Month: February 2024

Chris in the morning

Perhaps I am easy to excite and easier to please, but I so enjoy it when I see a movie or show that I once loved show up on a streaming service. Given the amount and quality of memories something from the past can provide, I look forward each month to seeing what shows up on streaming. Last month I was nothing less than thrilled to see that one of my favorite shows ever, Northern Exposure, arrived on Prime Video.
Set in the tiny and fictional town of Cicely, Alaska (filmed in Virginia) the mostly Drama with a dash of comedy took a common theme, life in a small town, to an entirely new level. The show centers on a New York Doctor who agrees to enter into a contract with the State of Alaska in exchange for payment of his medical school debt.
He got less than he bargained for, the town of Cicely was as underdeveloped as it was underpopulated. Initially, Dr. Joel Fleischman, played by Rob Morrow, acted as you would expect an uptight Northerner would. He initially scoffed at the town and its people, considering the town podunk and its people simpletons. The true charm of the show is how the narrative is flipped on its head. The characters are all fascinating in their own way. Simple, yes. But simple in a non-pretentious and unassuming way.
You have Maggie the pilot, played by the always lovely Janine Turner. I had forgotten most of the show but I never forgot my crush on Maggie. Strong, fiery, and independent Maggie also possessed vulnerability and grace.
Then there is Hollings and Shelly, owners of the only restaurant in town. Hollings is in his 60’s and Shelly wasn’t old enough to drink when they married. But their chemistry and individual characters lent great depth to the show.
Then there’s Ed, one of the many prominent Native American characters, Native American people and their cultures are prominently featured on the show. Ed is a young cinephile and his love of movies appears frequently in story lines.
Maurice Minnefield is a wealthy, legacy-obsessed former Astronaut who is dedicated to making Cicely a real town. He is a very prominent character as he is always interacting, influencing, buying and otherwise trying to impose his will. One of his local possessions is a small radio station, where the host can be seen doing his show through a big storefront window on Main Street.
Enter my favorite character, Chris Stevens (a young John Corbett of My Big fat Greek Wedding fame), host of the only show in town, the Chris in the morning show. Chris is a highly intelligent ex-con who eked out a living in Cicely, giving the impression that Cicely was one more stop on a still undefined journey and he could pack up his trailer at any time and move on. I can’t say enough how much I enjoy his character.
Quirky, enigmatic, brilliant, educated, empathetic, passive and passionate at the same time, contemplative and capable of going off on a rant at any moment, Chris is a breath of fresh air. In the course of his show, he reads local news and discusses local gossip, and reads heavy material from obscure books and classics alike. He plays music, takes calls, and at other times he simply leans back in his chair and offers a personal diatribe on whatever is on his mind. He speaks of the frailties of man, discusses metaphysics, waxes poetic and bares his soul to the small town. And they hang on his every word. Outside of the radio show, he lives a meager (by choice) existence as he indulges in whatever whim appeals to him. Be it Art, reading, romping with his woman dujour (he is quite the lothario), or getting out into the nature of Alaska to get in touch with it. He seems, except when he is in the throes of an occasional existential crisis, to be unencumbered by the anchors that hold the rest of the world back. We learn a new tidbit about him every episode and with every revelation, I realize more and more that if I could be anyone in the world, I would be Chris Stevens.

What I wouldn’t give to be unchained, present, grateful, and at peace with the world around me. How I desire to be free from my own mind and not experience worry and angst. To be able to reconcile my past and not only make peace with it but also recognize and value what the experience taught. I would love to be the person who reacts to a hostile person with a “hey, it’s your journey, man” type attitude. Oh, to be a free spirit that isn’t fazed by anything.

I’ve been binging Northern Exposure and it has been nothing but a positive experience. One unexpected benefit is that I have a fresh desire to think like I;m from a small town. Because I am, and I have lost some of the benefits that come with it. Small-town people believe in honesty, if for no other reason that it’s costly to get caught lying in a small town. People from small towns believe in integrity, because even though doing the right thing doesn’t require an audience everyone is still watching. Small-town people believe in community in general and caring for your neighbor in particular. I love small towns and that’s probably why I love this show.

Pride

I was recently asked what I was most proud of.
I struggle with the word “Proud”. While there are multiple usages of the word, the one that comes to mind always implies a boastful, self-congratulating attitude and I vowed long ago not to act as such. Generally, I reserve the word “proud” for major moments and accomplishments. With all else, I allow myself to take satisfaction in things, and many things in my life give me great satisfaction. That being said, there are several accomplishments in my life that I can point to as crowning achievements; my relationship with my children, my overcoming of a long health battle, and the work that I have been a part of as a Mason, to name a few.

My relationship with my children is of paramount importance to me. I could fill a dozen posts with regrets and one of my biggest regrets is the atmosphere in my home when my children were younger. I take full responsibility for not doing better as a provider, as a good example, as a husband.

