Sunday, November 15, 2015

Writing what you know....

The advice to writers seems to always have been "write what you know" which for some of us who view our lives as relatively unexciting or mundane is definitely demotivating. At least it always seemed that way. Writing what I know means engaging in significant self-reflection which is always an interesting exercise, even if not compelling or particularly spell-binding.

Writing what I know makes me consider the as yet incomplete arc of my life, and the incredibly "charmed" nature of life thus far. I grew up in a three bedroom, one bath home in a working class neighborhood. I believed myself to be "middle class" until I came into full contact with truly middle class individuals...in grad school. My naivete persisted that long. I realized that the college friends I had who I perceived to be well-off, to be members of some more privileged class were, in fact, the middle class I believed myself to be. Not so....

Looking back, realizing that a relatively parochial, inexperienced young man took his pregnant wife 700 miles from friends and family to pursue a degree at less than 1/3 of his previous compensation with no guarantee of housing was a true "leap of faith," or an act that defies credulity, anyway. So comes the "charmed" nature of this missive. I have been incredibly fortunate to have been surrounded by good, caring, and supportive people all of that time. My grad school friends were outside the room at the hospital where I sweat through my shoes waiting for daughter to be born. Literally, my socks and feet had taken on the dye of my shoes from the hours on my feet, and there they were...for me, for Terri, for my new baby...Charmed.

The life of a graduate student is, as most know, hardly a time of plenty. Terri and I looked forward to the "every other Thursday" pay day when we ordered a pizza, bought a six pack of good beer, and lived "large" for the time. Sometimes I think that was a happier, simpler time when our expectations were not so large and we could find contentment in "small, good, things." I was again fortunate to have wonderful and supportive mentors and supervisors. When the university was on break I would pick up extra hours, I worked "full time" when I could and with Terri's salary as a Nurse we lived well, even buying a new car to deal with the heavy winters we would experience. A new car, during a recession that resulted in friends at home dealing with lay-offs and worse. Help finding quality child care on a very limited income. Exotic holiday dinners with South African ex-pats and hardcore vegetarians. Charmed.


It wasn't the "things" we acquired that make me feel that way, it was the journey from my, our roots in blue-collar working class homes to a world where we sometimes felt like aliens. And again, we were embraced and welcomed and learned a new language of sorts, the way to navigate among those who had not lived pay-to-pay, those for whom a second home or cottage was significantly more than a mobile home "camp" in the mountains to visit in hunting season. But again, not things, but learning to appreciate music and art and intellectual pursuits. People who helped to move me in new directions while respecting my past and values. Charmed.

In this time of "memes" and seemingly inescapable messages on Facebook, Twitter, and the like, one that stood out for me was an eCard that said something to the effect that "happiness is realizing your children are good people." As I look at the incredible people our children have become, I realize once again how rich and fortunate my life has been, wealth/things or not. Charmed.

It is hard for me at times to see myself as I am. I am now older than my maternal grandfather with whom I was very close. Pap was always "old" even though he died at only 57. I had a child's perspective and it is still hard for me to imagine myself as "old" as he was. In my mind's eye I am still somewhere in my 20s-30s, still able to run and lift and play hard...the reality is far from that, and yet I realize again how much I have benefited from a life spent, not in hard labor like my grandfather and dad, but in meaningful work I have enjoyed and continue to enjoy. Charmed.

Terri and I have been married over 35 years now. It is not easy, I know there are people who disparage those who view a marriage as work, but the truth of the matter is that it is work. We have persevered through a lot of changes in that time. We have had difficult moments, and moments of joy. We have said things we wished we hadn't, done things we regret, but we've managed to find what is most important and stay the course. It is not a fairy tale, but fairy tales aren't true. We have worked, and loved, and disagreed, and made the best of things when they were difficult. Maybe it's not charmed, but it is pretty good. Caitlin got married a year ago, Thomas recently got engaged. They are seeing friends marry and start families, and sadly Terri and I have both remarked that these are stages, somewhere along the line friends divorce. You have to make choices about relationships (who keeps the friends?) and how to navigate new waters. But they are prepared. Caitlin, Thomas, and Craig are all solid, and I am very proud of them. Charmed.

I have been battling some personal demons as of late, and I keep coming back to "how can someone who is so fortunate focus on the negative forces in his life?" It makes me feel as though I haven't appreciated all the good things that have transpired. It makes me feel as though I am inadequately grateful for my life. My charmed life.



Sunday, March 8, 2015

Ruminations on March





For some time now I have tried to hold this thought as a mantra, I fail, daily. Not long ago, in a feeble attempt at being clever I was quite unkind, and I regret it. The hearer did not take it to heart, but I knew that my words had been unkind, and I am sorry.

Recently I had occasion to talk with some friends about my interest in Virtue Ethics. While my formal background is limited to a few undergraduate philosophy courses and a grad class in Ethics of Helping Professions, I have been motivated to educate myself in this area informally. I am old enough to have spent a little time under the Baltimore Catechism and was exposed to the four cardinal and three theological virtues while quite young. As I have grown older, I have come to appreciate the role of kindness as the paramount virtue, at least for me.

I am currently un-churched. Not unusual for an American of my age and education. My last formal affiliation was with an Episcopal parish, obviously I was raised a Roman Catholic, but when I identify with anything at all these days, it is usually Unitarian/Universalism. So what does this have to do with virtue, and in particular kindness?

I have written before of my father, my relationship with my dad was not unlike most men I know, we always loved one another, but I acknowledge that we didn't always like one another. Liking the people we love is often very difficult, and we experienced some of that. Respecting one another took more time. My greatest memories of my father are around his almost unfailing and nearly universal kindness. He regarded everyone with respect. He was as unaware of, and as unimpressed with, wealth or status as anyone I ever saw. As I have moved through life I have tried to emulate that behavior, to be kind, even when it is difficult.

Which brings me back to my issue, I was unkind not because someone had been rude or unseemly to me, but because I wanted to make a joke, a bad one admittedly. Humor at the expense of another is cheap. I want to be better, smarter and kinder than that. My Dad was.

What does any of this have to do with March?

I realized while struggling to sleep a few weeks ago that I was feeling a sense of anxiety, something "bad" coming, and I was unsure what brought on this sense of dread. Then it struck me, March has been an unkind month to me.

My Dad died 6 years ago, March 15, 2009, although the massive coronary that took his life occurred on March 7, his birthday, and the birthday of my son and his namesake, Thomas. Two years ago,my Mother also died in March,at the end of a very difficult struggle with Progressive Supranclear Palsy.  March giveth, and March taketh away.

I have admitted to my "unchurched" status, but I am not closed off to trying to understand "why" certain things happen in life. Sunday Morning on CBS aired a segment on "Godwinks" a few weeks ago, expressing a belief that random coincidences are proof of a higher power "winking" at us, to remind us that he/she is watching. I have had a few of those recently. A beautiful article in the NYT by a woman who lost her mother to PSP, finding a scrap of paper with my father's handwriting in among my school papers, so many seemingly random things that bring me back to considering "why." Why now?

As I approach the coming of Spring, I like to share this bit of wisdom from Kurt Vonnegut:

“Hello babies. Welcome to Earth. It's hot in the summer and cold in the winter. It's round and wet and crowded. On the outside, babies, you've got a hundred years here. There's only one rule that I know of, babies-God damn it, you've got to be kind.”