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Christmas Day, 2021

            My daughters were very happy this morning.  I watched them, trying to understand what they were happiest about and trying to share that happiness.  Oh, you like blind bags and Barbie dolls?  Let me help you with those.  Oh, what is that?  Cool!  I try to be there for others and I feel guilty when I think selfishly, saying “What about me?” in my head.  I’ve done less and less of that and now in the second year of COVID I wonder what else I will yield to another.  More time, more energy, more money.  Here ya go!  Take a pound of flesh from over here.  No, it’s not a passive-aggressive thing.  If you need it, please take it.  Just think of me as one of the good guys if you think of me at all.

            If that sounds like I’m being a martyr then so be it.

*

            I watched It’s A Wonderful Life today.  Hadn’t seen it in over 20 years.  I recall seeing the flick when I was too young to appreciate adulthood; thus, the notion that he would sacrifice his dreams for the good of the town did nothing to me emotionally.  My hot take as a young man was:  if he really wanted it, he would have taken his shot.  He didn’t, so he got what he got.

            But not now.  Nothing, save maybe this movie, is so black and white.  At the time I made that judgment I was having dreams myself.  Where did they go?  I feel the sting of them now because I realize the time to reach those dreams has passed. 

            I have thought about going out to that bridge, too.  By some miracle, I have an ingrained notion of the sanctity of life that precludes me from considering suicide.  But the loneliness I feel is crushing.  Outside of my immediate family I feel as though I’ve lost the language to communicate anything beyond small talk.  And small talk is just too damned small. 

            Don’t worry about me, though.  I will trudge on at half speed.

            I could write a book about It’s A Wonderful Life, maybe filed under ‘Philosophy’ or ‘Spirituality.’  Unlike my previous viewing, the film gave me surprising feelings.  The scene where George is yelling at his kids – I’ve ranted at my kids in the same way and have had to apologize immediately afterwards.  Calling my house a shithole and asking my wife why we ever had children – I’ve done that as my wife looked on as concerned as Donna Reed.  Did I talk a big game about how I’d travel the world, make people around me feel lesser, only to eat so much crow you would’ve thought I liked the taste?  Sure did.

*

            One thing really got to me.  Do you remember the scene where the market crashes while George and Mary are about to escape the town for a nice honeymoon?  George goes back to the savings and loan office and convinces every one of the investors, who were just regular townspeople, to keep their money in the bank.  Mary offers up their wedding cash to tide people over, which George gladly doles out one by one.

            In that moment I wanted more than anything for one of the townspeople to reach out a hand, place it on George’s shoulder and tell him that he was going far beyond what any man would do to keep everyone afloat during the crash and to thank him, not for the money, but for the sacrifice that it represents.  A simple “you’re alright, Mac” type of line that old movies like this always have.  But nobody says anything that meaningful.  The people are content because they are financially saved and that’s enough.

            What kind of person would reach out a hand and say, “You’re all right.  You’re one of the good ones?”

            My grandfather would have.  He would be the kind of person to not only say it to George’s face but also repeat it to anyone who wasn’t there.  Years later, even decades later, he would retell the story in such detail that you were sure you were standing in that line.

*

            This is the first Christmas since I was born without my grandfather, who we call Dziadziu.  Last Christmas when I saw him I felt so awful about it.  I knew it wasn’t going to be forever.  I feel more alone now.  Someone who protected me is now gone and I must fend for myself.  One of the good ones is gone.  A great one.  If you met him, you would know.

            When you’re talking to someone else it’s easy to tell when they are grieving.  Anger, resentment, frustration, exuberance, and tears are always coming to the forefront at unexpected times.  It’s difficult to see the grief in yourself.  My grandfather died this summer at 97 and I haven’t dealt with it.  It would be foolish to think I can process this all at once, and certainly not on Christmas.  I never expected this old movie to bring out these feelings.

            I’d like to say more about him, to explain who he was and why I think he touched so many lives.  I can’t do it yet.  But I can be honest.  When people expressed condolences to me they mentioned their interactions with Dziadziu.  In response, I always said, “I’m glad you got to meet him.”  I truly believe people were better off once they did.  I know I was.

            I’m losing the thread of whatever this piece was supposed to be.  I don’t think you can explain the greatness of a person or a thing that you love.  You can just show it and hope it translates.

