A year ago when I broke free of Val, Kate coached me saying that when Val wanted to re-engage with me I should in no way get dragged back into it. “There is no way that you will win the conflict or even explain yourself well enough for her. Hank, you need to simply leave every “maybe” and every “possibly this may work” scenario alone. Simply give no reply.” So now with Kate I set aside my urges to reply to her. Then Kate texted me again the very next day. She first called me a weak man, a coward, and then questioned my parenting skills. I was happy I had not responded. No longer do I need that type of judgment. Basta! Spanish for enough. Basta!!
On the Pacific coast where our armada of road warriors met whales and wonder.I am focused instead on the healing and rehab of my ankle so I can saunter as John Muir wrote. I want to get back on the road to see all the things that I miss while sitting in this chair. Elena wants to travel as well and we’ve planned a few road trips. Fortunately neither of us has invaded nor ransacked the other one’s life. Elena and I have our own lives and spend plenty of time independent of each other.
The last time I visited Elena in Cancun we had different opinions about some task we were doing together. I blurted out that we could never make it living together. Elena remarked, “After thirty-six years of marriage I will never live with another man full-time.” When I told a friend about Elena’s comeback this friend said, “Hank, you do know that is precisely what people say right before they move in with each other.” Not for me. I am firmly, happily living on my own as a widower, a single man. I enjoy it. Now I want to see things in this world that were unavailable to me while married. There are times I do want a traveling companion. Elena will be wonderful for travel, I believe, but not always and not exclusively living together.
I have no desire to have dogs in my life right now either. We did for a forty-five year marriage. My outlook may change if I become less mobile. At this moment I do not need a dog. I want to enjoy my daughters and Dan, my son by marriage. They have dogs that love me. I want to enjoy my brother and sister and my brothers and sister by marriage. I do not need to go on every tour of Europe or Asia or Australia. I can enjoy much of the best that traveling offers by meeting people from across the globe right in the Yucatan. I do, too. People come to Valladolid from across Europe, Australia, South America, and Asia because we are on the route of the Mayan ruins and Chichen Itza, one of the primary and largest ruins, is a mere 27 kilometers away. People are interesting. They all seem normal and then you get to know them. So as long as I can enjoy the quirks of others whom I engage and for as long as they can put up with my craziness all will go swimmingly.
I love expanding my life. I was raised in a closed community of Dutch American immigrants who left the Netherlands to escape religious persecution. For several generations “our people '' kept to themselves in enclaves across the US. We were not inclined to let others into the circle. We sent money to foreign missions but we would scarcely walk through our own neighborhoods. We left the inner cities when the nefarious blacks moved in. Thereafter, we would send money to those same inner cities to "reach out to everyone on earth in Jesus' name." We wouldn’t though dare walk next door to welcome them to our neighborhood when they moved there in the first place. We were afraid and believed our house values would plummet. Our hypocrisy was rampant. I now understand so much of what we would and would not do in Jesus’ name. I feel that kindness and compassion were too often left out of the Christianity in which I was raised.
Kindness is a lofty goal for me. I think it possible that Jesus needed us more than we needed him. I met a couple in Bandon, Oregon. Lovely couple. Mac is from Billings, Montana and Cecy is from Quito, Ecuador. Where they met, I do not yet know. What their history is I do not yet know. They were a fun-loving couple who enjoyed nature and hiking and laughing. We met on that Oregon coast and spent five days camping and hiking together. They invited me to Quito and Montana and I invited them to the Yucatan and Michigan. I did not need to know if they could recite the Apostles’ Creed or answer any questions in the Heidelberg Catechism. They were kind and thoughtful. They revered this world and the earth's beauty. Basta!
Goals. Mine are simple goals. This fall I go to Spain and Portugal for two months. A year from now I plan on a spring-summer trip to British Columbia. My friend, Sam, just messaged me to ask how I am doing while inviting me to Vancouver Island. I will hike, I will paddle my packraft and I will enjoy other peoples’ company. Another friend has expressed interest in hiking and packrafting with me. I will. A year from now I will be in a positive sexual relationship with one woman and only one. I hope I am still with Elena but only time will tell. I will seek companionship while I nurture many friendships old and new. I will read a book or two this year. I will continue learning Spanish as I build a house in Mexico. Basta! Enough for goals. Primary for me now is experiencing each day and not looking too far forward.
Sitting in my cave to heal
I’ve chosen to flush out
Poison and then only drink hemlock
When the time is right
To make room for the living.
