BROKEN MEN: IT HURTS WHEN I DO THIS

Memo to broken men who hurt themselves: Don’t do that.

The remaining question remains.

How do men break?

I was downtown Portland near Powells talking to a street guy giving away Street Roots.

He said his name was Jason Isbell, the same as the singer.

– Do you have people?

– People? What do you mean people?

– Someone to call when you need to talk to someone?

– Yeah, I’ve got someone I can call, but I don’t call them when I’m on the street.

– When’s the last time you called?

– About eight months ago. I don’t want them worrying about me.

– Do you worry about them?

– Why would I worry about them.

What Broken Men Say

My father in-law was as broken as they come.

Parkinson’s Disease got him. Then I got him.

I’d planned on being his caregiver for two days, based on his end of life estimate, which doctors don’t like to give unless you press them.

After my pep talk on his second day home from the hospital he perked up and left the Broken Men club.

He still had Parkinson’s but I added the Dave Program. My mother in-law and I ran him ragged and he loved it. My wife and kids lived normal lives, which included fitting everything together on schedule.

More than one visiting nurse found themselves finishing their paperwork in their car after sharing their opinion of the old man.

“It must be nice for him, but I feel sorry for you.”

They said it right in front of the two of us.

I’d give the old man a wink and ask them, “Do you know how much longer you’ll be?”

“I’ve got more to do.”

“Let me check my clock. Oh, you’re done.”

“I’m not done.”

“Go ahead and finish in your car.”

After I saw them out I’d tell my father in-law, “These people don’t know you so they talk shit like you’re not even here. Look who’s not here now. Sucks for them, not us. Who feels sorry now?”

Five years later he went silent before dying.

Who’s Silent Now

Do you have people, someone to call when you need to talk?

If you’re not a writer, it’s important. I’ve got plenty to say right here, and besides, I’ve got you.

And you, and you, and you.

Do you know who doesn’t have people?

Nineteen little kids in Texas don’t have anyone to talk to.

They’ll never have any in-laws, no questions to ask, no answers to hear.

The love of their families and friends is lost.

They’ll be remembered and revered in their town.

Then what?

Broken men see nineteen kids gunned down in their school as an acceptable loss.

Thoughts and prayers to all.

Nineteen kids gunned down in their school is not an acceptable loss.

Broken men aren’t acceptable losses either, but like over-opinionated nurses, they need to do better work or go sit in the car.