Tag: Marriage

  • ODDS and ENDS: Worst Week, Worster Week, Worstist Week, and I Quit

    So, the week started off bad with the Cowboys choking, but at least the Eagles collapse was a much bigger story. One might say that there was little solace in that fact, but they would be wrong – I really enjoyed watching the Eagles lose to Tampa Bay. I am pissed about the Cowboys, but this will be the last I write about it. Just can’t believe that no one showed up to play on that team. Sure, every year I think they will win the Super Bowl (that’s how I was raised) yet in a realistic sense, I thought for sure they would make it to the Conference Championship, and then lose to San Francisco or Detroit; whoever made it there. But enough of that.

    Then my wife hurt her back on Monday.  Now, she is one tough woman, and I have been doing my best to comfort her, but there is nothing I can do to take her pain away. It’s a pretty helpless situation to be in, and that goes for both of us. Slowly she’s been getting her mobility back, but it has been rough going. The whole week got shot to hell for both of us, so it feels like we are running behind, too. I know she will be better soon, and we will get thing back on track, but it’s just frustrating.

    And then the kid had a big test at school that she was positive that she wasn’t going to do well on. It’s a reading and writing test, and she’s not wrong, she is having trouble with writing her thoughts down. Part of this is left over effects from Covid causing school closings, and this is the educational crack she fell into. And unfortunately, many other kids did as well. I helped her prep for the test this week, and she can comprehend and do the work, but she just doesn’t have much confidence in herself when it comes to the test. This was another place that I felt very helpless this week. I was trying to encourage her, build up her confidence, and I even used sports metaphors about how you have to believe and expect to win first, then put in the hard work to be successful. I don’t know… We haven’t got the results yet on the test, so it’s agonizing waiting to hear how she did.

    Finally, to shit out my week, I learned yesterday that a good friend of mine from college died suddenly the night before. There was no warning… they were here and then they weren’t. Logically, it’s been twenty years since I was in college, and unfortunately these things will happen now. That’s a meaningless thing to say because logic in these situations never makes anyone feel better. I hadn’t seen them in close to eighteen years. I hadn’t spoken to them in, like, fifteen years. Hadn’t communicated with them in five, and the last interaction we had was about five months ago when we “liked” each other’s pictures. Just thought there would be one more chance. Like the next time I was in Texas, I would head out to the theatre they worked at, and I would see them. And they would be friendly and kind, and hug, because they were kind. The kindest. They were especially kind to me when I was new in the theatre department, and didn’t know anything. They were kind to help me then, and as I see the tributes on social media, I am hearing again about their kindness, and how wonderful they were to everyone.

  • ODDS and ENDS: Caroling, Sweaters, and Oh Dolly!

    (I Still Want My Hula-Hoop!)

    Does anyone go caroling at Christmas time? When was the last time you remember seeing carolers walking around your neighborhood? Honestly, for me, 1982 or 1983. It’s a fuzzy memory, but I feel like when we moved to Texas from Alabama, which would be 1983, that there were a group of people who wandered around our neighborhood. I mean, we lived in a subdivision outside of Dallas, and winter in Texas is like 45 degrees at night, so it wasn’t a rough experience being outside. I want to say it was a church group, no shock there, right? The other thing I remember is that it meant a lot to my mother. I guess it was something that happened back in her childhood of the 50’s in small town Illinois.

    I just got word from LL Bean that the sweater that I ordered for Christmas has been delayed and I won’t receive it until after the New Year. I did wait to order the thing, and my pause is my downfall. I say all of this not because I am slowly beginning to dress like a guy who lives in the Vermont woods, but because the wife and I just buy our own gifts. I mean, we will still shop for each other, a little, but on the whole, we just go out and buy what we’d like for Christmas. Sure, sometimes we give each other a list, and shop off of that. Yet, it’s just easier to buy what we want, wrap it up, say it’s from the other, and act very surprised on Christmas morning. Sure, the “surprise” part is gone, but the satisfaction of getting what you want, and not have to exchange anything, is rather rewarding.

    If you don’t have “Hard Candy Christmas” on your Holiday playlist, you really are missing out.

  • Short Story Review: “The True Margaret” by Karan Mahajan

    (The short story “The True Margaret” by Karan Mahajan appeared in the August 14th, 2023 issue of The New Yorker.)

