BE SOMEBODY YOU’D LIKE SPENDING TIME WITH

Be somebody when it matters is the challenge, and it’s personal.

If you’re a baby boomer living in that world, you know how it works.

Someone has come to your rescue, and you’ve probably been on a rescue mission of some kind.

Looking back at the times my old man wrote a note and sent his boys to the Roadside Grocery for cigarettes was a rescue mission of sorts.

I think Jess and Marie saw it that way too, instead of grade school kids cribbing smokes for themselves.

For that we would have gone to Log Cabin Grocery a block or two away.

Ah, the memories:

I remember right after my first child was born way back when.

We were living cheap, or normal living as I like to say, in a flat on SE 11th and Lincoln.

When I hear a place described as a ‘flat’ I think converted warehouse in London England, not an apartment in Portland Oregon USA.

The place was on the corner, a four-plex house with two on top, two on the bottom, and a big front porch entrance.

Three bedrooms made it more square feet than the house we bought a year later. In the late-80’s it was $240/mo for 1200 sq ft.

One of Elaine’s friends dropped off dinner, which I didn’t know was a regular thing to do with new parents.

Roasted rabbit in a big jar.

I remember it because it was delicious, my first and last rabbit, and for the kindness of the gesture.

She had just had a daughter and knew the kindness.

When she invited us to dinner at their house I gifted them a fancy copy of Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass for the husband’s book collection.

To show I ‘got it.’ At least that was the idea.

Was I somebody a book collecting literary translator wanted to spend time with?

The next time I saw them was at freshman orientation for the kids at UofO.

They were nice people, but . . . ?

It might have been me. Probably was me. I’ve never been called a ‘good mixer,’ or gift giver.

 

Be Somebody In Silverton

After a memorable visit to The Oregon Garden in the rain, we stopped for lunch in Silverton.

There were three of us and the dog all being there for each other, which is harder than it sounds.

It could have been a girl’s day at the garden, but they invited me.

So I went and I’m glad I did. That happens a lot in my husband life.

The motorcycle guy wearing antlers must have cruised past ten times, then followed us out of town before turning back.

Was he reminding local hunters to get their deer tag and clean their rifle?

You could tell how close he was from the old time rock and roll blaring from a huge sound system.

AC/DC sounded clear as hell’s bells.

It seemed weird, but it was Silverton.

The rider was being somebody, but it would have been better if they’d had somebody with them being weird too.

I like to think that’s how I’m seen when I’m out with my wife.

“He can’t be too bad if she’s with him,” is the wind beneath my wings.

 

Resolve To Be Somebody, Then Do It

LeBron James shared his feelings about his wife recently and how he’d be if she left him.

Paraphrasing King James:

 

I know you wanna leave me
But I refuse to let you go
If I have to beg, plead for your sympathy
I don’t mind, ’cause you mean that much to me

Ain’t too proud to beg, aa you know it (sweet darlin’)
Please don’t leave me, girl (don’t you go)
Ain’t too proud to plead, baby, baby
Please don’t leave me, girl (don’t you go)

Now I’ve heard a cryin’ man is half a man
With no sense of pride
But if I have to cry to keep you
I don’t mind weepin’ if it’ll keep you by my side

 

How far should men go to keep their wives happy when things take a turn for the worse?

You’ve been too busy for too long, unavailable, distant.

And she wants more.

More time, more fun, more of you, or who you used to be, and she wants to find it before it’s too late.

What should a man do?

Consider this counseling:

 

If I have to sleep on your doorstep all night and day
Just to keep you from walkin’ away
Let your friends laugh, even this I can stand
‘Cause I wanna keep you, any way I can

Ain’t too proud to beg, sweet darlin’
Please don’t leave me, girl (don’t you go)
Ain’t too proud to plead, baby, baby
Please don’t leave me, girl (don’t you go)
Whoo-hoo-hoo, alright

Now I’ve gotta love so deep, in the pit of my heart
And each day it grows more and more
I’m not ashamed to come and plead to you, baby
If pleadin’ keeps you from walkin’ out that door

 

 

Getting married is one thing.

Staying married is another.

The most important part is paying attention.

You can do that.

 

Relationship Work Makes Progress

Let’s admit it: Things change.

I’m not the first and only baby boomer blogger to notice, and won’t be the last, but how many times have you seen the denial of change?

From feelings to fads, from agreements to new standards, every day has a chance to change things permanently.

Like it or not, you’ve changed from the strutting flamingo of youth, the proud giraffe with your head held high.

Now you feel like putty being molded by a four year old. Why?

Because this is putty molded by a four year old, and you like it, don’t you?

You do, don’t you? Well you’d better.

I like it because I like the artist, and it resembles a flamingo and a giraffe, and their relationship with art will grow.

I wouldn’t like it as much if it was the work of a incompetent sixty or seventy year old who says I’d better like it if I know what’s good for me.

 

PS: When a known hack rolls out a vision of crap and calls it cake and tells everyone they have to have a slice and like it, there’s a problem. I’m not a crap taster and I have no plans to start.

 

PSS: When the hack’s buddies all spoon it up and celebrate the new taste sensation, what’s it mean to you, a fellow non-dump muncher? Did anything change?

No. So be somebody, the kind of somebody who knows the difference between crap and cake.