tedwords

"This is what we do. This is not who we are." Julius Tennon

In the grand scheme of things, what really matters?

Make of that what you will. This afternoon I referenced a quote from the husband of Viola Davis, "This is what we do. This is not who we are." He says he and Vi figured this out years ago: that their personal time and life is separate and distinct from their day job.

This is something that resonates with me as I approach retirement from the Corporate world in three weeks. With my day to day, that which I have been focused so diligently on for the past thirty years, removed, what will next fill the donut hole in the pastry that is my life? Does the who we are come to the forefront? Or is it better to keep focusing on more "what we do"?

I suspect more "what we do," only with a focus that is a bit more personal in terms of what the focus is. Keep a bit of a wall intact. But still, make the encore something that feeds our passions, doesn't dull our senses. Our small business, for example, or the art that the two of us strive for. Or, my desire to be a feast for beauty-loving eyes. Yes, that could be a full time job right there.

I feel like I could use some time to really figure this all out. Like, take six months after my last day of work just to decompress, start to build up the new normal brick by motherloving brick. Take our upcoming European vacation (if the orange turd doesn't steal that from us), take another discover America trip, spend another summer week with my folks like last year. Take a sabattical...oh, what a nice word! Give myself the benefit of space, something I haven't really allowed myself the luxury of for decades.

Hibernate a bit. Hit pause. Then, create again. Something new. Something different. Aspire higher.

Aspire. Higher.

So tonight, I raise a Rasmopolitan martini and toast to the fine art of letting go and aspiring higher. I wish to revel in these last three weeks, to enjoy the goodbyes and the farewells and the final round of corporate deadlines. And then, deep breath. Where are we headed?

Over there (finger pointed to the horizon)

...somewhere...

Have a great weekend, everyone.

PS: for those wondering when I find the time to write these, it is quite often while Corb and I are driving places. I am certified by experts to be the world's worst front seat passenger, ask anyone, and so while Corb is zipping around on the highway, I am a bag of nerves, the phone in front of my face as I frantically type and ignore the traffic around us. My art is quite often the sum product of a boatload of anxiety.

Postscript now that the long weekend is complete:

You ever wake up and think that you have the day ahead of you, la la la, and then realize that you had something scheduled you completely forgot about? That happened to us Saturday morning.

In fact, we had planned our whole weekend around it. We wanted to go away this weekend to New Hampshire, but were unable to as I had agreed that a new theater group could borrow some bleachers from the Eldredge Players, and weeks ago we had settled on Saturday as the pickup day. At 11.

Saturday morning, we are putzing around, I am feeding the birds outside and Corb is washing some antique metal pieces in the sink, and we get a message at 10:30: We are here.

WHAT? Frantic scrambling, no shower, throw on clothes, get to the shop.

We get there to find five twenty-something theater kids, ready to transport the bleachers and clearly a bit unprepared to do so.

For context, when we picked the bleachers up years ago, Corb and I did it in about twenty minutes, renting a small trailer and moving it with minimal fuss.

How many theater kids does it take to screw in a lightbulb? One to get the work done and four to improvise. It reminded me of my days as a twenty-something theater kid. One time I was asked to pick up a big piece of Styrofoam for a set piece and I was so confident I could get it done on my own. In my mustang. I honestly thought I could just strap it to the top of the car and drive back.

One strong wind and fifty smaller pieces later...

These kids were just as inclined. God I love theater kids. The spirit is there, at least. But when we opened up the shop and showed them the piece they all stood there and didn't know what to do next. Corb had to walk over and try to lift it up on his own to get it to move. And then the bleachers were clearly too big for the mess pick-up track they had brought, which had a top, and they spent at least an hour trying to figure out how to get it in.

Nick, the shop owner, texted Corb in the middle of it. He had been alerted by the monitors outside the shop. He texted: Best entertainment I've had all week.

There was one person who kind of knew what she was doing. She showed the most initiative and was probably the stage manager. The director stood around muttering inspirational things. There was one girl who stood around quoting show tunes and acting things out, and one guy who fancied himself the tech guy who was utterly useless. We kept bringing stuff to help them (tape measures, clamps) and only after we had would he say "Oh, we have that," and go to the truck and produce it. Lots of initiative there.

Hey, at least it got us moving for the day. The rest of the day was ours to enjoy, and then Sunday was parental babysitting day. We took Corb's mom to an antique store and then met my parents at one for "dinner" at a favorite restaurant. Then, a few more antique stores and dessert at Gregg's at around five for his mom.

One thing she said kind of bothered me. I have spent months pulling together our cruise in May, which starts in Spain and heads to Rome. It wasn't easy, as she will not pay for a double cabin, so we had to find a single (not easy on a ship), then I had to select the excursions by making sure she approved, along with Corb, and then paying for three (she would pay me back later). I had this done a few weeks ago...right as this stupid Iraq war broke out. And now, increasingly, she has been raising the alarm about how everyone is telling her not to go, it's too dangerous, etc.

DOES SHE KNOW WHAT A PAIN THIS WAS TO ARRANGE?

But it's okay. I was clearly aggravated, but Corb and I spoke and decided that unless the cruiseline explicitly says there is a danger (which, let's face it, they won't), we are going, but we totally understand her concern and we would work get to get all of her share of the trip put on a voucher (although, doubtful the excursions would get reimbursed.)

But when we told her this, what was her reaction: FOMO. Now she says she will not back out unless we decide to.

Fine. But just this morning she texted us to say that both France and Italy were placed on Level 2 status for Americans. My immediate reaction: when you live in a fascist country, you are carefully encouraged to be fearful of other, more enlightened, countries. We are not changing anything.

One can live one's life in perpetual fear. Better to embrace the positive possible.