May 4, 2008
I looked across the table and asked, “Why aren’t you talking?”
“I’m listening” she replied.
I instantly began a mental tirade: “I’m not a whore!” I wanted to scream. “Assign me to the food committee next time - the entertainment committee sucks” I wanted to sneer. “Monologues are masturbation. Discourse is a part of intercourse!” I wanted to blurt. I sipped and swallowed and began telling her about my day.
August 15, 2007
May 3, 2008
We exchanged pleasantries but now it was time to trade necessities. I had my explanations in my pocket. I pulled her answers from near my breast and straightened my tie.
She looked at me with astonishment. “You made a list?” she interrogated. “Well I wanted to be sure I had a complete answer,” I vindicated. “You made a list?” she accused. “Yeah, I gave this serious thought,” I excused. “Couldn’t you just tell me your answer instead of reading it to me?” she sighed. “Sure but I wanted to make sure I didn’t forget anything,” I conceded. I sat my resource near my plate. My blush matched the shade of her cheeks. There’d never be an about face. We’ll never make up.
I felt ashamed of my behavior as I walked away. I had the slip of paper in my pocket yet I don’t understand why it was considered a slip-up. I don’t understand why someone asks me for an answer or presents his petition and then mocks the completeness of my response. Am I not supposed to offer the issue the proper consideration? Am I not supposed to offer him a complete thought? Am I supposed to simply spit out a yes or a no?
I’m committed to my conversations with my companions and occasionally I commit my comments to paper. But, I rarely write letters. I have typed one letter in the last year. I’m more the type to send breezy emails. But emails merit less consideration and carry more merriment. I’ll write an email to remind a man he’s not alone, but I’ll compose a letter. Yet I’ll stand by each of my words in all mediums. I chose each word because I thought the relationship merited the effort. I’m always surprised that the recipient doesn’t feel he’s worth my effort. Of course the pinnacle of my affection is a handwritten note. It’s rare and it’s my gift. I avoid cursive writing with the same ardor I avoid feminist poetry. 
I have note cards with the word peace on the face. And if I send that card, then I consider us as close as brothers and I wanted to share a piece of my peace with my brethren.
I think too many people graze through life like cows in a meadow. They move their mouths along the surface with intention to feed and then they graze toward a new patch of grass. I think of each encounter as a moment of time in the synchronicity of Divinity. And I take the time to offer my time. I try to treat each being as an equitable participant in the process of life. I’ll utter a joke or a quip but I’ll ruminate on a consideration because I try to be considerate. Is that too much to give? Sometimes it is. But which human beings deserve less? Count the people you pass each day and then justify loneliness.
There must be a balance between a declaration and an utterance. Society evolved from the parlor to the porch and from the written word to the spoken call in the twentieth century. Now we’re evolving toward the typed message. And as we travel more and move further, I wonder why our conversations embrace brevity and the content is confined to mere levity. As we distance ourselves geographically, we’re distancing ourselves emotionally.
Yet we embrace familiarity with strangers as we shun the familial with our fraternity. That can’t be progress. If my emotions and considerations can be confined to three words without vowels – then I’m not even grazing the surface. I’m spending all my time on one blade of grass.
I’m not suggesting that we pull out all the stops and make endless lists of our ruminations, explanations and justifications. I’m just saying that I don’t think friendship demands we offer our companions the benefit of the doubt. I’m stating that true agape exists when there isn’t a doubt. And although I’ll receive doubtless condemnations of these considerations, I’m doubtful that I’ll cease my practice of living my life completely, entirely, and without omissions. If I’ve omitted an essential piece of information, it’s because I ran out of the spit to moisten my mouth or to seal the envelope and not because I ran out of intention to give a fellow human being my full attention.
October 15, 2007
May 2, 2008
So, I was backed up to the counter. I worked emails while she waffled between two pair of trousers. I waited. He stepped up to my side and took residence in front of fragrances. He glanced over and said, “Whatcha got there?” I showed him my PDA. My tongue was silent as my thumbs thumped syllables and spaces. And then he began our conversation.
He was a pilot in the Korean War. He learned to “fly over the farm in a crop duster.” He has “two boys and three grandkids.” He’s been married to his wife for fifty-two years. He pointed to her. 
She picked between piles of sweaters. She’s a thin gray-headed woman with a slight limp. He wants John McCain to be the next president. He’s a Lutheran. He graduated from the University of Minnesota. He spent his career at 3M. He worked in development. He is against illegal immigration. No wait. He’s against all immigration.
We shifted while a customer sniffed a smell. I put my phone into its holder.
He lives in a suburban condominium. He thinks I should “stop in for coffee.” He nodded in “the wife’s” direction. He said, “she puts a pot on first thing in the morning and it’s hot all day.” He said they have a nice party room on the main floor. He said there’s a woman who lives on the floor below and that she is a “shrew” and she likes to make hard candy that she puts in dishes in the party room. The dishes “haven’t been cleaned” since he moved in. He wants to know what her problem is – “doesn’t she know people our age can’t eat hard candy?”
