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The Real GOOD Loser, A Story That Could…
Chapter 6: Life’s Puzzle
“You are on a quest for knowledge. Your mind is in a state of readiness. So… listen well.”
— from The Simpsons, The Mysterious Voyage of Homer
The grant that funds this class requires I submit articles to this international recovery blog page. I haven’t submitted anything to this page since May of last year and have decided to kill two birds with one stone; the article I share with my students this week will double as the article for that page.
Getting published on this page was a big deal when I first got out of that halfway house. Feeling like most of what I write is falling on deaf ears now, it feels like more of a burden to me today. Writing isn’t easy for me. In fact, it might be the hardest work I’ve ever done. That’s saying something given all the different jobs I’ve had over the years.
I hated sales jobs. Selling televisions at Circuit City in high school. College Works Painters in college. Pella Windows after that. And John Hancock and Fidelity Investments for a time. Even collecting money as a paperboy when I was ten made me uncomfortable and anxious.
Construction is physically hard work. And finance and teaching I’d call mentally exhausting work. But writing…well…writing is b-word. I can’t think of a better way to describe it right now.
I guess I could have just stuck with the writing is the hardest work I’ve ever done thing— Oopsy… good thing I’m just talking to myself here.
I was watching the movie Lincoln the other day. That’s what gave me the idea to start this article I’m working on with this Thomas Jefferson quote. That movie showed what life was like during the Civil War in the 1860’s. It starts with a man stomping another’s face into the mud to kill him. Watching that scene, I couldn’t help but think we should never do that to one another again. With the guns and bombs we have today, I’m rather certain we won’t.
I don’t consider this country peaceful today by any means but like to think things are just a little bit better now. A hundred and sixty years ago I could have jumped in my car—which didn’t exist then—and drove south for a few hours to find neighbors and brothers killing one another.
We’ve come a long way, but those scars that once divided us are still there. Our not-so-civil war is more of a global one today though: The Haves verse Have Nots And Wants More War.
When I was doing that finance thing I had this boss who was an amazing talker. I watched him explain the difficulties around spending money in retirement: he called it The High Watermark Problem: “When you have a certain amount of money, seeing it go down naturally makes a person nervous,” he said.
He’d use that line to sell people annuities. He genuinely believed he was doing what was best for his clients.
Super rich people must face this same so-called “problem” I figure; they want that Scrooge McDuck pool of money they’re swimming in not to go down. I was never, and will never, be comfortable telling people what to do with their money, but knowing the problems we face because of it, makes me wonder if we humans will ever find a way to get along.
“Hey” —a voice in my head interrupts my negative thoughts— “It could happen: Retain, even in opposition, your capacity for astonishment.”
Writing that quote from the Lincoln movie in my entertainment journal had me imagining what Old Abe might say to me about our world today. “It’s the journey,” he could say sharing his wisdom with me. “We love the pain. The depression. Then feeling alive again.”
What my mind thinks about now that I’m not numbing it with substances is rather fun sometimes— Could Abraham Lincoln gaze into his phone as long as I can today?
“You spend how many hours looking into that thing good sir?” he could ask visiting me from the past. “What focusing fortitude you must have.”
From Old Abe’s perspective, humanity should be consuming a lot of knowledge in the time we spend on our phones.
“Sorry Abe,” I’d have to tell him, “It doesn’t work like that yet. Really all we do is distract ourselves with dumb stuff all day. Or try to dodge dumb stuff all day…it’s a lot to explain Abe.”
A ring coming from my phone lying on the desk in front of me brings me back from wherever my mind just had me. Pressing a button, I answer it.
“What’s up,” the voice on the phones says, “How are the candidates doing?”
“The candidates?” I respond half-listening.
“Stop typing and talk to me punk…It is me after all.”
Looking down I see Marsh grinning at me, wearing that thin beard I still haven’t gotten used to yet. “Alright Mr. Bighead,” I say, “Just give me a second to finish this one thing.”
“Fine Mr. Important,” Marsh says teasingly. “I’ll be right back.”
I watch Marsh leave his phone and refocus my attention on the computer screen in front of me. It takes me only second to finish the sentence I was working on. I save the document, Life’s Puzzle, and look at my youngest son sitting on the couch to my right. His teacher, Miss Dunn, just dismissed him for lunch; he’s now watching Big City Greens on his iPad.
My youngest is in first grade and being taught remotely also. While I run my class and do my thing, he works at a little make-shift desk behind me. He has a small white board in his “Learning Center” where I write the date and our word of the day each morning. I’ve even strung up Christmas lights in an attempt to make him excited for this “Unique Learning Experience”.
All over the world parents like me are being asked to multi-task like this. Regardless of profession, we are all teachers in one way or another now, and juggling responsibilities has become our life: Pandemic Life.
