Gone are Summer Dresses

When summer fades in Savannah, so do bikinis on the Forsyth Park promenade, short shorts on Broughton on weekends, and summer dresses all about town. The scene shifts to practicality -- warmth -- comfort: and away from the idea of just keeping cool. I love Summer, even when it is too hot.

And I love Fall too -- it brings other pleasures, other comforts, other gifts. But I cannot wait for Summer to come again. 

Administrivia

Sometimes we get what we didn't bargain for.  When Sheila and I first bought our Bed and Breakfast property in Savannah in 1996-7--we did not expect her to get sick and pass away so prematurely; we also didn't expect that I would be struggling to sell this same beautiful property seven years after her death in 2006. The Great Recession intervened -- and the rest is local economic history. 

Administering to this house -- and my several jobs, is a difficult task for a 60-something year old guy, but I try to keep going.  In the absolutely impossible moments -- I seek and find support from the past, from my life with Sheila, from the help of Tosha, from the distant support of Kate, and Linda, and even, yes even, Tina.  Memories bolster the spirit under duress. Friendships bolster memories. Communication bolsters friendships. 

Being Alone

I have made many decisions in my life: this most recent one has been the most complete and complex one to date. As life has gone along I have fallen into and out of love, into and out of relationships, even into and out of friendships. Deciding to be alone is independent of all of those. Being along is not solipsism so much as it is deciding not to burden others, or myself with others. 

This is never an easy decision -- and it made more complicated by the fact that others are always present even after the decision is made. Then why make such a decision? You make this decision when you decide that you can make no other decision; that life has left you with no real tools to allow you to be a part of another's life, when age has promised you only a few simple pleasures -- and none of them needs to or can involve other people. You make the decision when it is the best decision available. 

Does that mean that sexuality is finished for you? Or that life ceases to have any promise, any future, any fun? No to all of these. It just means that, on average, it is better for you to do all things that you might do, alone. 

Caring

No one should really care about what I might have to say. Only the strength and honesty of my words are enough to merit an honest hearing. Just by whom I am and what I have done -- there in nothing spectacular in what I have done. Over time my life has evened out to be, I think, more positive than negative -- but not extraordinarily so. I have done some things, many of them good -- in the artistic realm, in the moral realm, in the human realm.  I have tried to help much more than I have tried to hurt, and no matter what some might say, I have not planned and done anything evil -- towards anyone, on any level. 

So that is my declaration. There is no one really who should care what I might have to say: about things, about them, about myself. But I will keep writing nonetheless. Why? On the chance that my words someday, sometime may soften the experiences someone else is undergoing; that somehow, in some strange way, knowing what I did might help them to survive, and conquer. I myself will always "care for" those that I love; and there are many such. Death's oracle may let them know who they are. 

Friday is Thursday at STC

There are a lot of things that just don't make sense in life. Institutions make bad use of their facilities, and their faculty. Men and women fall in love and then exist in a stasis of "roommates forever." Life hangs on for all of us until we are too frail to do much about it. Why have these become principles of life?

What a place! It makes one think that the earth and life were launched and now thunder on down through a tunnel of time with no one in charge -- a kind of "deism" without control of any kind. And then there are moments of karma and goodness, or moments of extraordinary evil -- that make one cry out for control, control of some kind. Any kind. And we as humans -- with out free will -- often feel helpless and hapless to effect a change in course. Why? Why is life the way it is? Why are some people so unfairly lucky -- and die before a decent span of life is reached? Why do people get incurable diseases? Is it just back luck? Are our lives dependent on the thrown of dice in some supra-universe?

Sexual Roles: Who's On Top?

Once again today on "Morning Joe" I heard a female expert declaiming "age old" truths stating indirectly that men are the "dominant gender." It was phrased this way on the tv show -- "if men are kept happy, everything in the home will go well."

I have become a cynic about all gender politics expressed by pundits on any side of the issue -- they all, no matter what their opinions, use uncommon common sense (or the Bible, or tradition, or customs, or whatever), to bolster a half-truth into a full one. Men are not superior; men were not created by God to be superior; men have not earned the right to be superior. Men are human -- with weaknesses and strengths; but men are not "first" no matter what the good book, the holy book, or any book has to say about the issue. 

Men have a place in life; women have a place in life. Part of that place is determined by our physical functions; part by custom and tradition; part by our particular set of skills.  A penis does not give men the right to rule over things any more that a vulva does. We are what we are physically (and psychologically as well) -- and we eke out our existence and our positions from our own peculiar standpoints. 

Tosha, the Conquerer

Tosha got her letter of approval for her company's 501(c)(3) status from the Federal Government today. Was there any doubt?

Tosha is a young woman who can master a task and survive. She is a steady, harder-working-than-most-people sort of girl, capable of completing extensive challenges.  She will do brilliant things someday; not every time, but oftener than most people would even have a chance of doing.

