Pundemonium: Aurelio Goes Fishing

Even while deep inside I contemplate metaphysics and Catholic mysticism; while driving to and from work and elsewhere listening to music ranging from hauntingly, softly beautiful John Michael Talbot, to rather shallow seventies and eighties charters; while bustling about the office trying to meet the needs of a corporate Director, his staff of three-and-half managers, and their own staffs; and while working with my willpower to start jogging/running a mile a day (may have sprained an ankle leaping off a high stream-bank yesterday evening; so what!)…

Even while all this is going on, still there are plenty of even shallower and sillier things happening around me at home, work, on the road, and just in my spinning head. Let’s have yet another look at the office.

Ben Thayer, the above-mentioned half-manager (i.e., his corporate title includes the word "Management", but not "Manager") continues with his own share of twisting our mangled-Saxon language. The other day, he was on the phone with an offsite colleague, discussing a corporate-wide, ongoing management-improvement initiative known as Full-Spectrum Leadership.

Trained in law, highly skilled in IT, and quite the fan of sports (a graduate of
Georgetown, he was a member of "Hoyas' Loyas"), he also has a bit of smarts to him. So on this call, I heard him say, "Do you remember learning in school about how lasers operate? They call it a ‘coherent' light – by controlling that process they're able to make it come out in just one particular spectral color – red, green, and so on. I've got a question: if it's called ‘full-spectrum' leadership, is it the opposite of ‘coherent'?"

I'd love to've heard her response.

Ben also sheds regular rhetorical questions on me, which I derhetoricize by answering. That same day, he walked up to my desk and asked simply, "Do you need more patients for a paradox?"

I responded without a pause, "Yes; twice as many." Ben began walking away silently. I called after him, quoting Robert Heinlein in "All You Zombies" (not to be confused with the eighties song): "And don't forget – ‘any paradox can be paradoctored'."

Recently one early afternoon, he came up to me with his lunch: some kind of sliced-meat-with-greens in toasted bread with some garnishments – I mean, garnishes. He asked, "Who was the comedian who said, ‘I would not join any club sandwich that would have me as its member'?"

As he walked back to his cubicle, I answered idly, "I believe his name was Reuben."

Ben responded instantly: "You and your rye sense of humor!"

I shook my head (though by now I was out of his sight) and observed, "Still sowing your oats, I see."

Our colleague Aurelio, who sees after some of our department's interests in Italy, has been developing a masochistic interest in puns. When I related this exchange to him, he chuckled admiringly and admitted, "I was just listening to Hall and Oates… and they were haulin' oats!"

He's been getting better at this pretty quickly. He emailed me last week (from maybe six cubicles away), asking me to walk down for a pun he'd come up with. So, sure; I went down to see how the student was putting into practice the course of study I'd been teaching him by sorry example.

Earlier that day he'd been laughing about a pun I'd used a while back, but had long since forgotten: How do Germans tie their shoes? Answer: With lots of little knots-ies. This must have inspired him, since now he asked me: "What is Italy's most hated seafood?"

This was so out of the blue that I groped for an answer, before offering the lousy, "Cala-Mario?"

Aurelio chortled in polite condescension, then answered: "No. Mussel-ini."

I gave him the groan that one deserved – I'm proud of the boy!

It's not all pun and games at work, though. I contribute to lightening the general morale by doing my best to keep my candy-bowl full – and not with cheapo, dollar-store third-rate knockoff candies, either. I keep a custom mix of several known brands, trying my best to include at least one or two different dark chocolates in there as well. (Ben and Gülden both like dark; whereas Electra's coworker husband once made a hilarious face of disgust when he ate one unawares.) Indeed, any of the folks from my department (and others, including denizens of several other floors of offices) do their best to deplete the bowl pretty quickly, while grumbling that I never put anything in there that they don't want.

So yesterday, I blinked in amazement at the rapid depletion of this sweet resource as I refilled the bowl once more – just beyond the top – and brought it over to Senior Manager (and boss) Mick. "Look at this!" I marveled. "I brought in two bags of mixed-variety Snickers, a bag of Snickers Dark only, and a bag of Peanut-Butter Cups. And this is all that's left!"

Mick, a regular customer (and still rail-thin) glanced at the bowl. "Brought them in Monday?"

"Thursday, actually," I admitted, and turned to put the bowl on the low ledge atop my cubicle.

This seemed to distress Mick. He vowed, "Then we'll have to pick up the pace."

The Mouse That Wept

Last week I received, and then sent around my circle of closer friends and coworkers, a cute little inspirational piece, interspersed with what looks like children's drawings of children playing; you've probably seen it, or any of thousands of its ilk: 

TODAY'S INSPIRATION

HOW TO STAY YOUNG
1. Throw out nonessential numbers.
This includes age, weight, and height.
Let the doctors worry about them. That is why you pay them.