He doesn’t watch CNN because a “communist” owns it and he doesn’t like Fox News because “they have no credibility.” He won’t watch Katie Couric and Dan Rather “is a traitor.” And he’s not going to buy a new television because he’ll be “dead before they’re worth a damn.” I remained silent. I knew my role. He wanted to talk not listen. And he was on a roll.
Soon we two became three and I made my introductions. I shook his hand goodbye and he said, “It was nice talkin’ to ya.” I saw his stance slightly slump as we walked away. I thought about him as I climbed into my car. I was content to stand silently and he didn’t want the contents of his life to remain silent.
I pulled away from the lot as I wordlessly wondered what she was thinking.
December 29, 2007
May 1, 2008
“Hell of a way to spend a Saturday afternoon!” He reached into a basket and lifted a linen and began to fold.
“Not a problem,” he looked up from a magazine and over his glasses. “What’s up with your machine?”
“I don’t know. It shoots water everywhere! They’re coming out Wednesday to fix it.” He grabbed another piece and straightened the seams and folded the fabric. “The boys need their uniforms and the wife’s out of town this weekend. So, that leaves me.”
“I know man - I raised boys. You can send them to do the laundry but they’ll just pocket the cash and wear dirty uniforms.” They laughed as they recalled their pasts. “It’s cool anyway because I wanted to talk to you.”
“What’s up?” his buddy beckoned as he hung a blouse on a hanger.
“Ok do you remember …” he mentioned a name.
“Um,” his buddy untangled a towel, “sounds familiar. Who is she?”
“Blonde, tall, I dated her,” he lifted a root beer up to his lips. There are three fundamental facts about laundromats: 1. They never have periodicals that are periodically updated. 2. They only sell occasional soda – the flavors you only occasionally drink. 3. ⅔ of the machines aren’t working.
“Lawyer?” his buddy asked. 
“Yeah that’s her,” he said as he took a sip and swallowed his pride. “Well I still see her occasionally.”
“Wow … really? I thought that was over years ago,” his buddy paired socks as he thought about the two of them as a pair. “When did you two hook up again?”
“Well I’ve pretty much kept seeing her,” he shifted his ass in his seat and shifted his eyes away from his friend.
His friend stopped. “You’ve been seeing her all these years?”
“Yeah, off and on,” he took a sip.
“Were you dating her when you were with …?” he mentioned his buddy’s recent remorse. His buddy tried to grasp the facts as he grabbed a sheet.
“No,” he threw the can into the recycling can. “I don’t cheat. We break up; we get back together.”
“Ok so you’ve been seeing her over the years.” His buddy put the sheet into a pile, “first I’ve heard of it.”
“Well man, we don’t tell each other everything” he crossed his leg over a knee.
“Yeah I do,” his buddy went over to check his clothes. “I tell you everything.”
“No, you don’t,” he uncrossed his leg.
“Yeah I do,” his buddy protested as he pulled the pile from one machine and placed it in another. His coins clanked in consent.
“No, and this isn’t about that so don’t do a tangent thing,” he picked up a magazine and rolled it in both of his hands.
“Ok. Whatever. Go on,” he pushed the pile toward the table.
“Well last weekend I asked her why she wouldn’t marry me,” he hit his hand with the rolled.
“You’ve asked her to marry you?” he stopped and stared.
“Yeah, well it was one of those ‘are we ever getting married?’ moments.” He punctuated his words with bunts from his magazine baton.
“Hey wait,” his buddy turned and rested his ass against a machine. He was on the edge of his seat. “You’ve asked a woman to marry you - one that I don’t even know and I’m your best friend - and she said no. Am I getting all this straight?”
“Well yeah, except the part where you made it about you. You’ve got it right,” he said as he tossed the magazine in the piled periodicals. “And you do know her. You’ve met her many times.”
“Ok I sort of remember her. You asked her to marry you?” He hopped up and rested on the lid of a washer.
“I’ve asked her to marry me many times,” he thought about lighting a cigarette and then remembered he had quit smoking.
“What? How intense are you two? Shit! How come you’ve never told me about this?” his buddy held the hips of the machine with his hands.
“Ok you know what? You are so pissing me off. Could you just shut up for a minute and let me talk? I never fucking talk man. Think about it. When do I ask advice? So shut up and listen to me. Ok?” He stood up and put his hands into his pockets. He saw the pallor of his pal’s face and chastised himself for chastising his friend. “I’m sorry. Ok man. 
Listen to me. It’s a question of pride. I’m not particularly thrilled to admit that I’m crazy about a woman who refuses to marry me. I first went back for the sex but then it became something more. And I’m not all that thrilled to admit that I keep going back. Now, I feel like a horse’s ass. Ok? So – that’s why I didn’t tell you. Ok? And if you remember correctly none of you bastards liked her. Everyone told me how wrong we were for each other.”
“Ok back up here,” his buddy began bouncing his feet against the side of the washer and against themselves. His ankles beat the rhythm of his anxiety. “So the two of you have been getting together off and on for years and you’re intense and she’s not. So what’s wrong with her?”
“Off and on. Man that’s a filthy expression. Isn’t it?” he shook his head. “And thanks for the defense,” he backed down into his chair, “but there’s nothing wrong with her. How many women have you heard me say I loved? Read my lips man. I love her. So - what am I supposed to do?”
