “doing the next thing” means simple, necessary acts—getting out of bed, making coffee, walking the dogs—which string together into survival and even renewal. (07:10)
• She notes her mother’s perseverance, advancing from welfare to property owner, and never seeking recognition: "My mom flourished in life by doing the next thing. She never gave up on herself." (09:20)
• Even as her mother ages and faces physical decline, she continues to look for “the next thing” to do, a testament to her enduring resilience. (10:15)

7. Mother’s Legacy & Gratitude

• Sasha closes with deep appreciation that transcends generational and ideological divides:
  • “Happy Mother's Day to my strong, imperfect, glorious mom who will never read this. I send it out to the universe anyway as an appreciation to all moms who aimed for perfection and those who just did the best they could.” (10:55)

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Memorable Moments and Notable Quotes

• “If it does come up and she makes an offhanded comment, it’s like someone lighting a match near a gas leak. We can’t talk about it at all. None of it. And so we don’t.” (01:10)
• “She left for long periods, especially during my middle school years. Sooner or later, she'd come back. She stuck it out…” (09:45)
• "There is always another thing after the next thing." (10:20)
• “Hope your day is full and that you can count your blessings of all you have right in front of you right now.” (11:10)
• Closing benediction: “To thine own self be true.” (11:25)

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Timestamps for Important Segments

• 00:00–01:40 – Introduction; Sasha and her mom's political divide.
• 02:00–05:00 – Mother’s early life: beauty pageants, early motherhood, Topanga childhood.
• 05:00–06:20 – Hard childhood, resilience learned through adversity.
• 06:25–07:20 – “Just do the next thing”; lessons and film reference.
• 07:21–09:20 – Application of the lesson; daily life, Sasha’s work ethic.
• 09:21–10:20 – Mother’s journey: from welfare to real estate owner.
• 10:21–11:10 – Reflections on her mother’s ongoing resilience and gratitude.
• 11:30–15:07 – Musical segment highlighting mother-daughter connection (song lyrics).

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Tone & Language

The episode balances frankness and nostalgia. Sasha’s tone is conversational, intimate, and reflective, alternating between cultural critique and personal vulnerability. She acknowledges pain, struggle, and intergenerational misunderstanding, but offers deep respect and gratitude for her mother’s imperfect but triumphant life.

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Conclusion

Sasha Stone delivers a moving meditation on family, politics, generational change, and enduring resilience. “Just do the next thing” emerges as both practical advice and a powerful philosophy— a legacy from her mother that underpins her own strength in navigating a complicated world. The episode stands as both a tribute to her mother and an ode to all women who persevere, imperfectly but indomitably, through life’s twists and turns.

Transcript

[A]

Welcome to free thinking through the fourth turning. I'm sacha stone. What my mom taught me just do the next thing. My mom doesn't read this substack. We sit on opposite ends of the great divide, but she doesn't hold my political shift against me, even if she doesn't understand it. When I visit her, I often find CNN or BBC filling up the silence. The same messages drone on and Trump is bad. The world is coming to an end. It's all terrible. And there's my mom, absorbing it like a sponge. It's a wonder she talks to me at all. We get along because we studiously avoid any mention of the Orange man or politics. She is always on one side and I am almost always on the other. If it does come up and she makes an offhanded comment, it's like someone lighting a match near a gas leak. We can't talk about it at all. None of it. And so we don't. I'm grateful that politics doesn't define her to the point that she would go no contact with her own daughter. No one in my family went that far. I guess I'm lucky. I think they think I caught a crazy bug and one day I'll go back to normal. So we just tread water until things change. My mother's life wasn't what she wanted it to be, although whose is. She was a bright light who looked like an adult by the age of 12. At 14, she was pretending to be 16 to compete in beauty pageants. Here she is at number one for podcast listeners and newspaper clipping. Los Angeles Times, San Gabriel Valley Edition. These beauties were among reigning valley queens, and my mom at number one. It wouldn't last long, just a few short years, but it must have made her parents proud to see her star rise that fast. She never knew her biological father and still doesn't, but those genes are partly what made her such a stunner for podcast listeners. More photos of my mother in beauty pageants. Not long after, she would meet a man, get pregnant, and drop out of high school. That would never become a marriage and a family. And eventually she'd start working nights at Pandora's Box in Hollywood, where she met my dad, a jazz drummer. My dad would split and she'd be a divorced mom with four kids before the age of 25. She was still too young to understand what she'd done to her life by having us, but over time it would start to sink in. Everything she gave up to raise us instead of chasing her own dreams. It wasn't easy for her, that's for sure, but we had what was kind of like a little farm with goats, chickens and ponies on top of a mountain in Topanga Canyon. For podcast listeners, some pictures of our old house Because I grew up in the era of blaming your parents for your bad childhood, we didn't spend a lot of time thanking them for giving us life at all. We were too busy looking at what was wrong. But I can't pretend it was all sunshine and roses either. It wasn't. It was painful and explains why my life is the way it is now, at least partly. Understanding what shaped my life is different from blaming my mom, who really did the best she could under the circumstances. We felt guilt throughout most of our childhood for having taken her life away from her. She gave up everything it felt like, but now I bet she can't imagine her life without us. Back in the 1970s, parents didn't coddle their kids. We grew up like weeds. We had to learn how to survive. And it wasn't shameful to punish your children or leave them to fend for themselves or teach them hard lessons. It's just how it was. I don't remember being very close to my mom. She didn't comfort me when I cried. If anything, she tried to toughen me up. I was too sensitive for her liking. But I do remember her holding me in the Pacific Ocean, taking me out into the waves to show me that I could do it since I was too afraid. I remember feeling close to her then, and it's one of the only times I felt that way. I was still scared of the water, but I felt safe in her arms. And I'll never forget how warm and soft her skin felt as I clung to her through the crashing waves. The truth is, we were lucky to have that life, at least in the early days before we left Topanga. We spent every morning until night living in the wild. We were always barefoot, always with our hands and feet in nature. I remember plunging into the mud during rainstorms, tasting different kinds of grass, watching the weather turn and the smell of my pony's fur after a long ride. Ultimately, how things changed in the coming decades after Columbine and 9 11, how kids were overprotected. I'm grateful I got the harder, rougher childhood that prepared me for right now, for living through this era of people, mostly online, of of coddled children, of dehumanizing each other in tribal warfare, of cancellations and assassinations, and overly medicated and emotional women who couldn't Handle the election of the Orange man. What I learned from my mom was hard work and resilience. The reason I work every single day and have ever since I started working online over 20 years ago, is my mom. Her words have often echoed in my mind over the years. Just do the next thing. Keep moving forward. Then again, for both of us, work is something we understand. The complications of everyday life, especially relationships, not so much. Just do the next thing is how you manage a messy life, or a broken life, or even a hard life. Something most Americans know nothing about. But if you can just do the next thing, you'll be halfway there. That reminds me of one of my favorite movies, the Edge, written by David Mamet. They decide they have to kill the bear because most people die in the wilderness of shame. They collapse in helplessness because they can't believe they were stupid enough to get themselves into a place where they might not survive. They die of shame.

