On Fear and Inaction.

          In my last column I wrote about my fear and ignorance. This time I want to write more about the inactions caused by fear.

          First, I want to say that my wife Diane is the love of my life and I couldn't imagine being in the here and now without her. She has also heard this story before and was only slightly involved at the end. This is a story about one moment of inaction that was caused by fear. This is also a story that took place 40 years ago so my memory, “she not so good”.

                Tanya was a girl I first meet when I was in 6^th grade. I had just moved to Michigan and was starting at a new school. I’m not sure if I even talked to her that year but we were in the same class and I noticed her. The next year we started Jr. High and in my home room class she sat at the desk right in front of me. She always wore a crisp white shirt and I remember being mesmerized by the outline of her bra strap that was just an arm’s length away from me. Once again that was the extent of our interaction in 7^th grade.

            The following year I started 8^th grade at a new private school and Tanya stayed at the public school so there was nothing between us. Then in 9^th grade she transferred to my school and we became friends. We lived in the same neighborhood so we got into this routine of walking to and from school together. It took us about a 20 minutes to make the walk and we would talk. She was smart, witty, and funny, oh and did I mention she was also beautiful.

            That’s how our relationship went for the next year or so. We spent a lot of time together but just as school mates and friends. Of course I was a teenage boy so I was thinking and feeling all sorts of things. I was infatuated with her (and a few other girls as well) but I was scared to say or act on those feelings. I guess my fear was of rejection and loosing that friendship. Now comes the moment of inaction that I can still see and remember clear as day.

            Our relationship had started to develop just a little bit of physical contact. We would hold hands or hug goodbye, things like that. So on this spring day, Tanya was getting ready to leave on a week long school camping trip. We were standing outside the bus that was full of kids and I was giving her a big hug. Our faces were inches from each other and I wanted to kiss her so bad, BUT I DIDN'T. I was afraid so I didn't kiss her and she got on the bus and left. I regretted my inaction instantly and spent the next week beating myself up and thinking how I would do things differently when she got back. Now here is where the story goes from bad to worse.

            So like a puppy dog, I’m waiting for Tanya and the bus to arrive. They get back and the last ones to get off the bus are Tanya and Steve and to my horror they are holding hands. They are now a couple, oh just kill me now. I primed her up, put her on a bus, and sent her into the woods with an older boy. No wonder I’m still kicking myself to this day. But that’s not quite the end of this story yet.

            I never got into the relationship that I really wanted with Tanya but we remained friends. After graduation she went off to college and I took to the school of hard knocks. About 4 years later, Diane and I were already dating, Tanya came home after graduating and wanted to get together to tell me about her life.

            I had other ideas. I invited her to my apartment and tried to seduce her. She was trying to tell me about problems in her relationship with the guy she eventually married and I was trying to put the moves on her. I wasn't being a friend, I was being a DICK. I thought that since I was now more experienced with women and had less fear, I could relive that lost moment. But the reality is you can’t and if you try you only make it worse. I lost a friend and in hindsight some self respect and for that I’m not afraid to say I’m sorry.


To view the column in it's original form go to page 10 of the following link. Winters Express 8/1/13

A life of Fear & Ignorance.

As some of you have noticed and commented to me, I haven’t written anything in a while.  One of the excuses I've used for not writing is my fear that I may say something that could embarrass my employers. I am fairly open about my life when I’m writing and unfortunately I am not in a financial position to not care about staying employed. Thinking about that fear and fear in general has helped me realize and acknowledge how much of a motivating or rather un-motivating factor it’s been in my life.

“My name is Edmund and I’m a Scaredy-Cat.” Is there a 12 step program for that? Seriously, as far back as I can remember I've always been afraid of getting “Hurt”. I’m talking both physical but primarily emotional pain. On the physical side I can honestly say that at 56 years old I have never, ever, been in a fight. I have always avoided physical confrontation by any means necessary, including flight, deception, or if need be submission. I’m not proud of that record and I've always wished that I could fight back but that’s my point, my fear has always dominated my actions. So where does that fear come from? Is there a gene that controls the basic instincts of Fight vs. Flight? Or is it early life experiences?

