On eccenrics next door neighbors

Living in close proximity of eccentric neighbors/friends can be such an exhilarating thing!. They will help you to reopen your eyes, realize that your life does not have to be defined by the fence of your backyard. That it is OK to fall in love again with your wife of thirty, forty, or fifty years. That a total power blackout is nothing but an incentive to climb in some precarious perch in the dark to sacrifice that nice bottle of Single Malt kept for a special occasion . That a blizzard in South Dakota was a darn good excuse for a crazy snowmobile ride in the streets of the city covered by a few feet of snow, said coverage including of course the patrol cars of said City finest. You learned again that it was OK to mourn the death of a butterfly and that a good movie was worth either some great laugh or a few tears at time. Those are the things that eccentric neighbors next door bring to your life to take it to a higher plane……until that fateful day when they come running, short of breath with that flash of passion in their eyes to inform you of their decision to learn to play either Cello or Bagpipe!

Growing -up at Sixty-Eight.

There were lots of events and people of the earlier part of my life, awkward, unpleasant and even some painful that I had forgotten, blotted out of my memory. Those were memories of those things or actions of people that do leave you with a bitter taste in your heart, a lingering sadness of the betrayal, rejection or injustice. As I went on in life, somehow I had relegated those memories to some far corners and time had obliterated their memories.

For the great majority of my life I had become a happy guy, jovial, fun loving, able to shrug my shoulders to some of the inevitable bumps in life.

All that came to a screeching halt when during a trip to France, the place where I was born I came in close contact with some relatives that started reminiscing about events from my childhood. There intents were charitable and they did not know that most of the events for which they were telling me how much they fell sorry for me at the time had been relegated to the catacombs of my memory. The floodgates opened and all that caustic memory came back in a huge flow and then resentment showed its ugly face. I dove into somber and sad period of speculation full of “What If “and melancholic speculation of what could have been without the rejection, the benign neglect, lack of affection or support or just some coaching on what life was going to be. Then resentment showed his nasty, grotesque head. People that I have classified as close relatives but without a great feeling of closeness became in my memory monsters from which I wanted no contact or intrusion. The memory of those who had passed away became a source of nightmare. Melancholy and bitterness took over.

Then, little by little, the storm subsided, reason took over and after long period of meditation or self analyses one day the reason for all that inner-drama became blindingly clear: I had forgotten the actions, reject, neglect and injustice. I had buried them if a somber and far corner, away from my consciousness but they had festered away from my consciousness. I had forgotten indeed, but I had also forgotten to forgive.

With that new light on this issue I revisited all those memories and step-by-step I discovered a new truth: Those responsible for all those nasty and troubling memories were not monster!

They were, on their own, victims themselves. They were not acting with malice against the child I was, they were only doing the best with what they knew and understood of life and the circumstances they were facing on their own. There was no dark design in their actions. Their upbringing together with he despair of their country being humiliated, the rough treatment that was imposed on them during the occupation of France in World War Two, had broken something inside them that they could not put back together. So, one by one I started to forgive, to kill the bitterness and resentment. Some of those people are gone and I truly forgive, understand and extend compassion for their suffering. I have a harder time with some of those still with us, but I try to understand their circumstances, I am beginning to forgive, although with the wisdom to try to avoid an exposure to their way.

Little by little the lead cape is lifting and with it come a bright light warming my heart.

I know that I will have now and for ever a new optic and understanding of the way I am impacting the life of those around me.

I also know that I have gained in the process a greater love and an enormous debt of gratitude for the people who accepted among them the troubled adolescent I was and showed me what life is in a warm, loving and accepting family of caring individuals.

Life is much better under that light.