Today I overheard his teacher talking to his class about Realistic Fiction; a characteristic of story that was never even discussed when I was in school. Us parents, slash teachers, are doing the best we can, but most of us feel lost. On Facebook the latest complaint I saw revolved around the way division is taught to kids today. I do my best not to participate in the complaining but it’s impossible to exist without at least hearing it.
Grabbing my phone off the desk, I stand up and walk over to my son. “Ham and cheese for lunch bud?” I say rubbing the dirty-blonde hair on his head. Not taking his eyes off the screen in front of him, he responds sweetly. “Yes please,” he says.
In the episode of Big City Greens playing on his screen, Cricket’s dad is finding himself infatuated with a video game. I’ve seen this episode. I’ve seen all the episodes of this show actually— Is this show educational?
That was a question my family debated the other day. I love the life lessons this show sneaks in but have a sister-in-law who doesn’t let her kids watch it. Her kids are into Bluey; a cute show about a family of dogs. And my sister’s kid; the youngest of the cousins, is into Peppa Pig.
To me everything we watch is educational in one way or another. It’s what we take from shows that differ. Evidence being my niece who is talking a lot like one of those cute dogs currently and my nephew who is now speaking with a British accent like Peppa Pig.
They say it’s us parent’s job to control what these kids are consuming on their devices. I find that impossible myself. YouTube has settings I could use, but trying to set them up makes my head spin. This first grader here knows more about how to navigate technology than I do.
“Have you found my shoe yet?” I ask the tech-wizard in front of me staring into his screen.
“No,” my son answers; he looks up at me defensively. “I didn’t know which one you meant.”
“The Nike one…the one you and your brothers were hiding for fun yesterday.”
Before my son can respond the phone in my hand speaks. “What’s up JoJo?”
Looking down at the phone in my hand, my son sees his Uncle Marshall and I watch his face return to sweet mode. He was about to raise his voice and tell me it was his brothers who hid that shoe; and then be mad at me for blaming everything on him…Adulting.
“Nothing,” my son responds shyly to the face looking back at him. He’s not much of a talker with people he doesn’t see in person a lot; which is becoming something of an issue with this remote learning thing.
“So…” Marsh says realizing he’ll have to be one to spark a conversation, “are you letting your dad date yet little man or what?”
My son’s face lights up at this question; an ongoing joke between the two of them.
“Dad doesn’t need a girlfriend,” my son says speaking louder and clearer now. “He’s never gonna have a girlfriend!”
“Well…” Marsh responds slowly. “How about a boyfriend then?”
I watch my son’s face freeze as he contemplates the question presented to him. “That’s real nice M,” I say turning the phone so that Marsh can see me.
Marsh knows why I’m a single dad now and refusing to date at the moment. This is just him having some fun my son. People have always questioned my sexuality for some reason though—I’m not really sure why that is.
Maybe it’s because I’m comfortable with some casual man-touching from time to time. Or maybe it’s because I think it’s funny to say things like “man-touching” when referring to hugs and things of that nature. Either way it doesn’t bother me much. My good friend tells me life might be easier for me if I were gay. He’s gay himself, so I think he’s allowed to say that.
While I’m simply not wired that way, I like to think I understand why my friend says this. I’m constantly walking on eggshells around women these days. I think a lot of it has to do with this ongoing battle between the sexes that just seems silly to me today.
The last girl I tried dating; who I’m still friends with luckily, got upset with me for saying she “needed a man” recently. It was a joke, but she got super annoyed with me. “I am a strong person J,” she said. “I don’t need a man in my life to be happy. I would maybe like one…but I definitely don’t need one.”
I think I only said that because she mentioned needing to take AC-units out of her windows or something. She then went on to say that while she might “like” to drink water, she doesn’t want someone telling her she “needs” to drink water.
She reads a lot like I do. Maybe she read the same book I did about dependent relationships and how one can be happy alone. Maybe she heard me use that word “need” and it triggered something I didn’t mean to trigger. Maybe that’s why she got mad at my words.
But my words weren’t an attack. If she truly trusted me as a person she’d know that. And there lies the rub. Her lack of trust in others and heightened intellect interferes with the durability of her happiness…thank God I didn’t say that to her.
With so many fiercely independent women out there today, a guy like me who wants to feel needed; like water maybe, thinks his son might be right—Dad doesn’t need a girlfriend.
At the kitchen counter, I’m making my son his sandwich while continuing my conversation with Marsh. Struggling to peal slices of cheese apart I remember that post I saw on Facebook about this.
“Why can’t the idiots figure out this cheese problem,” that post read. I can’t remember all the words but do remember how that post ended. “Everything in this world is falling apart…Except this cheese! lol.”
