We have a winner
This Robert is quick on the draw – quicker in fact than most any other person I've ever met on this planet, and I'm not just saying that to be nice, or to reward him for winning my "identify Ronald Reagan" contest. Spending some time with him on my most recent trip to Utah was one of the big highlights of the trip, and I'm not just saying that, either. Over the years I have for all intents and purposes lost touch with several people I always thought would be friends for life, and that feels sad ... but at the same time, I've somehow managed to maintain the most tenuous of threads of contact with certain other people – sometimes people I might not have expected to stay interested in me, or I in them – and I'm finding those friendships more and more precious as time goes on. My friend Jason, who has commented on this blog from time to time, is one of them. Robert is another.
I just got back from a birthday party for my friend M. and am feeling very full and happy and blessed by all the beautiful friendships in my life. To celebrate the birthday boy, and also (being honest here) because I do occasionally enjoy a brief moment in the spotlight when I'm with friends I trust and feel comfortable with, I wore my most ridiculous party shoes of all time – the 6-inch furry leopard-print platform maryjanes I bought online for about $15 a decade or so ago. I hardly ever get a chance to wear them, but when I do haul them out they never fail to elicit a highly gratifying response. Maybe people are just being kind as a way to hide their horror and dismay – not knowing how else to respond to such outrageous footwear. Because these shoes are not stylish in any way, and probably never have been. But they do command attention. And the fact that I wore them while arriving at the party by bike made even more of an impression than I would have expected from people who already know I ride a bike everywhere, every day, any weather, as pretty much my sole form of transportation.
And I'm only bringing this up because I want to remember how good it felt to be received so warmly and affectionately by these friends, in spite of my cringe-worthy choice of shoes. Somehow, I don't know why, but it always shocks me to feel myself loved, appreciated, approved of, even enjoyed. I'm sure none of them realize how much it means to me to be a part of this small circle.
And it makes me think about other circles I'm part of, and how my part in creating those circles, and maintaining them, and helping other people feel equally loved and accepted in them, is some of the most important and satisfying work I've ever undertaken in my life.
I think it started with my family, and the feeling – setting aside for now the hangups and neuroses that everyone inherits from their families of origin, no matter how well-adjusted – the feeling that there really isn't anything I could ever do that would invalidate my place with them. Being part of, and feeling accepted by, a really huge family has always been such an intense element of my identity – not just my immediate family, but everyone. And maybe it's because of the family's size (14 aunts and uncles and upwards of 60-70 first cousins, plus in-laws, kids, exes and friends of the family) but I've always felt like life is just way more interesting and enjoyable when you hold the goal of always expanding that circle – as compared with the idea that the only group really worth belonging to is one that is picky and discriminating and exclusive.
Certainly my snobbishness and insecurities contradict this declaration of inclusiveness ... and I'm not saying I don't have my standards. I do. And sometimes, it's true, certain people don't make the cut. My point though is that I really, really – perhaps inordinately, to an unreasonable extent – love it when people Do. I feel so much better, happier, safer in the world when I am able to believe in the common ground, when I find myself among people who feel like they could be friends, if they're not already.
Nothing unusual about that, maybe. Everyone love their friends, right? Mainly I just want to remember how happy I feel tonight to know that I have friends here, and in other places too. Friends like Robert, who can recognize the smiling eyes of Ronald Reagan over the brim of an old lady's cowboy hat – and who knows me well enough to take me to a cafe in Salt Lake City that serves toast until closing, whether I decide to buy any or not.
Robert, your prize will be in the mail presently.
I just got back from a birthday party for my friend M. and am feeling very full and happy and blessed by all the beautiful friendships in my life. To celebrate the birthday boy, and also (being honest here) because I do occasionally enjoy a brief moment in the spotlight when I'm with friends I trust and feel comfortable with, I wore my most ridiculous party shoes of all time – the 6-inch furry leopard-print platform maryjanes I bought online for about $15 a decade or so ago. I hardly ever get a chance to wear them, but when I do haul them out they never fail to elicit a highly gratifying response. Maybe people are just being kind as a way to hide their horror and dismay – not knowing how else to respond to such outrageous footwear. Because these shoes are not stylish in any way, and probably never have been. But they do command attention. And the fact that I wore them while arriving at the party by bike made even more of an impression than I would have expected from people who already know I ride a bike everywhere, every day, any weather, as pretty much my sole form of transportation.
And I'm only bringing this up because I want to remember how good it felt to be received so warmly and affectionately by these friends, in spite of my cringe-worthy choice of shoes. Somehow, I don't know why, but it always shocks me to feel myself loved, appreciated, approved of, even enjoyed. I'm sure none of them realize how much it means to me to be a part of this small circle.
And it makes me think about other circles I'm part of, and how my part in creating those circles, and maintaining them, and helping other people feel equally loved and accepted in them, is some of the most important and satisfying work I've ever undertaken in my life.
I think it started with my family, and the feeling – setting aside for now the hangups and neuroses that everyone inherits from their families of origin, no matter how well-adjusted – the feeling that there really isn't anything I could ever do that would invalidate my place with them. Being part of, and feeling accepted by, a really huge family has always been such an intense element of my identity – not just my immediate family, but everyone. And maybe it's because of the family's size (14 aunts and uncles and upwards of 60-70 first cousins, plus in-laws, kids, exes and friends of the family) but I've always felt like life is just way more interesting and enjoyable when you hold the goal of always expanding that circle – as compared with the idea that the only group really worth belonging to is one that is picky and discriminating and exclusive.
Certainly my snobbishness and insecurities contradict this declaration of inclusiveness ... and I'm not saying I don't have my standards. I do. And sometimes, it's true, certain people don't make the cut. My point though is that I really, really – perhaps inordinately, to an unreasonable extent – love it when people Do. I feel so much better, happier, safer in the world when I am able to believe in the common ground, when I find myself among people who feel like they could be friends, if they're not already.
Nothing unusual about that, maybe. Everyone love their friends, right? Mainly I just want to remember how happy I feel tonight to know that I have friends here, and in other places too. Friends like Robert, who can recognize the smiling eyes of Ronald Reagan over the brim of an old lady's cowboy hat – and who knows me well enough to take me to a cafe in Salt Lake City that serves toast until closing, whether I decide to buy any or not.
Robert, your prize will be in the mail presently.
2 Comments:
No photo of the infamous shoes?!?!?!?
I'm dying to see them.
Woohoo! And it was a great pleasure to weave just a little bit stronger that slender thread of friendship that we've maintained for so long.
Post a Comment
<< Home