I made poor financial/vocational decisions that affected us. I meant well of course and I didn’t intentionally make poor choices but there were setbacks nonetheless. They resulted in financial problems which affected my marriage and caused my ex and I to argue. In front of the kids, which consequently affected them. I wish I had the self-control not to have had those moments in front of the kids. They were always amazing, happy, and bright, but they occasionally acted out and I am sure that it was a result of being unable to process what they saw and heard their parents do to each other.

After a particularly ugly moment with my oldest daughter, brought on by the ugliness around her, I had a rare nightmare, one that startled me so badly that I woke up in tears. I had dreamed that I was watching my oldest daughter play with toys, alone in a room enclosed in glass. She was much younger in the dream, a toddler. She was wearing a familiar outfit, one of my favorites from when she was little. I saw myself pounding on the glass trying to get her attention. She didn’t notice me, instead focusing on her toy. A generic orderly appeared before me and informed me that my daughter was in jail, and I was not allowed to see her. Ever.

I will never forget the moment that I woke. I shot out of bed in the middle of the night, in tears, and raced upstairs to her room. Confirming that it was just a dream, I tearfully made a pact with myself to do better. I promised my sleeping child that I would always be the adult, and that I would try as hard as I could to mind how I (and my wife) behaved in her presence. I was at a crossroads. The wrong path would cause me to lose my relationship with her forever, and that notion terrified me. I visualized the day when 18-year-old her would walk out the front door and I would become the Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Easter visit. Everything was on the line.

I wasn’t perfect after that with her or her siblings, but things were much better. I became a much better parent. My relationship with the three others wasn’t as strained as with my oldest, but I did better by them also. Today, I have an amazing relationship with all of my children, they are amazing young adults despite, not because of their upbringing. Despite all of the changes in my life, for all that I have lost or have been deprived of, my biggest hope was that my children would get through their childhood unscathed. And they did.

For them, Proud isn’t enough of a word.

I suppose that I am proud of overcoming my health battles. I have been on death’s door more times than any man should. It cost me almost everything. But there was a point when I was on dialysis, sitting pretty low on the transplant list, unable to imagine that life would ever get any better, that I thought of giving up. I was close to giving up, but I found some resolve and developed a better attitude. The Universe then rewarded me by giving me a kidney. Had I let myself go physically and emotionally, I would have been denied the kidney. And here I am now. I’ll allow myself to be proud of that.

I have been a dedicated Freemason for 10 years now. I have been fortunate to have been surrounded by great men of integrity and honor and being part of the benevolent work that we do is indeed a source of pride. It has made me a much better man in every respect. I am proud to be a member and of the work we do.

In the course of writing this post, I have realized that Proud isn’t the worst word. It works if you add some humility to it.

Half a man

I made a very difficult, but in hindsight good decision recently. I removed myself from the dating scene.

I am only recently back in the game of life. For the last 8 years, I have been alive but I was not living. Illness had taken almost everything from me. I bounced back and set my sights on getting back to a “normal” life. I wanted to be closer to home to see my family and friends, live on my own, be able to work again, get back into Freemasonry and work on my “causes”, and perhaps most of all, meet someone to share my life with. I was so hopeful to recapture “relationship me”.

Very few people know that I am a true romantic. I am a believer in relationships. I have no problem with monogamy. I love the idea of having someone to come home to. Someone to share affectionate and silly moments with. I’ll just say it, I want to love somebody. But as the song goes, I’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places.

Ten days after deleting my dating profile I feel a weight has been lifted. The whole process of Internet dating only served to throw gasoline-soaked logs onto a bonfire concerning my anxiety and self-esteem. Unanswered chats with someone I was interested in, dates that didn’t go anywhere with people who were nothing like they presented on their profiles, all of it weighed on me and ultimately felt like rejection. I don’t do well with rejection. So for the sake of my mental health, I ripped off the BandAid.

Now that my head is clear I have to address a possibility that I had not considered; I may be broken. I have managed to nearly seamlessly rebuild my life and put behind me the events of the last ten years and have made peace with most of it. But I can’t make peace with the many heartbreaks. Every relationship I have been in has left a mark. One in particular left a cannonball-sized hole in me. And despite how badly I want to be with someone, the hurt and reluctance to repeat it are still there. The only positive about heartbreaks is the “rebuilding” phase that always follows a breakup. I have done so much rebuilding in every aspect of my life and I found it to be challenging but manageable. Relationship me is not having as much success. Which leads me to conclude that I am half a man. The good half is strong, resilient and doing well in life. The other one, well…he needs to give himself some time.

