Waiting For My Real Life To Begin

I saw Colin in Concord last year. With little fanfare, extraordinary wit and music embedded in his redemptive story, he was a joy to experience. 

Catch him if you can.

Sunday Mourning

I used my GoogleMachine to see what the intertubes know about me yesterday. It turns out that I have half-brothers and sisters, one of whom passed away recently.

I'll offer another post on context, but for now, know that by his choice, my biological father abandoned our family when I was two or three years old. He began a new life with a new wife and new children and never looked back as far as I know. I say this with no judgement and very little understanding on how or why such choice are made. But made they are - I'm certain I'm not the only child abandoned by a man in this country - and life goes on.

Flash forward 57 years. My GoogleMachine tells me that Andrea Cicirelli died earlier this year after a 10-year battle with breast cancer. She is survived by her wife and two young children, along with 5 siblings and her parents. A celebration of her life occurred on March 18.

Andrea's obituary tells the story of a strong, courageous and loving person. While I never knew her, somehow this does not surprise me. The picture of Andrea bears striking resemblance to one of my brothers - they could be twins, separated by 15 years. Her surviving children are the ages of my grandchildren.

My heart is full of something of which I cannot yet describe. Sadness for Andrea's immediate family. A sense of loss for my own immediate family. Questions and puzzlement surrounding choices made and promises not kept from decades ago have me wondering if some mysteries are never to be solved.

Yet coincidences abound and must be explored. Many of Andrea's (and I suspect mine) siblings live locally. Her immediate family is in Manchester. The celebration of her life occurred on my birthday - how does that happen?

I am unsure of what to do, so I'll do nothing. At least today. I will contemplate and meditate on this, looking for a path forward that honors my values. I do not want to hurt anyone, especially a young family grieving the loss of someone so special.

Here I am. Guide me.

It Feels Different When You're 5 Years Old

My 5-year old granddaughter told me today she had a loose tooth and could barely wait to lose it!

The cycles of life are simultaneously amusing, ironic and depressing.

Friendship, part trois. The Finale.

One of my imperfections, according to one of my brothers who is quick to remind me, is my ability to take mundane topics and turn them into matters of life and death. I worry that I am doing that with this topic, although I feel I have a bit more to say. So here goes.

Having re-read the previous posts, it appears I have a very cavalier attitude toward friendship. What is more accurate to say is, I have an ambiguous attitude with the word friendship. I have no idea what it really means, to be honest, or what types of relationships it describes, other than in general terms. What is friendship? I don't know, and, quite frankly, probably don't care to know. Does it matter?

I have relationships that some would characterize as friendships. For me, as I age, all relationships seem to satisfy a certain set of criteria:

• Does conversation come easily? Is it awkward to share thoughts and feelings or does it flow?
• Is it reliable? Am I able to offer myself to another person, and vice versa, in easily accessible ways? Is there a desire to be dependable?
• Is our time together enjoyable? Whether we sit at a cafe, take a walk or talk on the phone, are we able to have a good time and share a few laughs?
• Finally, and because relationships are hard work, is there a sense of 'missing' when the relationship is dormant? Is it difficult to rekindle or keep lit, for either of us?

I suppose there's more and I acknowledge to be limited by my lack of expertise on the subject. Both intellectually and with real-life experience. I have had many friends in my life, people with whom I have either entered into their universe or they mine, or perhaps there was a brief union of universes. These friendships of convenience served a deeper purpose, no doubt, but the foundation was built on the very principles that would later undermine the relationship. They were no longer convenient. We no longer worked together. Our kids weren't in band together. You moved and found another church closer to your new home.

I also have legacy friendships. People with whom, as I look back on my formative years, I was closer with than my own family. How could I have shared such intense, personal experiences with people I barely would recognize today? 

My wife has great friendships forged by a relentless desire to not lose touch, to not let go of those common and shared experiences. She regularly gathers with friends from high school for a glass of wine and reminiscing. Her best friend is a woman she met when our son began Tiger Cubs with her son, nearly 30 years ago. This friendship of convenience grew roots and now blossoms. 

I do not think I have the capacity for sustaining friendships that my wife has. Instead, I think I have reached a point where I'm ready to add a new criteria for relationships in my life. 

• Does the relationship recognize, acknowledge and appreciate the limitations we all have as people? Are we willing to accept each other, as flawed beings, with few expectations?

 That is all.

 

On Friendship, part deux

Ford's essay (see the previous post) has me thinking about friendships made, lost and never to be. This is a never to be story.

Many years ago, I had a great job at a factory in Newington, NH. It was a union job with great benefits and pay. It was a job that allowed me to be the sole financial provider for our family and my wife to be home with our two babies. This did not happen without sacrifice as I often worked 12 hour shifts, six days per week, and my family time was not ideal.

We lived in a quiet neighborhood, neighbors close by on either side. Lovely, friendly people, with whom I often exchanged brief greetings and at least waves as we drove by each other. For the most part, and with little effort, I avoided the neighborhood walks and talks and minded my own business.