Tosha also has great depth: of heart, of understanding, of compassion, of joy, of love, and of all the confusion that accompanies the aforementioned. She is an amazing person in hundreds and hundreds of ways -- too many to even list, much less talk about. I know she will succeed. I know it. 

Accepting Change

Can I accept change?  If my house would sell --- could I handle the many changes that would ensue?  Would I retire?  Would I be able to retire?  Would I want to retire? 

Losing the responsibility of handling such a large property, what would I do? In which direction would I go? Renting? Buying another house? What would I do? Stay tuned -- the answer should be forthcoming soon.  Though it is so very, very nerve-wracking. 

Carey, Bertina (Part Two)

No matter what one says about a failed relationship, it comes out as "savaging" the other person. And that is never what one means to say; but just saying the truth, as objectively and coherently as one can -- belies the truth. Perhaps that is true on the positive side as well.

Way back when, in the distant reaches of time, Bertina and I wrote letters to each other. It was after she had graduated from Interlochen, and before she came to visit me at school. She wrote well -- honestly and completely about her life in college -- though she never wrote the whole and complete story; she probably didn't want to scare me away from her. There were many results of her childhood trauma -- alcohol chief among them.  There were boyfriends, and crushes, and relationships that ended horrifically -- all of them I wouldn't know about until later. And we wrote more, even after our "almost affair" in and around Grunow theatre. 

Did Bertina have a crush on me then? Did I on her? Yes, I think so -- in both directions. As I got to know her much later (after 2007 -- 30 years later) I found out details -- men who tried to control her, men whom she loved but were not quite right for her or didn't want to marry her; some good situations, some bad. All of them told to me with both the good sides and the bad, though with emphasis on the bad. All this led to the possibility of an "us"-- could we really learn to be with each other -- for the first time, for real, in a "love kind of thing."

God I hoped so at the time. Even though I thought at times our experiences had led us in such different directions, and we didn't listen to each other closely enough. 

We competed to be lovers and both of us lost a little bit in the process. I never thought of myself as a very good lover, but I was always about "the other person." In many ways Bertina thought she was a good lover -- and she was all about the other person too as a way of fulfilling her own desires. It should happen naturally (I think) in her eyes. I'm not sure it ever did. It had been a long time since I had really worked with the physical side of love. And Bertina was seemingly much more experienced than I was.
I was not jealous of that, only worried that I could never keep up, or catch up, to where she wanted to go. That brought out observations, recriminations, and judgments that neither of us were experienced enough with the other to be able to make. And that was our big mistake -- presuming what the other person was doing, and then attacking them for it. Wrong words, too harshly said, too completely closed!

Today's Impromptus

Today's speeches, in an impromptu basis, were mostly somber reflections of the events of 9/11.  My own thoughts were more macro -- the world has changed, not necessarily for the better, but for certain --- the world has changed. 

Fear has given way to caution, prejudice and racism have given way to involvement, and analysis is beginning to break down our expectations into new hopes and dreams.
This is the way of emotional or even strategic movements -- they change.  They need to change to safeguard and continue the factor of normalcy in daily life. We need change (revolution), but we also always need to find a new norm. That is the way of life, like it or not.   

9/11

This is not a piece about "where were you when?" Nor is it a piece about patriotism, war, the end times, or the "rise and fall of the American Empire." This is a piece about remembrance, and respect, and love...or our best selves.

Most of us beyond the age of 30 remember where we were when...the Towers fell. Most of us recall the chill of changing times, when we thought about it, and so many deaths coming out of nowhere. There was heroism, and sacrifice, and sadness, and recompense, and a war or retribution that continues to this day. There were and are all those things. When the world changes -- and it often does -- new thinking is needed.

So remember, individually and collectively, how things have changed. Respect who we were and who we have become. And love...yourself, and the world as it has evolved. It is all we have. 

Before Time Finishes

We often say "he died before his time," or "he didn't know his time was up," and other such nonsense.  The future is certainly not ours to see, or ours to manipulate. Why don't we understand that we are finite, limited in time and place, but not necessarily any the lesser because of it? 

Will we "come back" as something else as the "great wheel turns" as many believe.  Or is this it? We can't know because we are trapped in time and by time. Afterwards, we don't know if there is an after-words. Will there be something of reward, or something of punishment, after our "time" here is over? What do you believe? Does belief make it so? I want Sheila to have her time of happiness -- an infinite time (contradictory, I know) of happiness -- because she is/was such a marvelous person as she lived, and as she suffered with me -- who was not quite the Mr. Wonderful that he hoped he could be. She suffered, and she died; and she deserves to be happier now because of all that.

Who determines what we deserve? "Who dat?" Who is in charge? 

Missing But Not Gone

Tosha Fowler, my S-D, starts working on Wednesday at De Paul. She will be teaching Acting for Non-Majors (non-conservatory) in two sections. Good for her.

