BETTER VERSIONS
Saturday, February 18, 2023
That movie, Alice’s Restaurant's theme by Arlo Guthrie, painted an amusing story: You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant (18:15), but I’m not sure if they served Meat Loaf
I like the notion that “you can get anything you want” to commence any negotiation or pursue a solution to a complex problem.
I woke Thursday feeling weariness that set in from a tough work week, late nights of work and some stress issue factors, but still with my purpose in life and spirit intact.
I began opening emails – a bizarre combo for head-scratching; one, an obvious phishing/scam email from a suspicious source; next, a headline feed about gloomy economic news from an op-ed journalist who wouldn’t know what the trenches looked like if he fell into one, and then an inspiring note from a friend who has come out strong and swinging from some tough times and low points – then a mixed bag of routine feeds, bounces, friends and foes.
But I also woke with fresh clarity as ‘things processed overnight in my head’ confirmed my path and next steps toward solving a pressing problem. Not completely clear yet, but more precise than the day before …
I’ve been thinking about that term, purpose in life, quite a lot lately – because through the muck of things not turning out as expected in so many ways, it causes me to question what I hoped for and recognize where I am in my place, state of mind, relationships, and occupation. Everything is 100% the product of choices and chances. Many of mine, some by others ...
And, for most of my life, it’s been accidental more than purposeful, finding I was delighted at times when I wasn’t at all deserving - and I experienced messy in a cruel way when it shouldn’t be.
However hard we work or correct-feeling decisions we make, we cannot manifest in anyone else the feelings we hope they will have for us. That’s likely the feeling of everyone who has loved and lost and every parent whose children turned into a unique person quite different in many ways, instead of that 2.0 version of themselves.
But there is a flip side to that - coming to grips with reality, the profound feeling of failure for not coming close to your children’s expectations of yourself, figuring out the why is impossible mind-numbing malaise. I second-guess all those ‘what could I have don’t differently?’ options that can drive you crazy because my problems seem tiny in the world, and it’s driving me crazy.
Regarding relationships in my family, I feel that whatever I could or should have done differently, I would have if I’d known – but I didn’t. That might be willful ignorance in the eyes of others, but it was just simple ignorance - mine.
I’ve had marriages and partnerships run their course, leaving me single and divorced. I played my role, a shared one, in raising two wonderful daughters. One is married and has two fantastic children. The other has married, divorced and has no children.
Maybe they, too, will someday look back and second-guess every decision they ever made when they look at a life of choices and question everything.
It’s looking through a long tube, not to see out the other end, but to reply memories of every good thing that happened, the kind that produces tears of joy, and also forced to see the memory of everything gone wrong that brings tears of the other kind to rust out your guts in discomfort, and that erodes your self-worth leaving you weak in the knees and feeling powerless to get things going the right way again.
And it feels like a never-ending pity party without an exit door.
For everyone with closeness and warmth, new people and babies in your life, hold them close every chance you get.
We need to talk about those losses for everyone who has lost someone or lost connection – and I know quite a few who’ve experienced that lately. More than sending condolence notes and attending funerals, we must celebrate. Whether we can describe our purpose or not, our lives are all we have. However, our connections with people who matter are connected to them, but blood and family, or by some other way we’ve become friends and made a connection, are the wealth worth having in the world. I don’t mean that people with fortunes and fame cannot have that too, but if they are focused on the largesse of their lives, they probably aren’t focused as much on those crucial parts we love when they are perfect in our minds, and anguish over when their reality leaves feeling weak and empty.
Of course, we aren’t running on empty; it just feels that way.
Of course, there is a brighter day tomorrow, but today it doesn’t feel that way.
But it’s morning now; getting up is sometimes a mental victory and always an essential physical one, time to carry on doing what the world needs us to do.
I remember a powerful scene from the pandemic period, as things were getting back to normal, waiting for a pizza at Sammy’s. Friend Shirley and I were watching the parade of disappointment on the faces of Skip-the-dishes drivers racing in and racing out again one Friday night. They were mostly men in their 40s driving vehicles you might expect of middle-class families, as opposed to the old-beaters that pizza delivery kids used to drive. This was the different look of a new industry during a once-a-century event, worn on the faces of people struggling to make a little more on each delivery than the gas they would burn. They were staying alive, doing only their best in those times and circumstances. They didn’t tell us because their faces told their stories.
I've never done that work, as most people haven't, but we've all questioned how we could have landed in the situation we found ourselves stuck and unable to get out of our stuck spot of self-induced difficulties.