“The Candidates, what are they up to now?”
Attempting to restart our conversation from earlier, Marsh says this through the phone sitting on the counter. Knowing now what he’s referring to I reply smartly. “Changing the future of course,” I tell him.
When I told Marsh I’d have only four students in class he tried spinning it as a good thing. In an article I wrote for that blog a while back I compared myself to John Locke from the show Lost: “I find myself in a fight to believe something,” is what I wrote. Marsh reminded me that there were only a few characters that could save the world at the end of that show; Candidates they were called.
That show Lost kept me entertained and engaged for years. It’s the first show I remember watching in High Definition. The visuals and sound had me in a different world. That stuff doesn’t much matter to me these days. I need a good story to keep me engaged now and stories just seem to be getting worse right along with my attention span.
I was working at a phone center as a stock trader during that shows final few seasons and remember reading fan theories on Lostpedia between calls. The idea of so many people paying attention to a story one’s mind had created always appealed to me.
I didn’t much like the ending of that show; the writers had to make it up on the fly I heard. “Maybe they could write a new one,” I wrote in that article Marsh read, “Maybe I could help.”
Interested to hear how my class is going, Marsh continues asking questions as I finish making my son his sandwich. “Have you shown them your video yet?” he asks through the phone.
“I’m not showing them…I told you already.”
“You really should,” he replies. “That’s what started this whole thing. It’s what got me on board.”
Grabbing my phone and my son’s sandwich off the counter, I attempt to change the topic.
“They’re making fun of my song choices… Got any suggestions?”
Marsh takes a moment to think. “Use something from Dax,” he says. “Or 2-Pac’s Changes. These kids need to hear that one.”
I take a seat on the couch next to my son and look questioningly at Marsh through the phone. “Wouldn’t that be considered racially insensitive of me though?”
“Oh—f*** you,” Marsh says aggressively; not editing himself of course.
My son pretends not to hear what his Uncle Marsh just said, but I see his face move just a little. Standing up, I walk through the kitchen and into the bedroom. Marsh sees what I’m doing and waits so my son won’t hear the language being used.
Marsh continues in a calmer voice once I’m alone. “Why would that be racially insensitive J? Because those singers are black, and you grew up a privileged white boy? That’s a ridiculous way to think.” —Marsh stops and eyes me through the phone— “Skin color doesn’t mean shit. These kids need the real you…seriously…stop being a pussy J.”
Marsh and I continue talking for a while longer. As usual he makes good points but deep down I know I’ll never be as comfortable as he wants me to be. I am definitely not him.
Saying goodbye, I grab my son and myself a pickle from the fridge and then head back to my computer to finish my article.
“My whole life I been curled up worried about fitting it.”
At the bottom of my Life’s Puzzle article, I look at the quote from the song Ghost by Ryan Caveo that I planned to use for my Teacher’s Playlist. “Riding through the city I’m just buzzing alone,” the song sings, “Close my eyes while I drive ‘cause I love driving alone. Heart beating so hard, feel it thud in my bones.”
Suggesting I drive with my eyes closed isn’t smart, but I love the beat in that part of the song. A song doesn’t need to make much sense for me to like I’ve found; or inspire good behavior either. Next week in class I’m doing a lesson about music. On this computer is another document I have saved for that.
“Music helps me dream but is also a distraction,” it reads. “Sometimes music acts like armor to me: making me feel safe or relevant. Sometimes it acts like a set of wings: making me feel motivated or inspired.”
Reflecting on Marsh’s comment from earlier, I find myself wanting to use a different song for this article.
I need to shake things up, I think, I need something that will throw them off my scent…
*
Article Title: Life’s Puzzle
Dated: Friday, September 25th, 2020
“Those magnificent Americans, so much power and so little understanding of what to do with it.”
— from the 1986 film The Golden Child
Hello WORLD, today I am speaking to directly to you… Y-O-U.
Under such magnificent pressure I’m left to wonder where I should even begin. I’ve been told that starting with a quote is always compelling. Let’s try it, shall we…
“All men are created equal.”
Thomas Jefferson inspired an entire nation by saying this in the United States’ Declaration of Independence in 1776. Could you imagine a person appearing on our televisions and confidently making this statement today? Could you then imagine the avalanche of criticism and shitstorm of opinions that would attack such a choice of words today?
“Whatever you say can and will be used against you in the court of public opinion.”
That is the truth of our world today. It was the truth of our world back in 1776. With this magical internet invention of ours, opinions have increased in number and volume exponentially.
I’m destined to get myself in trouble no matter what I say here. Knowing that, I would like to begin by respectfully disagreeing with my fellow American: All men—and all people—are NOT created equal.
