Books Read – 2015

  1. “Don’t Look Back,” by Karin Fossum
  2. “Knots and Crosses,” by Ian Rankin
  3. “He Who Fears the Wolf,” by Karin Fossum
  4. “The Indian Bride,” by Karin Fossum
  5. “The Return of the Soldier,” by Rebecca West
  6. “Bernard Malamud: A Writer’s Life,” by Phillip Davis
  7. “Black Seconds,” by Karin Fossum
  8. “The Officers’ Ward,” by Marc Dugain
  9. “When the Devil Holds the Candle,” by Karin Fossum
  10. “Bad Intentions,” by Karin Fossum
  11. “The Water’s Edge,” by Karin Fossum
  12. “The Caller,” by Karin Fossum
  13. “The Lighthouse,” by PD James
  14. “Cover Her Face,” by PD James
  15. “A Mind to Murder,” by PD James
  16. “The G File,” by Håkan Nesser
  17. “Shroud for a Nightingale,” by PD James
  18. “Unnatural Causes,” by PD James
  19. “Updike,” by Adam Begley
  20. “From Doon With Death,” by Ruth Wendell
  21. “A Man Called Ove,” by Fredrik Backman
  22. “The Storied Life of AJ Fikry,” by Gabrielle Zevin
  23. “His Family,” by Ernest Poole
  24. “Early Autumn: A Story of a Lady,” by Louis Bromfield
  25. “The Fruit of the Tree,” by Edith Wharton
  26. “The Strange Case of Miss Annie Spragg,” by Louis Bromfield
  27. “Certain People,” by Edith Wharton
  28. “A Son at the Front,” by Edith Wharton
  29. “Sinclair Lewis: Rebel from Main Street,” by Richard R. Lingeman
  30. “Edith Wharton,” by RWB Lewis
  31. “All That Is,” by James Salter
  32. “Light Years,” by James Salter
  33. “The Wright Brothers,” by David McCullough
  34. “Tortilla Flat,” by John Steinbeck
  35. “The Great Bridge: The Epic Story of the Building of the Brooklyn Bridge,” by David McCullough
  36. “East Side Story: A Novel,” by Louis Auchincloss
  37. “Père Goriot,” by Honoré de Balzac
  38. “New England White,” by Stephen L. Carter
  39. “Last Night: Stories,” by James Salter
  40. “Dusk and Other Stories,” by James Salter
  41. “Palace Council,” by Stephen L. Carter
  42. “Jericho’s Fall,” by Stephen L. Carter
  43. “Burning the Days: Recollection,” by James Salter
  44. “Rich Man Poor Man,” by Irwin Shaw
  45. “Voices Of A Summer Day,” by Irwin Shaw
  46. “The History of Tom Jones, a Foundling,” by Henry Fielding
  47. “Our Souls at Night,” by Kent Haruf
  48. “The Road to Los Angeles,” by John Fante
  49. “Sanctuary,” by William Faulkner
  50. “Ask the Dust,” by John Fante
  51. “Dreams from Bunker Hill,” by John Fante
  52. “Redemption,” by Howard Fast

Love for Adele

adele-is-ridiculously-successful-for-her-age

Recently I asked a friend of mine if I was, in fact,  the last person in the United States to have heard about the remarkable singer and person named Adele. His answer, one he offered after he finally stopped laughing, was short and to the point.

“Yes.”

“Crikey!” I said. “I had a feeling.”

If, my dear reader, you are one of my ill-informed brethren, the Adele of which I speak is Adele Laurie Blue Adkins, born May 5, 1988, in Tottenham, anarea in  London, England. She’s 27.

Her first album, “19” was a smash hit. So was her second, “21.” As I write these words, her third album, “25,” is  the biggest selling album in the United States. It is my understanding it was released this November in the states and has now sold about six million copies, in the states.

And it is no wonder. This woman is rich with soul and spirit, and, in her songs, most of which she writes herself, possessed with what I would call an emotional and spiritual fearlessness.

