Wednesday, Mar. 30, 2005
Life and death, posted at 11:21 p.m.
Epiphany in Baltimore has moved to epiphanyinbaltimore.blogspot.com The vacation was a good one. From the periphery, it would be easy to look at the negatives: I went to Florida and didn't make it to a beach, never even took off my shirt. I saw exactly two women in bikinis. I didn't go to any amusement parks. I didn't get a tan. Still, the things I did accomplish will stick with me for a long time. I spent three uninterrupted days with my grandparents. I spent two days with my college roommate, one of my oldest and closest friends. I had a margarita with my grandma at Chili's. I got to sit for three innings behind homeplate at a spring training game, seeing Roger Clemens, the best pitcher of my generation, pitch from about twenty feet away in what will almost surely be my last opportunity to watch him pitch. I saw Ivan Rodriguez, the best catcher of my generation, get thrown out of a spring training game for arguing balls and strikes. I read a novel, a memoir, then another novel. I wrote a lot. I feel refreshed and relaxed, ready to take on whatever tomorrow might bring.That being said, I spent a lot of time on this trip thinking about death. I just can't seem to get around it lately. I've recently made the assessment that my life is probably one-third of the way over. I used to think I would live past 100, that I was a healthy guy that would live a long, healthy, centegarian life. Plus, I figure that living to be 100 would be pretty commonplace by 2077, the year I'll turn triple digits. But, lately I've thought I should shave some years off my supposed life expectancy. From the eyes falling apart (literally with the detached retinas) at 26, to the working out six days a week without much of a dent in my pudge, to the cancer that runs up my mother's side of the family, to the heart disease that runs up my father's side of the family, to the somewhat risky endeavors I have engaged in at times... I just don't think 108 is the age I'll live to anymore. I think 81 might be more accurate.
Why does this all matter? Well, I decided to take the trip officially the moment I heard my friend Zack had to take off to California for his grandfather's funeral. I realized that, at my age of 27, it's probably pretty rare to have grandparents that are not only still alive, but still healthy, active people. And my grandparents are.
I really like my grandparents. Sure, I love them because they're family, but I genuinely like them as people. I know, though, that they're not going to be around forever. My grandma is 72; my grandpa is 80. They have been married for 56 years. They sometimes bring up death in our conversations in that macabre way that old people sometimes do. My grandma bought me some shorts and said that when I was 2, she bought me diapers, and that when I'm 60, she'll buy me diapers too. Grandpa said they'd both be pushing up daisies by then. Laugh laugh laugh from both of them. Then a story about grandpa's lawnmowing partner, two years his senior, who died the other day. And another story about old neighbor Jim, who is 90 and used to hang with Hemingway, who "will probably die soon." Lots of talk of death. Not to mention being within an hour of the Terri Shiavo mess, and me making comments about Tobey better live for another ten years after spending $800 to make him better. Then, there's reading a lot of Anne Lamott, a writer I like a lot but wouldn't want to meet because I know way too much about her and think she cries too much.
Anyhow, lots of talk, and lots of thought, about death. I think I have a lot of anxiety of not accomplishing much in my life so far.
My friend Jason is doing a lot of feeling sorry for himself right now, too. Since I'm an expert in that as well, we had some whiny conversations together this weekend. He's angry and pissed off at the world, and while he realizes things are mostly his fault (I actually blame the woman more, but I'm biased), he's still pissed off. He moved down to Florida a couple of years ago and promptly got a girl pregnant. They had the kid in November of 2003 and the mother, her other kid, he, and the baby lived together for about a year and a half. Then, she decided she didn't much like him, and kicked him out. Now, he's a very family-oriented person who can see his son on Tuesday nights, Thursday nights, and Saturdays. It kills him that he doesn't wake up with his kid(s) (the "s" is there because he considers the first kid his as well, which is another story altogether). He's unhappy and bitter and angry.
But we hung out with that kid on Saturday, going to GatorLand and spending all afternoon having a blast. It was amazing. I know he's not in an ideal situation, but he's complaining about it so much that I had to lay into him later about it. We were talking about choices in our lives over a beer at the Disney House of Blues.
Him: I hate when people say things happen for a reason. Nothing happens for a reason. Things happen because you make choices and they happen.
Me: Yeah, but there are definitely moments in a person's life when things could have gone either way and they go one way and you look back and wonder why. Like, what if it was me placed in the horrible middle school in Baltimore and you in the good high school? Or both in the same school? Would you maybe still be living on Walther Avenue with me, living the life I'm living. And let me tell you, it's pretty empty a lot of the time. You could be living the lonely single life that I am, but you've got a son instead. Don't you realize how lucky you are?
Him: I'm not lucky, you are. It's better not to have a son at all than live like this with him.
Me: What are you talking about? You've got someone to live for. You've got someone for whom you get up every morning. Do you not realize that this is what other people long for? Do you know how much I would give for what you have?
Him: There's no way you can call me lucky for what I have.
And it went on like that for a while. An escalating upmanship of who is more depressed, who is more bitter. I told him that I think that there are three things that give a person happiness: happiness with a romantic partner, caring for a family, and having job satisfaction. I told him that I have only the latter. He told me that he only has the middle. Then we decided that we were tied. And we laughed. That's how things with Jason usually go.Still, if he were to die tomorrow, at least he has that legacy. I'd have a few students who would probably be sad, but just as many who would be worried about that essay I hadn't graded yet. I've also been thinking a lot about all the stuff that I have. Jason lives a life of simplicity. He's got a couch, one shelf with pictures of his kid, and a TV in his apartment. I have ten times as much stuff as he does, but none of that stuff matters. It will just be more stuff for my parents to move out if I passed away tomorrow.
So what did I get from my vacation? Well, I need to do a better job of living life as if it were my last day. I need to spend more time with the people I care about. I need to do these things, and I don't know why it's so hard. I'm 27; that's not horribly old. But there was a time a few years back when I thought that 28 was the perfect age to get married and of course the 2.5 kids would follow. I wasn't worried when all my friends were married, because 28 was a good age. But now 28 is germinating in the garden, and will bloom upon me in just a few months, and I've nothing to show for it. My life is a busy swirl and I hide myself in my work and I don't do the things I need to do for the happiness and connection I long for. Every year is the same shit with different names. I'm now currently longing after a friend who I should have grabbed two or three years ago, when I thought she might be interested but lost all hope for when she went after my best friend instead. It was because he was available (and drunk) and I wasn't. Still, I now look at her and she's with the Lord of the Rings dork, and there's nothing I can do except regret.
I don't want to regret. I don't want to always live my life wondering. But that seems to be the thing I've mastered most. Right after To Kill a Mockingbird and before baseball stats, there's regret. My second best skill.
My 5 life skills:
1. To Kill a Mockingbird
2. Regret.
3. Baseball Stats.
4. Allowing my pets to get me in financial straits.
5. Whininess.