In Memoriam - Thoughts on Loss

 Earlier this week, I got word that a friend from my younger adult days had died. We had lost touch over the years because of distance, both geographical and philosophical. From the occasional pictures that would pop up on social media, I gather that she had been in poor health for some time.

Hearing about her passing got me to thinking of the times when I lived in closer proximity and would spend many an hour with her and husband at their house, talking, arguing, laughing. Sometimes it would just be the three of us (and their young daughter). Other times, there would be more people around.

She and I fell out over politics, a sadly all too common occurrence in this increasingly polarized nation in which we live. Both of us were guilty of not being able or perhaps willing to hear the other person or to try to learn why the other person held the views they held. None of that really matters now.

I can't say there is ever a good time to lose a loved one, but facing such loss as people head into the holiday season has to be especially difficult. I would imagine that the holidays would take on a different tenor because they would always be a reminder that a loved one is no longer here to share the togetherness that many of us practice and experience at this time of year.

As we age, loss becomes more commonplace and more inevitable. It is both a sad fact and a reminder of the circle of life. So celebrate the people around you while they are still around you. Recall fondly the people who have been a part of your journey through this life, regardless of the stage at which you and they shared the path.

Finally, I want to share some advice I've give out over the years after people have suffered a loss, whether it be a loved one or an old friend or a long time pet. I don't think I'm the only one to ever come up with it, but I've never heard it said, so perhaps I am. That advice is this: as long as that loved one, that friend, that pet lives on in your memory, they are never truly gone. And that is something worth giving thanks for. Happy Thanksgiving.

#94 - The Communal Side of Food

It's late Saturday evening, and Teresa has just gone to bed. A few hours earlier, the last of the dinner guests left after several hours of catching up, laughter, and yes, good food if I do say so myself.

It was great to catch up with people I once worked with and hung out with, people I haven't seen in several months. The conversation flowed freely, the laughter perhaps even more freely.

That, to me, is one of the great aspects of food. It always seems to taste better when it is shared with friends. I don't know if that is because, as a cook, you try a little harder and the extra effort comes through in the food. Perhaps it is because cooking for friends adds an extra element of enjoyment to the act itself. I think it may be some combination of the two.

After everyone left, Teresa and I watched Julie & Julia, about author Julie Powell's year-long journey through Julia Child's cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Interspersed with that story is Julia Child's years long struggle to finish the cookbook and find someone to publish it. At the heart of the movie though, at least to me, is the food and our relationship with it.

In the film, food is the means by which Julie Powell is finally able to start and complete something, in the case cooking all 500-plus recipes from Julia Child's cookbook over the course of a single year. Food is also the means by which Julia Child finds purpose and meaning in life, perhaps even finds life itself.

When I have the chance to cook for friends, I don't know that I find purpose and meaning, but I do find myself feeling a little more alive, a little more connected with others. Cooking becomes my gift to them, my way of showing them how glad I am that they are a part of my life.

Cooking is mere ritual and eating merely a necessity of living when you have no one to share it with. Cooking during the week often feels the same way, coming home after a full day of work, faced with the prospect of what to cook or, as it is sometimes put, what to throw together for dinner.

Cooking for friends, though, becomes more of an act of love, a special occasion. I may be wrong, but I suspect many of the world's disagreements and misunderstandings could be cleared up or overcome if we could just cook for one another and break bread together. Who'll serve up the first course?

#93 - The Facebook Effect

Today, I took what was for me the unpleasant and somewhat painful task of removing one of my Facebook friends, someone I had worked with for several years during my past life as a television news producer.

A recent political discussion begun by said former friend on Facebook had turned a little too ugly for my tastes, ugly to the point where it was suggested I hate America and told I should leave. So I did leave - the friendship, that is. Not the country.

The exchange is, I think, indicative of something I'll call the Facebook Effect. While we become what Facebook calls friends, we are often nothing more than connections.

There is little true intimacy and often little in the way of civility. The way many of us were taught to talk to and to treat others goes out the window on Facebook. We each sit behind our computer keyboards and talk at each other rather to each other, assuming from a few words written here or there that we know all there is to know about the other person. That false familiarity and the safety of hiding behind our keyboards gives us the license we seek to speak to one another in ways we likely would not if face to face.

Of course, not all interactions on Facebook are as I describe here. But there are enough such interactions to make me wonder sometimes whether I am really cut out for "social networking."