2. Keep only cheerful friends.
The grouches pull you down.
(Keep this in mind if you are one of those grouches!)

3. Keep learning:
Learn more about the computer, crafts, gardening, whatever.
Never let the brain get idle.
"An idle mind is the devil's workshop." And the devil's name is Alzheimer!

4. Enjoy the simple things

5. Laugh often, long, and loud. Laugh until you have to gasp for breath.
And if you have a friend who makes you laugh, spend lots and lots of time with him or her!

 

6. The tears happen:
Endure, grieve, and move on.
LIVE while you are alive.

7. Surround yourself with what you love:
Whether it's family, pets, keepsakes, music, plants, hobbies, whatever.
Your home is your refuge.

 

8. Cherish your health:
If it is good, preserve it.
If it is unstable, improve it.
If it is beyond what you can improve, get help.

9. Don't take guilt trips.
Instead, take a trip to the mall, even to another country, but NOT to where the guilt is.

10. Tell the people you love that you love them, at every opportunity.

And if you don't send this to at least four people - who cares?
But do share this with someone.

Conservative friend Anon E. Mouse is good for sending these out, too – and sometimes I'll pounce on her gently for assuming that the Dalai Lama, or Saint Thérèse, has ever had time to write such treacle. Still, some folks like a high-sugar e-diet, so who am I to deny them?

Anyway, I generally include her when I pass one along; she responded to this one:

Sent: Wednesday, May 02, 2007 9:44 AM

Thanks AgingChild, funny how on days when you really need encouragement emails seem to appear out of nowhere. Thanks earthly angel. Regards,
Anon E. Mouse

I answered:

Sent: Wednesday, May 02, 2007 10:00 AM

Glad to pass along, of course! Remember from kindergarten: if it's a fun toy, or a giggle-making joke or inspiration, share it with the rest of the class so everyone can enjoy it!

But "angel"? Plllpp! Wrong window, ma'am. I just pray to be His clean and simple vessel or/and conduit. Trouble is, my own agenda too often clogs the pipe, so at times too little of the good stuff comes through; sigh.

Come to think of it, though, that doesn't stand in His way – if I'm supposed to pass along a good word to someone who needs it, the word gets through anyway… and He gives me a hug, too, on His way past to picking up the person in greatest need of being held and embraced.

Even being peripheral is a little blessing in itself. Amazing how much He has to go around!!

Regards,

AgingChild

But it wasn't simply a matter of a merely lousy day Mouse was having:

Sent: Wednesday, May 02, 2007 10:10 AM

Yea, I do remember AC. Sometimes just don't know how to handle disappearances by the ones I love. It's Carlie the impish 6 month old corgi who weighs in at about 12 lbs. She's missing since sometime yesterday, but this isn't the first time. Last time we lost her was when it was really cold in January and she was 5 lbs.; F2 [Mouse's husband] found her with the goats. This time he's looked in all the fields, went to the neighbors and no Carlie. I have a very hard time with this freedom bit for the pups. We have foxes and maybe even coyotes around. I've already lost 2 cats, Raffi the first month after moving in and Quilla his sister in January right after Carlie was lost and then found. I'm not sure I can continue with this emotional rollercoaster ride. Regards,
Anon

I'm no real dog person. I'm the odd (straight) man who really likes cats, and has no desire to have a dog – though I'll play with friends' and neighbors'. So my empathy wasn't as sensitive as she needed, but I was still able to put my heart in her place:

Sent: Wednesday, May 02, 2007 11:57 AM

My friend, to say that "animals'll be animals" is no consolation when a warm, fuzzy, and affectionate – and vulnerable – critter is gone and, for all you know, just might be lost forever.

One of your own most awesome traits is the size of your heart; you see it right away in how you've embraced F2 and his kids… and in how you really worried about that ahead of time, too. You've seen it, too, in aching for your parents' health, and tears over the passing of your last dog. The cost to you of such a heart is, of course, that this deep-loving heart can also be deeply wounded.

You know that there simply is only so much you can do for these four-legged charges of yours: feed, clean, and shelter them; train and play with them; teach them where the boundaries are… and of course love them totally. Yet short of chaining them down, locking them up 24/7, and keeping every one of them on half-foot leashes, they are still at the mercy of nature: weather, instincts, and so on.

And each time one of them steps outside – where wilder, colder, more aggressive creatures lurk – your animals do take a risk, of course… and they take your big and vulnerable heart with them. You can't change this about yourself without obliterating a very essential piece of what makes you… you. This is a big part, too, of what your husband and children love about you (as do your friends and colleagues). The hurt is okay.

I don't know if our pets and other animals have guardian angels – although some are most definitely our own earthly guardians. Rest assured that God has entrusted them to you, and does expect each of you to be their physical caretaker here on Earth (and knows you can do this beautifully well). So you do want to be sure you're fulfilling this role as their caretakers. And indeed, you do already do all you arguably can to ensure their safety, security, and good health.

