\u201cAre you ok?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know, honestly, but thanks for asking.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s all right. You know without my asking that I want to hear what you have to say. I want to know what\u2019s in your heart.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYeah, I do know that, and you know I feel the same. I guess it doesn\u2019t need to be said after all this time, it\u2019s just something we know, isn\u2019t it.\u201d<\/p>\n
My friend ignored my comment, which I fully expected, no reason to continue discussing the obvious. He asked me the first question, while I was ignorant of its nature, I knew it was coming.<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you had to put your life into one word, just one single word, without any explanation, without adding anything, what would that one word be?\u201d<\/p>\n
I thought for a moment. Words buzzed around my head like bees, not necessarily threatening, just noisy and each one clamoring for my mind\u2019s attention. My friend didn\u2019t mind my taking time to answer, and I knew that as well. We were used to it; in all the busy functions of life, we each found solace in a long understanding of how important conversations never needed to be rushed.<\/p>\n
\u201cExperience.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s my one word, experience. You asked for one word, that\u2019s it, the one I\u2019m giving you. Experience.\u201d<\/p>\n
Friend sounded resigned. \u201cOk. I\u2019ll buy that. It\u2019s honest, neutral, even if lacking passion.\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed. \u201cDoes passion even exist? I think back on so many things, so many people, and it all seems so phony now, it\u2019s all hype. Isn\u2019t passion what people express when they want something from you? Like a door-to-door vacuum cleaner salesman?\u201d<\/p>\n
It was Friend\u2019s turn to laugh just a little. \u201cMaybe. You really think that\u2019s all there is to it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, not really. I\u2019ve known passion, if you want to break it down to the bare definition of the term. But honestly? Now I kind of think passion is something that exists within, in truth it\u2019s rarely expressed. What does get expressed is feigned, put on, a charade, like actors on a stage wanting you to believe their story, and while you believe it for a moment, wanting to think they really are who they pretend to be, all along and in the end, you know it was just make believe. It isn\u2019t real. If it was, it would last, it would be touchable, seeable, reachable.\u201d<\/p>\n
Friend sighed, as I felt his foot briefly brush against mine, telling me he had moved a little. \u201cThat\u2019s a lot of ables. <\/em>So you think passion is just something temporary, like a fleeting emotion? Here today and gone tomorrow?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know. It\u2019s just that I can remember so many times in my life I thought I felt passion, or that I had passionate feelings and opinions about something, or someone, only now they\u2019re all just memories. There\u2019s nothing alive in them.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend nodded. In the darkness I couldn\u2019t see it, but I could feel it, somehow. Or maybe I merely expected it and believed it so, that he agreed with me. A few minutes passed of silence and deep thinking between us. We were used to that. Friend breathed out. \u201cI\u2019d want to say that\u2019s almost sad, only I think I can understand it too well. So back to your life, what made you choose the word, experience?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0 <\/em>\u201cI guess because that\u2019s what life is. No matter what, good or bad, rewarding or terrifying, they are all just experiences. In the end, what do we really have to show for being alive? Isn\u2019t it basically a long list of experiences that have changed us, shaped us, wounded us, made us into what we are? And that\u2019s it? I mean, wherever we go from here, that\u2019s all we take with us, right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat makes sense, and I understand now what you mean. Yeah, life, if nothing else, is certainly an experience. I guess it\u2019s a bit ambivalent, experience that is. An experience can be good or bad, or in between, just something that we did or that happened. Kind of like watching a dog walk down the sidewalk, it\u2019s an experience, but I can\u2019t say that it\u2019s good or bad, it\u2019s just something I saw that made an impression on my brain, in my memory.\u201d<\/p>\n I smiled, though Friend didn\u2019t see it. \u201cThat\u2019s the best you could come up with for an ambivalent memory?\u201d<\/p>\n Friend sounded a little impatient with me. \u201cNo, not the best, just an example. We probably do a hundred things a day, millions in a lifetime, that are just experiences that don\u2019t deserve a rating. We get a glass of water, we go to the bathroom, we turn up the heat when we\u2019re cold, we see an animal outside, just simple experiences. Only without them, we\u2019d suffer. Without water we\u2019d die, without a toilet things would be a mess, to start with, if we didn\u2019t have heating I guess we\u2019d all be huddled around fires outside our caves; kind of a miserable existence if you ask me. And sometimes seeing an animal outside is the only reassurance we\u2019re not completely alone on this thing we call Earth.