Editor Jane Was A Big Pain

(Chapter 11 of my book, Turkey Terror At My Door! contains essays about two high school teachers who were instrumental in me becoming an author. Because these were part of a “high-school” series, I couldn’t give credit to one other person responsible for my success.)

I arrived on The University of Akron campus in the fall of 1976. I  concentrated on my studies for a couple of months, but eventually wandered up to the student newspaper office to display my high school writing success on a bigger stage.

Few students read The Buchtelite (the name a holdover from when the school was known as Buchtel College). Akron U was a commuter school operating in the center of town. It was one of the most boring campuses in the country. There was usually nothing of significance for the newspaper to report on, and when there was, most of the students didn’t care. Many referred to the school as Apathy U.

As a result, most of my freshman humor writings were intended to be shocking, outrageous diatribes designed to catch people’s attention by slapping them in the face. The paper only ran them because they weren’t dull, and they had nothing better to print. If these articles were published today (first, they wouldn’t dare), I would be immediately expelled from the college. If I ran for political office today, these awful, politically incorrect essays would make headlines.

Before my sophomore year, I marched up to the Buchtelite office and pitched my idea to write a weekly humor column called Ake’s Pains. I was brash. I was outrageous. I was filled with all the naïve bravado of a 19-year-old guy. There is no way they should have ever agreed to this. But Editor Jane said, “Sure, let’s try it!” I’m not sure if she really liked the idea or she just needed to fill space on the editorial page once a week.

Therefore, Jane became my first real editor. And as a writer, I hate editors. Because editors take your perfect writing, mark it up, and change things until your work becomes less than perfect. And make no mistake, my writing was perfect, absolutely perfect, because I was a 19-year-old college student and I thought I knew everything.

I hated Editor Jane. Now, only as an editor, mind you. Regular Jane was sweet, pleasant, intelligent, funny, and also - - cute! Nothing to dislike there. But I always became agitated during our weekly closed-door (so nobody could hear the yelling) meetings when we reviewed my upcoming column, which meant Editor Jane telling me what I couldn’t say or changing how I said it. In my mind, she was ruining my writing by sucking much of the humor right out of it. 

But the column from week one, was still a big hit on campus. The students loved my satirical wit and how I made fun of stuff on campus. They thoroughly enjoyed how I stuck it to “The Man” every week.

However, “The Man”, or the administration, was much less enamored by my rants. I could imagine the big-wigs getting all red-faced when the Buchtelite hit campus Friday morning. To them, I was not funny at all. I was a scourge, and they took offense at my viewpoints.

For example, students had discovered cockroaches in one of the dorms —a very embarrassing situation for the administration. The following week, I wrote that the biggest event on campus was the cockroach races being held in West Haven Dorm, with the winner being Secretari-roach. (You old-timers will get the joke)

At the time, I hated Editor Jane and how she diluted my writing. However, when I look back at my progression from a writer to an author, I realize that Editor Jane played a critical part. I would not have written three books if it was not for the hated Editor Jane.

Editor Jane was able to skillfully edit my work so that students still thoroughly enjoyed it and found it humorous, yet it was not so disgusting that the administration shut me down. And I’m sure there were phone calls from the “V.P.s” telling her that enough was enough – that the Ake guy was a real pain and needed to be silenced. But Editor Jane never buckled to the pressure. She threaded that needle perfectly.

Editor Jane had my best interest at heart. She coached me, mentored me, improved my writing, and helped me. She never rejected anything I submitted outright. She never limited my topics but was able to smooth out those literal sophomoric expressions into popular pieces.

She gave me an opportunity that I didn’t deserve and made me successful at my craft at that critical point in my literary career. And for all that, I hated her. I took her for granted. I viewed the situation from the selfish perspective of an immature college guy with no appreciation at all for how much she was helping me.

Because of Editor Jane, I wrote columns for three years in college, experimenting with different styles my senior year. I thought Ake’s Pains was done when I graduated. But 31 years later, Ake’s Pains was resurrected as a humor blog and was the catalyst for all three of my books.

We need to appreciate those people who are helping us now and have helped us in the past, and express that appreciation to them. More importantly, we need to be the one who helps others along the way, because we have no idea about how our efforts may inspire someone to achieve greatness.