Take from that what you will.
As of 2020, the Unites States population makes up 4.5 % of the world population. This means that for every one-hundred people on the planet, around five of them are American. As you now know, I am one of those five.
Am I proud of this fact? Damn right I am! Despite our lack of numbers, does the world need us Americans? Damn right they do! … But why?
If you are an American like me and don’t think we need the rest of the world then you are being unrealistic. Do they need us? Yes. Are we special? Damn right we are! But consider the fact THEY are thinking the same thing.
We all call this planet home and why they need us and why we need them will be the two greatest questions humanity must answer if any of US are to survive on this planet much longer.
Does that fall below Twitter’s character limits? I’m not a twitterer. If it doesn’t, I’ll have to keep working on it.
It’s okay to disagree with what I’ve just said. Or to ask questions. We are human beings after all. It’s what we do. With this magical internet invention of ours, you could even say we’re becoming experts at it.
What is real—What is fake? … Who is real—Who is pretending? … When will it get better—How will it get better? And perhaps the most troubling question of all: What if it never gets better?
For someone trying to live in recovery, partaking in this socially acceptable behavior of questioning everyone and everything can be toxic. I am not here to tell you to stop asking questions though. Questioning things is important. I will however warn that expecting answers without a sense of patience is a recipe for disaster. Sometimes we need to have faith that the answers to our questions will come in time.
It would be helpful to find some common ground between you and I before moving forward. Are you an addict in recovery? Do you suffer from what others consider mental instability? If so, then great, we know each other already. Don’t we? If we do not have these characteristics in common, then how can we relate to one another?
When this pandemic began I bought two puzzles of the world map hoping to better understand this place we all call home. I have since accepted that remembering where all these places are on a map is an impossibility for me. Doing them has reminded me of how very small I am though. My entire life, and everyone in it, exists on one tiny piece of this puzzle. I now know how that spec feels in the movie Horton Hears a Who.
There is one thing all us humans have in common. One thing that no matter where you are on that puzzle makes us the same in some small way. You can probably guess what it is, but to discover the answer let us look at the human experience together: Let us call it LIFE.
Life presents each and every person a puzzle to put together. The pieces of that puzzle are unique and when we begin putting it together there is no way of knowing how all the pieces will fit together.
For some, happiness and prosperity will fit together first. Building your puzzle will come easy and you will not know how to look for the pieces that represent struggle and hardship because you do not know what those pieces look like yet, or where they might fit in your Life’s Puzzle.
For others, struggle and hardship may make up the entire boarder of your puzzle. So naturally you begin working there. To you, happiness and prosperity may or may not exist in your puzzle. Why waste your time trying to find pieces that may never fit?
All people are in a struggle to put their Life’s Puzzle together. In that, we all have something in common. There is also no right or wrong way to work on one’s puzzle. Some may choose to focus on the easy parts first and struggle with the difficult parts later. Others may choose to do the opposite.
In LIFE, unlike this puzzle analogy, we don’t often get to choose: “You get the hand you’re dealt.”
There are millions of tragedies I have not had to endure in this life. Because of this, there is no way I could understand what you might have been through in the process of putting your Life’s Puzzle together.
Similarly, I cannot know what it is like to be a child today; dealing with the hardships you might be going through and managing the rapidly changing world the way you are now.
While I do not know you. Or how many years you have walked this Earth. Or your gender. Or your race. Or who and what you love…If you love. I am comfortable telling you this one truth about myself here: I have been both blessed and cursed in this life. Can you maybe relate?
In this experiment called LIFE we all suffer. In suffering we can all relate. It’s the realest thing in the world people say. But remember—it’s not the only thing.
I do not pretend to have all the answers but have learned three skills to putting my Life’s Puzzle together that I’d like to share with you now.
One. Ask Questions. Two. Be Patient. And Three. Have faith.
After practicing these three things, if the desire to change the world still stirs inside of you, I would then suggest adding this one final piece to your puzzle: Take Action.
I believe the future for us is bright. I believe we will soon discover that our fates are connected. I believe unity will overcome division and that we will someday—collectively—choose peace over war and embrace the idea that we can do more together than we can apart.
Each of us is a piece to a bigger puzzle. With more resources at our disposal than ever before we can use them to write a new story. One that will create a new future and serve as a monument to all that we wish to become.
If we are to accomplish this however, there is one thing that we must first accept: This world needs Y-O-U to make it happen.
WEEKLY QUESTION FOR REFLECTION:
In your journals, please write what the word faith means to you. Does the word perhaps bother you in some ways? Why or why not.
The Teacher’s Playlist:
Highway to Hell by AC/DC
“I’m on my way to the promised land.”
*
(End of Chapter 6)
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