Patrick Jay Sullivan's Blog

It’s Monday morning after Thanksgiving. You know what I mean. It’s that time when you have to go back to work after a few days off. It’s not really enough time off to go back refreshed but it is definitely longer than a weekend. On Thanksgiving days in recent years I have gone to my neighbors’ house three doors down for the evening and the rest of the weekend I have relaxed in my condo. This year was different. This year I had family from around the US come to visit. It turned the one-day holiday into a five-day holiday.
I don’t know about most people, but for me, family coming to visit does not mean a lot of extra work. I grew up in a large family and people pitch in. As a matter of fact, my sister, who lives ten to fifteen minutes away from me, did most of the work. She and her husband, Bob, hosted the Thanksgiving meal. My sister does not do anything half way. Every detail down to the decorating of her house and the Yankee candle hostess gifts were perfect. There were conversations, laughter, meals shared together and moments of comfortable silence. By the time you hit your fifties you often realize that you can’t make the time you love to spend slow down or stop. You just have to be in the moment and enjoy it for what it is. Like my sister, I will be sad for most of this week. My brothers and sisters from out of town are gone back to their lives. That little piece of family, the family I grew up in is now over. It was a gift. It was a little piece of the past that I hold on to as I watch the news of terrorists attacking and mortgage foreclosures. I will hold on to the memories and look at the photographs and find a way to enjoy the daily routine again.
As people move into middle age and beyond, there is always that possibility that the last time they get together will be the last time. Not everyone feels the same. I have friends and family members who simply don’t like family gatherings or being together. One person I know told his family that he ‘did not wish to have any type of contact with them.” The sign on the door to one of his houses says it best: “If you’re not invited, you’re not welcomed.” I guess that the line between love and hate is very slight. But that is the good thing about life. Here on the Monday after Thanksgiving, I can say a silent prayer of Thanksgiving for the five days with brothers and sisters. I can feel the peace and the contentment for the hours that are left before I hit the ground running at work. I am pretty sure that is what Thanksgiving is all about.

It's not my fault that I am screwed up. No, really I am not entirely to blame for not being the perfect human being so carefully presented in GQ or in the television commercial. Let's face it, genetics can only go so far and the environment has to take some of the blame. I mean, who thinks that Benedict Arnold was born a traitor? Did he wake up one morning and say to himself: "When I grow up I am going to betray my country and be exiled." Yeah, right. No sir! The experiences we have growing up have a profound effect on us.

alter: Remember Mrs. Soandso in the fifth grade?
ego: Which fifth grade? My first or my second one?
alter: Umm, the first I think.
ego Wasn't she a nun?
alter: You're missing the point. The thing is, she made you sit in the closet in the dark
from 8 in the morning until 2 in the afternoon. She constantly told you you were
"lazy and stupid." in front of 27 other fifth graders. That's why you're screwed up.

OK, so it's a little over the edge but you get my point. We are always looking to blame someone for the way we are. And the way we are is never good enough for us. And often the memory gets pretty dramatic depending on how many times you have told it and what details have shifted. One of the really good teachers that I had once told our class that we were "works in progress" and that "no one is ever a so called end result." Instead, she insisted, "we are always changing and growing. We are always becoming who we will be." She went on to explain that it is OK to make mistakes and learn from them and grow. She was a nun, a very young and beautiful one who did not fit any of the stereotypes. She was also an extraordinary teacher and human being. The thing is, I learned as much from the really gifted teachers as I did from the bad experiences with the not so skilled ones with whom I spent time. I grew up to be a young man and then a middle age man. I lived my life the way that I lived it and I was fortunate enough to have two parents who gave me some incredible opportunities. In the end, I don't know if it was genetic or environment or something else. I just know that I am responsible for the life I have. We hit a point in our twenties when we are out on our own and earning a living and we make choices. Some of those choices bring happiness and some bring sorrow. If we are able to see our own responsiblity for our life and our choices then we learn how to make better ones. If we just blame our parents, or that bad teacher that I had, or our ex wife or husband etc. we just end up doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.

So the next time you are at a party and some half drunk guy is talking about old Mrs. Soandso who was mean to him and expecting you to connect the dots and see that is why he is so messed up in life. Smile and go find a conversation about the new vampire love movie or a soccer mom with lipstick. You'll get a hell of a lot more out of it.

I blog therefore I am. Sound familiar? Well, how about this: "To blog or not to blog, that is the question." Have you ever thought about how much technology has changed the way we speak, act, live and communicate? It’s fairly impressive. Those of us in the fifty plus demographic are sort of like the Neanderthals in the age of the new human species. We are here and are adapting where it is possible and yet our ways are soon to be gone from the planet. I mean, think about it. Do you seriously think that paper books are going to exist outside museums or private antique collections a hundred years from now? What is going to happen to the telephone. I’m guessing that in twenty years the telephone we have in our living rooms will be seen like the huge monster cell phones of the eighties. You know, the ones that smart looking sit com people used to call James Bond or whatever back in 1985. Next to sleek cell phones they look ridiculous now. And the old Apple pc’s are now laughably like the monster strike key typewriters of the 50’s when the electric typewriter was so affordable and popular in the late 70’s.
Let’s face it, it’s not just the hard ware that is now so updated. OMG it’s a BFD. The way we talk and interact via electronic communication is very different. While some old English teachers and high school principals are commenting on the sad decline of the English language a revolution is happening in our world. At some point, ancient texts that are considered important have been transferred to electronic media. At some point, people who want to read the classics will do it on an I phone or a cell phone. At some point, a budding “Shakespeare” will write a new classic in whatever language and it will never be printed on paper. Words and language will change and evolve and it’s OK. Because those of us who feel it to be a sad event or a decline in the high standards of taste that we hold so dear, well, we will be “a moldering in the grave” and long gone. We’ll leave God to figure it all out.