    Photograph by Eliza Bourner for The New Yorker

    “The True Margaret” by Karan Mahajan, is an interesting short story, which ultimately is a well-crafted piece of fiction, yet I never found myself engrossed by it. The story has a great opening paragraph, which is compelling, but what follows is a deliberate plodding paced story that never rises in intensity, even as the climax approaches. As I finished the story, I liked it, but I was left feeling unsatisfied. I will say this; I do recommend reading this story.

    All the pieces are here for an effective short story. It is set in the past of 1959 London. An arranged marriage, an Indian bride brought 5,000 miles from her home. The adjustment to a new city and culture. The shadow of colonialism, patriarchy, class, and sexism. Questions about the idea of freedom being a reality or an illusion. How threats grow larger and more diabolical in our minds as we dwell on them. The duality of one’s nature. The courage to escape one’s situation, and a resolution that delivers our protagonist to a safer place, but not a rewarding place. There is a lot going on here, and it is all brought up in a natural way, never feeling forced.

    And still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of not being satisfied with the ending. Finally, I had to come to the conclusion that this ending was the point. That the plodding pace was there to help illustrate this point. Doing the right thing, breaking the mold, saving yourself doesn’t mean you get the happy ending – it only means you survived to live another day. And even if you get years beyond that incident, to where it doesn’t necessarily feel real anymore, it sometime can never be forgotten, or forgiven.

  • The Feels Rollercoaster

    The last couple of years have been a rough go for most of us. I’m not taking a huge leap with that idea, I know. Covid threw everyone for a loop, changed the ways of the world, brought up many issues people had to deal with, and I will also say that on the whole, we are all living in a Post-Covid world now.

    For me, this dark period of life started in 2018 with my mother’s death. She felt a lump in her throat in July, and passed away in October. Three months isn’t necessarily a short period of time, but it still feels like it all happened in the blink of an eye. I’m still dealing with her passing, and probably will forever, but I do know that I am in a better place about it.

    There are many things that can be said about losing a parent, and have been said many times over and over. What I found was that nothing brought me joy or happiness. I was sad all of the time. Not depressed, or withdrawn – just sad. And this sadness was always just below the surface, and if I felt anything too much – laughed too hard, or lost myself in a movie or a song – then I would start crying. And I would allow it to happen, and it felt cathartic, but it also made me feel like I was unhinged, and not in control. I knew I needed to mourn my mother, but I also needed to go to work, and take care of my kid, and that was important too.

    When Covid hit, I still wasn’t in a good place, but I was functional. It was a little strange to be isolated from everyone, but our little family unit clung together. I found that my marriage actually got stronger, and I enjoyed being with my wife all the time. And getting to spend so much time with my kid – playing and teaching her how to read – is a treasured gift that I am so fortunate I was able to take part in. Not that we all didn’t have moments where we needed our space, or got on each other’s nerves; we are human.

    And as 2023 started, I started feeling good again. And I started acknowledging that I had changed. I’m not the same person that I was in 2018. It was tough, but I had to admit that I am no longer a theatre artist or a puppeteer. That was a tough one, as that is how I had thought of myself since 2000, all the way back in college. For the last five years, I hadn’t done a show, and I didn’t have a desire to go back. Same thing with my career in arts management. Though I know I don’t want to go back to it, I also know that I do have some anger with the way I was treated in my last two jobs, and I need to take responsibility for the way I behaved as well. That’s an issue I am still working on.

    What I have changed into is a stay at home dad; that’s my role in the family. It took me a bit of time to come around to it. There is still a pull in me to go get a job, as it is stuck in my head that the only “real” way to contribute to my family is by bringing in money. There is a good chance that I will do that, or need to do that in the near future, but as of now – I got a kid, a home, and a financial future that I am responsible for.

    But I still have to do something creative, which is what you are seeing/reading right now. I have always written something – in a journal since high school, plays, an article for a rock zine, college lit journal, and several on and off blogs. There was a five-year period after high school when I tried my hand at getting published, but other that a handwritten from an editor at STORY Magazine telling me to “keep at it, don’t get discouraged,” nothing ever came of it. This blog that you are reading now, was started back in 2017, back at the tail end of my performing days, so writing has always been hanging around in my life. Sure, in the middle of the Pandemic, I had this crazy notion that I was going to “earn money” through writing… And I have re-assessed this idea. If it happens – great! But I am not counting on it. I’m writing because it makes me feel good, gives me a purpose, and is something to work at that is for me. And right now, that’s what I need most in my life.

    Like I said, with all of these changes, I started feeling good about myself, my place in the world. I started feeling grateful for the like I share with my wife, and kid, my family and my friends. I have a good life – filled my struggles – but it is a good life that I am proud of.