*

            Look: you’ve given me your attention and I’m appreciative.  I’m reaching across the counter now, from debtor to banker, shaking your hand for your kind mercy.  But now I’m going to pull you by the hand towards me, and in confidence tell you that I think you must pursue whomever or whatever you love in this word because I promise it is running away from you at top speed.  So get your running shoes.  When you catch up, suck the love out of it until you think you can’t stand it.  Then go back for more.  You have to get goddamned gluttonous for that feeling.  Don’t let other people’s opinions weigh you down.  As long as no one is hurt, what you love is right and all else is wrong. 

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Uncategorized

Self-esteem

It’s been ten years since I published my first book.  I am nowhere near done with my second, The Straw Man.  I never thought it would take longer for Straw Man.  I should be better at this, right?

Is it ok to not want it anymore?  I want to be free of the expectation that it will be the RIGHT thing.  I want what I write to be good, or fuck it.  But I don’t care about what sells.  I never was a “book seller,” I was a writer.  I never was a “successful writer with a plan.”  I just like to do it and it helped me.  It always helped me.  It always made me feel good.  Even if it was bad.  Even if the feelings were bad.  Especially if the feelings were bad.

I have low self esteem.  I rarely feel comfortable in any setting outside of my house.  Even around my family I can feel awkward.  Not my wife and kids, but the rest of them.  They stare at me like I’m an alien.  As they go, so goes the world. 

When I was young I was jealous of all of my friends.  They were confident, seemingly without effort.  In contrast, I rehearsed what I said three times before I spoke, which was often too quiet.  “Speak up!” my friends would say.  Everyone would laugh.  When I would get angry, they acted as though I was overreacting.  Being too sensitive.  I shyly smiled instead.  Not because I was shy but because it afforded me the opportunity to stifle my anger.  Count to ten, then utter, “What I said was …”  Hating myself for it.  Hating them.  That’s exactly right:  although I had close friends, I hated them in those moments. 

When you have abundant confidence, things come to you too easily.  I had to work harder.  Rehearse the comment three times so that it landed; otherwise, be silent.  It wouldn’t just be kinda funny, it would murder.  It wouldn’t be sorta smart, it would be insightful.  It wouldn’t be sad, it would make you cry.  That’s exactly right.  I wanted tears.  I wanted them to feel pain.

When I was confident about my ability to do something, it was always after diligent training.  Martial arts.  Playing the trumpet.  Writing.  But I still couldn’t behave with confidence.  I perceived every slight or criticism as an attack on my fundamentals.

But today those things aren’t me.  This is who I am:  I am loyal, maybe to a fault.  If you go against my family, you are on my shit list.  I’m thoughtful and I care about others.  I’m a nurturer, clearly.  I mean, all I do it futz around taking care of the house and the kids and my wife and the dog.  I might complain or be tired of people’s shit, but I do it.  I always do it.  If I hated caring about others, I wouldn’t do it.

I am not afraid of taking complex information and breaking off a piece for myself.  Whatever I can use.  As I grow older, I find I don’t fear failure as much as I did.  So yes, I haven’t finished Straw Man.  But I don’t fear it becoming a mess.

Now I will eat peanut butter and go to bed.

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Treatment for Rhode Island Beach Party

yes, for an actual film

            The sun is rising on a warm spring day.  A pink Cadillac is speeding down a lonely highway.  In the car, DAVID SWIMMER turns to his brother, JASON BRIGGS, and asks for directions.  They’ve been driving all night from Ohio State University and they want to make it to Spring Break before anyone else.  But as David checks the highway signs, his heart sinks.  He knows his brother, who was in charge of planning the trip, has let him down again.  “What’s the name of the island were going to?”  Jason nonchalantly says, “Rode’s Island … Rodey’s Island … something like that.”  Wincing, David pulls off the highway onto the exit for Somewhere, Rhode Island.  Under his breath he mutters, “You moron.”