The aforementioned exchange left me with a sour taste and a feeling similar to the one which led me to get out of television news. I could feel myself beginning to sink to the level of those who were spewing their hatred at me. So I got out.

Since he has 4,800-plus other friends, I doubt I'll be missed by my former Facebook friend. It's sad in a way, though. Facebook has the potential to bring people from various places and various viewpoints together for meaningful discussion. I've seen it happen.

However, that potential is a double-edged sword as it also allows people of similar views to insulate themselves from different people or different views. In such an insular environment, progress can never occur, understanding is doomed, and cooperation is prevented.

I've experienced too much of that side of the Facebook effect lately. Now I'm ready to rediscover some of the best of what the Facebook effect has to offer.

#77 - Missing Old Friends

I find myself feeling a bit melancholy tonight. Teresa is sleeping, and Christopher is watching television, and I am alone with my thoughts. Checking out Facebook tonight, I am drawn to thoughts of old friends.

In a sense, I suppose I use the term friend a bit loosely. When I knew most of the people who crowd my thoughts, I didn't really know how to be a friend. I didn't know how to invite them into my life or how to be a part of theirs.

So I guess what I am really drawn to is thoughts of lost opportunities. I find myself thinking of people I once worked with, people I wish I had known better at the time. I also find myself thinking of people who slipped out of my life.

Of course, things change, and change is not always bad. If things had not changed, if I had not kept moving from place - running from something or in search of something - I would never have met Teresa, and we wouldn't have Christopher. But even good change can be tinged with a bit of pain.

Facebook has allowed me to reconnect with a good many people I knew in my younger days. At the same time, it has shown me a glimpse of what might have been if I had been more approachable or better able to connect with those around me.

Connection is a big word with my therapist, both making connections and dealing with those connections that have been broken. Making connections is something I have struggled with my entire life. I'm sure she would suggest that connections broken early on have something to do with that.

I never got close or let others get close to me. In a way, it is a variation on the old Groucho Marx line, "I would never belong to any club that would have me as a member." In a way, I applied that to friendships.

In some sense, Facebook has allowed me to turn back time, but most of the friendships are filtered through distance in addition to time. In a way, I suppose that makes sense. When I was younger, my relationships were all filtered through emotional distance. Now the distance is physical. I'm not sure one feels any better than the other.

I hope in the coming days any of you reading this will let your friends know that you are thinking of them. I just did.

#68 - Something About Nothing

I realized tonight it has been three weeks since my last entry, so I thought I ought to write something. Like all great writers (so I'm told, not being one myself), I've perhaps been suffering of late from writer's block.

Or rather, I haven't been able to come up with a theme for an entry. So I have decided to write a little something about nothing. That is, I am going to write a bit of stream of consciousness about what has been going on in the last three weeks.

For a week or so, Spring teased us here in Idaho and acted as if it had finally decided to make its entrance, somewhat like a diva arriving fashionable late to her own party. Temperatures reached the upper 70s and low 80s, and we marked the occasion with a weekend at Bruneau Dunes State Park joining a local chapter of the Good Sams Club.

About a month and a half early, we had made the decision to join this chapter of the national RV group because we decided that sometimes it would be nice to go out with a group, and none of our friends seem all that much into camping or RVing.

We're kind of the youngsters in the group, but they all seem like nice people, and they seem for the most part more alive when we are out in a campground somewhere. Which is also how I feel a good deal of the time.

We've made two campouts with the group and plan to make at least three more. It's nice to have that variety of occasionally joining a group and sometimes going it alone. Variety does spice things up a bit, if you recall the old quote.

Since that outing to Bruneau Dunes, winter has tried to reclaim its position of control over Idaho's weather. We actually had snow on Saturday and a couple of days of rain before that. It may not be global warming, but it sure is not normal.

On the subject of not being normal, I continue to wage my battle with my childhood demons. I do feel like I am winning that war, but the only war making slower progress might be the war in Afghanistan. Still, progress is progress, and knowing how long the demons have ruled my life, I realize victory will not be achieved overnight. Getting out in the RV helps me in that fight, so I am glad every time we are able to get out, and we try to do that often.

Something we maybe don't do enough is bathe our beagle, Oliver. Tonight, though, it was decided that he had gone long enough. Bathing the dog is a two person job because, unlike most dogs I've ever seen, Oliver does not like water - except to drink - and does not like getting wet. If he has to go to the bathroom but it's wet outside, he will hold it.