    And then I saw a picture. It was a simple, picture of seven people standing in front of a theatre upstate. One of the people in the picture was a friend of mine, who got tagged in the shot, and it was from an organization that he was working for this summer developing a new theatre piece that involved mime and physical theatre – all the stuff I used to do.

    And that picture made me feel like shit. I was shocked at how awful I felt by looking at it. I wasn’t upset with my friend, nor was I jealous of what he was doing, as he’s been taking part in camp, workshops, and art commune things like this since I met him. I felt like shit looking at that picture because the thought that crept into my head was, “That could have been you if you didn’t quit.” I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had given up on myself, and that nothing mattered.

    I feel that I have a normal level of anxiety and self-doubt. Normal level meaning that I have to work to overcome my anxiety and self-doubt, but it is never so great to keep me from getting out of bed in the morning, or to stop me from trying. But this feeling was more like I had wasted my life – that I could have been doing the cool stuff, creating works of art. That I was just one step away from it, and I was the loser who quit.

    And it was like all the progress that I had made over the past year – working through my mom’s passing, my new role in my family, leaving my career, and working on a new form of expression – was meaningless. It had the added effect of making me feel totally alone and isolated. One picture triggered all of that in me.

    You have to make a choice in a moment like that, and I did what any healthy, well balanced person does – I ate potato chips on the couch while playing video games trying very hard to act like I didn’t feel what I felt. Because I felt ashamed at who I am, and for trying to grow into something else.

    But it passed – all those feels. It passed because I talked to my wife about it. It passed because I took my kid to the community pool on a hot Summer day in Harlem, and we swam and talked about music and going away to camp. It passed because I talked to my partner about it, and it passed because I spent time with my daughter – the person I am trying to better myself for.

    It passed but it still lingers in my mind. It’s there because I still need to take the time and mourn the passing of who I used to be. That’s not to say that I won’t find my way back to a theatre, but if I do return, I won’t be the same person doing it for that old reason. It lingers because I am human, and I will always wonder to some degree if I made the right choice. I wish I was so completely confidant in my decisions that I never look back. That’s not me, and I know that about myself.

    I know a few more things about myself now, that I didn’t know awhile ago. It’s progress. I am happier, and that is a win.

  • Short Story Review: “THE NIGHT THE STARS FELL” by Dustin M. Hoffman

    (The short story “THE NIGHT THE STARS FELL” by Dustin M. Hoffman appeared in One Story, issue 289.)

    (Yeah, I will SPOIL it.)

    I’m really late to the party on this story. “THE NIGHT THE STARS FELL” by Dustin M. Hoffman was published May of 2022 in One Story, and I got around to reading it this past week. I wasn’t planning on writing about this story, since it was published almost a year ago, but when I finished reading it, the piece kept poking, and gnawing at me.

    The story takes place on a Thursday night when all the stars in the night sky have fallen and disappeared. There is Jack, a former accountant who has been unemployed for eight months and spends his days watching tv, and his nurse wife, Catherine, who has remained employed at the local hospital to keep the two of them financially afloat. We learn that Catherine had a miscarriage a little over eight months ago, and their lives haven’t been the same since. It is on this night, that Jack has decided to talk to Catherine about how they should try again to have a child, but with the stars disappearing from the night sky, the conversation doesn’t occur. They decide to drive around town, to witness the chaos as the end of the world appears to be close. They end up at a bonfire at a local grocery store, where Jack makes a realization about his wife.

    One of the things that I appreciated with this story was the decision to make the external event, the stars disappearing, just on the very far out edge of possibility, though highly unlikely. I will take a wild stab in the dark here and say that the stars disappearing is a stand in for the Pandemic; a global event that brings about change and self-reflection. And that’s what I think the story was really about – watching how these two depressed and dissatisfied people deal with a life changing event that is beyond their control, or ability to affect the outcome. They are powerless. But this situation is handled with a light touch, and allows a few moments of humor to pop up, which was refreshing. (It’s not lost on me that the disappearing stars could also function as a metaphor for the miscarriage, but I’m sticking with the Pandemic.) Without these uses of humor, the story could have easily spiraled out of control.

