THE WATCH

I read an obituary today, and it ended with the line, “She had no survivors.” Iʼve read lines like that a thousand times before, but today, for some reason, it resonates.

Maybe because I just had a birthday a few weeks back. Maybe because a FaceBook friend from high school and college just had a birthday and she wrote me a few days ago reminding me that we are approaching a milestone year soon.

When she wrote that, I thought, “Wow--I donʼt feel like that number (**please note the irony here: I am not sharing that number with you.). I certainly donʼt (think I) look like that number, and God knows, I donʼt (think I) act like that number, either! Reassurance???

“She had no survivors.” I am coming up on the 4th Anniversary of my Dadʼs death. There is not a day that goes by when I do not think of him. Some of his ashes are in a pine box on my piano in our living room; I have a tree planted for him in our yard with some of his ashes mixed in with the soil. And in my office, on the freestanding bookshelf that rests next to the chair where I sit for every session--lays his watch.

That watch. It wasnʼt a Rolex, or a Tag Heuer. Itʼs pretty nondescript, actually.....

It was probably the Summer of 2002. Like most Annapolis summers, it was hot and humid. Like most Annapolis summers, we were probably drinking our Stoli Martinis and reminiscing about the “way it had been.”

My dad was pretty sick by this time, but he could still knock back those extra-dry martinis. And I shared this ritual with him--screw the mild hangover the next morning-this was our attempt, albeit not the most functional, to connect.

“Here, Jeff, I want you to have this.”

He slipped the watch from his now-frail wrist--that wrist that putted for pars and birdies,that wrist that used to teach me his tennis serves when I was a young kid, the wrist that helped him draw funny cartoon characters that my brother, Brad, and I would marvel at.

“Dad--I--I--canʼt take this. Itʼs yours.”

“Jeff--I am your father--I want you to have this. Forcefully, but with a sense of resignation and maybe some regret for our not-always peaceful relationship, he said,“Take it..” He waved it at me, urging me to grab it.

Our eyes met for a brief, brief moment--and I panicked.

“Dad--I--I donʼt want it--I donʼt like it. I donʼt wear watches like that. Iʼm sorry. (I paused.) Maybe Brad would want it.”

“Then, thatʼs okay--never mind--itʼs okay. Iʼll take it back.”

He did not look at me. His hand shook a bit as he pulled the watch back toward him, much like a poker player tentatively pulling back his chips.

Realizing what I had done, I began to clumsily, stupidly backtrack. “No, Dad, I want it- Iʼm sorry--I donʼt know what I was--”

“Jeff--itʼs okay. Itʼs okay.” He slowly slipped it back on his wrist. He took a small sip from his glass. “Itʼs really hot here today, isnʼt it?”

“Yeah, Dad, it is.” I took a gulp from my drink, spilling some of it on my shirt.

Jeff--you are a fucking idiot.

Survivors.

CLEANSERS

PART 1

So, I am on Day 5 of a 5 Day Cleanse. A cleanse is kind of like a detox. You put all natural, unpasteurized fruit and vegetable juices in your body. The program I am on supplies me with 6 assorted drinks that I consume in a particular order throughout the day. I can also drink water and herbal teas. Monday was my first day of doing this--I wanted to stick nails in my eyes--I was in my bed by 6:30pm praying for my caffeine withdrawals to subside and watching the Bearenstain Bears with Maya--poor thing--she did not even know the agony I was in.

When I awoke Tuesday morning, I was still feeling a bit shaky, but was feeling better. By Tuesday afternoon, I felt pretty much okay and by the evening, I felt great. Since then, I have felt AWESOME.

You know what’s odd? Not chewing food. I have conditioned myself throughout the day to chew on apples, almonds, sushi, salads, and at night, assorted meats and vegetables. But to not chew? Weird.

My head is clearer. I am feeling more motivated. And I have dropped almost 10 pounds in 4 days. Wild.

So my mom asked me the other day, “Jeff, why are you doing this?”

I replied, “Well, Mom, I am not getting any younger, I have been eating way too much red meat and carbs. I am not happy with who I see in the mirror in the morning--I have never weighed this much in my life, and I want to feel healthier.”

Then she asked, “So what happens after the cleanse is over?”

Pause. “Good question--that is the challenge.”

And then we both laughed.

And we both laughed because I have been down this road many times before. I have the idea, I have the vision, I have the desire, I have the plan and then KABOOM!

It falls apart.

I’ve alluded to this before in a few other posts. Consistency, focused consciousness--good words. Wonderful principles.

But it takes work and determination to put into motion. And you know what? It’s not too late. I’ll keep you updated.

PART 2

So, I went to bed with Mary Tyler Moore last night and woke up with Mary and Robert Redford.

Let me explain. It was a dream!

Robert Redford directed Mary Tyler Moore in the movie, Ordinary People, back in 1980. I really connected with that film. My parents’ marriage had just dissolved, I was forced to give up school for a while because of financial constraints, and I was going through my own emotional hell, so I really identified with the pain that the characters in that film were experiencing. The role I played in my family was the “feeling sponge”--if there were feelings dripping around, I would sop ‘em up!

Though the film did not center around divorce, it did focus on what can happen in a family when expectations, judgements, rigidity and fear, outweigh compassion, love and understanding. And the protagonist, Conrad, lost in the family’s tide of grief following his older brother’s death, also took in the family’s pain. I got him--we were doing the same thing. His story and mine were so close.

The other difference was that I did not have his therapist, played by Judd Hirsch to go to, to talk of my pain, to cry, to get a hug. It was all kept inside. And it was toxic. Sure, I got it out sometimes with the help of alcohol and weed, but I think we all know that these are not effective coping strategies. But in that moment, that is all I knew. I had no one to go to.

And I was reminded of an article I read in the Times the other day. And this is something I was already aware of, but it is always nice to be hit with it again.

One of the great travesties, in my opinion, is the way we take care of our youth who are aging out of the foster care system. Basically, these kids, when they turn 18, are let loose into the world with no safety net, except Medicaid insurance and maybe $1000--more or less. And a lot of this depends on how effective their caseworker has been in their advocacy. So now, given the economy, and given their emotional baggage and their less-than-perfect educational background, they have some hefty challenges to face--more often without the aid of family or any support system. Oh yes, and no job prospects.

How would we handle this? I guess we could do what I did and drink and smoke some weed to alleviate the pain, but this only lasts so long.

Put yourself in the shoes of an 18 year-old boy or girl, shunted from home to home, from school to school, belongings transported in a black Hefty bag. Attachments, for the most part have been difficult to form, because of troubles in this foster home or that one, because this foster parent accused me of this, or I did not get along with this kid.

Some foster children are held up to such an incredibly ridiculous high set of expectations that we would never hold our own children to. And if we did--well, we would need a bunch more child therapists. But we don’t think about the impact on these kids who have been left behind. It is heartbreaking.

So, as you read about about me wanting to put nails in my eyes because I am going thru a caffeine withdrawal because I have just spent $325 on a cleanse, let’s just tell each other:

Keep Life In Perspective.