A GOOD LIFE - PART 1

                                                       

 

 

I’m older than I ever thought I’d be.  I still hope but I know that’s just a mind game. There’s nothing much else for me. Its over. I’ll never be what I wanted to be. Never. I just didn’t learn how to achieve it. I wasted a lot of energy doing all the wrong things. But, I was sincere which did not help me one iota. Who cares about sincerity?  Who cares about feelings - other peoples feelings or what others want. Everyone’s caught up in their own head. No one is looking out. No one cares. Why should they? Who am I that anyone should drop everything to rush to - help - give a break. I didn’t know how. I still don’t. I’ll die not knowing.  

I wanted so little yet, it was too much. And now I have to face it. I just won’t ever get what I wanted. - what I really wanted. I’m too old. I’m too complicated.  

                                                                                                    

I use to be so cute. Not gorgeous. Just cute. Everyone wanted me. I was that available. No one was a bigger sucker than me for a compliment or attention. Wanting me was my world. Each and every day I looked forward to the string of come-ons and approaches that always came my way. I could bet on it. Today, right now, is no different. I still hope for this attention every single day. Is it just habit? Of course it is. Who would want me as I am. Sometimes I forget how old and unappealing I am. Then I catch my reflection in the mirror at the gym or a store window. There I am - an old man.  

When I was young - and I was young for a very long time - my reflection although not perfect , did not distress me. I was cute and quirky and very sexy. Everybody wanted me and I wanted everybody who wanted me. It was too irresistible. This, obviously was my downfall. I know that now. 

 

But I wanted to sing. I still do. However, as I have said, I’m old. My voice is not the shimmering instrument it once was. 

 

However in some instances these are significantly happy days for me. I mean, I got married two short years ago. Same sex marriage is now legal in New York State. So after 33 years loving Glenn deeply - deeply - we married because we could damn it! Glenn is the happy part of my life. This has been my one constant. Plus I have some terrific new friends and a satisfying creative curriculum. My sadness, my one unhappiness stems from - aside from not realizing my life’s goal - my one unhappiness , when I think about it and I try not to think about it - my unhappiness comes from estrangement. I have four sisters and one recently deceased younger brother. My parents are deceased as well. 

 

 I only speak to one sister.  

 

My brother didn’t much care for me. Almost three months before he died, he began calling me - frequently - almost daily. He knew he was dying due to a devastating diagnosis of pancreatic cancer. My mother also was killed by this terrible disease.  Georgie, my brother,  took to calling me buddy as in "I love you, buddy." He actually asked me to sing at his memorial - even picked the song. I wasn’t familiar with this Christian gospel tune.  Georgie directed me to youtube  to learn it. I never did. There wasn’t enough time. However, I did sing for him. Glenn and I drove down to Indianapolis for his service. It was quite something. He had so many friends and they were so generous with their memorials and reminiscing.

 

Who were they talking about? I didn’t know this Georgie. Why didn’t he ever give me this Georgie. We could have been such good friends. But I have to thank him anyway for the trip down. Glenn and I had a great time in Indiana. We did - despite the reason we had traveled there. It was my first time visiting Georgie’s home. No invitations had ever been extended. I, on the other hand, invited my brother many times to my home in New York City and here in Buffalo. He would accept but never show. Never.  Most times he would drive up from Indiana to visit.  Mary Jane, his wife, would not accompany him. He’d stay in a highway motel. He would visit my sisters. Patsy first then Gloria and finally Jeanie. Mimi wasn’t around to visit since she lives in Georgia but I was usually around and he just wouldn’t call me, drop by, ask me to meet him at Patsy’s or Gloria’s or Jeanie’s house which was a mere 5 minutes from my home.

 

He’s gone, now - dead -  and I shall never know why - why he didn’t want to see me. Its not like we had a falling out. We didn’t. No fight - no disagreement. He just carried on with his life - erasing me from it. And I shall never ever know why.  

Now, I know why Patsy won’t speak to me. However, Glenn and I are at a loss. We have no idea why Mimi won’t speak to us - has simply cut us out of her life.  As for Gloria - well we just reconnected in a very slight way.  So that leaves  sister Jeanie whom I do speak to - hurrah! Someone in my family actually likes me.  

But then there is the matter of the nieces , nephews and cousins. Oh, it is just too much  - too daunting to review. I think its an Italian thing - all these recriminations and feuds and silences. Vendettas! Except, when Ma and Dad were alive - feuds or no feuds - we were a family - cousins , aunts and uncles all talking, fighting, laughing crying talking - talking.  

I recently discovered a box of photos the other night - midnight to be exact AND, well, all I can say is - its a good thing I was in the country. In my home in NYC, my neighbors would have wondered where that heavy sobbing was coming from so late at night! It really did move me to see all those wonderful photos from days gone, sadly, by. Gee, how handsome my Uncles were. How handsome was my father. How pretty my Aunts, my cousins, my mother. I forgot how young everyone was. As Aunt Annie bemoans so do I the lost "art" of familial connection. I dare say, I could pass some of my relatives on the street without recognizing who they are. Back in the day, we all saw each other so frequently due to our parents' obvious need to stay connected. I played with my cousins. I got advice and sometimes scolded by my loving aunts and uncles. Hugged by Grandma Scarsella.

 

Chestnut Ridge, backyard gatherings, house parties, get togethers - so much connection. Its no one's fault why this all stopped. Its the world - it changed - we changed. Values changed.  Glimpsing at the past - remembering - the sharing - staying in touch - connected - all history - a history with no legacy. My parents would weep.   

And I weep inside for all this loss.  I took it for granted for all those New York years. You think it will all be there when you are ready to go back - that it all  is on hold waiting for you - and you just press resume and WALLAH!  That’s the conceit of the young. Mom and pop and everybody else is hankering for you. Your living your life out of their sight. Well, they are doing the same. Never thought of that, did you?  No ones waiting for you and if they are well, the you they were waiting for has been drastically altered. They may be intrigued for awhile but when you thought they were on hold. They thought you were on hold.

 

The past has passed. Who are they anymore - who are you?

Its like starting over again. There’s no picking up where you left off. The game has changed and it’s a game you have never played.  So what do you do?