Good questions.
May 15, 2010
I picked him up in a parking lot.
That’s the story John and I tell when people ask how a fellow from LA (Glendale to be exact) and a woman visiting Portland from Tulsa got to be friends after the briefest of chance encounters one night in late September 2008.
Actually it was a valet parking/taxi line. Once upon a time there was an elegant south Waterfront restaurant known as Lucier until a wicked restaurant critic wrote a poison pen review that closed its doors.
John is like a big brother, the best kind: Caring, wise, confident. He’s the kind of person you wish you could pop in your pocket and take everywhere. From the lobby of the Wyatt, as I watched him getting out of his car on Northwest 12th Avenue, I thought how I like everything about him, everything except maybe his choice in dogs (basset hounds) but I got used (even attached) to cats this year living with Judith during Tulsa visits. All in all, John is pretty perfect.
One of the first things I learned about him is he has a practice of meeting at least 10 people a day, from which he’s sure to get a respectable quantity of quality contacts. Want to go to the Oscars, looking for a hotel recommendation in Seattle? You should have John’s number on speed dial.
“Were you falling short? It was pretty late that Saturday night when I struck up our conversation. Had you not met your quota for the day?” I’ve asked him, when referring to why he emailed the following day.
After a couple of decades as a hospital administer, John now owns a search company, traveling the country interviewing executives for open management positions at hospitals. Naturally, he is in the business of asking good (revealing) questions. He even does it in a way that makes you feel you’ve found the answer without being asked the question. I have an epiphany following each of our chats.
Late in April we were having breakfast at Lovejoy Bakery.
“I ask but I don’t know the answer. They die on me.” John said. “But I have seen couples handle it lots of ways. Some make a firm rule: no contact for six months.”
What John wasn’t saying is, “I’ve not really seen your approach before.”
John is happily into his second decade with a partner that still curls his toes, someone in many ways different from him… think classical music meets show tunes, scholar meets life of the party, pianist meets rower type pairing. His is a “happily ever after” following the death of his first great love.
John was gently, but pointedly asking me about the wisdom of regular, social exchanges with Joel, and doubly so, but to a lesser degree, Jake. Was it keeping me tethered to the past? Was it having a negative effect on “moving forward?” Friends come and go. Many reconnect periodically. I have never been involved in severing a relationship. I believe I’m still on good terms with everyone but the mean-spirited, incompetent school director that made Clay’s fourth grade experience a living hell for all three of us. Even we made no plan to never set eyes on each other again. I’d actually like to see her once and slap her. I can forgive injustices done to myself, never my child.
Acceptance, responsibility, appreciation and forgiveness. When your brain and heart work together through these emotions I find anger gets crowded out. And isn’t that the emotion that dictates harsh endings?
I have always recoiled at hearing a couple “spilt.” With the intention of remaining whole versus fractured, maybe I have actually prolonged the healing process – removing the bandage slowly. If I’d walked away sooner what moments would I have skipped? Would important things have gone unsaid?
Thursday night after a closing tour of “Disquieted” at Portland Art Museum, I visited the gift shop. There I came across a book titled “Dear Old Love.” Compiled by Andy Selsberg from postings to his site of the same name http://dearoldlove.com ), the book features anonymous notes to former crushes, sweethearts, husbands, wives and ones that got away.
What has been left unsaid in your past? Post it here. Maybe it will get read by the person it is intended for, maybe not. I bet you’ll benefit from writing it.
Maybe these from the book http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Dear-Old-Love/Andy-Selsberg/e/9780761156055/ will inspire you:
Touchdown: I root for the Giants because of you. My husband has no idea.
Rocky Road: I got fat after we broke up, but don’t let that swell your head. It was more because I was working at the ice cream store.
Near Miss: I wish I missed you, so I could do that instead of just feeling empty.
Go Figaro: Thanks to the tragedy of our breakup, I now love opera. But I cannot find anyone who will go with me.
Pet Peeved: I don’t care that you miss my dog. When you cheated on me, you cheated on him, too.
Nude For Nothing: Your tepid response to my naked pictures means we are never speaking again.
Not Quite A Regret: On one hand, I should have kissed you. On the other hand, I’ve had thirty good years imagining that kiss.
Whatever has gone unsaid, don’t leave today unlived. As always, Trix