Beyond that, and your reasonable peace of mind, trust them back to Him and His care when they're out of your reach. And let it be a consolation, not frustration, that He didn't make you master/mistress of Earth, with the power to protect every child and animal from all threats… we're each expected to do what we can as vulnerable creatures ourselves, but we still have to leave the rest to Him.

The five hardest and scariest words for me to embrace are "Jesus, I trust in You" – and I've been working at that for several years now. It's not easy… but it does reassure us of His embrace those times a warm-and-fuzzy creature has returned to Him… as he will do for those whom we love when our own moment is in His hands.

Regards,

AC

Generally my words can give Anon some deep consolation. But not this time:

Sent: Wednesday, May 02, 2007 4:33 PM

Hi Acey, Thanks for your encouraging email, but I don't know if I can go through the emotional continual upheaval. Just in case you wanted to see the trio, from right to left is Marlo (½ corgi, ½ beagle), Milar (9 mo. Male) & Carlie (6 mo. Female) who at the moment is lost.

Just made up some lost flyers to post; F2 walked through the woods around our neighbors property; no luck yet. Regards,
Anon E. Mouse

There was little more I could offer her. I don't have the power to cause stray animals to return home. I can pray for them, too, but the world can be cruel and a lot more black-and-white and uncompassionate where animals are involved.

Sent: Wednesday, May 02, 2007 5:01 PM

How cute! Of course they'd win and keep your heart!

Marlo really does look part beagle! And your other two corgis look a bit like short-legged, short-haired shelties with more muscle. Thanks, and good luck to both of – all three of – you; thank God also that you each have the other to lean on for strength while waiting (and working) for Carlie's return.

Regards,

AgingChild

I've heard nothing more since, so I assume Carlie's still lost. I think God gave us animals to show us examples of total love and devotion (and at times utter dependence), and also to showcase for us the painful need to let a loved one go when s/he's out of our protecting arms and sight.

All things, and all living beings especially, return to God. This can be a bit easier to bear when we remember that God is closer to us than our own heartbeat… and so if our loved one – be s/he pet, friend, parent, child – is no farther away. Sometimes you don't even need to close your eyes. Why, the tears can leak out quite nicely even if they're wide open.

Open Heart, Open Mind: Closed Door

I mentioned last week how some email correspondence has had me contemplating (and pontificating on) the nature of relationships, particularly one-on-one, marital (or marriage-bound) relationships. I did want this once, very badly – as I think Erich Segal once said, while too many married men wish they were single again, I as a single man long wished to be married again.

Almost twenty years ago, and for a handful of too-brief years afterward, I had the opportunity – and encouragement from her – to do so, and should have, should have, should have. But I was utterly stupid, stubborn, and selfish. And that door closed for me for good almost fifteen years ago, with me weeping on my daughter's shoulder in an airport, an intercontinental jet having just disappeared from view, taking my heart with it.

But never mind the melancholia; I carry that regret to the grave, its impact has shaped the course of my life from that day (before, actually), and its effect has left my heart unable to reciprocate fairly, considerately, and openly with a loving woman (and – at least for me – men are out of the question).

So in my own personal terms, as I've mentioned before, my mind and heart and soul are set on the priesthood, or avowed religious (i.e., monk/brother), and I've simply no intention of another such relationship. I can't absolutely assure the universe that a bolt out of the blue won't strike me, and have me taking vows of a very different sort. And women are still beautiful.

But… I want to give more, and to many more, than I could through marrying… and the shambles I was quickly left with, those two times I gave dating a try again since that airport afternoon, have shown me that I can't and shouldn't so give myself away. So I closed the door some years ago.

This I find a relief… and all of womanhood agrees.

About a week and a half ago, Sharon – a Jewish friend of some years – sent me the following email:

Sent: Thursday, April 26, 2007 2:45 PM
Subject: Question

Hi AC, I've a question for you. If you were looking to date again, are there certain requirements you would want; i.e., skinny, Catholic? Reason I'm asking is I work with a woman who is Catholic and she's looking to meet someone. Like me she works for [a contractor] but at [our company's] office in [a nearby town]. Anyway, she's not skinny, which is why I'm asking. Anyway, just thought I'd ask.
Sharon

Bless her furry heart! I answered, most gently (knowing I'd mentioned a desire to take religious vows):

Subject: RE: Possible/Partial Answer

Hi, Sharon!

Out of curiosity more than interest, I've sometimes surfed the Craig's List personals (most of which are spam). Most of the "W4M" ads seem very superficial, or too vague. Yet on the other hand, I suspect most men are very unrealistic in their expectations.

If I were to date again (and I do consider it, but never for long anymore), I know I would be most keen that my victim / brave soul / girlfriend be Catholic (for commonality of faith tradition), or possibly Jewish (for tradition, heritage, and because Judaism has always interested me), since I'd be dating with the objective of finding a life-partner, a la Lennon's "Grow old along with me". But this is behind me; I have to focus on my soul now, not my heart.