So, I tried to hold Oliver steady while Teresa bathed him. Afterward, we dried him as best we could, then got out of the way. If you ever want to see a dog imitate a bat out of hell, come to our house and watch Oliver after he has had a bath. I swear, in that state, Oliver could possibly outrun the horses at Churchill Downs.

Before that, we had decided to hook up an old DVD player to see if it still worked and could be used in place of the one now somewhat inoperable after the recent break-in of our trailer.

We set it up on the kitchen table and put in a DVD to test in. Then we got absorbed in the movie. (I'll admit it, it was "Mamma Mia," and I am a big ABBA fan.)

So, there we are, sitting in the kitchen, watching a movie. Also not normal but perhaps definitely us.

In between, I've had a chance to visit with a friend and former co-worker during his visit from Arizona. I've taken our truck back to the shop for the third time in three months. And I've argued a little politics on Facebook and tried to learn to enjoy each and every day instead of saving it all up for "someday."

Perhaps my title, "Something About Nothing," was a misnomer. Each item, in and of itself, might seem like nothing or at least like not much. Taken together, however, they add up to nothing less than life itself. And that is nothing if not something.

Looking Forward to 2009

The new year is upon us, and what a year it promises to be. Global economic meltdown, war and unrest nearly everywhere you turn, in short, not much cause for celebration.

Yet that it what many people around the world did last night, and in my own quiet way, I was among them. On a macro scale, there may not be reason for optimism, but on a micro scale there is, for each new year brings another chance for renewal. This year, I intend to take it.

When I was younger and somewhat idealistic, I made New Year's resolutions, ten of them each year, systematically, right at midnight. As I got older and less idealistic, I stopped making resolutions because I found I was unable or unwilling to keep any of them.

This year, my 53rd on this planet, I have decided to make some resolutions again because I know in heart this year will not be like any other I have lived. For me, that will be a good thing.

The end of 2008 saw me begin therapy and begin a journey into myself. That journey will continue in 2009 as I work to tear down the inner walls that have kept me from achieving all that I am capable of, loving others more fully and more deeply, and truly being a part of the human condition.

I am lucky and blessed to have the love and support of a wonderful wife, Teresa, who has stuck by me through good and bad for 15 years. She has seen what was possible in me and waited patiently for me to see it too.

I am equally blessed to have the encouragement, support, and friendship of perhaps the best friend I have ever had. Heidi's encouragement and caring nature helped me to find the road back to myself and to begin the journey toward inner healing.

I am very lucky to have two truly special women in my life. For them and for the others who share a part of my journey, I want to make 2009 my year of change. I want to begin the work toward becoming the best me I can be. Toward that end, I have made six resolutions for the coming year:

1. To be more open.
   
   This is a somewhat open-ended resolution, and it is meant to be. I hope to become more open to my feelings, to new experiences, and to those around me. I will work to not close myself off from others and make myself distant and unapproachable.
   
   
2. To make new and more connections with others.
   
   I have had a number of wonderful people pass in and out of my life through the years, and I have managed to lose touch, lose connection with all of them. I am now fortunate to know some wonderful people, a few of whom I call friends, others whom I hope to be able to call friends in 2009. That will require me not closing off from others.
   
   
3. To release the writer inside me and to make the time to write.
   
   For years, I have always said I wanted to be a writer, but outside of a few spurts here and there I did not write. I spent more than a decade in broadcasting because it gave me a writing outlet, but I never pursued much writing beyond that. Lately, I have begun writing lyrics and poetry again. This blog is also an extension of my rediscovered desire to write. In 2009, I intend to continue this blog and to extend into short stories and perhaps other fiction.
   
   
4. To grow as a husband, as a father, and as a friend.
   
   These three areas represent my greatest shortcomings in the past, as I have not been all I could be in any of these areas. That will change in 2009, even as it began to change at the end of 2008. Teresa and Heidi have already given me opportunities to grow in two of those areas. My son will, no doubt, provide ample opportunity to grow in the remaining area.
   
   
5. To open the door to my life and to be the change I seek.
   
   This resolution comes out of reading the Conversations with God series of books by Neale Donald Walsch, which I highly recommend. One of the themes that runs through these books is the idea of believing you already have whatever it is you seek and you will find that you have it.
   