 

 

 

 

Nobody’s Perfect – So Stop Expecting Them To Be

Recently I had to replace my old clock radio. Yes, I’m a Boomer, so I use a clock radio rather than my phone alarm to wake up every morning.

I am glad my old unit finally died because I hated it. It was difficult to tune, and I had to adjust it frequently because the controls were poorly positioned. Resetting the time was complicated and always necessitated reading the instructions. And the battery backup mechanism was busted. 

However, my new clock radio has many great new features. The radio is easy to tune and has a digital display. I can also set the time and alarms easily and quickly. It has dual alarms, one for weekdays and one for weekends. It even has two USB ports for charging my devices overnight. 

This new clock radio is tremendously superior to my old one, and I would love it, except for one glaring deficiency: It doesn’t keep time very well. It is proficient in all things, except that clock part, the core purpose of why it exists.

And in contemplating the absurdity of this irony, I realize the clock radio suffers from the same fate as us humans: No one is proficient in everything. Everyone has weaknesses, blind spots, deficiencies, Achilles heels.

When the molecules are mixed in our DNA, some abilities are in short supply; others may be lacking altogether. This results in mathematical geniuses who are incapable of driving a car. You have politicians who are extraordinary problems solvers who lack empathy for the people they are trying to help. In my case, I can make sense of complex data, seeing how all the pieces fit together. However, if presented with a simple assembly of anything, those parts suddenly become impossible to connect. Some parts of your brain are exceptional; other parts are barely proficient.

You would think that in all the billions of people whoever lived, the DNA would just click in just one time to produce the perfect person, but it never has. (I’m only considering DNA that exists on this planet for this one)

The peculiar thing is that even though we know the perfect person doesn’t exist, we expect our fellow human beings to be perfect. We readily acknowledge that we have faults and weaknesses, yet we get frustrated when people behave stupidly or fail to perform to our standards. And why we even have a concept of “perfection” is a mystery.

We tend to value our proficiencies more because we are good at them and then dismiss those areas where we are weak. Thus, we get highly agitated with others when they make a blunder doing something we are good at (how could they mess that up?) but identify with and show empathy to people making the same mistakes as we do.

An important aspect of wisdom, gained from experience, is to know your strengths and your weaknesses. This knowledge permits you to avoid failures and admire those with different skills which you lack. If you don’t know your strengths and weaknesses, it’s time for a bit of self-reflection.

I don’t know why we expect anyone to be perfect. No one is perfect; we are all far from perfect. Either there is some strange evolutionary benefit of having high expectations (maybe we killed off all those who frustrated us too much), or we were created as imperfect beings by a perfect being. The latter may explain where our concept of “perfect” originated.

Key Thought: Do not expect other people to be perfect because you are not perfect.

Just as people irritate you because they are different, be assured you are just as irritating to some other people. For example, intelligent people can be frustrated by the actions of the less intelligent. And the less intelligent get annoyed when the eggheads can’t explain things in simpler terms and get upset over trivial matters.  

When we don’t expect perfection from other people, we aren’t as irritated and judgmental when they fall short. It also helps us in our personal relationships with people different than ourselves.

But the challenge now becomes to be more tolerant of others when they fail. This is difficult when that miscue causes a loss of time, money, or something else from us. If we can offer our strengths to help other’s weaknesses and get that same assistance with our struggles, life would be so much better. However, to be forgiving, tolerant, and compassionate does not come naturally to us, because ….. we are not perfect.    

Her Hourglass Ran Out Of Sand

(You may question my revealing private correspondence in this post. You will understand why, when you get to the end)

About eight weeks ago, my good friend Darla (a pseudonym) messaged me with the distressing news that she had been diagnosed with liver cancer. We had seen each other for the first time since the pandemic at my book signing event a few weeks previously.

We had made plans to have breakfast sometime, and now she wanted to schedule it. A few years ago, I had helped her regain her confidence and self-esteem after a brutal divorce. Now she needed my support to help her in this trial. 