            The pink Cadillac pulls into a small food stand near the beach in Somewhere, Rhode Island.  As they survey the beach, Jason marvels at the lack of people and partying; David wonders how long his patience will last.  Suddenly the back door of the food stand pops open and two attractive young women emerge carrying bags of garbage.  KATE RANCHETTE and ANGELINA MOLIE, childhood friends from Somewhere, are cleaning up their food stand to get ready for the throngs of beach goers that never seem to come.  The stand hasn’t made much money the last few summers and Kate, the older of the two, is considering selling it.  She hasn’t yet brought this up to Angelina, who is content to sell hotdogs and flirt with all the young men who pass by. 

            Jason is captivated by Angelina and wants to meet her, but David has his mind on the real parties going on to the south, nine hundred miles away.  They agree to get some breakfast at the stand so that Jason can make his move.  The initial introduction is awkward between the four of them:  Jason gawks at Angelina who considers him too Midwestern for her tastes, while Kate’s cold professionalism doesn’t mix well with David’s urge to depart. 

            The two fellows are tired, though, so they decide to spend the night.  Angelina offers them a place at her parents’ house, which is next to where Kate lives with her parents.  While Jason charms Angelina’s mom and dad, David finds himself talking to Kate again in her backyard.  She shares with him several ideas about where she wants to go in life.  She’s kicking around the idea of taking the stand somewhere else.  She says, “The big hunk of metal has wheels, right?  Can’t I just tow it down to Florida and sell hot dogs there?”  Though at first David was bored by her, the business major in him begins to see possibilities in her enterprise.  Meanwhile, Jason is getting to know Angelina in her bedroom.  Just as he is about to make a move, there is a knock at the front door.  It’s ROLPH DUNDGREN, Angelina’s boyfriend, who is 6-foot-4 and drives a yellow Hummer modified with monster truck tires.  They leave on a date while Jason stews.  He is ready to leave the next morning, but David has changed his mind and wants to stay to be with Kate.

            The next morning, David, Jason, Angelina and Kate are working in the food stand.  David offhandedly mentions to Angelina that Kate is thinking of selling or moving the stand.  Angelina confronts Kate and then storms out.  Now Kate isn’t too fond of David, who is desperately trying to think of ways to win her back.  Meanwhile, Jason consoles Angelina and it’s clear that she is growing fond of him. 

            David asks Kate out on a date to make up for his transgression and she reluctantly accepts.  The date includes flowers, music, dinner and finally a balloon ride.  But the shellfish isn’t agreeing with him and he vomits all over Kate, who pushes him out of the balloon.  To her chagrin, he saves his life by grabbing a tether and swings in the night, screaming for help. 

            As the days progress, David and Jason work at the stand.  David tries to charm his way back into Kate’s good graces, but nothing works.  Jason’s crush on Angelina grows daily, but every day that he sees her go off with Rolph in his Hummer his envy grows.

            One night at Angelina’s parents house, David devises a plan to boost the food stand’s profit margin by a staggering percentage and win Kate back in the process.  The next day he opens the stand himself and sets up an array of bizarre condiments for the hot dogs:  tomato soup, Spaghettios, popcorn, peanut butter, chocolate sauce and grape jelly.  He has invited the press and local hot dog eating champions to attend the grand opening of the new stand.  Kate is initially aghast, but she can’t argue with success. 

            Later that day, Jason professes his love for Angelina.  She is conflicted about how she feels for him.  Just then, Rolph shows up and a confrontation ensues.  Rolph is about to beat Jason to a pulp over Angelina’s screams of protest when Jason suggests an air hockey match for her love.  Rolph agrees and the match takes place on the beach in front of beachgoers and champion hot dog eaters.  Rolph boasts that his competitive nature won’t let him lose; Jason relates stories about ditching his classes to play for days straight.  It’s on!  The game is tied 11-11.  Jason slaps the puck over and Rolph blocks it just at the goal line.  Grinning, he puts his paddle aside as he psyches out his opponent.  But suddenly the score buzzer sounds for Jason.  In their haste to get the game going it seems that instead of a puck they used a hermit crab, which had walked into Rolph’s goal for the win.    

            Kate and David are sharing a quiet moment after the crowds leave.  She tells him she thinks she’s ready for a change.  They agree to hook up the stand to the pink Caddy and leave for a real Spring Break.  Once they’ve got it all hooked up, they drive into the sunset.  As they pull out, Angelina and Jason run up and jump into the back seat.  They drive off into the distance chased by a yellow Hummer with monster truck tires. 

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