Returning a kindness and the unconditional love of a STUPID DOG.

My semi-aching back serves as testament to a hard day’s work in the company of friends.  A true friend is one that will be there for you on moving day.  We are fortunate to have made some very dear friends since we have been here and one family in particular has gone above and beyond the call of duty to help us when we need it most.  Day 218 would be a good chance to return the favor and assist them in the beginning phases of a monumental project.  They are renovating an apartment they have recently purchased in the center of the cultural mecca that we used to call home.  Once completed, it is clear that this will be a charming home with a location second to none.  I was pleased to offer my meager assistance in moving some of their furniture and construction debris throughout the day.  As I have commented on prior occasions, I am dumb as a sack of diapers, but not afraid of a hard day’s work.  Strong of back and weak of mind, I consider myself to be a good companion on moving day.  A group of six made short work of the project and at the end of the day, it was nice to see the blank slate that the apartment had become.  The possibilities seem endless.  I remember this phase in my own renovation project back home.  With all the demolition complete, replacing the old with the new makes for light at the end of the proverbial tunnel.  I look forward to watching this project unfold even though the toil makes me a bit homesick at heart.  It was a great day, and I was appreciative to have a bit of a break from my usual routine.  It seemed to have gone off without a hitch and I had a chance to meet some new people along the way.

That has really been one of the things I have enjoyed most about the transition in our own lives.  Meeting new folks and extracting the beauty and wisdom from their lives is something I have become somewhat addicted to.  The people I have met along the way have been some of the most fascinating people I have ever known.  Perhaps it is my American way, but I find myself trying to hold back an intense desire to really dig into their lives to get to know them better.  I was once given an analogy to help understand the difference between the American and the French social order.  It was said that Americans are like Oranges and the French are like a Coconut.  I may well have explained this in prior posts, but I think it worth repeating here as I am not sure I fit into either category.  Americans have a soft exterior when it comes to social interaction.  Like an orange, the outer surface is easily pierced and we are generally very open to new people and will quickly call them a “friend”.  What we mean by “friend” can be quite different from the French.  While it is easy to get inside the orange, it is a segmented affair.  We compartmentalize our “friends” into categories.  I suppose, that is true to some extent.  We tend to be a generally gregarious lot and separate the people in our lives by relation.  We have “work friends”, “best friends”, “neighborhood friends”, and even acquaintances that we still refer to as “friends”.  The French have a bit of a different approach.  The coconut has a very hard exterior and it is terribly difficult to get inside.  Once inside however, there won’t find any compartments, just a sea of very sweat juice.  That too seems to hold some truth.  From what I have experienced, those that I consider to be our “French friends” (see, we segment) would give you the shirt off of their back without question.

For my part, I feel that this experience has made me a bit of a hybrid and perhaps a bit more American than I had been before.  I would say that throughout my life, I have been a bit more “French” in my social interactions.  People are generally not classified as “friends” in my book unless they have been allowed full access to my life and are the kind of folks that I would lay down in traffic for.  I of course would expect the same in return.  Now, that isn’t to say that I myself am not guilty of the classification of all other acquaintances in my life.  As such, I have had colleagues and associations throughout the years, all of which were pleasant relationships, but none that I would elevate to the level of “friendship”.  These days however, my desire to meet new and interesting people make my exterior a bit more citrus than before.  I really want to get to know all the people I encounter and being a person who equates friendship with unconditional kinship makes for a full dance card.  As I indicated in my prior post, my wife would argue that I am a bit of a hermit when it comes to social engagement.  She is good for me in that way.  She forces me out of my comfort zone and once out, my need to get to know people better gives me an opportunity to make many new and meaningful friendships that have added greatly to my life and personality.  I am glad to have known each and every person I have encountered since I have been here, and getting an opportunity to really get to know them has been a privilege.  People can be thick headed and narrow minded, but they can also be poetic and inspirational.  We all have some great things in us and being able to extract these pearls from the people we meet in our day to day lives is what makes life rich and colorful.  So, in the end, if you are looking for a friend . . . I am your guy.  I would be glad to get to know you and will always be there whenever you are in need.

Unconditional “love” or “friendship” is typically a trait that we only find in man’s best friend.  Perhaps in the end I am becoming a bit more canine in my temperament.  The example of this sentiment around our house is carried forth in a wheezing and farting pig of a creature by the name of “Chomper”.  He is my eldest’s dog and as loyal a friend as my son will ever have.  Fragrant, but loyal.  He serves his master well and is only distracted from his watch by the other companion animal here at the house.  The cat has met with some mixed reviews.  I believe we should have named the cat Hyde, for when the clock strikes 2 a.m. she loses her fucking mind.  In a Tazmanian fit of epic proportions, she spins around the house destroying everything and everyone in her path.  I once had a friend that asked me a very candid question.  Since my wife is a veterinarian he wanted to know if there was a way to determine if his cat was mentally retarded.  At the time I thought his question was in jest, but I now realize that mental retardation could well be the reason for my cat’s bizarre behavior.  Perhaps it is a symptom of inhalation of the atomic waste that the dog emits from its hind end on a daily basis or perhaps it is one too many falls from precarious perches.  Either way, the cat has a screw loose.  I am a firm believer that animals have a way of taking on their owner’s worst character defects.  It is these maladjusted traits that the animals choose to make the center of their universe.  If that is the case, perhaps the cat is simply a litmus test for the storm that is raging in my cranium on a daily basis.  Bad news for my son though, it would seem that the deepest darkest recesses of his mind are filled with gas and asthma.  STUPID DOG.  An on that bombshell I bid you all a good eve and will talk to you all again soon.  R.

As an aside or perhaps a P.S., it was brought to my attention that the new format for Jack 2.0 is not terribly friendly for the sight impaired.  As such, I am going to make every effort to adjust the formatting to be ADA compliant and perhaps I will even add a special page for AARP members.  That's right father, I am talking to you.  Bye again.  R.