At breakfast, I had expected a somber discussion, but Darla was just as cheery as ever, with a dazzling smile and delightful laugh. She said the prognosis was good, and she would be fine after a few weeks of chemo. They were running more tests, but she was convinced she was not in danger.

I wasn’t so sure. There were some serious things I wanted to discuss with Darla, but I didn’t because her mood was so positive, and I didn’t want to raise any doubts into a pleasant conversation.

A couple of weeks later, Darla messaged me that the test results showed she had stage 4 breast cancer that had spread to her liver. However, she remained positive, saying it was treatable with only a few additional weeks of chemo needed.

To me, this sounded worse, much worse. As a good friend, this meant we had to discuss some deep, heavy stuff. The doctors are responsible for your physical condition. Your friends can help you with your psychological condition. But a real friend will also be concerned about your spiritual condition. So, I messaged her and asked her where she was spiritually and about her relationship with THE CREATOR.

She replied that she was fine, but then went on, in 334 words, to describe her degree of religiosity. It included her belief in a mixture of Catholicism, tribal customs, and personal philosophies. She had created her own standard, which she was confident she was meeting.  

I was still skeptical. If she had told me she was just fine, then this conversation would have ended there. But she had typed 334 words to convince me, and maybe herself, she was prepared for the end. She had told me she was fine physically when clearly, she was not. Now she had told me she was also fine spiritually.

It would not have been easy to discuss all the aspects of her discourse.   That may have been the purpose, to make me go away. But I still wasn’t sure. So, I gave her three questions to ask herself and then answer, emphasizing that she wasn’t to answer back to me. Because she doesn’t answer to me.

The questions:

1. When is the last time you attended mass/church?

2. If you did attend mass/church now, how would it make you feel?

3. Why do you think you would feel this way?

I prefer not telling people how to think or what to believe. However, I want people to consider the alternatives, expand their possibilities, and think through their choices in different ways.

Of course, this dialogue would take a little time. But Darla was sure she had more time, so I thought I had enough time to help her walk herself through the process.

I realize that many people reading this will disagree with my approach, finding it way too subtle. However, many people reading this will say it is way too forward, believing I should have said nothing more at all.

Whenever you do something that people on both sides of an issue disagree with, either:

1.    You did the right thing.

or

2.    You are an idiot.

In this case, I’m not sure about #1 – but I hope it’s not #2. And you can comment about this all you want, but I don’t care – I really don’t care. Because I don’t answer to you.

If Darla followed my instructions, she would need to consider the answers to these questions herself, and I would not be involved further unless she wanted my help. But she insisted on giving me an answer to question #1, saying she had been in church a year ago for her mother’s funeral.

Of course, this was answering the question about being in a church, which was not the question's intent.  She also asked about my motivation for this discussion, trying to deflect the issue back to it being my problem.

I restated the three questions, modifying question #1, to exclude weddings and funerals. She again answered back to me, not herself, saying she didn’t know the answer to question #1, which in her mind meant she didn’t have to deal with questions #2 and #3.

I encouraged her one more time to complete the exercise, expecting there would be more discussion of the issue at some point. I did not hear back from Darla for ten days. I hoped I hadn’t upset her, but I was expecting an update on her treatments. So, I sent this message late Saturday morning:

How are you doing/feeling?

That evening I had a wonderful time at a party with relatives and friends on vacation in the mountains of Pennsylvania. It was fun and relaxing, and one of the best aspects is there was no cellular service. Meaning I could enjoy the entire evening without distractions, and most importantly, there would be no heart-wrenching news.

Late that night, I returned to my Wi-Fi-connected residence. I noticed that Darla had not responded to my message. But her photos were all over my Facebook feed, with touching tributes from her daughter and friends.  The sand in her hourglass had run out quickly – much more rapidly than she ever expected. And just as with my friend Graham, Darla is gone – and she left this place far too soon.

And this news made me physically ill, gasping for air as all the negative emotions balled into one flaming meteor rapidly bouncing throughout my brain. I tried to process the previous five weeks in five minutes. I was angry for a moment at THE CREATOR for not giving me more time to reach her. But the reality is, if more time would have worked, then more time would have been granted.

