I was sitting on a public pier yesterday evening. The sun was setting and I was immersed in, “Stranger Than We Can Imagine” by John Higgs (one of the more interesting books that I’ve come across in the past five years or so). I had run a half marathon for the first time that morning (on a whim, for Memorial Day in some respects, and finished in under two hours no less), and had finished “The Count of Monte Cristo” that afternoon. I was feeling as if those would suffice for new experiences for the day. That was not to be the case.
I saw a small, center console craft approaching from a distance. At first glance, I thought I saw a bespectacled Huckleberry Finn at the helm, accompanied by a slightly overweight Tom Sawyer, Daisy Buchanan, two of the lost boys from Peter Pan, and Goldilocks (no “bears” though…paaa). Knowing that my imagination must be running wild, I returned to my book. The boat, appearing overloaded (likely with ego, avoidant tendencies, and karma more so than weight…), continued to head straight toward me.
I looked up again when it was approximately twenty yards away. This time, my imagination failed to veil the truth. I saw only a glimpse of those onboard. But, I did manage to magnificently capture a look of utter shock and disbelief, in all its abhorrent glory, from behind those spectacles. I have to admit that it was oddly satisfying. The surprised captain regained his composure and quickly turned the vessel about. Upon doing so, he managed to not only throw up an awkward peace sign, but also to blow me a kiss…yet could not manage to quarter the oncoming waves which he had lost sight of (also satisfying…apart from the concern for my son’s noodle being shaken about due to the helmsman’s obvious discomfort, unnecessary abrasiveness, and poor seamanship).
In yet another uncanny twist of fate, the actual crew aboard that center console was scarcely more believable to my eyes than the crew that I had first imagined. Aboard that small boat was my affair partner, my third son, her husband and two children, and one of their friends. Like two magnets that continue to circle each other in a perpetual dance of repulsion and attraction, I have once again crossed paths with my third son and his mother. I doubt that these run-ins will continue (especially at this almost monthly frequency), but for now, they seem fitting. If nothing else, they serve as a reminder of the words of Carl Jung, “…what you resist not only persists, but will grow in size.”
There is a sort of hilarity to this encounter (and all of those previous to this). The odds alone make it comical, the nature of the run-in (by sea) makes it even funnier. But, despite my best effort to make light of this chance run-in, it is still a topic that carries with it a heavy burden. Although I am extremely saddened by my inability to be involved with my son’s life by the choice of others, I pity their family in many ways.
I can only imagine working so hard to paint over and run from what you believe to be the cause of a troubled past and relationship (riddled with blatant untruthfulness, hundreds of instances of sexual and emotional misconduct, and a severe and obvious disregard for morality and social norms […only one side of the same coin in their eyes at that]) in order to keep your family together…only for it to be shoved in your face unexpectedly like the head of Medusa. I am unapologetic for minding my own business and reading on a public pier, but I am sorry that my presence disrupted what was likely a very pleasant start to Memorial Day Weekend. I also must give them an exorbitant amount of credit for attempting to live as if the past does not exist, while it cries for its mother on a daily basis. The past is with them to stay (for at least the next 17 and a half years I assume), and I really do wish them well.
What you resist, persists. I believed that I had accepted my lot in this relatively fresh set of circumstances. The universe/god/fate…whatever you wish/prefer to call it…has deemed this matter to be unfinished. There is resistance to the inevitable (although I am unsure of what that actually is) from one or both parties involved…only time will tell though I suppose. Perhaps it is on my end, and it is just unbeknownst to me. Maybe I have effectively fooled myself into thinking that full acceptance and detachment have been achieved. But, if this was the case, would I still be writing about my son?…would I still be running into him and his mother? Maybe, like any other facet of life (and life in general)…this set of circumstances must play itself out to the very end. Only time will tell, and I suppose that I am more than a little curious about how all of this will play out.
On a more important note, on this Memorial Day Weekend, as you indulge in and enjoy (or avoid) hotdogs (hot dogs?…hotshots?), alcohol, fireworks, family gatherings, time off from work, and trips out of town…do yourself a favor and if nothing else, remind yourself of the comfortable life that you have been afforded. Few of us have been away from family and friends (and in harm’s way no less) for months at a time. Few of us have seen our brothers and/or those closest to us…shot, stabbed, blown to bits, drowned…frozen, starved, and/or exhausted to death. Most of us live an extremely comfortable life, and whether or not this mode of existence has been threatened by an outside force in recent times (or reinforced by the perpetuation of the interests of the military-industrial complex…depending on your perspective), remember that those who have served and/or perished, did so for the sake of the idea, belief, and actualization/continuation of the mode of life that we enjoy on a daily basis.
P.S. Sending love and good vibes to anyone who wants/needs them as always.
P.P.S. “Quit playin’ with your dinghy…”- Tommyboy