I find great comfort in a beautiful song that I was just turned onto. It’s called Half a Man by Dean Lewis

I was wrong to say I loved her, I was wrong to think I’m right
When I told her it was over, oh my darling I had lied
I’ve been running from my demons, afraid to look behind
I’ve been running from myself, afraid of what I’d find

But how am I supposed to love you when I don’t love who I am?
And how could I give you all of me when I’m only half a man?
‘Cause I’m a sinking ship that’s burning, so let go of my hand
Oh how can I give you all of me when I’m only half a man?

I am not clinging to a lost love like in the song. But I think I’m clinging to an unsustainable notion, that I’m complete enough to be in a relationship. Clearly I’m not and that is just going to have to be OK.

Service

“When a person can’t find a deep sense of meaning, they distract themselves with pleasure.”  Viktor E. Frankl

As a big proponent of both finding your purpose and acting upon it, I have always loved this quote. While some may realize their calling early on in life, others may take until the twilight of their life. Additionally, not everyone will realize or actualize theirs. I’m a believer in man as an accomplished creature. Man is not created to merely exist, but to accomplish, to create, to build, to leave his mark on the world. We are supposed to leave a legacy, even if it is to just leave the world a better place than you found it. That will likely be the extent of my legacy and that’s ok. I also believe that if you change just one life for the better you have lived a fulfilled life.

With regards to the Frankl quote, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that I’ve distracted myself with the pursuit of pleasure. But I have definitely distracted myself. I haven’t been prioritizing the good things that I want to do. Instead, I have spent too much energy and time on pursuing hobbies and my great Achilles heel. Women.

In the excitement of returning to my original stomping grounds, I was energized by the changes awaiting me. To see my family more, to get more active in my Masonic endeavors, catch up with friends, work part time, and maybe meet a nice woman. I have accomplished all of the above, with the exception of the woman. I spent so much time and kissed a lot of frogs and all I have to show for it is a smaller bank account and a bruised sense of self-esteem. Last weekend, I endured my final indignity at the hands of a woman who badly misrepresented herself in both looks and personality who then rejected me because I wasn’t her type. Despite the fact that we had been talking on the phone for 3 weeks, in which I was repeatedly told that I was her type. I took it the way I took every previous indignity for the last 5 months, I felt as if there was something wrong with me. I went home that night and deleted all of my online dating profiles. At first, I scolded myself for being impulsive. One week later I think it was the right move. By freeing myself from the perhaps exaggerated desire to meet someone my head is clear. I need to assess why I want to be with someone as badly as I do, and the only way to do that is to remove myself from the situation. For whatever reason, I don’t think I’m ready to date. I’m still a bit broken. With that knowledge in hand, I have decided that I want to work on myself. There is no way that I can be happy with somebody until I’m happy with myself. And the only time I’m really happy is when I in some sort of service.

I have a call to service. It’s not a brag, it’s just how I am. I enjoy helping other people. It provides me a fulfillment that little else does. Relationships are a lot of work for me, I give all of myself and I rarely get back what I expend. When I work with others in my various charitable endeavors, I give the same but I receive the greatest sense of accomplishment I can describe. I get back more than I expend. I think I’ll do more of it.

It feels good to rid myself of the distractions and focus on what makes me happy. After all, when it is all over I won’t be, nor do I want to, remembered for whoever I was in a relationship with. I will, however, be remembered (or not) for what I may have contributed to the world.

“Talking Politics”

I am growing weary of people saying that they “don’t care”, “don’t talk about”, or “don’t want to know” about Politics. I have two problems with this. First, do they understand that what they are calling “Politics” is actually current events, what is happening in the world, and second, how are they OK with not knowing what is going on around them?

Politics is the word that people lump discussion of the operations of Government, current events, and news of the day. This is too broad of a classification. The actual definition:
pol·i·tics
[ˈpäləˌtiks]

NOUN

  1. the activities associated with the governance of a country or other area, especially the debate or conflict among individuals or parties having or hoping to achieve power:“the president’s relationship with Congress is vital to American politics” · “thereafter he dropped out of active politics”

To dig further down on this, politics is the process that strategists use to manage politicians and campaigns, maneuvering behind the scenes to get bills passed, manipulating storylines, sound bites, and news cycles, and controlling the narrative. It is a game within a system.

Following the news stories, having a rudimentary understanding of the process of government, possessing a working knowledge of our relationship with other countries, and (perhaps this is ambitious on my part to hope for this) the dynamics of foreign policy as well as the ability to critically think and assess what is happening…well that is not “talking politics”. That is knowing what is going on and where you fit into things. To be firmer and emphatic…it is not “talking politics” to know how the events of the day affect YOU.