\u201d<\/p>\n Funny how heat was mentioned, just then the furnace kicked on, we heard the hum of the fans and the air suddenly moving in the room. It felt nice, it was cold outside and the cold was creeping its way through the windows and walls.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d I said softly. \u201cYou make a point. Life holds a wide, wide range of experiences.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSo what would be your second word? After experience, <\/em>what single word comes to mind to further define your feelings about life?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI had a word on the tip of my brain, I almost said it the first time, then it escaped me while we were talking. Give me a minute to think.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend sighed. \u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe I\u2019d say something like, hopeful.<\/em> I\u2019ve always had a lot of hope for good things.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know you have. We\u2019ve shared so many conversations where that was expressed. I\u2019d have to say you might be one of the most hopeful persons I\u2019ve ever known. Sometimes your hope has given me hope.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s hard to hang onto hope sometimes, isn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I can\u2019t argue with that. I\u2019ve always felt kind of hopeful around you, though.\u201d<\/p>\n I was a little surprised by that statement. \u201cWhy\u2019s that? Maybe I don\u2019t see what you see.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, for one, when you ask me how I am, just like I asked you if you are ok, I always know you mean it. You are sincere, you want me to talk to you honestly, you want me to be myself. I know that, and it gives me hope, like maybe life can be better than it is sometimes. A lot of experiences are tough, they can steal your hope.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I get that. What means a lot to me is when you ask me if I am ok, like you did at the start, I know you are putting yourself aside to listen to me, it becomes your focus. So many people only listen to enough, so then they can tell you how they feel, and it overshadows anything you were trying to say. We\u2019ve known each other a long time, a long<\/em> time, and I\u2019ve appreciated that about you, how you are able to get beside me and feel what I feel. Even when I know what I\u2019m saying sounds crazy or self-centered, you don\u2019t judge, you just listen. It isn\u2019t always reciprocated, I see that too. Sometimes you listen to me and then I seem to forget that you have your own thoughts, your own things to talk about.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend put his hand up to his face, I could see the movement by the dim light penetrating through the window. \u201cI think that works both ways. You\u2019ve always been the friend I knew I could count on to hear me out when I\u2019ve needed to talk. I know there\u2019ve been times you disagreed with me and you never told me, you never said a word until maybe I asked you.\u201d<\/p>\n I nodded. \u201cThanks, I guess that\u2019s rather important to both of us. So what I mean by hope, <\/em>really, is I always have this base line of hoping good things will become real. I\u2019ll go somewhere and hope I have a good experience. I always hope I\u2019ll meet someone who will become a being who means something to me. I guess I always hope that tomorrow might be better than today. You\u2019ve helped me keep that hope, sometimes I\u2019ve been tempted to just give up on it. Lately maybe more than ever. No one ever tells you how it feels to age in loneliness.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI know. I also know that you\u2019ve probably inspired more hope than you\u2019ve ever received. You have a sort of care-taker personality, you are way more concerned about others than I see them concerned about you. It\u2019s made me sad at times to see you so let down. I wish I could make things better for you, somehow.\u201d<\/p>\n I breathed out hard. \u201cYou do. You always do. You\u2019re doing it right now.<\/p>\n \u201cNice. Maybe you don\u2019t realize it, but I think you inspire hopefulness in others. You let a lot of things slide, people offend you, you brush it off, you\u2019re always ready to start things new and fresh. I don\u2019t know that I\u2019ve ever seen you hold a grudge.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI try not to. Even when things are bad, I guess there\u2019s always reason to hope it will be better, that it can be better. I tell myself that, anyway. I\u2019m not sure if I always believe it anymore, or even if I want to believe it.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend\u2019s voice went up a little, sounding lighter, happier. \u201cSo, who is the most hopeful person you\u2019ve ever known?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, that\u2019s a tough one. I don\u2019t know, I can\u2019t think of anyone off the top of my head. No, wait, wait, years and years ago, shoot, I was so young, I sat next to an elderly lady on a plane. I wasn\u2019t interested in talking to her, while she wanted to talk the whole way. However, soon I was drawn into her conversation as she asked me one question after another about my life, then I started to ask her things. Suddenly she said, \u2018You never know just what\u2019s over the next hill, or around the next corner, it\u2019s all out of sight. No one can predict it, no one can see it ahead of you, any expectations are only a guess, you just have to wait for it to appear. If you stop or give up, you\u2019ll never know what you might have missed out on.