And I can still hear her laugh …. that delightful laugh …

I never imagined that I would be sharing those three questions publicly. Initially, it was close personal communication only intended between Darla and me. However, if you need to ask these questions to yourself, please do. But if you believe you have lots of time ……

 

 

 

 

Don’t Let The Haters Prevail

Can we assume for this dive into deep, heavy, stuff that love is the most potent force in our world? And if this is true, then hate must be the second most powerful force. Hate could even be equal to love in power, but it can’t be greater, or we still wouldn’t be here.

If love is good and hate is evil, we live in the continuing struggle between good and evil, which has existed since the beginning of time. This is true no matter your spiritual or non-spiritual beliefs.  A society, culture, country, whatever, provides the best environment when the amount of love is greater than the amount of hate, or when evil is held to a minimum.  And the greater the love and the lesser the evil, the better it is for all people. If this sounds much too obvious and basically fundamental, consider what is happening in our present culture.

There are people promoting hate all around us. Step one, is to divide us into groups by skin color, social class, political party, religion, masking, vaccines, or whatever they can. Step two, is to try to get us to hate the people in the other groups. By doing this, they are able to gain power over us and exploit people for their own benefit. They essentially gain power and influence by promoting more hate.

Now at this point, you may be thinking: That’s right! That’s what those  people – the people in the other groups that are not ours -  are doing. Except that “those people” are reading this also and thinking the same thing about you.

It is so easy to get pushed into your “identity” group when people hurl hateful statements and accusations your way. However, once you identify with a group, it is natural to begin hating people that you perceive hate you. And that’s how the hate multiplies, and that’s how the hatemongers seize power over you. And as the amount of hate surges in our culture, life gets tougher, doesn’t it?

“But those people over there, look at what they are doing. Hear the awful things they are saying.” And again, they may be saying the same thing about you. You can’t control what others are doing. You are only responsible for yourself. In this caustic environment, we need this introspection often.

But hate is dangerous - because evil begets more evil. And the natural tendency is to hate your enemies. Taken to the extreme, you will want to kill all your enemies to achieve what you believe is good.

If you are doing anything that increases the amount of hate -  if you cause other people to hate each other, you are not part of the problem: 

YOU ARE THE PROBLEM

It becomes harder to resist joining the haters every day. Evil people are at work generating enemies for you. Recently, a commentary argued that hating groups of Americans was fine since people have always hated others. He must really enjoy hating people. He knows it's wrong, and yet he attempts to justify his

hatred. But is “there’s always been hate and haters” an acceptable standard? If not, what is the standard?

Of course, THE MAN had something to say about this persistent, destructive human condition:

You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’  But I say to you, Love your enemies ….

If you think this is difficult for you, the audience this was delivered to was completely surrounded by enemies. One group was persecuting and exploiting them, and the other group wanted to kill them all. We often dismiss this mandate because we may believe it is unattainable. But basically what THE MAN is saying is:

The solution, antidote, remedy, etc., to the evilest destructive force in our world – hate, is the most potent force for good in the universe – love.

At a minimum, even if we can’t love our enemies, it is wrong to hate them. THE BOOK mentions love 686 times, and hate only 127 times. And I doubt any of the 127 portray hate in favorable terms.

All the haters will tell you what they are doing is “for the greater good”, but there is no greater good than love, which includes loving your enemies. Change needs to happen, but change has always needs to happen.  It’s how you get to that change that matters most, and hating people is not the way.

Don’t let the haters turn you into a hater. If you can’t love your enemies, at least show them all the love and respect you can.

 

Two Wrongs Don’t Make A Right

 “Two wrongs don’t make a right”

That’s some of the best advice my father ever gave me.  I heard it every time someone had wronged me, and I verbalized how I planned to get revenge.

My father never told me not to take the action. He didn’t ask me the details of the situation. There was no discussion of my feelings or the consequences of my strategic mischief.

No, it was just six simple words. The first time he said it, I was confused. I had to think it through, but even as a young boy, I got the message. What I was about to do was wrong, and it would not correct the offense done to me. I always had no response – not a word.  You can’t dispute this idiom. Two wrongs never make a right. You may as well argue that one plus one does not equal two.