If a man in his 30s or 40s, or older, took the time to really think about it realistically, he'd pretty quickly toss the dream of a Pamela Anderson type. We can't live off fantasy any more than we can live healthfully off a diet of steak and ice cream. So both man and woman would have to be cautious (both likely to have been burnt in their own pasts), yet also willing to go out on a limb with honesty: "take me as I am", yet even more so "I want to be better, inside and out… and want someone to grow with".

She should look for a man who is okay with admitting he has flaws in figure, marriage, employment, and so on. Not a real loser, of course, but someone who accepts he is less than perfect, though unwilling to accept that learning and improving are all behind him.

Thus by the same token she should be up front that she's not Twiggy (if anyone remembers her anymore), or Calista Flockhart… yet is also far more than any outward appearance, and does not kowtow to any man's (or woman's) superficial standards. It's healthy, and future-forward focused, to want to better oneself in more than just income… and I find this attractive, and suspect a sensible man would as well. If she sees her flaws, then she's less likely to expect her man to live on his own pedestal.

She might get even more mileage if while being honest about her build/figure, she not focus too greatly on it… and also show a sense of humor (we men desperately need this in our women!) about it. In that vein, I think I'd advertise myself as a "Tigger spirit in a Winnie-the-Pooh body"… except I do usually wear pants out in public. So perhaps she could say she'd "totally failed the Rosie O'Donnell test for reasons of my sweet nature, not figure". (A mere "BBW" says too little.)

Other ideas: "Roseanne Barr without the mouth"; "handyman special"; "a real loving armful"; "just you try wrapping your arms around me!"; and so on – the idea being, of course, to be upbeat, versus beat up.

I hope some of this helps!

AgingChild

And she answered:

Sent: Thursday, April 26, 2007 4:06 PM
Subject: RE: Possible/Partial Answer

Hi Acey, Thanks for the information. I think she will find it very informative. I told her a bit about you and thought I'd try, though I also did mention that you are considering the monastery at some point.

How are things going otherwise with you?

Thank you,
Sharon

Yielding this last from me…

Sent: Thursday, April 26, 2007 4:48 PM
Subject: RE: Possible/Partial Answer

Quite fine; thanks! I really appreciate the "plug" (not to make light at all of your intentions!!). Sometimes I almost wish I could be "available", but I really want to be part of something bigger and greater than any one other person. It sounds like a cheesy cliché to say this, but I want to give what I am and what I know and what I feel… to a whole billion people, and more.

And I continued with a brief summary of my 5K-trudge in Pennsylvania, before signing off:

Anyway, take care… me, I'm still catching my breath!

AgingChild

It still feels dismissive, you know. I do appreciate that a matchmaker considered me… and a little bit of me inside actually hurts, having turned the unknown woman away by gently pointing out that closed door – when for so much of the last thirty years I longed to be half of a whole, and had left the same door wide open, waiting.

Now so open a door would be too distracting: the noise of traffic and feet passing by outside, wind blowing dried leaves (and spring tree-blossom-petals!) and litter and rain and snow and startled birds in.

Still, the curtains are pulled back, and I keep a light on. But it's so I can better see what I'm doing. And whenever I wish, I still can look out the window.

Lovely out there. Now, back to work.

46:31

That's right, folks – I gained nearly two minutes on my last 5K.

This particular run/race/schlep (the latter being more my form) was in that quaint, large small town in west-central Maryland, Frederick – home of an Orioles farm team (more farm than team), the Keys, who are named after erstwhile resident Francis Scott Key. Town's just down the road from Camp David, so some Fridays when I've been in Frederick at just the right (or wrong) time, I've seen Marine One (and a decoy) flying over, northbound. 

Most interestingly, anyway, the evening run was not through the cobblestoned downtown (an awesome little town to stroll through: antiques, restaurants, quaint shops, etc.), but was essentially two laps through a cemetery (where Francis Scott Key is buried, by the way)… with a finish around the Keys outfield.

I'd been trying for weeks to get the rest of the family to join me, starting with older brother Sarge, who ran a 15K right after my last 5K a couple weeks ago. But he'd already registered for an event the next day (tomorrow) and won't ordinarily run on back-to-back days. Younger brother Doc had plans with his daughter; first sister Mew had plans; her athletic son Siege is having knee trouble – though her husband Arn might be able (he didn't). And second sister Alicia is about three months pregnant… and lives in Boston. 

So I turned to family friend and actual Frederick resident, Chuckles. She's legally blind, and writes scripts for various TV shows – from "The Simpsons" to "King of the Hill", "Star Trek", "House", and so on. I hope to begin posting some of her scripts here or on a sister blog I'll set up specifically for her work (which is copyrighted, thank you).

Chuckles' mother and sister are both buried in that cemetery (section QQ), so that may have been her inducement – yes, she joined me for the race/trudge. (My family adopted her – she was once our neighbor – after the sudden passing of her sister, and then her mother, just a few years ago.) She's been ill, having lost (for reasons still unknown, despite some of the best minds at Johns Hopkins throwing their hands up in the air over it) in excess of ninety pounds over the last few years. I think they passed over to me, in fact. 