Since surgery my world is askew. Yesterday was the last day I took any opiates for the pain, last night only ibuprofen and again this morning.
The discomfort of not taking a dump far outweighed the pain I had. The pain was mild to moderate at most and it remains very low. I felt like I was on a road trip, eating with reckless abandon but doing no exercise to move things along. I am reminded that fiber and peristalsis are much more my friends than Oxycodone.
So now I must be careful and move slowly. I get terribly fatigued in this early stage of healing. I wonder if this is like an animal who has been attacked and then with wounded limb goes into a cave to heal or die. My head is clear now. I do think I'm on the right path to recuperation.
I am not now nor do I want to complain. Just today I heard of a friend with a smallish brain tumor, another friend with cancer and still one more, a young girl with an adolescent illness that will change her life. At 70 years of age I have absolutely nothing about which to bitch.
My bike awaits a healthier me.I’m slowing down and my recuperation may be good for me. I have been in such a haste to enjoy more, go to more places, entertain and be entertained that I have taken very little time to reflect. Maybe I have been allaying my grief with guerrilla warfare.
About twenty years ago I had an altercation with a best friend since elementary school. The altercation gained critical mass when we disagreed about going into Iraq. Political tensions were high back then. My friend, Lowell, believed in George W’s invasion of Iraq due to weapons of mass destruction while I chose to be skeptical of our government and believed a non-military response to Sadaam Hussein was best. We agreed that we would have to simply wait and see who was right. Because of the aftermath in the Middle East I have felt vindicated in my stance but never stirred up those embers with I-told-you-sos. I left it alone. Lowell is as opinionated as me so I attempt to avoid conflict by avoiding Lowell. It is certainly not the first thing we have disagreed on. He lives in California and I live in Michigan and Mexico so we visit rarely.
Lowell also was adamant, in my mind nearly militant, that I reconsider Christianity across many years. I refer to it as "his paramilitary mission of conversion." Ever since he formed a close, personal relationship with his lord, JC, I've come ever closer to ridiculing his zealotry. Making light of his beliefs I have said that the heavenly bounty on my head must be pretty large for the disciple who can bring me into the fold. Soon after my Pammy died Lowell came to visit with two other college buddies during what would have been her 68th birthday. I asked them if they would visit me during what I imagined would be a rough patch of grieving. While Pammy was most certainly dead Lowell's quest to convert was not. I rebuffed him saying that I was perfectly happy not believing. At that point I was in no mood to hear anything about his lord so I suggested we call a truce. “If you don’t try to convert me, I’ll not insult your god.” Lowell agreed to my terms.
Now two years later Lowell has had a seizure and since then the follow-up testing has shown he has a mass in his brain. The treatment and prognosis Lowell describes as promising. Since the seizure Lowell has suggested once again I read a book that might answer some of my doubts about Christianity. I declined because I do not have doubts. I know I do not want to nor need to read another treatise describing reasons I should reconsider my very rational decision to hold onto my atheism.
Through our discussions and arguments I now believe that Lowell does not need me to believe in Jesus nearly as much as he wants me to believe in him. I have always been highly critical of men who believe they “are the smartest men in the room” and now I look at myself and I know that I have been acting exactly that way. I must reconsider. I will do my best to compose myself and be as kind as I am able. I will not read the book because I need to be true to my beliefs and my time is too short to read it. I will be considerate though knowing that a good friendship is more important than Jesus or whomever is your lord.
Often I wish that I had been raised in a family of kindness. Looking back I think my mother was kind; not so much my dad. Both of my parents lacked real confidence and real belief in themselves. It seems to me that my dad fended it off with ridicule of others who were not as smart, not as insightful. My dad never could explain to me why he believed in Jesus but only said he wished I would. My dad also usurped my mother’s abilities, attributes and self-esteem. My mother was kind. However, it is tough for anyone to stand up to a bully and I think my dad could be an emotional bully. He showed it in his crafty way of belittling persons, his disparaging remarks of others' opinions, and a lack of acceptance of my mom with all of her good and fragile qualities. I believe that kindness is a rarity in this world. If there was a true abundance of kindness I doubt we would suffer so much. It takes so little kindness to make a large difference, to have a marked impact on another's life. I do not believe in prayers other than to meditate and "pray" to myself to be my best. I simply want to offer myself thoughts and dares for more kindness. The only person I can manifest it in is myself.