But I heard these words from my father often – I guess I liked to verbalize my misguided plans – and every time I disliked hearing this expression because I knew it was true and I had no counter-argument. And I heard it enough that it is permanently burned in my brain. Unfortunately, I have not always followed this principle. But that’s because I’m not a saint, not because it isn’t valid.  

If you don’t believe the concept is genuine, then let me refer you to THE BOOK, which puts it this way:

If someone has done you wrong, do not repay him with a wrong.

Or if you prefer ….

Do not repay anyone evil for evil.

But I still prefer my father’s simple version:                      

“Two wrongs don’t make a right”

And right now, we need to trust these six words more than ever. We, as a people, have sailed far off course and need desperately to right our ship.

Believe it or not, many people perpetuating the problem do believe “two wrongs don’t make a right.” But their response is not to do the right things; it’s to keep doing additional wrong things. Yes, two wrongs don’t make a right, so we’ll do three wrongs, fifty wrongs, and two hundred wrongs to try to make it right, balance things out, and thus create a perverse type of justice. The warmongers will even use past wrongs to justify all their current wrongs, while believing their actions are pure and noble.

But if one wrong done in response to something is in fact wrong, then continued wrongs make the situation worse - much worse. No matter how many wrongs you commit, you don’t make it right. You just are more wrong.

And referring back to THE BOOK, if you keep repaying evil for evil, what happens is you generate a tremendous amount of evil. A society filled with evil is a dangerous place. And as these events unfold before us in real-time, you can feel the presence of evil among us. All because ….

“Two wrongs don’t make a right”

This doesn’t absolve us from addressing some past wrongs. But it is nearly impossible to have meaningful dialogues that lead to constructive change when so much evil payback is occurring.

But the proverb applies to everyone, every time.  We will destroy ourselves when there is an initial wrong, responded to with another wrong, which is responded back to with still another wrong, until there is an endless feedback loop of wrongs. Which all put together, will never result in a right. Nothing is being accomplished. No problems are being solved. The only result is more hatred and more evil. That’s why THE BOOK warns against repaying evil for evil. And my father’s wisdom is still golden:

“Two wrongs don’t make a right”

  

 

 

Graham is gone ….

Graham was one of the first friends I met as a freshman on the University of Akron campus, and he was my best friend from my college days, excluding my wife, of course.

I can remember the circumstances of how I first met most of my longtime friends, but I can’t tell you how I met Graham. I do know we hit it off immediately. We were two intelligent guys from blue-collar roots. We both had a great sense of humor, loved to laugh, and didn’t take the world too seriously. But now it is serious, because …

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon

We also shared a love for contemporary Christian music, which was just gaining exposure in the Midwest at the time. Over the years, we talked about how organized churches were doing it all wrong. We even imagined starting our own church and doing it right, even though we weren’t pastors. But that will never happen now, because …

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon  

Graham

Graham and I thought it was amusing that we were good friends despite our high schools being fierce rivals. In later years, we would pretend to have these high-school inspired fights on Facebook to the delight of many. But there the rivalry has ended, because …

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon

Graham was the most intelligent person I ever knew. He had a doctorate and worked for a time at NASA. Yes, he was a rocket scientist. But you would never know it. He never imposed his intellect on anyone. You would think he was just an average guy, with average smarts. Graham and I would have these deep discussions where we would try to solve the world’s problems, even though we knew no one would ever listen to hooligans like us. But those discussions are over, because …

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon

After college, Graham attended my wedding, and I would occasionally run into him at concerts. But like most people, we lost touch. He left his job at NASA in Cleveland and then worked at an aeronautics firm in New Jersey.

However, we were able to connect by the wonder that is Facebook. I can’t remember who friended who, but the relationship was renewed. But it was about this time that his life began to change. His marriage ended about the same time as his New Jersey job. He moved back to Ohio, which meant we could meet. But there will be no more meetings, because …

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon

Graham was fed up with the corporate establishment, so he now worked jobs much below his skill level. He and a partner formed a non-profit designed to reduce bullying in schools. I even invested in the organization to support my friend.

