Whoopie and I are sisters! Soul sisters! Recently, when a friend asked me why I don’t like the Christmas holiday season, I could not articulate a response. I just know that I don’t care for this time of year. If I had my way, I’d hunker down in my comfy bed with a pile of books and endless cups of hot coffee and surface in January.
Today, on The View, Whoopie made similar comments, prefacing her remarks, however, with the question: Do you ever go into a sex slump? Well, yeah, I’ve been in one for decades, but let’s move on. Whoopie explained that she doesn’t like Christmas, that she doesn’t feel pretty, she doesn’t feel happy, she doesn’t feel special this time of year: she just doesn’t feel.
I identified with her. Not only do I know that feeling, but I live that feeling every year.
Once Whoopie opened the topic, it got pretty spicy, but it was interesting to see that Whoopie and I are kinda out there all by our lonesomes. If other people share the total blah to Christmas feeling, they aren’t willing to make it publicly known! And if other people share that “sex slump,” they definitely aren’t going to publicly admit it. Perhaps the two most important things in life are to love Christmas and have an active, happy sex life!
Score: them +2; me zip.
I’m turned off by the shopping; the endless stream of “have-to’s” that permeate the mindset; the parties that are either social payback or business function; the competition to be the Queen of Christmas. I do enjoy driving around at night and looking at all the lights, and I love cooking a big dinner, especially if a pie is part of that process, but the tree? the decorations? the forced togetherness? the fakery? the commercialized music?
Gift me with a season pass.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Dreaming
A Langston Hughes’ poem has been rattling around in my mind these past few days as a kind of retirement ennui overtakes my life.
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Or does it explode?
I have dreams, some of which have been deferred, and other dreams that I cannot realize by myself, such as sharing my life with someone who wants to share his life with me. It’s tricky to find someone you want to be with and who also wants to be with you! I’m not going to spend my days/weeks/months/ years with someone who would rather be somewhere else and with someone else. All that makes is us both miserable. It’s tough to accept that reality and move on, but sometimes, that’s what life offers, regardless of the dream.
I have some dreams that dried up like raisins in the sun, but I like raisins, especially in oatmeal cookies and Eggless, Milkless, Butterless Cake (also called War Cake). Raisins plump nicely when they soak in hot liquid, so drying up like raisins isn’t all bad. The dream is still there; sometimes, it just takes a different form. How you handle that new form is the difference between a dream deferred and a dream realized.
I’ve had dreams that have festered, become damn sore, and then burst open so the pus could cleanse the wound and allow it to heal. Those dreams have knocked me off my feet and left me unable to stand temporarily, but I learned to pick myself up and put my life back together several times over. The next time I felt the festering begin, I knew that I was in for some pain before the injury could heal. I learned that some things have to just work themselves out, but eventually they will, one way or another.
Some dreams give the appearance of being solid, substantial, real—but if they are not cared for properly, they can sour like a piece of meat left out to thaw that stinks up the kitchen. Oh, sure, you can go ahead and prepare it, and even take a bite if you’re a glutton for punishment, but once the meat turns, you might just as well as wrap it in plastic and take it outside because it’s going to stink up the whole house, not just the kitchen, if you leave it on the counter.
Some dreams stay just close enough to be tempting, just close enough that you think there is still going to be a chance for dreams to come true. But if you don’t act on them when the window of opportunity presents itself, not opening the lid on the jam jar because you want to save it for when the time is right, all the sugar comes to the top and ruins the jam. Toss the jam, keep the jar, and next time—enjoy the jam when you get it. There is no better “right time” than right now!
There are dreams that sag, that weigh us down and don’t allow us to move in the direction we need to move. I always wanted happily ever after, but that wasn’t written into my life plan. I’ve watched other people meet their mates, marry, and live reasonably happily ever after, but that option hasn’t been presented to me. When I divorced, I imagined that I would find someone else to share life with, and I waited for it to happen, but I haven’t really even come close! I guess there is a part of me that would rather be reasonably happy single than miserably unhappy married, but I’ve always thought that there could be a between.