Her finish time was just over forty-nine minutes… which basically means that I can barely run faster than a seriously ill, blind woman! What's worse, I got passed once by a really cute little Asian-American girl, all five years of her (and her mom). I passed her again, but a little later she passed me once more, and I never saw her again… so I can't even run faster than a five-year-old girl! I'm laughing about it, though. I finished, all right?

Credit, though, goes to brother Sarge (even though he bailed on me!) for getting me started on these things, and another "Sarge" of sorts, neighbor Rosie, whom (along with her well-toned daughter) Chuckles and I almost literally bumped into, milling around and stretching before the start of the race – and an extra brownie point to her for helping me shave off that almost-two minutes. Her daughter is a marathon-runner (and vanished seconds after the starting-gun missed me). Rose is a compact, fifty(?)-something grandmother who serves as drill instructor for a boot-camp style exercise regimen. And like her daughter, she too runs marathons, half-marathons, and so on, with impressive frequency. 

I soon had Chuckles somewhere behind me (and I apologize to her for the view); Rose, though, downshifted and stuck by me the whole way through. She pointed out better methods of breathing, and made other pacing suggestions, all of which I appreciated, since that cemetery had a number of slopes and long hills that my shins and hips made painful note of. Her encouragement and presence by me had me running (well, trotting) for longer spans than I have before, even though the slopes had me walking (though fast) more than I wanted. And at one point Sergeant Rose literally pulled my leg (and ankle) to get some of the shin-splint pain down to a more tolerable level.

This event, by the way, was for many (maybe most?) of the participants, including Rose Jr., an easy warmup for tomorrow's marathon, also in Frederick, Maryland. Pass! But for them it was literally a walk – well, pleasant run – in the park. 

PS: I'll link up some photos once they're online.

PPS: Thanks again, Sergeant Rose!

PPPS: And thanks for putting up with the browbeating, Chuckles – see, even sick and handicapped, you can still almost run faster than a man!

 

Pundemonium: The White and Wrong of the Sweet

I haven't had an internet connection at home since sometime over the weekend. So these last few evenings, I've been trying to figure it out – and I'm not any kind of pro on getting onto the internet, establishing/troubleshooting connections, etc.; I'm much better with programs, and a teeny bit of coding. The connection icon in the system tray showed a signal was getting through at some 11.0 Mbps, or "Excellent"… so why wasn't my older-build Internet Explorer kicking in? 

Dunno. I blew out IE 6.0 and reloaded it from an XP-Pro OS disc I keep handy (and that's another sentence I would have been clueless on a few years ago). No go. Well, then I wiped out the Linksys driver and reinstalled that one, too… nope. So this evening I tried a hardware approach: went to the main router (pronounced "route-er", folks, not "rout-er") and firewall-PC, and began unplugging and replugging various connections, powering down and up, and tested on that unit. 

Sometimes your car refuses to budge, even if you can get the engine started. No, the engine won't start. But lights come on (and someone is home) and bright, radio and HVAC run fine, ditto horn.

Battery seems charged fine, right? Maybe a little corrosion? So you pop the hood, unhook the battery, pour some cola over the terminals, hook back up. On older cars, you take a hammer and tap the starter, maybe turn the fanblade counterclockwise a couple rotations (with the keys out of the ignition!!). Slam the hood, shake the car a bit, maybe kick a tire to make sure the pressure's okay, then get in. 

Car starts fine now. 

There was a debate in front of my desk a day or two ago. Hugo – who rarely touches my candy-bowl – sneered at the mini white KitKat bars (also have dark and regular, plus Reese's mini-cups). He insisted white chocolate isn't chocolate, and began reeling off some regulations covering composition, etc. 

Ben's ears sprang up, and so did he; he strolled up to the desk. "Why don't you weigh in on this," I invited. "So to speak." (Pun ignored.) 

Ben pointed out that his wife is some kind of badge-carrying official with Federal Consumer Affairs Bureau, and – while helping himself to several mini-cups – he began spewing out more regulations, including recent changes… but didn't seem to be coming down on Hugo's side. 

At this point Priscilla wandered up – the talk of chocolate had had an irresistible subliminal effect on her. While she was reaching for a sweet, Ben flung a rolled-up foil wrapper at Hugo, and missed by a country yard. "Terrible!" he admitted, admitting, "That's because I'm not left-handed." Then, glint in eye: "But I'm still sinister." 

"At least half," I corrected, remembering – like Ben – the Latin origin of the word. 

Hugo, firmly: "No; he's all sinister." 

My face must have lit up at this instant, as I suddenly recalled a real stinker of a joke. Ben's eyes grew wide, and he blurted "Uh-oh." He whirled about and began hustling away (this is impressive in a six-foot-plus man who must weigh in excess of 300 pounds). "That's it!" came his voice, already around the corner – "I'm out of here!" 