He also fell in love with a lovely Filipina woman who he met on Facebook. No matter how you may view this relationship, he loved her, of that, I am sure. Right, wrong, crazy, stupid – I don’t care. He loved her. And that was good enough for me. And I want to believe she truly loved him. Based on my correspondence with her, she is a good person. She is not a fake.

They wanted to marry and went through the expensive and arduous government requirements to make that happen. I even wrote a recommendation letter as part of the process. Once the final paperwork was approved, Graham’s fiancée would fly here, and they would wed.

Graham needed money for her plane ticket and final government fees, so he started a GoFundMe campaign. Surely, with all his Facebook friends, he thought he could quickly raise all the necessary funds and more. However, he didn’t receive many contributions. What it did get were many derisive posts critical of his action. The comments hurt him, but they didn’t diminish his love for the woman one bit. 

The lesson here: Don’t publicly criticize the personal decisions of others, when it is none of your d@mn business. It serves no purpose but to hurt the person and make you look whiny and hateful. 

I supported my friend, because he is my friend, and I knew how important this was to him. But only three people donated any money to his campaign  - only three. He collected $535. The other two donors gave $20 and $15, respectively. You can do the math.

But tragically, the visa application was denied at the last moment by the Philippine government. Graham was crushed and his fiancée heartbroken. I never got my money back, but that was okay with me. Graham tried to pay me back by helping to promote my books, but he owes me no longer, because …   

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon

Then Graham suffered a severe stroke. One of those that you almost wish you didn’t survive. He went through extensive physical therapy and made remarkable progress. He looked healthy and seemed to be committed to surviving this trauma.

But the stroke and the broken engagement changed Graham, and not for the better. He became bitter and more argumentative. He became much more serious. I resented that, but looking back, how could he not be bitter? He had had the life sucked out of him, by no, or little fault, of his own.

The lesson here is: Our longtime friends can change due to physical and mental issues we don’t see. We need to cut them some slack.

Graham even argued with me, and not those pleasant discussions of our college days. But there will be no more arguments, because …

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon

But the next time I had lunch with Graham, he did not look as healthy. I think he had figured out that he wasn’t sure how much life he had left, so he may as well get as much out of life as he could. He hadn’t given up on life – life had given up on him. But there will be no more lunches, because …

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon

His condition deteriorated. He had to move to Pennsylvania to stay with his son. He hated to be a burden, but he had no choice. On his last visit to Ohio, we were supposed to get together. He texted me late on his visit.  But I told him I was engrossed in watching a football game and that “I would catch him next time”. But there will be no next time, because ….

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon

A few months ago, I got an early morning message from his former fiancée. She had heard Graham had passed and wanted me to confirm. He had posted earlier that week that he was having health issues and maybe it was the virus, but not to worry. But his health had been deteriorating for months. I sadly had to message back to the woman …

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon

And now, as I pass through middle age, these sad texts and messages become much too frequent. I can better deal with what aging is doing to my body than what it is doing to my old friends. And this one hurts, but it must be endured, because there will be more. But for now …

Graham is gone – and he left this place much too soon

 

The Nemesis (Part 2) - An Unexpected Response

(This one will make more sense if you read Part 1 - The Nemesis, first.)

It was supposed to be such a delightful evening -- the first banquet event of the post-pandemic era. A chance to see some old friends, enjoy a great meal and learn more about a charity I had supported for years. But now, I sit only twenty feet from my nemesis -- a person who had done me wrong years ago.

I know he is right over there at the table behind me, and I know he has seen me. I’m easily in his field of vision.  And now my emotions are spinning, trying to figure out what to do.

What should I do? What should I do? I feel like I need to do something, but what?

I am highly agitated, and I can’t calm down. My thinking goes like this - If he does not acknowledge me, then why should I acknowledge him? I’m just going to pretend he isn’t there, and we can both ignore this elephant in the room. Hey, it’s a banquet hall; there is plenty of room for me, him, and that elephant.

And that works for me. I calm down and enjoy my meal, having a great time reminiscing with some old friends at my table. Yes, ignoring my nemesis was not difficult, and doing nothing was by far the easiest thing to do. But  in life, the easiest thing to do is seldom the right thing to do.