Does a dream deferred explode? Does it blow up in our own faces or make us so angry and vengeful that we explode in other people’s faces? Yeah. It’s hard living with disappointment, with having to endure that which we don’t want to endure. It’s awful to have to accept that what we thought our life was going to be isn’t going to be, and no matter how hard we try, no matter what we do (or don’t do), our dream goes up in smoke, but that happens.
It’s no one’s fault; it’s just life.
It’s what we do in response to not getting what we want that makes us the people we are. If we stand up and accept what is, rather than howling about what is not, we can get through this life. It might not be our dream, but sometimes we have to live our reality, rather than continue to wait for our dreams to come true. It could be a really long wait.
It’s about each of us having dreams that disappoint us, dreams that sometimes just fade away, and other times dreams that provide the direction and meaning to our lives. It’s about who we are and who we are to become, and the journey between.
Dream Deferred:
What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?
I have dreams, some of which have been deferred, and other dreams that I cannot realize by myself, such as sharing my life with someone who wants to share his life with me. It’s tricky to find someone you want to be with and who also wants to be with you! I’m not going to spend my days/weeks/months/ years with someone who would rather be somewhere else and with someone else. All that makes is us both miserable. It’s tough to accept that reality and move on, but sometimes, that’s what life offers, regardless of the dream.
I have some dreams that dried up like raisins in the sun, but I like raisins, especially in oatmeal cookies and Eggless, Milkless, Butterless Cake (also called War Cake). Raisins plump nicely when they soak in hot liquid, so drying up like raisins isn’t all bad. The dream is still there; sometimes, it just takes a different form. How you handle that new form is the difference between a dream deferred and a dream realized.
I’ve had dreams that have festered, become damn sore, and then burst open so the pus could cleanse the wound and allow it to heal. Those dreams have knocked me off my feet and left me unable to stand temporarily, but I learned to pick myself up and put my life back together several times over. The next time I felt the festering begin, I knew that I was in for some pain before the injury could heal. I learned that some things have to just work themselves out, but eventually they will, one way or another.
Some dreams give the appearance of being solid, substantial, real—but if they are not cared for properly, they can sour like a piece of meat left out to thaw that stinks up the kitchen. Oh, sure, you can go ahead and prepare it, and even take a bite if you’re a glutton for punishment, but once the meat turns, you might just as well as wrap it in plastic and take it outside because it’s going to stink up the whole house, not just the kitchen, if you leave it on the counter.
Some dreams stay just close enough to be tempting, just close enough that you think there is still going to be a chance for dreams to come true. But if you don’t act on them when the window of opportunity presents itself, not opening the lid on the jam jar because you want to save it for when the time is right, all the sugar comes to the top and ruins the jam. Toss the jam, keep the jar, and next time—enjoy the jam when you get it. There is no better “right time” than right now!
There are dreams that sag, that weigh us down and don’t allow us to move in the direction we need to move. I always wanted happily ever after, but that wasn’t written into my life plan. I’ve watched other people meet their mates, marry, and live reasonably happily ever after, but that option hasn’t been presented to me. When I divorced, I imagined that I would find someone else to share life with, and I waited for it to happen, but I haven’t really even come close! I guess there is a part of me that would rather be reasonably happy single than miserably unhappy married, but I’ve always thought that there could be a between.
Does a dream deferred explode? Does it blow up in our own faces or make us so angry and vengeful that we explode in other people’s faces? Yeah. It’s hard living with disappointment, with having to endure that which we don’t want to endure. It’s awful to have to accept that what we thought our life was going to be isn’t going to be, and no matter how hard we try, no matter what we do (or don’t do), our dream goes up in smoke, but that happens.
It’s no one’s fault; it’s just life.
It’s what we do in response to not getting what we want that makes us the people we are. If we stand up and accept what is, rather than howling about what is not, we can get through this life. It might not be our dream, but sometimes we have to live our reality, rather than continue to wait for our dreams to come true. It could be a really long wait.
It’s about each of us having dreams that disappoint us, dreams that sometimes just fade away, and other times dreams that provide the direction and meaning to our lives. It’s about who we are and who we are to become, and the journey between.