(This is much the same reaction my older daughter takes when she sees me struck by stinkfully punny inspiration… though she usually immediately orders me to keep my mouth shut to avoid the embarrassment.) 

So I turned to Ben, who was still standing in front of my desk (when did Priscilla disappear? I think she got caught up in Hugo's wake), smiling in curiosity at what kind of rotten egg I was about to lay. 

I asked him, "Did you hear about that guy who had his whole left side amputated?" 

Ben tilted his head back, thinking gamely (though lamely), but he quickly conceded, and rolled his eyes back to me in acknowledgement. I continued, "He's all right now." 

Without comment Ben about-faced and began dragging himself in obvious pain back to his cubicle – but then stopped, and leaned into the cubicle of the boss who sits behind me. (Mick and Ben have done dueling puns more than once; Mick – tall, thin, half-bald, soft-spoken; could be a career accountant – is so dry in the humor department that he practically crackles when he speaks; utter deadpan and thus easily underestimated.) 

I couldn't see, but Ben must have leered mock-tauntingly. "Did Mick hear that one?" 

Mick, taciturn; very dryly: "I heard." 

My eyes widened – this man's hand-in-glove with our mutual boss, the Director, and with his boss, one of the VPs. "Sorry, Mick!" I blurted. 

Mick: "Not as sorry as I am." 

I think earlier that same day, Mick and Ben were urging me to go to Florida and get a job on DisneyWorld's Jungle Cruise ride, since the "guides" toss about outrageous puns. Having been no nearer Florida than Savannah (and that twenty-one years ago), I gave them a "Do tell" look. 

Mick took the ball. "Why did Captain Hook cross the road?" 

I shook my head in bafflement; I couldn't make a connection. "Because he was wearing alligator shoes?" I offered weakly. 

Mick shook his head. "To get to the second hand store." 

This morning… was it Priscilla? No; Gülden, my lovely Turkish coworker. Gülden brought in something I dubbed a Danish pizza: picture something pizza-sized, -shaped, and -cut… but the whole thing is a Danish breakfast-pastry, each slice being filled with cherry, apple, or cheese. Yum! 

By close to quitting time, there was still one slice left, and Priscilla set it out on the group-table near my cubicle. With Hugo standing nearby, Ben made a beeline for it… and cut it in half. I verbally pounced and gave him a hard time, with apologies to Priscilla: "No man does that! If I ever see half a donut, half a cookie or brownie, or half a slice of Danish there on the table, I know one of our female coworkers cut it – it allows her to have it, yet not have it." But a man doesn't do that! We just gulp it down; we wimpier men might wash it down with a diet cola, of course… 

Ben grinned. "But I cut off the good part", he said, muffled. He pointed at the remainder that Priscilla had dropped on my desk. Sure enough, it was just crust and sweet glaze; Ben had purloined the much sweeter apple filling, and little else. 

"You get your man-card back!" I proudly proclaimed. He was redeemed! 

"And he screwed everyone over," Hugo pointed out. 

"Right!" I added. "Now that was lawyerly."

 

Open Heart, Open Mind: The Doctor is IN

Among odder things I'm finding myself engaged in, the latest seems to have been finding myself writing on deep interpersonal relationships. While I'm hardly qualified academically, and my heart's track record is lousy, still I've been able to draw what may be good insights and suggestions from somewhere. So when posed a question or two, I may be able to have some suggestions.

I'm going to post a few of those here. First off is my interchange (over the course of a few days) with a newer female acquaintance who seemed to be on slightly shaky ground in her heart and life. I haven't asked her permission to post this, and will certainly take it down if requested. Until then, I'm editing a little, and obscuring some of her personal details (I don't know much at all about her personal life). Let's call her Randi (this will be a catch-all name). She asked her questions of a good several people:

Sent: 2007-04-28, 10:52PM EDT

I am just looking for what is a general belief by men... I know some of your answers will be at extremes... but, a unscientific poll is enough for my purposes.

a dear male friend wrote this to me:

I think number one must be the family when it comes down to marriage problems.. the family must be protected financially. They need security. Never trust a man to keep his word. Men say anything to get what they want.

You may not agree but I hope for your daughters sake you are willing to close your eyes to whatever he is doing if he is doing it. Some men need to look around as long as they just look or sample but not leave..

Practical marriage means ignoring many things as long as there is security. It is a very hard reality for a wife to accept. He must be discrete if he is fooling around.

My questions:

1. Is sex outside of a marriage, just an eventual reality that should be accepted?? Or is this just a minority view this man has?...

2. I realize if I choose to be in a nonmongamous relationship, I accept sex outside the marriage, but if monogamy is promised… is it just a lie??? To get what you want??

Thanks for the honesty... I do know that what is written can also apply to women. The real question is ..does monogamy exist or is it just a "ploy" for whatever you want?

Thank you!

