Not-so-Kvetchy V

Promised myself that I'd begin to describe the dance I mentioned, the Dance of Joy and Sadness. As I've come to believe with the writer of the Book of Ecclesiastes (the Old Man calls himself Kohelles, maybe best translated as the Congregant or the Member of the Congregation) that when all is said and done .... only relationship really matters, I should note that I'm moving to reason that Sadness and Glee are both visible in relationship ... and relationship is all. Regal vestments and tall horses, wisdom and knowledge matter little ... for they are all, in Kohelles's language: "emptiness of emptinesses."

Damn! That sounds sad, again, and indeed, Kohelles mourns (or is it moans, aka kvetches) that he'd prefer to be in the home of a mourner than in the home of party people.

OK. Back to thoughts of relationship and, particularly, relationships of or among Players in the Last Quarter.

On the Sadness side, we have:

• Mom and Dad are aged or, for most of us, memories;
• Kids are gone, unless we had kids in our Fifties, Heaven forfend;
• Our bodies are no longer quiet and invisible;
• We have some fear of making our bodies even less visible (ran for first time in nine weeks and since herniating a lower vertebra and am a bit worried about reinjury);
• Death is no longer the task of Grandparents or even Parents; 
• Friends are beginning to look old;
• Lover/Spouse, if still with us, is a bit frayed at the edges; and
• So are we.

On the gleeful side, compensations abound:

• Even for those of us whose parents were monsters (maybe there are exceptions), there are memories;
• Children visit and bring their spawn. Even if a tease about it going on forever, the presence/presents of Grandchildren carry with them all kinds of relational promise. All the folk we say goodbye to in the Third and Fourth Quarters (betimes, before)? We get to say hello to these little ones. (I'll talk about the Jacob complex, later: the belief that we can be parents to our Grands.) Additionally, they don't have much memory of the mistakes we made with their Parents; they think we're quaint and very special. The special part is, indeed, very special. And in this economy, it is not uncommon for Children to move in -- even with their livestock;
• We have less and less to prove. For many of us, we have accepted that we don't need to look perfect or, for that matter, to act perfectly. I mentioned recently how, at a very nice restaurant, a friend (of almost 45 years) had a raucous laughing jag. No biggie! Had it been 1968 when Marsha and I met her and her husband, especially with her subsequent complaining to Waiter and Manager about the absence of any good Black Tea "with these prices," we might have been embarassed or escorted to the door. But not two couples who had been married a total of 95 years;
• We don't fuss the small stuff quite as much (except, apparently, for matters surrounding Black Tea). Between the laughing jag and the "Tea Party," my same friend chastised me mercilessly for my selfishness in having done some strenuous work that day .... didn't I know that if I reinjured my vertebra I'd be a burden to Marsha. I suppose she was right -- that and $3.50 might get her a cup of coffee in a cheap hotel in Davenport/Moline, so I dutifully listened with no intention of obeying;
• We don't even have to drive as fast. Nothing to prove, as I said, and if we're a bit late, so be it. I have noticed that my hearing seems to have improved, too, as I more often now hear horns blaring behind me -- what are they trying to tell me; and
• As to having to look good, well .... Somewhere along the way a child learns to ask for what they can get and sometime in the subsequent 60 years or so, it sinks in.  'The Sports car and the hat just ain't gonna make hair grow where it don't no more!'

But that doesn't answer the question: how does Sadness dance with Glee? It's a start. No hurry. I'm not going anywhere.

But let me begin with some language for talking of those whose Sadness and Glee cannot play together and then in a next posting try to put flesh on the bones of language.

Were I a Dog -- I identify strongly with Dogs -- when my People come home, I'd hear the door and run for it with my tail wagging. Just yesterday, Marsha and I took each other out for an "airing" and came home to find Pooch Smiling and Barking and Old Pretty Girl Freud, the Pussycat, walking down the stairs to say hello. Arrivals are gleeful.

When we left for a second airing, Pooch did his only trick: sitting on a couch (note: we no longer believe furniture will last forever), leaning back and "reaching for the sky" ... this is Pooch's only trick ... begging ... playing the supplicant ... showing long and tearful face .... "please don't leave me alone." Departures are Sad. Marsha and I both tear up when we part from Kids/Grandkids.

Gleeful ... Sad ... Gleeful ... Sad ....  Depending on what music you put it to, one leads a life in which Gleefulness and Sadness play with each other.

I've spent much of my adult life working with people who cannot balance what I think of as The Big Two (emotions). Therapists of all stripes have names for these folk: Personality Disorders ... or, if they rub them the wrong way, Borderlines. If your therapist calls you a Borderline, s/he's not saying s/he loves you and you're likely being charged a full fee.

But enough, I'll try to describe some character types whose Big Two dance and some who cannot play with both Sadness and Glee, simultaneously .... but not today.