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
No Coincidence
Okay, I’ll admit that I’ve been reading—a lot—since I retired. I enjoy reading crime dramas written by men whose sense of humor interjects itself into the most gruesome crime. Women writers also do an excellent job, especially true crime author Ann Rule, who reverse engineers actual crimes to show how they began, many times years before the actual criminal event/ murder. When it comes to female fiction, no one beats Nora Roberts (writing as J.D. Robb), whose fictional female lieutenant Eve kicks butt and solves crimes, usually with the aid of her uber-cyber savvy hubby, Roarke.
So, this morning, I’m reading about the death of Sean Taylor, a professional football player, who was shot in the groin by an intruder and died early this morning. He leaves behind a girlfriend, 1-year-old daughter, and a history of suspicious behavior that often involved law enforcement.
Hmm, thinks I, as I continue reading the article.
Additionally, his father is a police chief in Florida (explains the rebellion against authority figures). A University of Miami football player was killed one year ago this month; shot, as a matter of fact and lived a couple of miles from today's victim (too coincidental). Eight days ago, an intruder broke into Taylor’s home and left a kitchen knife on the bed (a warning, perhaps). Last night, the intruder came back and finished the job (crime anniversary?).
Now that sounds a whole lot like cause and effect, rather than an unbelievable chain of criminal coincidence.
Yeah, I’d start looking for the links because the investigators in the crime dramas never believe in coincidence. I’m thinking that this murder is simply the next in a chain of events that originated in Florida, in the past, and may be linked to the father, not just to the son, in the present.
And if I’m a football player with those same ties, I’d be upgrading the home security system and asking for personal protection until the shooter is caught.
So, this morning, I’m reading about the death of Sean Taylor, a professional football player, who was shot in the groin by an intruder and died early this morning. He leaves behind a girlfriend, 1-year-old daughter, and a history of suspicious behavior that often involved law enforcement.
Hmm, thinks I, as I continue reading the article.
Additionally, his father is a police chief in Florida (explains the rebellion against authority figures). A University of Miami football player was killed one year ago this month; shot, as a matter of fact and lived a couple of miles from today's victim (too coincidental). Eight days ago, an intruder broke into Taylor’s home and left a kitchen knife on the bed (a warning, perhaps). Last night, the intruder came back and finished the job (crime anniversary?).
Now that sounds a whole lot like cause and effect, rather than an unbelievable chain of criminal coincidence.
Yeah, I’d start looking for the links because the investigators in the crime dramas never believe in coincidence. I’m thinking that this murder is simply the next in a chain of events that originated in Florida, in the past, and may be linked to the father, not just to the son, in the present.
And if I’m a football player with those same ties, I’d be upgrading the home security system and asking for personal protection until the shooter is caught.
Friday, November 23, 2007
'Til Death Do Us Part
The truth of life is more challenging than the illusions. In a video game, the same villains can be obliterated endlessly; in life, once you’re dead, you’re dead. Game over.
Recently, I’ve seen 3 movies on the big screen that provide a graphic experience with the finality of death: In the Valley of Elah, 3:10 to Yuma, and No Country for Old Men. What these three powerful films have in common is a massive dose of reality that is ugly, harsh, hard to watch, and difficult to forget.
War is reality: as long as we have neighbors, we will fight with them; when the school bully picks on a kid, someone will fight for the kid who cannot fight for himself; when someone wants to take from me that which is mine, I will fight to prevent it. Often, the fight ends in death. Real death. No do-over. No second chance. Just instant, final death.
Life is not a video game.
Elah is about the after-effects of war, the desensitization of the warriors who learn to kill or be killed, an instinct that is not easily shut off once it’s engaged. If you want to stay alive in combat, you don’t play nice! You shoot first; you shoot to kill. When you come back from combat, you deal with the morality of your actions. Sometimes, the simplest home-town confrontations escalate into internal mental wars that result in the enemy, even when it’s a drinking buddy out for a night on the town, eliminated.
In 3:10 to Yuma, a battle of wits ensues when a man, a struggling rancher, gives his word to escort a prisoner to the train that will take him back to jail. The accused tells his escort that he’s already broken out of the same prison once, so the viewer acknowledges that the man’s struggle to return the criminal to prison is a fool’s errand. The criminal shoots first, shoots often, and kills what he aims to kill. If the rancher is in his way, he will die, and both of the men know that is truth. However, once the rancher gives his word, it is his bond. Even if it costs him his life.