So I gave this some time and thought while working on other things, and eventually sent her this:

Subject: RE: Poll

Sure; I'll take a swing at those questions. I may not be an ideal sample, since by nature – a straight, feminist, and celibate male – I'm a definite minority.

Question 1: This is that man's view, and may be his rationalization for cheating on, or wanting to cheat on, his wife. Or, quite differently, he is a true friend, trying to relieve you of some of your own pain from your husband (just guessing!!).

Marriage starts with vows, which generally contain a commitment to spend one's lives together, and focus one's heart exclusively on the other. Men are so configured by God that they're both weak and hungry sexually. Fortunately, we men can be satisfied quite quickly... though never for very long – which is why the marriage had better consist of more than just state-licensed sex! This is where the bond – nurtured, encouraged, taught, cherished – must at its heart be the heart. This means love... and love itself, in some ways, is a healthy selfishness, balanced by trust. And it means laughter, playing, full/rich/deep enjoyment of the other's company outside the bedroom. (Robert Heinlein once said something along the lines of "love is what goes on when you're not sexually aroused".)

It is truly the rare married man who at least doesn't notice, sometimes even look at, beautiful women. However, if he loves his wife (and there is thus a mutual flow of trust), he doesn't seek. Fantasy of another woman is marginally acceptable at best, since in his heart the man is loving someone other than his wife. But the loving man doesn't take even a tiptoe down that path.

I think I'm already moving into Question Two: If both spouses are stepping outside their vows and being intimate with someone else, and doing so with the other spouse's acceptance, I would expect the marriage to fly apart or implode pretty quickly, since it would be too easy to find the non-spouse to be of greater appeal, which leads to resentment in both spouses. And there are bound, as well, to be inner conflicts between the spouse's want/need, and the like of the non-marital partner.

Does all this make sense? Either marriage is cheap and pro-forma and in name only (e.g., for the kids, or reduced-price housing), or it is a lifetime commitment. If it is a lifetime commitment, then stepping outside the vows isn't just "cheating" – it's betrayal. Monogamy has been promised. If the marriage is to be solid and healthy and last a long time (ideally, for life), then it has to orbit and pivot around the emotions (=love) and needs (=intimacy) of each spouse for the other exclusively.

Why should a good, healthy, loving spouse even want "sex outside of the marriage"? A truly loving couple will continue to learn new things about each other, will experiment respectfully with new roles/methods/techniques/locations, etc., to keep it fresh and growing. If things are getting stale, then something is at least slightly wrong inside at least one of the two spouses. Out of love, the two of them will look at this gently and patiently, possibly call in outside help (e.g., counselor, Marriage Encounter, etc.) in extremis to help the two of them get things back on track, or even on a whole new – though mutual, and exclusive! – track.

I believe that it would be extremely unusual for an "open" marriage to last very long. A "marriage" of this sort (i.e., additional partners "on the side", or even extras brought in to expand the couple/coupling)… that will remain strong and vibrant, is as common as socks on a snake. Essentially, there's no such animal. If there is "philandering" going on now, it has to stop, the marital partners need to reconcile, and start taking care of each other all over again. Or the partners have to abandon the concept of trust, which means that any love they have for the other is hollow, likely even a sham.

And functioning on the desire to "get what you want" is selfish, immature, disrespectful, unloving, and an iceberg tearing through the structural integrity of a lovely ship that ought to be able to cross the vast ocean of life, not tear apart and sink to the bottom with all hands.

I hope none of this comes across as harsh... I know it's terribly wordy, and I'm overdue for my zzz's by at least three or four hours. Blasted computer is too distracting.

Take care, and I hope at least this gives you a little bit to think about. Good luck!

AgingChild

She answered me:

Sent: Sunday, April 29, 2007 7:40 AM

Thank you for your answers… neither myself or my daughter are married, but for her she is "scheduled" to enter this marital bond in 3 months... and i fear it isn't the best choice now.

I agree with everything you wrote and appreciate that enough to not "generalize" men in to the category of what this one male friend of mine wrote... now where the men are that hold the same ideals that you write about is the question. At 51, I just about have given up on that being a possibility for me, but don't want to give up or encourage mu daughter to give up on that being a possibility for her. thanks for confirming that she shouldn't.

Hope you slept well and know that at least you restored someone's "faith" that woman are more than a "vessel for sexual pleasure… on demand" for some men.

I wrote back:

Sent: Sunday, April 29, 2007 1:49 PM

I got married at twenty-one to my pregnant, seventeen-year-old girlfriend back in 1982, and barely three years later we were divorcing, though I managed to get custody of our daughter… since I was able to prove to the court that her mom was the spouse stepping outside our marriage. I've long-since forgiven her in my heart, and our girl has turned out beautifully – she got the best possible combination: mom's looks, and dad's mouth… whew!

