To Bounce

On a Saturday recently at Planet Care, I ran into an old boyfriend. We had both become head over heels stupid crazy about each other very quickly. And we enjoyed a couple of weeks of sweetness. But then his banjo was stolen from his car when it was parked outside of my house on Crack Row in Winston-Salem.

He had built this banjo himself. It had accompanied him on many adventures, including his participation in making music for the "Cold Mountain" soundtrack. He needed it to take with him to New York for a recording project in a week. It had been "like a family member" to him. And now, it was gone. He didn't exactly blame me. But he disappeared from my life at that point. And he needed to. He had to build another banjo in a week. Then he had to go to New York. Then England. And so on.

So there I was, standing face-to-face with him after all this time. I managed to propel myself to hug him. He introduced me to his wife.
"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine."

Yeah, Bogey. I feel ya.

After the initial shock, we played catch-up. And it was truly nice conversing with him. I felt happy and excited that I'd seen him. But after he left, a strange melancholy set in. And I realized, I'm not over him.

Good God. I'm 50 years old. I'm too old to be consumed with heartbreak.

Well, there's nothing for it. There are still pangs in my heart for this dude. Nothing to do about it. I loved him. That just doesn't go away.

That night, I went to The Garage - a music venue which I used to run. During that time Richard Emmett, the owner, called me the Head Mechanic. I liked that label. It suggested somebody who tinkers with the inner workings of a complicated machine. That's definitely what my stint at The Garage felt like.

Going back there is always bittersweet. The Garage gave me some of the best times of my life. There were hard times, too. But the good times far outweigh the bad. I wasn't quite ready to end my involvement with it when I did. But I understood that the time had come to do so. Just like a love affair, there is still a bit of heartbreak connected to the end of my stint at The Garage. And going back there brings that heartbreak to the surface.

On this particular night at The Garage, I ran into another old flame. We had enjoyed an even briefer affair that also had ended abruptly and unsatisfactorily.

And then I ran into a woman who had the bad habit of going after the same men I was interested in. She had been the cause of the abrupt and completely bad ending to a third affair.

I began to wonder at the mystery of the current planetary alignment.

I love. I love a bit too fully at times. And when I do, my heart lies open and vulnerable to any and all unfavorable consequences of loving too fully. You would think that I'd learn. But I don't know any other way of being.

I danced furiously that night at The Garage and enjoyed myself immensely.

~~~
My son just moved to Brooklyn. Before leaving North Carolina, he was hit by a car while riding his bicycle. This was the second time he'd been hit this summer. His cuts and scrapes were still healing when he left for New York. He called me today, happy and excited to announce that he had just gotten a job - as a bicycle courier.

Jairus has already learned the value of picking yourself up when you've been knocked down by the proverbial cars of life, of climbing right back onto the seat of that bicycle and pedaling with abandon.

I am happy for him.

~~~
I still think of Melchior: my best buddy, my soul mate. Melchior was a cat that lived with me for fourteen years - through my failing marriage, my divorce, my various bizarre living situations, my single mom years, my ITP, my cancer. September 26 marks the one year anniversary of her death. I still miss her terribly. I cannot think of loving any other cat like I loved Melchior. I don't even want to try.

Still, I have a buddy whom I call Ghost Cat. He hangs out in the lovely sanctuary that is my front yard. There's a shed that sits on the border of my yard and the neighbor's, under which Ghost Cat retreats from the harsh elements of weather. At night and in the early morning, he can be seen lounging around the yard. I feed him. He sometimes lets me pet him. He keeps mice away. It's a good arrangement. I find myself looking forward to his greeting when I arise mornings and when I return from work at night.

I find that my love for Ghost Cat is growing.

~~~

A few women I know are thinking about having a baby. Part of me wants to talk them out of it based solely upon the mistakes I made with my own children - mistakes that hurt my heart. And I look at the state of the world and wonder why anyone would want to bring a child into this mess. At the same time, I realize that making a decision based on fear is a very bad idea. I remember the loveliness of it all and the immense power and hope that comes from truly loving another being. It is transforming. 

I am reminded of the Alistair Cooke quote which was read on an episode of "All in the Family," "In the best of times, our days are numbered anyway. So it would be a crime against nature for any generation to take the world crisis so solemnly, that it put off enjoying those things for which we were designed in the first place: the opportunity to do good work, to enjoy friends, to fall in love, to hit a ball and to bounce a baby."

Life is about living after all. It is best not to linger in the pain of the past very long. There is beauty in the art of Bouncing Back.