Wish I Was Here

Florida man returns from proverbial wilderness, finds himself moved by Kia commercial.

I’m sorry for going quiet. Some of you pay for this, which means it is a job. And so I can’t just not show up. I’m tired of not writing, and the punishment (for both of us) might be even worse—writing about not writing. Of course the problem isn’t limited to Substack, or the second book that’s still unwritten. Avoidance happens all throughout my life. I’ve been thinking lots about this, and talking about it in counseling.

I’m quite sick of crying wolf. That line from IYFTM always comes to mind: It’s hard to tell a story you don’t like.

For your consideration, might I offer two additions:
It’s hard to accept a story you don’t like.
It’s hard to change a story you don’t like.

Or perhaps:
It’s hard to accept the things you cannot change. It’s hard to love a story when you don’t like the scene you’ve ended up in. And it’s hard to do the work it takes to change. Because you will have to face something harder than the past. You will have to face the present.

February was a kind of perfect storm. My debt reaching a new number and then taxes due on top. The question of where to live and how to pay for it. The question of how to communicate with the people who control the place I live. Accepting that at 44 I have the opposite of savings and my rent covers the mortgage for an owner I’ve not met. This house is math to them.

All of that was plenty and then a message in the group text: Surgery tomorrow morning to pull the rest of his teeth.

Wait, what? How can a person not have any teeth? And how long will they not have any teeth? Also, how awful is the process? For context, we’re talking about the mouth of a man who has been suffering for years.

If we need a silver lining, it was instant access to compassion. If there is a complicated relationship in your life, try picturing the person without teeth. My guess is empathy emerges.

A few days later talking to another character, I stumble upon the need for a different sort of surgery, the kind called letting go. How do you tell someone you love that their anger isn’t serving them? How do you suggest hope when hope becomes offensive?

Elsewhere in the month, a long-requested conversation about exiting the friend zone. And of course there is no justice. Because of course love isn’t math. Over tasteless greens the closest I get is getting to say, I treated you better than you treated me. She doesn’t object. At the same time if I’m honest there are people who could say the same to me. It’s wild how we pick and choose. Somewhere (Las Vegas) Bono sings, “And I must be an acrobat to talk like this and act like that.”

***

The point I’ve been meaning to arrive at is the avoidance of avoidance. Actually, no—let’s lose the double-negative. I want the sentence to have power. I want to show up for my life. Not just writing, not just work, but all the different parts. My friendships and my family. Exercise and hobbies. The things I claim to love but never do. The things I claim are dreams. Love and not just lust. I would like to try.

***

It is the winter of 1992 or maybe ‘93. Josh Lehman throws a football in a game on Cardinal Drive. I catch the ball running full-speed, straight into Elliott’s mailbox. The mailbox falls to the ground and I do the same thing. A trip to the emergency room for stitches just above my lip. Three decades later, this scar is the closest I have come to a tattoo. It’s something that I cherish.

Fast forward to last Monday night. I’m back with Josh and Elliott. Ian is there too. We’re playing basketball in our middle school gym, the one we played in 30 years ago. I chase a loose ball, do a sort of dive or maybe fall, but I picture myself sliding. Instead I simply stop. My chin slams on the court. It occurs to me that I’m in pain. A moment later someone says I’m bleeding.

It could have been a lot worse. No stitches this time. No trip to the ER. I felt really cared for. The guys told me to stay down so they could make sure I was okay. They cleaned me up before helping me stand. And it’s wild to think that this was pretty much the same scene as 30 years before. Josh & Elliott were there for both, which I don’t take for granted. We got a lot of mileage out of the mailbox story. I guess we were due for a new one.

A few days later, now a few days ago, watching TV and a Kia commercial comes on. I recognize the song. Can’t place it but I think I loved it once.

Every road that’s wrong
Seems like the road I’m on
Every sign just seems unclear
Won’t you come switch me on
I don’t know where I’ve gone
And I, I wish I was here
And I, I wish I was here
And I, I wish I was here

(Lyrics from Wish I Was Here by Cat Power & Coldplay)

***

Playlist:
Hutch by Big Red Machine, Sharon Van Etten, Lisa Hannigan, Shara Nova
Come Around by Corella
West Hills by The Killers
Festival by Devan
Mediate by INXS
Spit of You by Sam Felder
The Fly by U2
Acrobat U2
Exit by U2
Never Tear Us Apart by INXS
Last To Make It Home by Sam Felder
Wish I Was Here by Cat Power, Coldplay
Let Down by Radiohead
St Jude by Florence + The Machine

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Upcoming small-group conversations:

Tues, 3/12 - “What I Believe About God and What God Believes About Me”

Wed, 3/13 - “ADHD (I’m Learning How My Brain Works)”

Wed, 3/20 - “I Would Like to Live a Love Story”

Thurs, 3/21 - “I’m in a Season of Change”

I’m headed to Arizona next month, and Wyoming after that. If you want to put me to work as a speaker, whether it's in-person or virtual, a big keynote or small workshop, the team at Collective Speakers can help.

Merch Sale! Deals on posters and shirts, including Ever Get Home.

On the note of merch, NEEDS AN OCEAN has had a busy couple days thanks to some love from Jen Hatmaker.