Your friend really isn't too far off the mark; most of us men are selfish scum. But we don't have to be; it's not an excuse… and hardly absolves us of our honest responsibilities to our wife/girlfriend, our families, and to ourself. Men and women marry as strangers, no matter how long they've known each other… and it quickly becomes too easy to take the other for granted. For instance, if I'd been a better husband and father, my wife would not have been attracted to other men, or at least not chosen to act on those attractions.

Even "shotgun" marriages, such as I had, can last through a long lifetime. I think, now, that the way is to never lose sight of the preciousness of the spouse, and to recognize that even while you love her/him, you won't always like him/her – that is one of the shoals that's claimed many a "ship" of marriage.

After a quarter-century (plus) of utterly stupid decisions on my part, broken hearts in my trail (including my own heart too many times), and the beauty of a woman's backside seen one last time as she walks away forever… I think I know now how to make a marriage last for the rest of my life (and not by forcing my next wife to wring my neck!).

But I'm no longer on the market. I decided almost ten years ago to begin taking steps toward the priesthood (or monastery/abbey) – then tried twice more to date, and both times made an utter mess of things. I want now not to give my heart and my all to one more brave/foolish/trusting woman, but instead give all I am to all the world. (What a cliché!)

Let me be clear, though: women are no less beautiful and fascinating to me than they've been since I was, oh, maybe seven years old.

Anyway, be as supportive of your daughter and her wishes – she is your flesh and blood, and trusts your input. If she's young and pregnant, the deck's stacked against the two of them – so as her mother, you have to do all you can to alleviate some of the inevitable strains and demands barreling down the pike at these kids. Oh, and keep your nose out of it unless requested – but babysit frequently, bring the two/three of them dinner every so often, help out with things they need (not $$, but baby clothing, household goods, occasional groceries), and so on. It needn't be "you and me against the world", from their perspective. Allies and advisors (again, not unsolicited!) and encouragers are heartily welcome.

And if there's no li'l one on the way for them yet, and they're hitching themselves to the wagon out of young love… well, much of the above still applies. If your daughter (and son-in-law to-be) isn't too terribly agnostic or neo-pagan, have the two of them (or even just her) sit down with the minister or counselor at the family church. No? Try the yellow pages – a number of churches offer pastoral counseling.

One of the blessings that graced my life was a Methodist minister's daughter, whom I dated for most of two years. Early on in our relationship, we began going to what amounted to non-marital marital counseling at one of the local Methodist churches. This was deeply enriching and strengthening, and we very nearly didn't make the sad mistake, at the end, of relearning old habits of selfishness… we very nearly did make it, and my life is far richer (as is my Christian/Catholic faith) for the experience of having shared a portion of her life.

Back to your daughter: If these kids are honestly open to advice, you can certainly suggest they hold off a while longer – but it's just as likely that they'd resent this of you, as heed it. You truly may not be able to do much more than love and encourage both of them (and pray for them) – and at their age and yours, that's okay. I would advise that you keep your misgivings mum, Mum… they really need to know that someone they trust believes in them… so do so. Again, they very well may beat the odds – greater miracles happen every day.

And re your own life: if I may suggest further (while conceding like Heinlein that unsolicited, free advice is worth every penny paid): Just be yourself. Do the things you like: knit, hike, sing, pray, play, go to sporting events, go boating and fishing and driving and traveling and taking classes. Have fun! Volunteer at the soup kitchen, at a community cleanup, at a local school.

Don't go looking for someone else. The best men, I suspect, aren't surfing the net or scoping the personals – they're too busy having fun the same way I suggested above. Thus, you put yourself out in front of them in the best possible way (i.e., not trying), and they get to see the wonderful sight of your smiling and being happy and enjoying yourself… and they'll want to be part of that too.

At worst… you'll still be having a wonderful time. I don't need a woman to live a full and rich life; you don't need a man for the same. Paradoxically, if he sees how rich and fulfilled your life is… he and his brothers-in-nature will all be asking you out. And you don't have to say yes, either. But don't be surprised if you find you've landed on a startled (and delighted!) man's lap!

Do it for you first. Here, it's not selfishness: it's taking care of yourself and broadening your very nature, and being, as Objective One. There will be men in your life, in varying degrees – but there can only be one you in your own, and you've got to take care of her… so treat her to a great, 'nother long span of years. You'll have plenty to grin about proudly on your deathbed – and you're nearly guaranteed that a wonderful, weeping man will be holding your hand in your final moments.

Bonus: it's a great example to your daughter and her husband. One more Heinlein paraphrase: live life in big bites!

Regards,

AgingChild

Brother! Where was I when I needed me back in the early eighties? Shoot, even just in the early to mid-nineties!

En Passant: Sticking It to the "Man"

A pair of bumper-stickers seen yesterday: 

NO MORE BU**SH** (spelled exactly like that) 

Annoy a conservative – think for yourself! 

Heh-heh; many days I wish I drove a large box truck… then I might almost have enough space for all the stickers I want to buy and slap on. Failing that, I'll giggle and delight in the stickers other folks have.