In No Country, a man takes $2 million that does not belong to him, but which can forever change his life from what it is to what he imagines it to be. Although he is a Viet vet, he is no match for a psychopath who wants the money back simply because it is his. Shoot first; shoot to kill; do not let anything or anyone stand in the way. Few of us are capable of living that truth.
Life is a lesson that continues long after the individuals are gone. Sometimes we get it the first time, but often we have to be retaught—that is, retaught when there is a “next time.” If the lesson fails, often we pay the price with our lives. Filmmakers send that message in a variety of ways, and in these three films the message is graphic, and it is harsh.
The mostly male casts, sparse dialog, and bleak settings impose substance in subtle, but powerful ways that all too often is artifically created in commercial films. It's not just "a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," but more that mankind has to do whatever it takes to get it right, and it's not the same right for every man in every situation. Each of us has to learn when to stand up, when to put our lives on the line for what we know within ourselves is right, even if it costs us our lives, as well as when to walk away.
These characters aren't superheroes--or even heroes--they are just men going through life one day at a time. And then they die.
In each of the films one person asks the question “why,” but there is no why. Life just is; it’s ugly and it’s messy, but whether you do it right or make a mess, you leave behind a lesson that others remember long after you have left.
Unfortunately, that lesson is just as often violent as it is peaceful. More people know Jeffrey Dahmer’s name than know Mother Theresa’s name; Ted Bundy ruined more lives than the local pastor of a small congregation saves.
People live, people die, and the filmmaker tells the story.
Recently, I’ve seen 3 movies on the big screen that provide a graphic experience with the finality of death: In the Valley of Elah, 3:10 to Yuma, and No Country for Old Men. What these three powerful films have in common is a massive dose of reality that is ugly, harsh, hard to watch, and difficult to forget.
War is reality: as long as we have neighbors, we will fight with them; when the school bully picks on a kid, someone will fight for the kid who cannot fight for himself; when someone wants to take from me that which is mine, I will fight to prevent it. Often, the fight ends in death. Real death. No do-over. No second chance. Just instant, final death.
Life is not a video game.
Elah is about the after-effects of war, the desensitization of the warriors who learn to kill or be killed, an instinct that is not easily shut off once it’s engaged. If you want to stay alive in combat, you don’t play nice! You shoot first; you shoot to kill. When you come back from combat, you deal with the morality of your actions. Sometimes, the simplest home-town confrontations escalate into internal mental wars that result in the enemy, even when it’s a drinking buddy out for a night on the town, eliminated.
In 3:10 to Yuma, a battle of wits ensues when a man, a struggling rancher, gives his word to escort a prisoner to the train that will take him back to jail. The accused tells his escort that he’s already broken out of the same prison once, so the viewer acknowledges that the man’s struggle to return the criminal to prison is a fool’s errand. The criminal shoots first, shoots often, and kills what he aims to kill. If the rancher is in his way, he will die, and both of the men know that is truth. However, once the rancher gives his word, it is his bond. Even if it costs him his life.
In No Country, a man takes $2 million that does not belong to him, but which can forever change his life from what it is to what he imagines it to be. Although he is a Viet vet, he is no match for a psychopath who wants the money back simply because it is his. Shoot first; shoot to kill; do not let anything or anyone stand in the way. Few of us are capable of living that truth.
Life is a lesson that continues long after the individuals are gone. Sometimes we get it the first time, but often we have to be retaught—that is, retaught when there is a “next time.” If the lesson fails, often we pay the price with our lives. Filmmakers send that message in a variety of ways, and in these three films the message is graphic, and it is harsh.
The mostly male casts, sparse dialog, and bleak settings impose substance in subtle, but powerful ways that all too often is artifically created in commercial films. It's not just "a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," but more that mankind has to do whatever it takes to get it right, and it's not the same right for every man in every situation. Each of us has to learn when to stand up, when to put our lives on the line for what we know within ourselves is right, even if it costs us our lives, as well as when to walk away.