\u2019<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0 <\/em>\u201cI remember those words making a strong impression on me, and I thought, even at her age, she\u2019s excited for the next thing to come, not worrying if it\u2019s good or bad. I think that expresses a lot of hope. Then she told me a true story, about some neighbors she once had, a few years back. They had a boy who was disabled, they called him mentally retarded in those days, no one uses that term anymore. No one thought he could understand much, so no one taught him much. She explained to me how she\u2019d always say hi to him whenever she saw him out in the yard, where he\u2019d usually just sit and stare, never responding to her friendliness. Then one day the family was moving away, she watched them load up their car as one by one they all got in. Suddenly this boy ran over to her yard and threw his arms around her, holding on tight and not wanting to let go. His parents came over, they were a little embarrassed and started apologizing for the boy\u2019s aggressiveness. \u2018No,\u2019 she said, \u2018he\u2019s telling me that he loves me and he\u2019s going to miss me. Love is what makes all of us human, nothing else, not our intellect, our education, or our skills and abilities. All it takes is love to make us human, so he\u2019s just like all the rest of us. He knows and feels love, and he\u2019s telling me now, he loves me.\u2019<\/p>\n \u201cYou know what, I think I had a few tears then, and it kind of chokes me up now to remember it. If I ever knew her name, I\u2019ve long forgotten it, and of course she\u2019s gone now. I haven\u2019t thought about that for a long time.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend sounded amazed. \u201cWow, that\u2019s an incredible story, you\u2019ve never told me that before. I think you\u2019re right, that woman expressed a lot of hope in everything she said and felt. Hopeful for the future, and hopeful toward a little boy no one else saw much value in. It\u2019s awfully easy to see some people as less than human sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, it is, I know. I wish I could remember her name, but I don\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cLife is full of these kinds of things, these experiences, as you say. I think you\u2019re right, they make us into who we are, and who we become. Can you imagine how you might think or feel if you\u2019d never accidentally met that old woman? How differently you might look at things today? She had a big impact on your mind and your perspectives. She changed you. I wonder how many times in a life that kind of thing happens?\u201d<\/p>\n I laughed just a little. \u201cI know, it\u2019s more like it was intended, that it was supposed to happen for the two of us to be on that plane at the same time, flying to same city, it\u2019s amazing. I haven\u2019t told you another part of the story yet. I was actually assigned a different seat, but there was already somebody sitting in it. I showed the stewardess my ticket and that person showed her theirs, it turned out we\u2019d both been assigned the same seat. Meanwhile the old woman kept telling me the seat next to her was empty, asking me to sit there. It was a bit irritating there momentarily, I didn\u2019t really want to sit next to her, I wanted my own seat. The stewardess was rather blunt, saying if I wanted to make a fuss I could hold up the whole flight, so I ended up taking the seat next to the lady. And then, wow, think about it, it turned out to be one great, memorable conversation, a great experience. Really, like someone planned it that way and made it work out. You ever think God works like that?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, to be honest, I wouldn\u2019t have a clue, but I wouldn\u2019t rule it out, either. I don\u2019t know how to reconcile time and chance with Divine will. I doubt anyone really does, no matter what they might have to say about it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m inclined to agree with you on that. An awful lot of people present themselves as authorities on a subject, when in reality they are just repeating what they were told by people who repeated what they were told, and so on it goes. You think we might be at the bottom edge of higher learning? Like we\u2019ve morphed into just accepting what we\u2019re told because the experts say so?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFood for thought, I guess. I\u2019ve always appreciated people who weren\u2019t afraid to think for themselves. What do you think happens to people who lose their sense of hope?\u201d<\/p>\n The question conjured up things I\u2019d not thought about for some time. \u201cAh, I\u2019m reminded of an old poem I read when I was a kid, by Langston Hughes, Hold Fast to Dreams<\/u>. <\/em>I memorized it and I can still recite it word for word. It\u2019s not a long poem, not by any means, nothing like The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere<\/u>, which I also memorized, but it\u2019s quite meaningful, in a beautiful, lyrical sense. It impacted me in my youth, and still does.