“I can’t believe you’ve never told me about her. That’s harsh.” His buddy pulled his mouth tight and took off his glasses to rub his eyes. “I thought we were close man.”
“You want to focus here?” he started to lose his temper. “I’m having a major crisis. And although it sounds like small shit, it’s big to me. What am I supposed to do?”
“Well ok. But first give me some facts, since uh, you know – I don’t know them. Did she say why she won’t marry you?” He shifted position and took the position of counselor.
He ignored the dig. “Fuck I don’t know. It’s something like I love too many people and not just her or it’s something like I won’t make her the center of my life or something. Hell I don’t know. I’m clueless here man.”
“Ok … we pretty much need to know her reasons if we’re going to figure out a plan of attack here.” His buddy stated the obvious.
“Well I get what the word ‘No’ means,” he stared at the floor.
“Do you remember what she said exactly?” his buddy hopped off the machine and walked over to a dryer.
“Oh some shit about I have everyone and no one has me,” he extended his arms, raised them above his shoulders, and intertwined his fingers behind his head.
“Oh well, that’s true” his buddy offered a loaded statement as he unloaded the frontload washer. “She’s right on that.”
“What?” he bounced to the balls of his feet. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Hey man take a breath and I’ll tell you,” his buddy pulled his head out of the bowels of the washer. He handed the load to his friend, “hey fold these.”
He took a towel and folded it into thirds. “Go, I’m listening.”
“Do you remember that time you passed out downtown Minneapolis and I drug you to the car and put your ass to bed?” he grabbed a washcloth and started to fold.
“Yeah, of course.” He tri-folded another towel.
“And do you remember when you were quitting the seminary and we went and sat by the river and talked all night?” he piled the towels.
“Yep. Are you trying to depress me? Because I’m already there,” he perched a towel on the pile.
“Shut up man – I’m talking,” he added to the pile. “When my oldest was born, who sat beside me? I bought you a fucking cigar! Remember?”
“Of course I do. We cried man. But what’s your point?” he plopped a towel on top.
“Shut up man, I’m coming to it.” He put the empty basket on the floor and hopped back on top of the washer. “When I was having marriage problems, who put me up on his couch?”
“I’m wonderful. I get the point,” he felt embarrassed by the litany.
“You’ve been my best friend forever and in thirty years I’ve heard you mention marriage twice. And you never even told me you’re still seeing her. And by God we talk on the telephone at least twice a day.”
“I told you why,” he rebutted.
“That’s not the point. You said I don’t tell you everything. But man, only I know whether or not I do. And just for the record dumb fuck - I do.” He stared his best friend in his eyes, “and you never told me that you’re so crazy about a woman that you asked her to marry you? Fuck. You didn’t even bring her around? Harsh. Goddamned harsh. So, oh yeah man – I get what she said. What was it? You got all of us and we got none of you? Damn right.”
“Oh man – I told you I’m sorry,” he put his hands together and looked down at his feet.
“That’s not the point,” he bit his bottom lip. “You’re a really difficult man. And for the most part that’s ok because you actually raise the bar whenever you’re around. But fuck man – you gotta see that every time you raise the bar you raise it for all of us. And it means we have to try that much harder to keep you. And Jesus sometimes it’s hard. It’s fucking hard. And now today I find out that I’m jumping over bars but it’s into the dark because I don’t even know what the hell is going on with you. I’m not pissed but I’m fucking hurt because man I count on you. You’re the one I counted on but obviously I’m not the one you trust.”
“No that’s not true. Who am I talking to? You.” He sat up straight and returned his friends stare. “I’m asking you.”
“Whatever. Ok. So – here’s what you gotta know. You take a lot of effort. You can’t be angry if she doesn’t want to give that much effort.” He turned his back on his friend as he stood up to take a load out of the dryer.
“I’m sorry I disappointed you,” he coughed.
He turned around. “I’m not disappointed,” he pushed a pile in the direction of his pal. “I’m willing to give the effort. I don’t really feel that hurt anymore. I was just shocked. Not telling me about her is a guy thing. I get that. I just never thought of you like that.”
“A guy?” he pulled at the pile and started to fold.
“No asshole. I don’t know. I just thought you and I were passed guy posturing. I didn’t think you were that shallow. Shit. I wouldn’t have thought you’d think I was that shallow.” He matched dark socks.
“Shallow? I don’t think you’re shallow. You think I’m shallow?” he folded a black t-shirt.
“No, I just can’t think of the right word. You know what I mean,” he paired another pair.
“Yeah I do,” he matched the last mate. “So, what should I do?” 
“Honestly? I haven’t a clue,” he packed his pile into a pouch. “Personally I think any woman who won’t marry you is fucked.”
“Thanks,” he pulled his keys from his pocket and grabbed his friend’s bag. “Do I still have a friend?”
“Shut up!” his best bellowed. “I’m with you until the end asshole. You know that.”
“I know that,” he said as he handed his buddy the bag. He exhaled as he sank into the passenger seat.
February 24, 2008
April 30, 2008
April 30, 2008
April 30, 2008