With a voice ranging from center-of-the-soul deep to battle-cry powerful to silk-sweet gentle and more, I am hard pressed to find a place in the emotional and spiritual spectrum that she doesn’t – or can’t – reach.

It occurred to me that her lyrics may not get the credit for emotional honesty they deserve. In a time when honesty, of any kind, frankly, is in short supply on nearly every front, Adele’s lyrics are refreshing and,in some instances, deliciously creative. In “Chasing pavements,” a song she wrote with Eg White, a British musician, songwriter and producer, she sings:

“Should I give up? / Or should I just keep chasin’ pavements / Even if it leads nowhere?”

Then too, anyone on the planet who has had their heart pulverized when a relationship ends knows what she means when, in, “Someone like you,” a song she wrote with musician, songwriter and producer, Dan Wilson, she sings:

“Sometimes it lasts in love but sometimes it hurts instead”

But there is more to this woman that I genuinely love. Her compassion for others, her kindness is readily evident. When she appeared on NBC’s Today Show and saw the hundreds of people packing the streets outside she told them she wished she could come out and hug all of them — and she meant it.

When, for the BBC, she put on a disguise and joined others answering a call for what they believed was for Adele impersonators, her kindness and love for her, well, fellow contestants, once their jaw dropped and they realized who she really was, moved me to tears. Moved Adele and a number of the contestants to tears as well, I might add.

There is something truly joyous watching people’s dreams come true.

What I hope with all my might for Adele is this. That her dreams continue to come true. The she stays surrounded by people who care about her and love her because she is the person she is, not because she is, what the media calls a star. There is a part of me the feels protective of her. She is gloriously unfiltered in the way she interacts with the world around her, and one hopes those around her protect her from the predatory pigs that like to feed of the famous and wealthy. 

Now, one of the things I like about her is she had no problem at all dropping the F-bomb. I happen to be quite fond of the F-bomb and believe it to be a very effective word and enjoy it immensely. I enjoy it most when it is being used to punctuate a moment, or for comedic effect.

I think using it to wound, to back someone off, needs to be done sparingly. However, if anyone ever treats Adele as if she is nothing more than a star and not the genuinely loving and giving person she is, then I would urge her to open the bomb bay doors, and let the F-bombs fly.

Liars & tigers and…well… more liars

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. If you are going to lie to me, for God’s sake, make an effort. Put some work ethic into your bullshit.

Now, if you think maturity in years brings maturity of the mind, think again. I’m 62, and let me tell you, people in my age range spin tales of bullshit so ornate and obvious they’d make teenagers, struggling with how to stay wedded to the truth in a confusing, overwhelming world, feel a little less shitty about themselves.

I mean, anyone can tell a lie, it takes zero talent. In many instances all you have to do is, on some level, decide the person or persons you are lying to are not worthy of respect and then the next thing you have to do is utter anything you know to be false. Takes no talent at all. Rich or poor, short or tall, big or small, male or female, anyone can tell a lie.

What galls me is when people lie to me so transparently. So blatantly, in fact, I’d have to have the IQ of some poor sod who really does think Donald Trump is an honest man not to know they’re lying.

Some years ago a woman I was in a relationship with said she had to leave the relationship because she’d been in relationships for so many years in a row she needed to experience life on her own. Perfectly understandable. Worthy of compassion, were it not for the fact she was already in her next relationship when she mentioned this to me, and were that next relationship not one of  two she would be in in as many months.

And then, of course, there is the woman who goes to great lengths to let me know she is grateful for the safe haven of our friendship, because she is just months out of a long term relationship and is, understandably, in no shape to take on a romantic relationship in the near future. Which makes her decision to put a profile on a dating site announcing a desire to be in relationship all the sadder.

I suppose, on some level, people fear being honest because they think if they really let their truth show, and tell the truth, the world will turn its back on them. The thing is, turning their back on you is not and instinct to be found in someone who genuinely loves you, someone who really is your friend. However, if you lie to them, you leave them little choice.