She is certainly ready and extraordinarily able to teach these classes, and the students will be lucky to have her for their teacher. Tosha's talents in theatre have been honed by long and careful effort.  Hopefully she has taken "best practices" from all her teachers over the years, including myself. Tosha has extended herself and her skills as an actress, a director, a producer and a teacher in multiple ways over her career. Tosha is vitally concerned about process and results in all her work -- she is an ideal college teacher.

Of course I am highly prejudiced about her -- I have admired her many talents, and seen both her successes and her failures over quite a few years now. She has grown past her own college Mentors (including me) and has grasped both the teacher's and the student's roles in learning about theatre crafts. I predict that she will win again.  And the only thing missing in her work would be my ability to see it. Sigh! 

Diana, Huntress of the Moon

She has the kind of fulsome voice that is both soft and chord like -- never shrill. Though her laugh can be a bit obstreperous and overpowering by nature. You might consider her a "tough broad" if you didn't know her soft and feminine nature, revealed only in reaction to language that is too much, or too little. 

She is newly middle aged though not old, long necked but not tall, smiling but rarely gleeful.  She is a mystery to many, but a chosen course to herself. She has many friends who are artsy and feminine as she, but few who are balanced and real as she could be. She walks the night in search of pristine and untouched treasures. She herself is pristine -- and delicately beautiful. Full hips give promises fulfilled by all her hearty appetites. She is an unexpected pleasure in taking pleasure. She walks by night.  She walks in beauty like the night.

She really should consider the Moon as she walks, even though it is older and more weary than she. She should consider it; she could learn from it. Consider the Moon. Diana! Consider the Moon. 

Lives of Some Difficulty

Every time my path crosses someone who really has it tough -- illness in the family, poverty, pressures of unemployment or underemployment, etc. I stop and consider how very lucky I have been. How do some people survive, I wonder? How do they get through the days of strife and uncertainty?

Of course I have those days too, but on such a smaller scale that I think just doesn't matter somehow.  I wonder at the way life works itself out.  I consider my own blessings and wish somehow that I could just give them all away, to those in need. 
That is empathy of course, and even altruism -- but it is not the way society works for those who are not blessed. Life is fatalistic; life is fickle.   

Truce Between the Sexes

Sometimes the competition in a relationship is palpable -- and sometimes it even spills over into a kind of nastiness. If the relationship can't "right" itself it spills over into outright hatred -- or something very near to it.  To call someone a nasty name, or even "think" them a nasty name, because they will not do your bidding or because they think differently than you do, is anathema.

I have had relationship battles. Even with Sheila, my wife of almost twenty years, there were battles: over money, and direction, and focus, and even over the most intimate of elements. Certainly with other women I had been with before Sheila -- there were also battles, and rivalries, and misunderstandings, and stupid decisions -- and now, looking back, I regret most of them. Since Sheila's passing in 2006 December I have been clearer-eyed and much more honest about relationships. If I can't make it work; or if I think that I am in a situation where for the good of all I need to leave, I will do so.  Now in the very autumn of my life I am less inclined to even enter into the possibility of a relationship, ever again. It's not that I have been "burned" too often, or that I think that there is no one out there for me -- it is just that I lack the comprehensive energy to "try again" to make sense out of the senseless. I can live well even when I am in doubt -- but I cannot live when I am in crisis, and constantly so.

And that is why I said "Goodbye" to Bertina -- in spite of my feelings.    

Della Kontney Mrochinski

Remembering one's Mother on her birthday is no great show of love. Remembering her always is much better.

My Mom Della was  a memorable woman -- memorable in her humor, her attitude, her ability to react with surprising quickness, her youthful mind. Even when slowed by stroke and confined to a home in Michigan she was bright-eyed and engaging, compassionate and observing.  I still marvel at her memory of my wife Sheila when confusion was all around her towards her own children, her siblings, her friends. Della was the kind of "girl" who loved a happy time, who loved to laugh, who loved to get the joke and pass it on. She was a person "easy to love" even if she wasn't my Mother -- but she was. 

She gave much to many for a long period of time -- unabashedly. I loved her and still do. Happy Birthday Della! 

In Confusion There is ...Profit

Lots of confusion in the world these days: Syria, Afghanistan, Washington, and just about everywhere else. Elements seem unsettled and incomplete. Things just don't seem to be happening in the same order as they once did. Supply is not following demand; the rich are not helping to take care of the poor. Religion is not preaching love -- only solipsism, holding onto one issue in lieu of all issues. Politics has made a mess of justice, and of fairness. Racism rules our political thinking.

And yet the world wags on. We are depleting the atmosphere and poisoning our own air. We are neglecting our lovers, friends and family and honoring our celebrities. We have lost the ability to think. We only react. When we can.  When we will let us react. We are impotent. 

Perhaps there is no confusion -- only blank stupidity. No profit in that.