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend sounded interested. \u201cTell me about Langston Hughes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAll I remember is a few details, he was from Missouri, born in 1901. He was a great African American writer, he was into jazz, wrote plays, non-fiction; he was also involved in social and civil rights issues. Died in 1967, if I remember right. He\u2019s one of the characters I\u2019ve always wished I could have met somehow, maybe heard his whole story straight from himself, in his own words and feelings. I don\u2019t know why, just someone I\u2019ve kind of felt connected to since I first read some of his poetry.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOk, so the poem, how does that relate to hope?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, he talks about holding onto our dreams, because if we let them go, life loses meaning, something like that. You want me to recite it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, you don\u2019t need to, I know the poem.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou do? Then why did you ask all that stuff?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI just wanted to hear you talk about it. You were a little passionate there for a moment.\u201d<\/p>\n I laughed. \u201cWow, ok, I guess you got me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh no, I didn\u2019t mean to, I just enjoyed hearing you talk about it, and Langston Hughes. Hearing stuff I already know from your perspective and feeling adds to the depth and meaning I already have. It\u2019s like I\u2019m seeing it through your eyes and your heart.\u201d<\/p>\n I smiled, knowing well how the darkness hid it from reality. \u201cI like that, I really do. So it\u2019s ok when some things are repetitive then?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, I think so. Now that we\u2019ve talked about experience and hope, <\/em>let me ask you for one more word, just one, that you might use to describe and define your life. One word that takes in every single thing you\u2019ve lived through up to now.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThis isn\u2019t going to sound great, but I\u2019ve already got the word. Disappointment.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cReally! I\u2019m a little surprised.\u201d<\/p>\n I sighed loudly. \u201cI knew you would be, I might be too. Remember that old song, I forget who sang it, Is That All There Is?\u201d<\/u><\/p>\n \u201cPeggy Lee.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPeggy Lee sang that song. I never really liked it, to be honest, but I remember it.\u201d<\/p>\n I put my hands together in front of me, pointing them upwards against my chest. \u201cOh, yeah, you\u2019re probably right, I don\u2019t remember much of her music. Anyway, sometimes I ask myself about my life, \u2018is that all there is?\u2019 It\u2019s like I was hoping for so much more, I had such great expectations out of life, I never wanted to hold onto regrets, but now after so much has passed, all said and done, it feels, I don\u2019t know, kind of empty sometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend shifted his weight a little in his chair, I could hear him moving. \u201cThat was a good book, too.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat was?\u201d I smiled again. \u201cOh, yeah, I did say that, didn\u2019t I. Anyway, you know, life, marriage, kids, work, all of it, I mean, yeah, it\u2019s been a good life in many ways, but it doesn\u2019t feel like I did the best at any of it. Sure, I\u2019ve got great memories, wife, my kids, I\u2019m not unhappy about any of it, but seeing it almost over, things coming to an end, I guess I sometimes simply ask myself why it isn\u2019t as great as I\u2019d hoped for or expected it to be.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you mean, coming to an end?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell, life really. I mean, we are older, and getting older each day. The years ahead are way less than the years behind.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend sounded almost irritated with me. \u201cOh come on, you could easily live another twenty, maybe even more years. Wouldn\u2019t even put you at a hundred yet.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI might, who knows. Then again, I might not. None of us knows, there aren\u2019t any guarantees. So if I\u2019m winding up, is this the best I could do? I\u2019m disappointed in myself, mostly, and disappointed I didn\u2019t do better, at everything. It feels like I\u2019m paying a price for it now.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend nodded, I felt it. \u201cI think I understand. I think I can even empathize with you. But what do we do about it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know, make each day, each moment count for something, I guess. I\u2019ve got more days I can productive, I\u2019m still strong, I can do better at a lot of things. I\u2019ll take time to write, I love writing. I tell my family, the one or two that I see, every day I love them.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo they say it back?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cSometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDoes that disappoint you?\u201d \u201cDo you show them you love them?