Now for the Ignorance part of the title. This may get a little confusing so try and follow me.  My fear comes from lack of ignorance. Huh? Yes, that’s right. When I am ignorant of the consequences, I am not afraid of the action. Let me give you a few examples.

When I was around 5 years old and living in Argentina there was a tall armoire in my bedroom, there were also bunk beds with a removable railing. That railing looked like a ladder so I decided to use it to climb up the armoire. I leaned it upright and started to fearlessly climb up the ladder. Unfortunately it slid out from under me and I crashed to the floor breaking my arm. I don’t know if it’s a direct result of that but I’m now afraid and very uncomfortable climbing up ladders.

As an adult I got fired from a good paying job because I was ignorant of the possibility that not showing up to receive a commemorative watch could get me fired. If I had even the smallest inkling, I would have taken the friggin watch. Shortly after that I was offered an opportunity to buy a restaurant and being ignorant of how much work it would be for so little return I jumped on it.  Even here in Winters when I decided to invest my inheritance in Steady Eddy’s it was out of ignorance because I didn't do enough homework and I let myself get talked into making it a bigger space than I originally wanted.

I’ve told those stories before and everyone thinks I was brave or courageous to stand up to my boss or start my own business. But the reality is I was fearless because I was ignorant.

As for emotional fear, I can’t give you direct “cause & affect” examples like with the physical but let’s just say it’s probably my father’s fault. Remember me being in Argentina as a kid? Well that was because after moving to the states and having 5 children my dad decided that we were cramping his style and sent my mom and us packing to Argentina. Then he felt guilty and back we came. Without going into all the details let’s just say life with my father was an emotional roller coaster.

            Of all my fears, I think the fear of rejection has been the most debilitating. Through all of high school I only went out on one date and that one was because she kind of asked me out. Even with my wife Diane, it took me months to get up the courage to ask her out. And that was after the years I had been in door to door sales which were filled with rejection but of a different kind.

One of the main problems of the inaction caused by fear is the years or even lifetime of regret and wondering “what if”? Of course you can’t fix or relive the past all you can do is live life for today and keep move forward. For me, even with all my fears I still head into the unknown future because as I’m too fond of saying, “Ignorance is Lis”.

Postscript: Shortly after I started writing this column my boss gave me a little book to read about “fear of change” called, Who moved my cheese? by Dr. Spencer Johnson. It’s a fun read and oh so apropos.


To view the column in it's original form go to page 12 of the following link. Winters Express 7/11/13

Enlightenment of the Gray

            You know the old saying about seeing the world through rose colored glasses, well my glasses are gray. I know I know, with all my columns about pessimism and negative outlook on life would you expect anything less? Well here’s a twist, I’m not talking about the gray of that dark cloud hanging over my head or of the gray on my head that comes with age. I’m talking about that lovely shade that exists between the hard edges of black and white. I’m talking about the gray of compromise, the gray of seeing both sides of the story, the gray of knowing that life is indeed not black and white.

            When I was a young man of Twenty-two I went to work as a forklift driver at a beer distributorship. My immediate boss was an ornery old (probably the age I am now) red headed guy named Tommy who had been working for the company most of his life. When it came to his warehouse it was definitely a case of black and white. “This is how we do it, this is how we've always done it, and this is how we will continue to do it.” Of course me being the passive-aggressive kind of guy I am, I would just say OK and do what I wanted to do anyway.  Needless to say we butted heads a lot and didn't get along very well.

            Unfortunately for both of us, within a few years I went into management and became Tommy’s boss. We still didn't get along and now it was his turn to undermine my authority. Now I was the one being ridged, fighting with him about not following the “new” rules. I wish that I could say that we both found the “Enlightenment of the Gray” and compromised on issues and learned to get along. But that’s not what happened at that point in my life, we never really got along. Years after I had left the distributorship I saw Tommy at a funeral and he still wouldn't talk to me. I guess it didn't help that he was the one in the casket (just kidding, but it did make you laugh).