Whether we wear our pain on our faces or bury them deep, there can be no denying they are part of life, but I struggle to reconcile that they are part of my purpose in life.
My purpose in life, setting aside all work in progress, all successes that loom large in my happy memories, or the painful failings that often loom much larger - has to be what I have yet to do.
It must be so because everything I’ve done has fallen short of what I’ve meant to create with my family. Excusing our past, parents, circumstances and station in life isn’t real, but denying it isn’t either. An examination is critical, and whether or not we attend our little pity party, we have to do as my friend Annie from New Jersey scolded me once, “Mark, build a bridge, and get over it ….”
Life is a go-all-in-or-nothing proposition.
When we are young, that’s easy because we aren’t paying attention to whether we are or not. After all, having fun and working or playing seemed so important, and we did.
When we are in the middle of working at working, parenting and partnering, and working at finding time for play or time for figuring things out, the purpose of it all – being philosophical, is something we are too freaking exhausted to appreciate or take the time.
I often feel younger than my years, but reality wakes me up sometimes. The other day, in an online meeting, I mentioned (I was on the call with five people in their 40s) that I commented on the news that day that Raquel Welch died. Each one didn’t know who she was, yet I can’t imagine anyone in their 60s or older not knowing – which proves nothing. Still, it strikes me, as we feel so obscure and insignificant on this planet: someone who was known for talent, beauty/glamour, and fame - just another person gone, another person most people don’t know anything about, so news of that person's passing does not last long ...
For those readers who’ve been patient and read this long getting to the end of this piece, I’m sorry if it took me too long to get to my point.
I wrote this yesterday, on Friday morning, between 6-7 AM, knowing that between 7-8 AM, I would be writing an email to my daughter Krista wishing her a happy birthday, something I've been anxious about all week.
The first time I wrote her a letter was on her 18th; today, she is 43.
I have nothing to give her but a reminder of constant love for 43 years, steady parenting, extraordinary memories of childhood laughter, trips and special talks – and the ketchup incident.
I had an empty feeling (probably not unusual for divorced dads) of no photos from those pre-divorce years.
Aside from dividing-up assets and obligations, my lawyer and I neglected to ask for any of the pre-divorce childhood photos.
One year on Fathers’ Day, my kids stunned me with a now treasured gift; they assembled from some of their photos.
I open it often, on days like yesterday in particular and realize I’ve fulfilled my purpose in life – to create replacements for ourselves who are better than we are, to live longer than we do. Their generation will, in turn, replace itself with better versions of themselves.
As for my generation's peers and me, I believe there are two ways to see our lives to date:
- too little we can change, too late to change anything meaningful anyhow, too much damage done, too little likelihood we can impact anything with anyone – to self-indulge in playing, travelling, living the dream (or nightmare) we have achieved, tolerating everything, and eventually we’ll wither and be less than a shadow of ourselves the way a muscle will atrophy from not being used
or,
- too much to do, too much that can’t be wasted or left on the shoulders of those who follow, too much to tell our grandchildren in some ways, and to tell others, including our kids, if they hear us – we need to leave a record, a legacy, of what we’ve learned the hard way to save others making those mistakes (so they’ll have more time to make different mistakes),
How you see this may be different from my view, but most people would see the second option as the only choice, point of view and direction to concern them.
In his last few years, I remember asking my dad how he would rate the day – on a scale of 1 to 10 – and he would always say, “It’s a six or better.” Except when he would say, “Don’t ask me today ….”
P.S.: I was having a long-overdue chat with FW the other day; she extracted a promise a while from her husband that he would cut back to 60 hours a week so they could have more time together; it seems he’s cut back to 71.5 from a much higher number, so I guess they’ll have to live longer, eh
Reader feedback:
AND ALL THOSE Eff-words
Mark, you missed a few eff words. My Friday’s work this week is full and making me feel frantic, frazzled and frenzied, and anything I accomplish before the end of the day will be less than fulfilling. But it’s fantastic to have three days of fun, family, and frivolity as a bit of a balance, HM, Calgary, AB … P.S., I just sent an idiotic reply to Musings, but I want to say more. Maybe because I know quite clearly what you were writing about, your pain seeped through your words. I’m so sorry for what you are going through and I wish I could wave a wand and make everything better. Unfortunately, my wand is out for repair at the moment, but I’ll be at your back cheering you on and doing whatever you need to help you get through this.