I understand that I am more interested in what is going on around me than most. I am a News junkie. As a citizen of the world, what happens around me is worth taking notice of. As a citizen of a once great country that I now consider in decline, I have a close eye on everything that I possibly can. I try to look through a trained and cynical eye at the political and cultural landscape. Not as a conspiracy theorist, but as a person open to any possibility, always prepared to learn that while something may appear to be one thing it could be another thing entirely. As podcasters, my Co-host Steve and I look at every story from all angles because we believe that every story has more to it, and often the additional, possible suppressed dynamics of a story contain nefarious and harmful elements designed to deceive and mislead us.

I understand that some people, regardless of whether they lump everything outside of their interests and general circle as “politics”, choose not to be engaged because it is hard for them. The world is a overwhelming, even depressing place. I’m sure that some can’t handle the onslaught of bad news. We are bombarded by the minute with stories of people being bad to each other. The ugly side of human nature is on constant display. If not for the occasional positive Human Interest story, which does not sell near the copies that the trash does, we would think that the world is going entirely to shit.
I get it.
But what is worse? Knowing what is going on and feeling some angst, or choosing the bliss of ignorance by not keeping up with the events of the day? And for that matter, is it possible to be somewhere in between? I fear there is an additional dynamic at play, that Americans are so comfortable, so sure that they are safe, so delusional as to believe that by virtue of wanting to be peaceful, and that the world would somehow fall in line with that.
Nothing could be further from the truth. The World is in fact on fire, and closer to home the United States is under attack from without and within. Our enemies are acting out at unseen levels, and internally we are being invaded by hordes of foreign invaders and being eroded by progressive and unrealistic policies that make all of us unsafe.

Knowing what is going on in the world is not “talking Politics”. Inst

Happy Freaking BDay

I was recently at a Birthday party for an elderly friend of mine. While standing around sipping a drink and watching the festivities, the subject of memorable birthdays came up. It occurred to me that I didn’t have one. Until it hit me that there was one from my childhood that certainly stood out.

I’ve never cared much for Birthdays. So what? It’s the yearly anniversary of the day you were born. It’s not an accomplishment until you reach old age. 50 is a big birthday I suppose, it is a significant milestone to have survived until Middle Age. But even the benchmark of 50 is not middle age, we humans have a benchmark of 100 years for a lifespan but that is actually exceedingly rare. The average life span for a man in this country is 76.4 years over both sexes. Perhaps that is why many call 40 Middle Aged. Either way, I truly don’t see the point once you’re an adult.

I’ve always been this way. I suppose that it is statistically rare for a person riddled with neuroses and anxiety, prone to overthinking and making mountains out of proverbial molehills to be dismissive of something as culturally significant as birthday celebrations. Still, the fact is I’m historically and notoriously dismissive of “look at me” moments and other silly shit. Additionally, my anxiety makes it painful for me to sit in front of a stupid cake covered in stupid candles as people sing to me. It’s embarrassing on every goddamn level. It’s a free meal at Applebee’s at best. My children can confirm, that when my birthday rolls around and the congratulations start rolling around my response is to politely say thank you and then move on. 

Having said that, there is one Birthday that stands out to me. The details are fuzzy as to how I found myself in this situation, but I remember being at a Birthday party for my then-friend John. It was a typical elementary school party; several classmates and family gathered around. Games, a clown, cake, and ice cream. Typical, right? Here’s the catch, John and I shared a Birthday. I suppose my mother could clear it up, on the off-chance that she would even remember, why it was that I was sent to another kid’s B-day party when it was also my own. But that aside, I kept my mouth shut. As I said already, I don’t particularly care for “look at me” moments. At this age, it’s because I just don’t give a shit. Back then, it was pure anxiety talking. 

Somehow, it got out that it was my Birthday as well. I don’t think I told anyone but I may have. The end result was an entire room full of people feeling bad for me and “wishing they knew”, and “would have brought something”. I hated the tension of it, I tried to be dismissive ( as well as a middle-schooler can) and wished for the whole thing to be over. It was one big goddamn pity party and I couldn’t wait to get out of there. Finally, unable to deal with the pall that had been cast over the party, I called mom to come pick me up. She didn’t answer so I walked home. I’m sure some people thought that my departure was because I was sad, but it was actually to escape the attention on me. 

It’s significant that I recall this, I find it interesting that I exhibited such dismissive, self-deflecting behavior even then. It is something that has been prevalent in my adult life as well. I do not like attention on me yet I continue to be involved in high-profile events and a member of groups that do good work. In fact, I can venture to say that Awards and very public honors and congratulations are a big part of the organizations I belong to and I still run the other way when the praise comes my way. 

I suppose that I could drill down on that side of my personality but I’m comfortable with it. It’s one of the few things that I like about myself. I don’t seek praise, I share kudos with all involved in a successful outcome, and I always deflect praise to live up to my dedication to live a humble life. Not to mention that despite having a healthy ego and somewhat positive self-image, I genuinely hate being in the spotlight to the extent that I will run from it.