   
6. To take better care of myself and of the gifts I have been given.
   
   I have abilities I have never taken full advantage of or used to their fullest capability. 2009 is the year that starts to change. The care I speak of is three-fold: physical, mental, and emotional. I have begun the process toward taking better emotional care of myself, which will also help bring my mental side into better balance. As that occurs, I will then add in the physical component so that I can better enjoy the people and the things around me.

I hope 2009 also turns into a year of tremendous opportunity and growth for each of you.

Random Thoughts

I've always had a hard time making friends. I suspect that is because I see a friend as someone more than a person to talk sports or politics or music with. To me, a friend has always been someone with whom you could share your deepest hopes and fears and dreams, even more than perhaps you can with your spouse.

I am at present lucky enough to have such a friend. How long the friendship will last, given the intensity of the things we sometimes talk about, I won't try to guess. She may decide the friendship needs to end in order to preserve her own sanity, and who could blame her? Certainly not I.

Tomorrow, I begin the journey of a lifetime as I begin what may be weeks, months, or more likely years of therapy to help me dig up and expose to the light issues that date back to my childhood. My friend has been a support and encouragement in this process that lead to my decision to seek help.

As I told her, for too long I have been treading water, and I am now starting to get tired. Therapy is my chance at a life preserver before I get too tired to grab it. While there are no guarantees in therapy, I am certain I am lost without it. I look at this as the fight of my life and for my life. My friend believes I can make it, and I am very appreciative of that belief in me.

For too long, my life has been nothing more than going through the motions. For some time to come, it will be a day by day process, but with the help and support of my family and of my dear friend, I can come out on the other side and one day walk in the light instead of hiding in the darkness.

Be well.

Requiem For A Friend

I cried for a friend last night. Those tears did not come because I had received news that some tragedy occurred. In a sense, my tears were tears of anticipated grief. First, some history.

This friend and I are co-workers, separated by some 340 miles. The circumstances of our friendship are potentially the stuff of soap operas. You see, in essence, I was hired to take her place with her in the awkward role of training her replacement. I had, just a little earlier, escaped a similar fate when my previous position was outsourced.

She had every right to be angry, bitter, resentful, insert your adjective here. But she was none of those things. Instead, she was kind, helpful, supportive, and encouraging. Her demeanor was everything you would want from a trainer.

Her position had been moved here as part of a consolidation, and because she had a life where she lived, she was understandably reluctant to move. I had been in a similar type of position years earlier, and having to move is not fun, so I sympathized.

In fact, I felt guilty for, in essence, taking her job, not because of anything she said or did but because of everything she said or did. I began to feel as if a cruel trick had been played on her. Through it all, she remained supportive and helpful, and a mutual respect developed.

My training required her to make visits to my location, so we did meet twice. Both visits were friendly, and we developed a comfort level around each other. But a friendship had not yet begun to develop.

That began to occur, I think, after she returned to her home. As the new kid on the block, I had questions about the work, and I would ask them: over the phone, through instant messaging, via e-mail. After a while, we began to talk about other things: politics, music, feelings, life.

The odd thing about our budding friendship is that, for the most part, it has developed through e-mail. Perhaps that isn't such a surprise given the electronic age in which we live. In some ways, it is the 21st Century equivalent of having a pen pal.

In some sense, that may make it easier to sustain the friendship when she and I no longer have work as a common footing. Yet the same thing that may make it easier to keep the friendship alive may also make it easy to let it die. One day, one of us may decide to no longer answer the e-mail of the other. I certainly don't intend to let that happen, but who can say with certainty what the future holds. Something could happen to one or the other of us, and the remaining friend may be completely in the dark.

This sounds fatalistic, I know, but it is based on my past attempts to sustain relationships long distance. Life tends to get in the way. In my past career in journalism, I lost every friend I had because of moving to a new job in a new city. Because I make friends with great difficulty, each loss was very painful. To this day, I remember each of them with a mixture of good and bad feelings.

Yet I persisted, and I will continue to persist. I do not meet people easily, but I know I need them in my life. I hope this friendship lasts. I want it to last. It may not, but I will enjoy each moment of it while I do have it.

I am not a wise man, but I have finally learned one thing in my time here. The one thing worse than losing a friend is never having had the friend to begin with. Here's to you, my friend.