            In my youth I was much more in touch with my gray side, I could listen to two sides of a story and they both made sense and sounded valid to me. I bet that’s why I never went out for the debate team. As I got older and became a boss and business owner I lost sight of the Gray and became much harder. I’m the boss and it’s my way or the highway. I got caught up in the power and now with hindsight I can see that I wasn't really a very good boss.

In my personal life I wasn't much better. Diane and I now laugh about how earlier in our relationship I would say “No” (much like my father before me) to just about any request she made. I sure wish now that I had listened to her when she said no to my business ideas instead of just pushing ahead anyway. Luckily and through hard work and perseverance there is much more Gray in our marriage today.

Sadly today in this country as a whole there doesn't seem to be much room for Gray. In politics  it’s about Red verses Blue. In business it’s all just about the mighty Green. In energy we’re still way too dependent on Black oil and coal. And when it comes to dealing with other countries it’s all just about the Red, White, and Blue.

So what’s the point or reason for this column today? It’s because now as of late, I once again find myself having to deal with people who only seem to see the world in black and white. You’re either with me or against me, my friend or my enemy, I’m right and you’re wrong, etc. etc. etc… I wish that they could see the Gray that’s all around us. That in almost everything and every situation there is room for compromise and in so many of those situations there is a need for compromise.

That’s what I’m calling the “Enlightenment of the Gray”, the understanding that in this world of Seven Billion plus people we are not alone. If we want to survive in our society, in our community, in our family, in our work, and in our play, then we all need to get along. The best way I know to get along and avoid the fray is to be, “One with the Gray”.

To view the column in it's original form go to page 15 of the following link. Winters Express 3/14/13

On Pessimism and Poetry

I ran into Charley the Winters Express publisher a week after my last column ran and he said “your column was the most depressing column I’ve ever read”. OK, I can’t argue with that. It was supposed to be about the December downer that a lot of us feel. I had a few other people tell me that they could relate and also have some of the same feelings. Anyway, writing that column and spending time thinking about how I lean towards the pessimistic view of life just made me wonder WHY?

            Coincidently that week I was looking through an old box of photos, birthday cards, and papers that had been stashed in the basement. I found my high school diploma that my mother had returned to me ten years ago when she was moving to a smaller place. When I opened it there was also my birth certificate as well as my Argentinean I.D. card from when I was 4 years old. There was also a folded up piece of yellowed dried out paper that I didn’t recognize. To my surprise when I unfolded it, it was a type written (for lack of a better term) poem. I recognized it as something I had written in my early teens and man did it hit home.

            I’ve been wondering of late if all my thoughts about the state of the world and of my feelings about life in general are a product of age or have they been there all along? This poem kind of answers that question. I’m going to try and reprint it for you to read with all its grammatical and spelling errors intact. Here it is, my first and (as far as I can remember) only attempt at poetry. Hey, and don’t laugh. Remember I was probably only in 7^th or 8^th grade when I wrote it.

Me     I am me, even though sometimes I wish not to be.   You see I being me, is hard for others to see. Is it not true that sometimes thee does not wish to be thee. You see some peopl think that I dont like being me. But what do they see? They see truth and they seeuntruth. They see me and they see you. They see us in the middle of This over populated over polutid over problemed world. They see maney of me, but I think many of them are like alot like ME                                                 BY       EDMUND LIS

 

I guess we can safely say that I’ve been feeling for a long time now that the world we live in is a pretty messed up place. I also hate to say it, but I think my generation has made it worse. I am part of the original “Me Generation”, we were self absorbed during the 70’s and obsessed with material greed in the 80’s. We are the reason the economy is in the toilet without a safety net for many to hang on to.

Of course when you’re talking about such a large group you have to generalize a little. Not everyone I knew was a money grubbing immediate self gratifier, but I did know a few and I have to admit I had my moments. What I can say is that in my own small way I have tried to change things. Not the whole world just my immediate sphere of influence.

