have you passed through this night?

Last updated on 8 December 2020

Sometimes my life feels like a metaphor.

I can’t help it. I look around and I am surrounded by metaphors, like discarded beer cans after a party (actually a simile, oops). A family drives by me in their minivan and I see the stories of  each mother, father and child, on a metaphorical highway of life. Someone picks up something in the grocery store and I see how one choice drives all other choices following in an “adjacent possible” chain going on forever.

Here is another: There are times when I am a taxi driver. My friends are different fares going to different destinations. Sometimes groups of friends get intermingled in my cab. One is going one direction, another couple going somewhere else. While this works on some days, other times it is simply a bad idea.

I’ve talked to people about the compartmentalization of our lives that occurs as we get older, get married,  have children, get divorced, move onto different jobs, even move to other cities. This also applies to friends, whom we seem to group: we have work friends, we have parents-of-kids-who-attend-school-with-our-kids-friends, we have neighbor-friends, we have friends who disappear for awhile after divorces and come back, we have friends from high school or college, we have friends-of-friends who become our own friends.

My wife and I are so attuned to this dynamic that when we got married we thought about how the mix of the friends we invited might create a chemistry for the entire group. And we lucked out. We rented a house on Lake Michigan where the entire wedding party stayed. The group blended so well it seems we have created another group: friends-who-went-to-our-wedding-friends. We’re talking about a reunion next summer at a beach house.

Sometimes it doesn’t work out so well.  Remember in high school chemistry when the teacher allowed us to mix different chemicals and then see what happened when we applied a little heat from a Bunsen burner?  Our chemistry lab smelled worse than rotten eggs for a week after one encounter I had with some substances I should not have blended.

I was thinking about this while my wife and I sat with a couple of good friends finishing off some drinks following my wife’s company Christmas party. It had been a lovely and lively evening and it seemed the perfect way to close out the night chatting with this couple to whom we had become close. But the chemistry  seemed to go “off” when another friend of ours joined our table. Things started well enough. But shortly, our new friend, I’ll call him Brent, started in on my wife and me about a conversation he observed previously at our house between my wife and my daughter. The conversation was about how creative my ex-wife is, how creative comparatively speaking I am, and how my daughter understands creativity. It was typical of the types of conversations we have with our kids.

The abrupt turn in this evening’s conversation suddenly felt odd as Brent, who appeared somehow agitated, characterized my wife’s questioning as disrespectful of both my ex and my daughter.

We work hard in our home to have honest, authentic discussions with our children about a vast number of topics. We challenge our children often to articulate and refine their thoughts. In this case my daughter was not offended and seemed to enjoy herself. But what Brent saw was my wife lobbing hand grenades at my daughter’s psyche. Though challenging for she and I to understand, Brent’s take was  interesting because it was entirely different than ours.

Idealogical debate, even spirited debate, can be  interesting and fun. Or feel like hell.

Idealogical debate, even spirited debate, can be interesting and fun. Or feel like hell. The mental and emotional dexterity required to see–and value–someone else’s strongly held views often can be a roller coaster ride. It’s easy to get hijacked by emotion, be offended and focus only on that. True friendships often require us to occasionally face uncomfortable differences of opinion.

As the conversation between Brent and my wife and I continued, I watched as the other couple withdrew. Our little gathering became an uncomfortable taxi ride. Different people headed different places. Perhaps fortified by a little alcohol, he obviously had some things on his mind and he hit us. While my wife challenged Brent’s assertions, I questioned his motives.  Our friendly couple looked into their empty highball glasses to see if there was a door out of the place.

Our little gathering became an uncomfortable taxi ride.

My purpose here is not to be cruel or condescending.  People who read me know I’m fascinated by relationships. I’m most interested in how this particular conversation influenced and was affected by the different relationships of the friends at the table.

It turned out Brent’s edginess was attributable to something I wrote in an inconsiderate departure. He was bothered by some things I said in that essay but it somehow became a conversation about my wife and I disrespecting my ex and my daughter.

Okay, so it’s fair that some things I wrote upset him. Any essayist worth reading will occasionally piss some people off.  I have reread it several times looking for what Brent said was wrong. I don’t agree. But even when I don’t understand another’s point of view or agree with them, I respect their genuineness in believing what they do. This especially goes for friends with whom I have history.

So things will play out some way. On this evening, with this particular group of friends, it felt like an uneasy, prickly taxi ride between strangers headed in different directions.

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Sometimes I read essays from bloggers I really like and I follow. They might be funny, quirky or particularly interesting. Some I might really admire for the quality of their writing. They inspire me to be better. Here is a link to someone I read often, Jonathan Fields: http://www.jonathanfields.com/hows-that-working-out/ He might resonate with you. Enjoy.