I should also relay how much I enjoyed playing basketball. I frequently carved out a few hours a week to play at the local gym, though never in an organized adult league. My family was (still is) my life and I had a good sense of where I needed to allocate the rarest of my commodities, time.

My wife, being the thoughtful person she is, gifted me a basketball hoop to install in our driveway. It was terrific - I could burn off some energy playing a sport I loved without leaving the home. The hoop brought me joy without the burden of not 'being around'.

One day, coming home from a long overnight shift, I saw one of my neighbors shooting baskets in my driveway. "Hmm...what is this," I thought, "that's my driveway and my hoop." I parked on the side of the road. My neighbor (let's call him Bob), grabbed the ball and began a conversation with me. It went something like:

Bob: "hey Joe, I hope you don't mind that I was shooting some baskets."

Me: "No - sure, that's fine. As long as the kids aren't trying to sleep."

Bob: "Great. Hey, I was thinking, what do you think about getting together a couple of times a week and shooting some hoops? You know, we could hang out and be friends?"

I'm pausing the conversation here because I'm having second thoughts about telling you the rest of the story. There are some people who would read this and not believe it. My brothers would tell you I'm being far too kind to myself. In any event, let me ask you to refrain from judgement and simply read and observe. Continuing:

Me: "Look, Bob, you're a nice enough guy. I like you and your family. But I work 60 hours a week and have two babies and a wife I don't see enough. I don't have room in my life for a new friendship. But feel free to use the hoop when I'm not around."

With that, I turned and walked into the house, greeted by two toddlers running and jumping into my arms. I never saw Bob in my yard again and our neighborly niceties disappeared. Not on my part, dear reader, but I think Bob was pretty well put off by my response and thought me pretty much an asshole from that point forward. 

All these years later, as I retell this story, I see that Bob was right. I was an asshole neighbor. But I was right too. I was a great dad and at least a mediocre husband (like wine, I've improved in the husband role over the years) and had no time to be a great neighbor or friend. I was perfectly willing to be an average or even slightly below average neighbor. 

Sometimes, for some people, that's not good enough.

Can't We All Just Get Along?

Richard Ford has an excellent essay in the Guardian this morning. It's called Who Needs Friends?

My experiences with friendship are quite different from Ford's, but so many of his observations resonate soundly with me. Is life complete without a 'best friend'? Ford examines this question and so much more in the essay.

I generally like the world and its inhabitants. I am quick to lend a hand, offer a shoulder to cry on (for a few moments, anyway), laugh at stupid jokes (especially my own) and acknowledge the existence of other real people trying to get from one point to another on this planet we share. All the while understanding that, in 100 years, all new people.

There is an inconsistency with friendship in that it takes work when it shouldn't. My friendships require work, I think, because, like Ford, I am slow to reveal myself to others. As an astute observer of other people (just ask me) the friendships that appeal to me are the ones where an indeterminate amount of time can go by without contact or conversation and the friends can pick up right where they left off. Like it was yesterday. I do not often see this and more often see long friendships written off because of an un-returned call or email. Please, people, get a hold of your runaway egos.

I agree with Ford that trust is not all that it's cracked up to be. Society places great emphasis on trust, and having it be said that you are not trusted is weaponized verbal assault - untrustworthy people are akin to emotional lepers. Considering it carefully, should we ever really trust anyone but ourselves to act in our own best interest? Should we be surprised when they don't? I think not. And thinking not saves me a lot of frustration. So the choice to trust or not is rooted in our ability to accept or not accept the human condition of self-interest in its various forms.

Don't misunderstand. I like people. I hope people find some of my characteristics tolerable and can enjoy my company for bursts of time. But I am quite content being a friend to myself, offering what is possible to offer to others and being a good neighbor and fellow citizen, while not expecting too much in return.

Friendship is overrated. Or it's not. You decide.

Namaste

Interesting article in The NY Times this morning about reversing negative thinking. The story makes connections between negative thinking and long-term ill health effects, and the opposite.

My default is to be positive - finding joy where and when I can. I don't know how the population breaks down on this, but in my little world I'm guessing 50/50 at best. For me, it's challenging, at best, and impossible, at worst, to be barraged by a person focused on the negative. Almost like a magnetic polar opposite, I can feel my body physically rejecting the negative vibes.

As my meditation practice has deepened and I've built defenses to negativity, it feels like negative people try harder to penetrate these defenses. Most recently, I've responded with direct conversation about my personal observation of the exchange. I try to be non-judgemental, simply pointing out the many positive things being overlooked by the person with the negative experience. This said, and generally speaking, the result has often been little more than a further rationalization of why the negative impressions are accurate.

I'm not a foolishly positive person, and I'm sure my family could point to many instances of negative imperfections. But the key learning for me has been that worry and negativity rob us of our capacity for joy. Joy is a treasure that must not be easily surrendered. Protect it. Learn the martial arts of the mind that help you develop a sanctuary from the daily barrage of interpersonal negativity and spoon-fed emotions from mass media.

Put the paper down. Turn off the tee vee. Go do something nice for someone. Do something extraordinary for yourself.