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI think I do. I also think I can do better.\u201d<\/p>\n I heard his chair make as sound as he leaned back into it. \u201cYeah, I get it, time goes fast, right? When we\u2019re young, we always think we have so much time, like things are forever, then we blink and it\u2019s almost gone. It hurts, doesn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt hurts like hell, more than I ever could have imagined.\u201d<\/p>\n We both breathed out heavily. Friend sounded a little tired. \u201cYeah. It does. So are you saying you hope the next experience won\u2019t be quite so disappointing?\u201d<\/p>\n I laughed out loud. \u201cAre you using my own words against me now?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, not really, not trying to. Just putting it all together. Would it surprise you to hear I feel much the same? That I can relate to everything you say?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, it doesn\u2019t surprise me. We\u2019ve known each other a long time, I think we\u2019ve always understood each other.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend leaned forward now, placing his hands on my knees. It was a familiar gesture, he had often reached out to touch me when he was very comfortable with our conversation. \u201cIs there a short story that you consider your favorite? One you don\u2019t mind reading again and again? I\u2019m curious.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, actually there is, it was written in early 1900\u2019s, by Jack Finney. It\u2019s in his book, I Love Galesburg In the Springtime<\/u>, <\/em>it\u2019s out of print now. <\/em>I think the story is called, A Possible Candidate for President<\/u>. <\/em>It\u2019s hilarious, about this kid who saves all his friends by pretending to hypnotize a tiger that escapes from the circus. It\u2019s pure genius, if you ask me. I laugh hard every single time I read it.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend sat back in his chair again. \u201cThat\u2019s great. Do you think there\u2019s anything about your life people will remember, something that will make them smile, or give them hope, or even make the laugh, once it\u2019s all said and done?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWow, now that\u2019s a question. I don\u2019t know, I can\u2019t even begin to answer that. I would hope so. I mean, I\u2019ve written some stuff, I\u2019ve done some things, I\u2019ve been creative. It\u2019d be awesome to think that something about me would inspire people even after I\u2019m gone. I guess that\u2019s the stuff of a legacy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, and definitely something to think about. I\u2019d say a better goal than dying filthy rich and everyone fighting over what you have left behind.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo doubts there. I\u2019ll have to think about this, we should talk about it again.\u201d<\/p>\n Friend nodded his head slowly, almost sadly. \u201cI agree. The sun is coming up, I can see light outside the window now. There\u2019s a thin layer of snow on the ground.\u201d<\/p>\n I stared out the window myself. \u201cAnother day dawns. I wonder what it will bring?\u201d<\/p>\n Friend leaned forward again, almost like he was anxious about something. \u201cI\u2019ve enjoyed talking, sitting here in the darkness. It\u2019s like we can say whatever we need to, like this is a sacred place and time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, me too.\u201d<\/p>\n Light began filling the room, slowly at first, allowing me to see the details of everything. My books on their shelves, the small table, flowers and candles mixed with books of all sizes upon it, the gray curtains that clashed with the ancient wallpaper. I leaned back in my chair and let out a long sigh; my heart felt heavy, lonely, as I looked across toward the chair in front of me. It was empty.<\/p>\n It might have been some minutes, it might have been hours, when my daughter, no longer a young girl herself, came into the room. \u201cYou slept in your chair again, Daddy. Or have you already been up?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo, no, I must have fallen asleep here, I woke up as the sun began to show itself. It\u2019s snowed out, hasn\u2019t it?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cA little, it\u2019s clear out now. How was your night? Are you feeling well? Ready for coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI feel fine. I slept ok, I think. I\u2019m a little emotional at the moment, I dreamt about Clarence again last night.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, your best friend. How long ago did he die?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cFive years.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWas it a good dream?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThe best, they always are. We\u2019ve caught up for a little while, until the next time.\u201d<\/p>\n She smiled that familiar smile, as though patiently indulging me in my aging foolishness. \u201cI love you, Daddy.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI love you too.\u201d[\/vc_column_text][\/vc_column][\/vc_row]\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit. 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\n\u201cGreat Expectations<\/u>.\u201d<\/p>\n
\nI took a fast breath. \u201cNot really. Actions speak louder than words.\u201d<\/p>\n