To help combat overpopulation I had a vasectomy before I could produce another mouth to feed. As a small business owner in the early 90’s I used to save and store all my cardboard, cans, and bottles. I would then haul them down once a week to the lone (volunteer run) recycling center we had in town. I also got fired from my 80’s corporate job in part because I was too vocal about my displeasure with the greedy direction my boss (and peer) was taking his company. Most of all what I have always tried to do is just be a good person. I try to treat people, places, and things with respect, compassion, and empathy. Of course I am human so I haven’t always succeeded but I do try.

So this brings me back to the question of being pessimistic. Maybe I’m thinking too much about the label itself and wanting to identify with it. If in my life I keep trying to make things better then I must also be optimistic that it can get better. So am I both or neither, is the glass half full or half empty? You know what I see when I look at that glass, I see half a glass. I guess that just makes me a realist.

To view the column in it's original form go to page 16 of the following link. Winters Express 1/31/13

All I have to say about December is "Bah Humbug"

      This December people were asking me if I was going to write a column for the month. My reply was simply, “it’s the holidays and I don’t want to be depressing”. So why is December a downer for me with all that “joy and merriment” all around. Here’s my list, no need to check it twice.

Birthdays: There are way too many people around me with December birthdays and that adds a lot of stress to the holidays. My wife Diane’s is on the 20th, my twin siblings are on the 15th, the same birthday as my father in-law who died 15 years or so ago. My mother in-laws birthday is the week before my wife’s and my nephew’s is the 28th. Oh, and last but not least; my sister, the one that was murdered the day before her 15th birthday. Her birthday is the same day as my wife’s on the 20th which makes my wife feel kind of weird, so she always wants to keep it low key, especially around my mother.

Christmas: Not having been raised with any kind of religious teachings, Christmas was all about Santa Claus and presents not Jesus or Hanukkah for that matter.  Both my parents were born in Argentina and raised Jewish so I think for our family Christmas was more about trying to be American. We didn't have any history or traditions around Christmas so for us kids it was all about the getting and not much to do with the giving.

I for one have never been very good at receiving gifts which in turn makes me uncomfortable at giving gifts. I've always been of the mind that if I want or need something I will just get it myself. On the flip side I also don’t want to guess what someone else may want or need.

      In my 50 plus years of Christmases and birthdays I can only think of a couple of times where I've been truly happy with a gift I've received. They were both from my wife and seeing as how we've been together for over 30 years that’s about a 3% success rate. Finally after all those years of trying to find me that perfect gift I convinced her to just get me what I want, nothing. So now I get nothing and you know what? I’m still not satisfied, just a little sad.

New Years Eve: Like we need another collective excuse for a party. I guess I’m a little jaded living next door to the most happening party bar in town. It’s just how I want to start the New Year with drunken revelers being loud, exploding fire crackers, and puking on my front yard.

Moira: That was my sisters name, like I said at the beginning she was killed on the day before her 15^th birthday. That would be December 19, 1973. She went off to school that day and never came home. My parents reported her missing but the police listed her as a possible run away. This was back in the day before we all knew about serial killers, missing kids on milk cartons, or that friends could keep a secret about something so terrible.

      At the time Moira went missing our house and family were not a happy place. My parents were always fighting and inching towards a divorce, with us kids feeling the stress. My older brother had just gone off to college and I was a rebellious teenager who couldn't wait to get the hell out of there. When I heard that my sister might have run away I thought “cool” she escaped and I wished that I had the guts to just leave, but I just escaped with the help of drugs and alcohol. For the month before some kids found her body in a park, life just went on for me in my usual smoky cloud of obliviousness. That included her birthday, Christmas, and New Years.  Her murder has never been solved and for most of my life I didn't think much about her life or death. I don’t know if it’s my age, or that I spend a lot of time reflecting on the past, or that my emotions aren't buried in the smoky clouds anymore. But for whatever reason I think of my sister much more these days, especially during December.

      Like I said, December is not my favorite time of year and I’m glad it’s over but it’s not all doom and gloom or an insurmountable downer. There is that short lived collective spirit of giving that we see around us, there is the annual return of Egg Nog, and for Diane’s birthday there is our favorite meal in the world, Smelt & Frites at Bistro Jeanty in Napa to remind us of Michigan and simpler times.

To view the column in it's original form go to page 12 of the following link. Winters Express 1/10/13