 

 

 

Fear of intimacy

They are wounded.

Keep this in mind when you see or experience people — or yourself — hiding or running from real intimacy in a relationship.

I am not talking solely about physical intimacy or love-making intimacy. I say love-making intimacy because people have been having sex for years without an iota of emotional and spiritual intimacy to be seen for miles. Physical intimacy, holding hands, holding each other, cuddling, simply touching, can be a steep climb for the badly wounded. Love-making intimacy, even steeper.

Avoiding intimacy takes many forms. One of the more common is when people enter into relationships with partners who are either unable or unwilling to be intimate. At times, this allows the partner seeking intimacy to both bemoan the absence of intimacy on the one hand without ever having to  be intimate on the other. Choosing to be with someone who can’t be intimate can be a way of avoiding intimacy in and of itself. This does not mean either person is aware of the intimacy-avoiding pattern they’re trapped in.

If emotional and spiritual intimacy were physical beings the amount of intimacy being lost could fill the Grand Canyon on a daily basis.

There are real reasons deserving of the deepest respect people fear intimacy. Almost without exception the fear revolves around the following truth. At some point in time, usually in childhood, but not exclusively so, you were in some way taught that being who really really are was dangerous. Emotionally, physically, or sexually dangerous. Someone you loved with all your heart died. You were abused physically, emotionally, spiritually, sexually. Somehow, through no fault of your own (even if you are still making the mistake of holding yourself responsible (You’re not!)), you came to believe truly being yourself with someone else was dangerous.

For an array of reasons, I believed it was dangerous for me to be myself with someone for years. For me, getting free of this fear began with two understandings. First, getting free of this fear meant getting free of my history. Second, who deserves to be in control of my decision making? Me or my history?  I pick me.

Talking about the fear with someone is not only an immense help, it is necessary. Talk to someone: a psychotherapist, a member of clergy, a close friend. Now, for those who believe asking for help is an act of weakness, let me ask you something. If it is an act of weakness to ask for help, then why is it so hard to do? After all, if it was an act of weakness, asking for help would be easy. And, it’s not so much that I think each of us need the help. I think we damn well deserve it. Why? Because you deserve to get free of your history’s decision-making power. Promise.

Open doors

You can open the door to your life to someone with the genuine hope they will enter your life. But, while the instinct to urge someone to explore the offer of friendship, the chance to fall in love chance, the chance to reconnect by, say, healing a wounded bond, can be a muscular one to say the least, it is an instinct better left untouched.

In the first place, if someone enters your life, you’re better off – and so are they – knowing they’ve done so because they really wanted to. Not because you’ve offered up an effective sales pitch of some kind. You want someone to come into your life under their own steam.  

When you’ve opened the door to someone you want to be able to say: I’ve done my part. Your part is all you can do and all you should do. There are a plethora of reasons people don’t walk through an open door: fear of intimacy, guilt, fear of getting hurt, they simply don’t like you, difficulty trusting you are who you say you are,  dishonest lifestyles (some people are not who you think they are), and so on.

For the door to be open to my life one is wise not to enter unless honesty and kindness and two of their tenets. Also, my private life must be a peaceful place. Ain’t no room for emotional or physical violence. This is not to say one can’t angry. Anger is emotion. Violence is behavior. Two vastly different things. The thing is, I do enough battling on the advocacy front, dealing with people (I used the word loosely in this instance) who see people with disabilities as little more than revenue streams. These people are able to sleep well at night knowing they either author, co-author and or carry out positions that will destroy peoples lives and sometimes put those lives at risk. Evil people, in my book.

After all this you might wonder what on earth would possess you to open a door to someone in the first place. Good news. If you do, and if you stay loyal to self, the relationships that can and at times do blossom as a result make all the effort, and, yes, risk taking, worth it. At least that’s my opinion. If I have to walk away, disengage as it were, or in some instances, close the door, as long as I can say and believe I’ve done my part, all is well.