Childhood Honesty Meets Labor Day

When you’re a little kid, at least when I was, your experience of the world around you was, unbeknownst to you, driven at times by mixture of fact and ignorance, served on a plate of absolute honesty. When I was wrong about something I was capable of being wrong on a massive scale. Having arrived at these moments honestly, they’re all okay with me 

Example. My friends and I called each other douchebag way before I had any idea what a douchebag was. When I found out, I was mortified!

Which brings me to today’s holiday, Labor Day. When I was a kid, I was aware of no reason to alter my view that labor day was the day all mother’s tried to have their children. It was their goal. Made all the sense in the world to me.

So, here’s to childhood, and here’s to labor day!

When Harvey and Sadie met

Sadie looked at him and said, “I looked you up online a little. You don’t have any assets.” It wasn’t a question.

Harvey’s jaw wanted to drop, but didn’t. “That’s true.”

“I have assets.”

“I’m happy for you.” What the hell else could he say? He was too busy keeping his sense of humor pinned to the mat. She had large breasts and when she told him she had assets, he could’ve sworn she puffed her chest out. That her breasts had nothing to do with what she meant by assets, he understood. It was simply one of those moments when, alas, the healthiest choice on the table was silencing humor.

They were sitting across from each other at a picnic table in a large town park, boasting some 1,500-square acres. The smell of pine trees turned air into a delicacy. Across the way, kids were playing soccer. It was Spring and you could hear the birds.

Sadie had dark hair parted in the middle. A cataract reached the base of her neck and stayed there.  She continued. “The last man I got serious with had a problem with prenuptial agreements. I need to protect my assets. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“I can, very much so,” Harvey said, and meant. And he meant it. Yes, he didn’t have any in-depth knowledge of life story. However, he knew enough about life to recognize she’d been wounded along the way. Her instinct to protect herself didn’t come from nowhere.

Harvey looked down and then back up at Sadie.

“Sadie, how long would you say we’ve known each other?”

“I don’t know. Between phone conversations, texting in person? Two, three hours maybe?”

“Today is the first day we’ve met face to face, and you’re worrying about prenuptial agreements.”

“No use wasting time.” 

The Healthiest Word

The woman asked me, “Why do you tell people you love them?”

I’d just said, “Love you, brother,” to the man who bagged up some groceries for me. The man always greets me with a smile and a good to see you. I said, “Because that’s how I feel.”
     “But you don’t even know him.” She sounded appalled.
     “I don’t have to know somebody to feel loving towards them.”
     “Nobody ever really feels loving towards someone, unless they know them.”
     “I don’t know what to tell you.”
     “I mean I know when I like somebody, or, sometimes, you know, sometimes you know straight away you don’t like someone.”
     “Hold up.”
     Her head tilts. The movement asks, “What?”
     “How is it knowing you like or don’t like someone without knowing them works, and feeling loving towards someone you don’t know makes no sense to you?”

“It’s two different things.”

He knew the healthiest word and said it. “Okay.”

Two hours later, they were out for a walk. A neighbor down the street had a box of puppies out front so they could get some sun. He watched her face light up with joy when she saw the puppies, hurrying over to get a closer look.

“Honey, look! We can adopt one, she said so. Look at them. Don’t you just love them?!”

He knew the healthiest word, so he smiled and said it. “Okay.”

Say I Love You

federn-abstrakt-bunt-hintergrund

I am 66 now. I’ve had four parents. (I was adopted when I was a baby.) None of my parents made it out of their sixties. Two of the four committed suicide. My concern that I don’t have a lot of time left may stand on shaky ground, but it still stands. Strangely enough, I seem to be okay with that.

If willpower plays a role in all this, then I feel good about my chances of reaching 70 and beyond. But right now we have this Novel Covid 19 virus in our midst, and, it seems, I’m in the at-risk group.

(Point of order, if you please. If, like me, you’ve been walking around with a bullet lodged in the prefrontal cortex of your brain for 35 years, you must own-up to having a bit of practice on the feeling at-risk front.)

So, in brief, what to do? Or, were I wearing a tie at the moment, what is one to do?

First, you accept the reality of the experience you’re in, whatever it is, and, for the love of God, do not judge yourself.

And then, for me, my response is to honor my instinct, and my instinct is to pour as much love and kindness and compassion and, in so many ways, most of all, honesty and loyalty, into how I live my life. Anything less would be a betrayal all that I am as a man, and, of equal importance, it would be a betrayal of everyone I’ve loved in my life, and,a betrayal of those who have been good enough to love me.

Tell those you love that you love them. Say it out loud. I know this is not always easy for some. The reality is, saying it out loud is an act of strength.

No doubt some will already know you love them, and for others, what a beautiful thing to learn. Never ever underestimate how much those words can mean to people.

And then, there is this. Those who love you deserve to hear your voice say it.

(Last but not least, I hope those who love you, tell you. You deserve to hear those words too. Promise. They never get old.)

***

For CJL

A distance maker called bullying

It takes no strength to be a bully. That said, to call those who bully, villains or bad people, misses the mark entirely. Hold people accountable, certainly. But accountability does not mean compassion has no role.  When possible, it does. Very much so. 

Bullying itself is a distance maker as far as I’m concerned. A way of keeping people backed off. Distance makers, as I’ve been bold enough to name them, consist of some behavior, attribute, environmental reality, that keeps people at a distance. Distance makers come in many forms. A former colleague of mine who dealt with a weight challenge told me that some folks put on weight as a way of keeping people away. 

It was pondering that observation that led me to recognize the presence of distance makers and the sizable repertoire of distance makers alive and well in the human family. In short, distance makers, healthy or not in form, are meant to protect us, keep us safe.

Distance makers are everywhere. Yelling, nastiness, sarcasm, name calling, threats, all forms of violence. I can attest to the fact some perfumes and colognes are distance makers. The first time I smelled musk I thought the end of the world had come.

I had a spectacular dance teacher at the Joffrey School of Ballet named Perry Brunson. He taught, Men’s Class. In all my time as a dancer I never met anyone who could teach Men’s Class as brilliantly as Mr. Brunson. On top of that, he was a nice man. A nice man who, before each class, dipped himself into a vat of English Leather, a cologne capable of repulsing anyone who got within a yard of the man.  That said, Mr. Brunson was no bully. He was, in truth, a lovely man, and a teacher I remember with gratitude and great fondness.

Back to bullying. Bullying does not take strength, in my view. I’ve heard some theorize that some bullies are, underneath, cowards. I don’t agree. To call a bully a coward is to inflict judgement, and judgement, when applied in the arena of understanding human beings, distorts reality. 

It may very well be true that many bullies live with fear, a primary antecedent to the bullying in some cases, I would think. But to engage in bullying behavior, while managing fear, is anything but an act of cowardice. In truth, it takes strength to manage both at the same time. And, of course, when you bully, you run the very real risk of someone striking back. Such moments can result in some tough emotional quagmires that can often be worked through, with therapy. 

I’ll tell you now, the therapist who guided me through the end of my first marriage, getting shot, the suicide of my mother and my daughter’s suicide attempt is a New York-based certified social worker.

Bullying is a distance maker. As long as it is present, no human-to-human connection can be a healthy one.