[B]

I once read an interesting book. It said that most people lost in the wilds, they. They die of shame.

[A]

What?

[B]

Yeah, See? They die of shame. What did I do wrong? How could I have gotten myself into this? And so they sit there and they die because they didn't do the one thing which would have saved their lives.

[C]

And what is that, Charles

[B]

Thinking look,

[A]

doing the next thing means getting out of bed, making the bed, making coffee, walking the dogs, writing something, tweeting something. There's always something to be done. And doing that one thing pulls you along. It is the best way I know, other than praying to live with the idea that one day I will die or one day my mom will die. My mom had to do the next thing because she had no choice. She couldn't waste a day lying around crying about a life she did not plan and didn't want. It might be true that she didn't realize how hard it would be to parent four kids all on her own before the age of 25. It might even be true that at some point she realized she actually wanted to live a life of learning, of expanding her horizons, of becoming someone like those early pageant days of promise. To her credit, she never abandoned us. She left for long periods, especially during my middle school years. Sooner or later, she'd come back. She stuck it out with dental appointments and bought us bikes she couldn't afford that would then get stolen. She gave us a place to live and got us to school. Much of the time perfect. No, but we survived. My mom flourished in life by doing the next thing. She never gave up on herself. She went from welfare to working as a cocktail waitress and then a bartender to earning her real estate license, to becoming a property owner who could then leave pieces of it to all of her children and grandchildren. I can't think of a greater success story of anyone I know personally. She doesn't really see it that way, I don't think. My guess is that she still mourns the person she might have been all those years ago before things changed so dramatically. She doesn't credit herself or pat herself on the back. She just does the next thing for podcast listeners A picture of me and my mom even this morning when I talked to her on the phone with her back problems that have meant she can't move around much anymore. She told me she walked around her yard and everywhere she looked there was something that had to be done. There is always another thing after the next thing. Happy Mother's Day to my strong, imperfect, glorious mom who will never read this. I send it out to the universe anyway as an appreciation to all moms who aimed for perfection and those who just did the best they could. Hope your day is full and that you can count your blessings of all you have right in front of you right now. Thank you for listening to my podcast and Happy Mother's Day. If you like my work, you can head to sashastone.com and leave a tip. There's a link on the main page or become a paid subscriber. You can also write a review. Thank you for all your generous contributions and gifts and letters and comments. I do so appreciate it, especially right now. In about five days I'll be driving across the country to visit my daughter for her birthday as I do every year. And as you know, I'll continue to be writing and recording the whole time. Hope you are having a nice weekend and remember to thine own self be true.

[D]

I'm five years old it's getting cold I've got my big coat on I hear your laughing look up smiling at

[C]

you running around past the pumpkin patch in the tractor eyes but now the

[D]

sky is gold I hug your legs and fall asleep on the way home

[C]

I don't know why all the trees changing the fall But I know you're not scared of anything don't know if Snow White's house is near or far

[D]

away But I know I had the best day with you today. I'm 13 now and don't know how my friends you can be so mean I come home crying and you hold me tight Grab the keys and we

[C]

drive and drive until we found a

[D]

town far enough away and we talk in window shop Til I forgot all

[C]

their names I don't know who I'm gonna talk to now at I know I'm laughing on the car ride home

[D]

with you

[C]

don't know how long it's gonna take to feel okay But I

[D]

know I had the best day with you today.

[C]

I have an excellent father his strength

[D]

is making me strong Got smiles of

[C]

my little brother inside and out he's better than I am I grew up in a pretty house and I had space to run and I

[D]

had the best days with you

[C]

There is a

[D]

video I found from back when I was three you set up a paint set in the kitchen then you're talking

[C]

to me it's the age of princesses

[D]

and pirate ships and the seven dwarfs and daddy's smart and you're the prettiest lady in the whole wide world

[C]

Now I know why all the trees change

[D]

in the fall oh I know you

[C]

were on my side even when I was wrong in my love you've forgiven me your eyes staying back and watching me shining I didn't know if you knew so I'm taking this chance to

[D]

say that I had the best day with you today.