How to save a life

My phone rang at 10 p.m. and the friend who called me doesn't usually call as late as he did. I knew something was up when he asked if I was up for late night coffee. I had just lost my first game of Texas hold'em and wasn't interested in going home. The next two hours were the saddest I have had in a while. A friend I have known for years proceeded to tell me his marriage was in a very rough place.

I can't go into details but I can say he isn't happy where he is and won't be happy if he leaves. He has no clue how to make things work or improve upon what connection he has with his wife and they have seriously considered divorce. If he stays he stays for his children and if he leaves he will be taken to the cleaners by paying child support & alimony. The sad part is he hasn't been married long (few years) and already feels the weight of apathy crushing his will to do anything, to dream, or to live.

I sat across a tan table from a man who looked like he had nothing to live for. His eyes were filled such apathy I wonder if he even knew what he was living for. Here I sit with a friend I have known for years and admired. Over the last vew years I have watched him acheive all the things that society says you have to have to be successful. He has it all: a wife, a nice suburban home, couple cars, held a few decent paying & somewhat prestigious jobs, and now kids. I have hungout at his house for neighborhood parties and they have the coolest neighbors. Everyone has fun & they all cook & get along. Here is a guy who I have admired in many ways for years and seen alot of success in his life over the last couple years. And on a weekend night a few years later he and I are sitting in a booth in a restuarant while he tells me that if you strip away the superficial things from his marriage there isn't much to live for. I sat with a man who married with big dreams and was at a point in his marriage where he is broken.

What do you say to a friend who comes and tells you these things? Aside from the fact I'm single and it is a nice reality check to the burning idea in my mind that being married is easy or without problems I didn't know what to say. I listened for along time and was his sounding board has he kicked around some ideas about what he wants, what is important to him, and what the future may or may not hold. Saying I'm sorry doesn't cut it. Telling him to stay with her or leave her...without dealing with his emotions, his ambivilence, and figuring out what he wants is worthless. He told me things that saddened me to the point where I hurt deep inside and wanted to cry.

I think it's hard for most people not to say anything. When we sit in silence there are no words or ideas to hide behind. We are naked before the harsh realities of life. One has to face the reality of what is happening and if that reality is painful, then live with that pain for how ever long that silence lasts. Living with pain is high up on my list of awful experiences in life. I don't care if it is phsyical, emotional, spiritual, or mental. What is worse, being in pain or watching someone in pain and not being able to help them? That is one of the tough parts about being available to a friend when they need you. Sitting with them while they are in pain. In our do whatever you want & do almost anything culture how sobering is pain & silence?

While I sat listening to him I was silently praying for God to give me words of wisdom or sage like advice. The longer I sat there I realized God was silent and I had nothing to hide behind & nothing to offer my friend. I could only sit with him & his pain. After a few hours he paid for the coffee and we walked outside to an empty parking lot. I prayed with him and wondered how the pressence of a sinlge man like me, who couldn't relate to his experience as a married man had helped him that night. As he got in his car he told me he needed more friends like me. Even though the words came out of his mouth I wondered if it was God's way of answering my prayer.

I'm obviously a bachelor

I have reached a new low...tuna fish for breakfast.

Why I write

A couple years ago I sat through an open mic/poetry reading in Boulder with a friend of mine (Chris). After the reading we enjoyed assorted party snacks and socialized with other writers & readers before driving back to Denver. As we got in his car he asked me why I didn't read anything that night. I didn't have a good response and spent most of that night thinking about why I didn't share anything.

My friend & I had attended a few open mic sessions, slam competitions, and various readings where anyone can read what they have written. Most of these venues don't require a fee or anything to make them appear exclusive or like some sort of club. In reality they are the exact opposite, as a sign up sheet for people who want to share their work is passed around to every & anyone. There is always some sort of applause after anyone reads and everyone is friendly. The atmosphere is pretty laid back with coffee or food served at some places.

I enjoy the open mic sessions at coffee shops and small venues where open mic sessions are offered. They are the polar opposite of academia's literature classes, poetry classes, and anything remotely proper. They don't seem to care anything about how you are dressed or where you are from or what your political affiliation is, race, culture, or religion. The most important thing is the spoken word or sharing what one has written. In doing so you connect with all the other writers there and become part of a larger community of people who write (just like me).

No one is required to share anything they have written. There are many people who go to listen. I had been writting off and on for a few years while attending open mic sessions with Chris. He frequently read and I attended open mic sessions for years before reading anything. The funny thing is with a Speech Communication degree so you would think I would be use to public speaking & have mastered my fear of it. No one ever gets over it and that wasn't the reason why I didn't read that night.

That night I took a couple pieces with me but left them in Chris's car. We heard a little bit of everything that night! One writer wrote in old English and listening to him reminded me of shakespeare. Another writer was sharing exerpts from a novel he was working on. One writer had this free flow structureless style, and another sounded like Dr. Seuss. We heard pieces about the beauty of nature, the pain of unrequitted love, how someone learned to accept themselves, a couple touched on racisim, one about well cooked chicken, the terrors of public schools, some political pieces, and even a piece about moths. One gal couldn't read without putting on a paper hat & grass skirt, she said it helped her get into Character.

After watching the gal in the hat & grass skirt I realized I could do anything in there and be accepted but that was not enough to get me to read. Langston Hughes said, "the prerequisite for writing is having something to say." and most people write because they think they have something to say. That night I had something to say but didn't have courage or confidence in myself. I came up with a hundred great sounding & well rationed excuses but at the end of the night I knew they were just excuses.

It has been years since that night and not much has changed. Chris moved to California and we still talk & share what we write from time to time. One thing I realized since that night was Chris believed in me, or believed I had something to say and it was worth reading. It has taken me a long time to believe in my writing and read at open mics, or send friends something I have written, or create a blog & post my thoughts. This post & blog is part of that journey and my own way of showing Chris that he isn't the only one who believes in me.

It's true

It's true. I can't whistle but that is not what this page is about.

More later,
Duane T