In which Jack channels his spirit animal, Charles Bukowski
"You son of a bitch, she said, I am trying to build a meaningful relationship. You can't build it with a hammer."
We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.
Charles Bukowski
Live your life in such a way that Florida will want to make it illegal.
Unknown
Ah, life…you know, that thing that happens while we’re making other plans? Yeah, I didn’t have losing my mother-in-law and facing the loss of my sister-in-law on my 2023 bingo card. Then again, who’d choose those challenges to face?
I’m not really in a place to complain, though; I’m young enough (63) that death isn’t yet becoming a regular topic of conversation. I look at my father-in-law, who just turned 82 and whose circle of friends has shrunk to the point where it could fit into a Toyota Highlander. You reach a certain point in life, and people start leaving. The longer you hang around, the more you have to say goodbye. It sucks, but it’s the circle of life.
I figured out one thing a long time ago- ain’t none of us gonna get outta here alive. We all get dragged out of here feet-first eventually. The best we can hope for is to have committed enough sins to say that we had fun…and I think I’ve done OK. No felonies, but there are a few skeletons rattling around in the old closet, if you know what I mean. Anyone who’s lived with passion should be able to say the same thing.
I don’t remember seeing anything about this in the dog-eared life manual lying around my house. At least, I think it’s around here somewhere; I haven’t felt the need to read it for a while. I might have loaned it to a friend who moved to North Carolina last Christmas, which means I may have to wing it until I figure out where it is.
One of my goals in life has always been never to have regrets. I’ve come to realize that if you’ve lived any life at all, you’ve broken a few things. Regrets come with the real estate, and the best you can do is to keep the damage to a minimum. My two biggest regrets have to do with my first two marriages. I wish I’d been a better husband and treated my first two wives better. I realize a divorce is a team effort, and it took a team to bring down my first two marriages. Still, if I’d better able to articulate what I wanted and needed, maybe….
Then again, I’m delighted with where I’ve landed. I couldn’t ask for a better partner or a better life. Yes, it took me two failed marriages and years of counseling for me to get my shit together, but the good news is that I finally did get my shit together. There are still things I can work on- and I continue to do so- and I remain a work in progress.
I’ll likely never cause nor reason to see either of my ex-wives, but if I did have an opportunity to see them, I’d apologize and tell them I hope they’ve found happiness. I harbor no ill will and wish them nothing but the best. Life is too short to drag around around baggage from the past. Things didn’t work out; learn from your mistakes and move on. At least that’s what I’ve tried to do.
Yes, I could’ve been a better person and a better husband, but along the way, I’ve learned lessons that have taught me how to be those things now. There are still lessons for me to learn, and there always will be. I hope I’ll never stop learning and growing because I feel like that’s when I’ll start dying.
No matter what happens or where I am, I want to do today better than I did yesterday, whatever that might mean. Even if the progress is incremental or infinitesimal, I want to move forward, to continue learning and becoming a better person.
That’s my goal, and it always has been. I hope it always will be. I still have so much to learn, see, and do.
I’ve reached the age where, like so many of my peers, I’m dealing with the reality that my relationship with my parents has changed fundamentally. My father died in July 2020, and I’ve written at some length about our contentious relationship, so I’ll skip yet another recitation of that here.
My mother is 82 and still has her wits about her. When my father died, she found herself on her own for the first time in her life. I was concerned about how she would handle her newfound independence, but she’s holding up pretty well in her own quirky way.
Mom doesn’t move well and can no longer drive, so she rarely leaves the house except to putter around the yard, which, in southeastern Minnesota, is about to come to an end. Once the snow begins to fall, she becomes a virtual shut-in, save for going to collect her daily mail at the end of her driveway- assuming someone has shoveled the driveway. My youngest brother lives a few doors away and does her grocery shopping, and a few of the grandkids live nearby, so they can and do help out occasionally.
The most challenging aspect of life for Mom has been the emotional part of being alone, and over the past year or so, she’s begun to increasingly feel sorry for herself. She’d lash out at people- she has quite a temper- and had begun taking out her frustrations on others who were guilty only of trying to help her.
When Erin and I visited her a couple of months ago, my brother asked me to talk to Mom. For some reason, I’m the only one of her four boys who can get through to her on certain subjects. Perhaps it’s because I’m the oldest of her four boys or and I live two time zones away on the West Coast, so my being there is a big deal.
I sat with Mom at her kitchen table for about 90 minutes. It was just the two of us holding hands and talking. I began by pointing out how her behavior towards others was perceived, and how it might make others less likely to want to help her. I acknowledged that I knew how much she missed Dad and how hard it must be not having him with her after 61 years of marriage.
We talked about gratitude and how important it is to be thankful for simple things like opening her eyes in the morning and seeing her toes- it means she’s still on the right side of the dirt. And then we talked about how important it can be to smile and say “thank you.” A simple smile can sometimes help turn a mood around even if she's not feeling it.
We cried a lot about how much she missed Dad and how hard it was wanting to be independent but not being able to do much for herself. But, I told her, there’s another way to look at that- yes, it’s hard, but there are people around you who love you and are willing to help when needed.
The best thing about the conversation was Mom’s reaction- “I’ll try.” It was all I could’ve asked for. It was odd enough that I, her oldest son, was offering advice and counsel to my 82-year-old mother. But it seemed to have the desired effect. When I talk to my youngest brother now, he tells me that Mom seems more optimistic than she’s been in some time.
Sometimes, all I want is to know I’ve made an impact. Just knowing that Mom has taken my words to heart put a smile on my face. And I hope her interactions with those she deals with will continue to be easier and more pleasant.
I’m never going to win a Pulitzer Prize. I’ll never be a Nobel Laureate. I’ll never have a byline in the New York Times or Washington Post. Despite what Andy Warhol may have once said, I doubt I’ll ever get my 15 minutes of fame. I seriously doubt I’ll ever make more than a few bucks here or there from my writing. And I’m OK with that. Not everyone gets to be rich, famous, or acclaimed as a brilliant writer (I know I’m a good writer; that’s never been a concern). Whatever renown I gain will no doubt be limited, and my fame will almost certainly limited to tinkering around the margins.
All that stuff is out of my control, and I try not to lose sleep over things I can’t directly influence. My only real hope is that when it comes time for me to be dragged out feet-first, I’ll be remembered as a good person who made people laugh and smile and was a good friend. My motto has always been “Don’t be a dick,” which can be surprisingly difficult to live up to at times. Sometimes I fall short, but I always pick myself up and try again.
The people who know and love me are the people I genuinely care about. It’s not that I don’t care about the opinions of others, but I have no control over that, so it’s something I lose little sleep over.
More than anything, I hope that I’ll have left the world a better place than I found it.
If that’s my legacy, that’s something I can be pretty damned proud of. That said, I hope it will be a good long time before I have to concern myself with that.
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