These characters aren't superheroes--or even heroes--they are just men going through life one day at a time. And then they die.
In each of the films one person asks the question “why,” but there is no why. Life just is; it’s ugly and it’s messy, but whether you do it right or make a mess, you leave behind a lesson that others remember long after you have left.
Unfortunately, that lesson is just as often violent as it is peaceful. More people know Jeffrey Dahmer’s name than know Mother Theresa’s name; Ted Bundy ruined more lives than the local pastor of a small congregation saves.
People live, people die, and the filmmaker tells the story.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
Giving Thanks
A couple of days ago, a friend from college, a former roomie, came out and we went to lunch. It amazed me how quickly we were back in the 1960s, reliving so many moments of our shared history. We don't spend as much time together as we should, especially in the autumn of our lives, but when we are together, we remember why we are still friends.
I traveled up the hill last week to deliver some goodies to a social event another friend was hostessing. She didn't ask, she wouldn't, but I offered. We've traveled many roads together in the time we've shared, some of them filled with joy and laughter, but some of them a trail of tears. I'm happy for her because she's found new joy in a marriage that was a long time coming and richly deserved.
I stopped by another friend's home to see her new swim spa in place within the brick foundation that will become her pool room. She loves to swim and makes a point of driving to visit the only local public pool--an outdoor pool at a nearby high school, which is only open during the summer. Once her swim spa is operating, she'll be able to swim 24/7, if that's what she wants ... and I can't wait to see her in the water, stroking away the stress of the day.
I drove another friend, a newer friend, to her summer home in the mountains, hauling some furniture she was moving in the back of my truck. After we off-loaded that, we spent time together, relaxed time, over a cup of coffee and then some mindless meandering through the village before we headed back to the desert. It was quiet, it was peaceful, it was friendship.
Today, I shared Thanksgiving dinner with another friend, another journey of laughter and tears that has endured so many years. Once, we were young together, and now we're not so young. Our minds are as much friends as our souls, and it's always a special time when we are together. Sometimes, she just lets me come and sit on her seashore because she knows how much I need that to be part of my life. Other times, we run errands--and we often take in a movie and lunch. And she always prays for me, whether I ask her to or not. I usually ask her to--just in case.
Some friends have gone on before me, and I miss them most at the holidays. I lost 3 friends within a year, and it's taken me time to come to grips with that. I don't handle death well, but I really don't handle it well when someone I love dies.
I don't have a long list of friends, but the ones I have are embedded deeply in my soul.
Thank you, my friends.
I traveled up the hill last week to deliver some goodies to a social event another friend was hostessing. She didn't ask, she wouldn't, but I offered. We've traveled many roads together in the time we've shared, some of them filled with joy and laughter, but some of them a trail of tears. I'm happy for her because she's found new joy in a marriage that was a long time coming and richly deserved.
I stopped by another friend's home to see her new swim spa in place within the brick foundation that will become her pool room. She loves to swim and makes a point of driving to visit the only local public pool--an outdoor pool at a nearby high school, which is only open during the summer. Once her swim spa is operating, she'll be able to swim 24/7, if that's what she wants ... and I can't wait to see her in the water, stroking away the stress of the day.
I drove another friend, a newer friend, to her summer home in the mountains, hauling some furniture she was moving in the back of my truck. After we off-loaded that, we spent time together, relaxed time, over a cup of coffee and then some mindless meandering through the village before we headed back to the desert. It was quiet, it was peaceful, it was friendship.
Today, I shared Thanksgiving dinner with another friend, another journey of laughter and tears that has endured so many years. Once, we were young together, and now we're not so young. Our minds are as much friends as our souls, and it's always a special time when we are together. Sometimes, she just lets me come and sit on her seashore because she knows how much I need that to be part of my life. Other times, we run errands--and we often take in a movie and lunch. And she always prays for me, whether I ask her to or not. I usually ask her to--just in case.
Some friends have gone on before me, and I miss them most at the holidays. I lost 3 friends within a year, and it's taken me time to come to grips with that. I don't handle death well, but I really don't handle it well when someone I love dies.
I don't have a long list of friends, but the ones I have are embedded deeply in my soul.
Thank you, my friends.
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