As I mentioned previously (In Part 1), my wife seemed highly entertained by the drama playing out that evening, and she continued to play the role of agitator.

“He just walked right behind you,” she said.         

“What???” I snapped back.

“Yeah, he went up to get his dessert and walked right behind your chair”, she explained.

Due to Covid, the desserts were not by your plate, but on a large table in the front corner of the hall. I looked back to where my nemesis was seated, and sure enough, the shortest path between his chair and the desserts ran right behind me.

I had been snubbed. Now to most people, this would be a minor offense. But I have a personal fault when it comes to be snubbed. I am an only child, which means I have a need to be the center of attention. If you ignore me, it sets me off. It shouldn’t, but it does. So, my internal reaction to being snubbed is:

OH, NO, YOU DON’T!

If my emotions were spinning before, now they had kicked up to a higher gear. As the program for the evening started, I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, because once again:

Well, you just got snubbed – what are you going to do now?

And then this other voice inside my head suddenly joined the conversation. I don’t know what this voice is. Some will say it is your conscience. The Jesonians will say it is the SACRED FORCE. Maybe, I am just insane (a real possibility).

Me: This has to stop! It’s driving me crazy. This needs to end tonight.

The Voice: Yes, this does need to end tonight, and you know how to end it, don’t you?

Me: Yes, I do know how to end it, but that ain’t gonna happen. No way!

The Voice: Oh, then who’s going to be the bigger man tonight?

Me: I don’t care about being the bigger man. Even if I did do the right thing, he would still think he is the bigger man because he has an enormous ego. Why it’s bigger, bigger, than ..

The Voice: Yours?

Me: Yes, even bigger than mine. But I still don’t care at all about being the bigger man. Nice try, but I ain’t budging.

The Voice: Alright then, who’s going to be the better man?

Me: Once again, that doesn’t matter. I am so clearly the better man. This is not up for debate. If you asked 100 people that know us both, I am confident 97 would say I am the better man, and the other three would be wrong.

The Voice: Okay, so let’s say you are the better man. What would the better man do tonight?

Me: Ohhh, aaahh, ehhh, uhh, hmm … Yes, I know the answer to that one. I guess, I could, possibly consider it ….

The Voice: That’s good. Of course, if your nemesis would happen to do the right thing before you do, that would make him the better man, wouldn’t it?

Me: OH, THAT IS NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. This is going to end tonight, as soon as I can end it.

The Voice: Thought you might see it my way … I’m out of here ….

Me: Well played, voice in my head, well played.

And as soon as the program ended, I walked over, smiled, and extended my hand. The smile? No, I wasn’t happy to see him. I was smiling because the better man was doing the better thing.

My nemesis still was nervous in my presence. There was no “how have you been” chit-chat. Instead, he immediately diverted the conversation into an area of mutual, impersonal interest. We talked for a couple of minutes before someone else approached him. Strangely enough, this was the best conversation I have ever had with my nemesis.

The next day I notified three friends, who know all the history involved with us, that I had shaken hands with my nemesis. 

Joe, who is a positive guy, replied with: “I’m proud of you!”

Sam’s reply was a sarcastic “Way to go! You did a great job with your restraint”. Which is Sam’s way of saying, “I’m glad you didn’t punch him in the face.”

However, Karl’s reply was not as pleasant: “Spit in your palm first?”. Now you might think Karl was joking, but I assure you, he was not. But Karl is not alone in his disgust. Sam told me that several years ago, one of his friends encountered my nemesis in a store parking lot. That chance meeting resulted in a threat of gun violence and the police being summoned. Now you may understand why I thought this whole incident was worth writing about.

 Well, it’s a good, good feeling

When you leave the past behind – Larry Norman

Somehow, I ended up doing the right thing even though I didn’t want to. Maybe it’s a sign of maturity. Perhaps it reflects the gleaned wisdom of now knowing what is the right thing to do. Or it could mean that as we age, we realize it’s not worth hanging on to the resentment generated by grudges long in the past.

I now have one fewer nemeses, and it feels good. Unfortunately, there are still a couple more out there somewhere. I’m not likely to ever encounter them again, but if I do, I hope I am able to handle it this well.