    Even with all of that said, this is a story about Jack and Catherine, and their relationship. When we are introduced to Jack, he is presented as a man who has given up – unemployed for the past eight months by his own passive-aggressive doing, he watches Discovery Channel all day, keeps the curtains drawn. He is showing all the signs of depression with his inaction. He’s a schlub and starts the story at a very low point. Catherine is also depressed, but acts out. Her first reaction to seeing the stars fall is to reach out and try to stop it from happening. Also, she has no issue slapping Jack to get him to focus on the issues at hand. She climbs out of the car, and throws her shoes. Though pointless sometimes, Catherine does take action. Both of their depressions are springing from the same place – the miscarriage. I liked that Jack and Catherine had this dualism. It’s not a revolutionary narrative trick, but in the right hands it can be very effective.

    Now, as the story unfolds it is revealed to us that Catherine, after the miscarriage had an affair, only for Jack to go and have his own affair. We are informed they reconciled after working at it, only to land in a rut of a banal existence with the help of their top-of-the-line HD TV. This paragraph of backstory is given to us right in the middle of the piece, and I know it was meant to function as the explanation of how they got to this place in their relationship when we first meet them. But, this development struck me as odd, especially for Jack. From what we know of Catherine, she is acting out on her depression, thus having an affair fits with her character. But Jack? The guy who never leaves home and watches tv all day? I mean, to have an affair, you have to put for a little effort. What we know of him, he doesn’t follow through with putting out effort.

    I justify my reasoning of this by referring back to the beginning of the story. We are told Jack is ready to try again at having a baby, and that Catherine just needs convincing, but that is only a red herring. When Catherine returns home, and tells him of the stars, he cannot focus on her, but continues to watch tv. Catherine has to slap him, just to get Jack to focus on the issues at hand. To me, this says that Jack never truly intended for them to try again for a baby, let alone have a conversation about it, because it was never at the forefront of his thoughts. He might be saying that he wants a child, but he actions are to stay in front of that TV.

    So, when we get to the end of the story, and Jack “realizes” what Catherine had gone through with the miscarriage, what is his action? He doesn’t go to her to try to console her, or share his new understanding. In fact, another person has to tell Jack that he needs to go to his wife. And as they drive home, the decision that Jack makes, if there is a tomorrow, is for life to go back to the routine. Jack’s decision is not to take action.

    And then that gets me to this question; Can a story have a fulfilling conclusion if the protagonist does not take an action at the climax?

    I think Hoffman attempted to do a little sleight of hand here with the ending. As Jack and Catherine are driving home, Jack, with his new insight to what he believes Catherine has been going through, says that she was right that didn’t try again to have a baby. While Jack appears to be referring to the end of the world that might be coming, Catherine’s agreement seems to be referring to the state of their relationship. Is this relationship a tragedy? Are they star crossed lovers, doomed to fail, or are their fates trapped in the stars, never to be changed? It’s an interesting idea, or metaphor, that Hoffman attempts to use, but ultimately, it falls flat.

    It falls flat, in part due to how Catherine is not treated as an equal to Jack in the story. The narrator tells us what Jack is thinking and realizing, but for Catherine, we are left to speculate. We are never told what her thoughts are, and on a few instances, the narrator isn’t sure what the motivation for her actions are, only to tell us what Catherine “seems” to be doing. Catherine is treated as just another character, like the employees of the grocery store burning shopping carts in the parking lot.

    Because of this decision, “THE NIGHT THE STARS FELL” is Jack’s story. And again, I ask, can a story have a fulfilling conclusion if the protagonist does not take an action at the climax? Jack’s hero’s journey, to use the Joseph Campbell’s theory, is that at the beginning he decides to take an action for a purely selfish reason, goes out in the world where he learns an insight about his wife, and then decide that he wants to go right back to where he started, without making any changes. Jack starts as a schlub and ends as a schlub; it’s not a satisfying journey for the hero.

    Now, I try to follow the rule of critiquing the story that is presented by the author, and not the suggesting what I would have done if I had written the story. But in this instance I am going to make an exception. Mainly to ask; Why wasn’t Catherine the protagonist of this story? She is a much more interesting, and dynamic of a character compared to Jack. She’s complicated, troubled, conflicted, and faces a real crisis of conscious in this story. She also takes action and tries to do things to affect the outcome of the situation she is in. There is drama in her life, not only in her job but in her marriage. Why was Catherine relegated, and she was by the way she was treated by the narrator, to playing backup to a very bland Jack? Catherine’s character could go in a million different dramatic directions, while Jack is locked into a single predicable trajectory.

    Like I said, I was late to the party on this one, but I do think there was an opportunity for a very honest, and humorous story to be told here. It just focused on the wrong person to tell its story.