Real Joe

I got in the middle of a conflict between a local unit of goverment and a group of local citizens over a public policy issue. I’m on the board of a community network that has web tools at its disposal for conducting public policy discussions and gathering feedback. The citizens group believed that government was controlling the public input process in unfair ways.

I wasn’t very familiar with the issue, but I knew that this was a perfect opportunity to “bring government to its knees” and show them the power of a networked citizenry, with our little non-profit at the center of attention and me as ringleader. Power! Recognition! Fame! I relished the thought of it as I explained the situation to my wife and kids and some of my fellow board members.

But a little something in the far reaches of my brain kept nagging me and when I sat down for my morning SOS (shot of solitude), I electronically stumbled on my “prayers I can relate to” section in my PDA and saw the first line of St. Francis’ Make me an Instrument of Peace prayer.

And I knew there were some things I could try to diffuse the conflict. A few phone calls and some email exchanges and I had one of those win-win agreements (I hate that phrase) in place. When one of the citizens asked me how it happened, I joked that “I used my charm.” But later, when telling my fellow board members about it, one of them pointed out that the government’s change of heart was probably due to the intervention of a certain public official. I agreed but my ego took an immediate hit.

And so when I sat down to reflect on all this, it became crystal clear that as the day progressed, my “make me an instrument of peace” prayer had development an ego-orgasmic addendum: “Make me an instrument of peace and then make others be impressed with my peacemaking.” Insidious shit, this mistaken thinking.

Stuart Greene’s Sex & The Married Man column for the December issue of The Rake is available: End of Discussion: Why are married women afraid to talk about sex? Here’s my letter to the editor:

Stuart Greene accurately describes the polarization that exists in a many a married couple’s sex life. Sure, it happens in part because we’re wired differently. But it also happens in part because of a pattern that develops, a downward spiral from those days of heated passion when both partners were usually as interested in each other’s bodies as their souls.

Over time, the more us guys tend to neglect the emotional stuff, the more our wives tend to neglect the physical stuff, the more we tend to neglect… and pretty soon, our respective positions become entrenched.

I’m guessing that’s why Stuart’s pals Pete, Don, and Ben are stuck in boredomland. They’re at the point where they don’t go out of their way on the relationship stuff and their wives sure as hell aren’t going to go out their way to make a trip to the toy store.

Fortunately, downward spirals can gradually be reversed by each going out of our way. The more I… the more she… the more I….

And at some point, it might occur to us guys that we do like to be desired in lots of ways besides our studly ways, and to our honeys that they do like plumbing adventures as much as the Oprah stuff.

By staying healthy, parents give a gift of great value by Karin Winegar. “Our parents have given us a gift: not our health, but their health. I have come to recognize this as one of the greatest and rarest bequests, something to be deeply thankful for.”

It’s a different perspective that I’ve not considered: a fit old age as a gift to my children and grandchildren, rather than just something for myself. Even past the age of 114? Sure, why not?

Nov. 23 update
An opposing viewpoint: Of luck and compassion

A new Pissing Match category for Ego Orgasms. First entry: Freeway space cadets.

I’m cruising with the flow of traffic at about 45 MPH, about 3 or 4 carlengths behind the truck in front of me. I glance in the rearview mirrow and notice a guy in a Jeep pulling up close behind me. I can sense his urgency. And I know he can spot the space in front of me, that it’s triggering a “slow driver” alert in his brain, even though I’m going as fast as possible along with everyone else on this packed but flowing freeway at the moment.

By continuing to glance in my rearview mirror, I can see him glancing in his rearview mirrors, looking for an opening in the right traffic lane so he can pass me and wedge into the space in front of me that I’ve carved out, thereby getting him to his urgent destination .001 of a second faster.

He makes his move and starts to pass. Bastard! I accelerate, closing up the gap in front of me, preventing him from squeezing into my precious space. I keep my eyes straight ahead, pretending to be oblivious. I don’t want to actually trigger a roadrage incident but I kind of like the idea of coming close to one. I just want to piss him off a little bit. I’m right, after all.

And then I catch myself, decelerate, and let him in. I know what it’s like to be like he appears to be … cocky, in a frantic hurry, intolerant of pokey drivers, a risk taker. It’s not a pleasant way to be, but it’s understandable. I don’t help matters by rubbing it in his face. And we both could end up triggering a chain of events that hurts others.

A different kind of Thanksgiving is in the works for us this year. Two of my three sons have steady girlfriends who we’ve not yet met and they’ll be joining us for the weekend… this weekend, since one couple can’t make it next week.

It’s a signal that another phase in our family’s life cycle is about to begin. And the task of integrating ‘outsiders’ into holiday rituals is typically a field fraught with emotional landmines. I like to think my wife and I will be able to navigate through it without hitting any but it’s unlikely. Comes with the territory.

I finished The Corrections last night and there are so many parallels to my family of origin it’s almost creepy. It’s the most psychologically sophisticated novel I’ve ever read. And its central scene revolves around grown children returning for the holidays. Yikes.

My buddy Rick and I were discussing the different approaches to retirement that we see people taking. Here’s his guiding quote:

Interest is the key to life
Interest is the clue
Interest is the drum and fife
And any God will do.

It’s from Richard Condon’s book, Any God Will Do.

Two new posts to my EgoOrgasms.com weblog: one on reviewing tech gadgets, the other on reading a motorcycle magazine.

My teenage daughter passed her driver’s test today… her second try.

It’s odd to feel parental pride when your kid does something that millions of kids do. But it’s a milestone in her life nonetheless, and one that I played a part in.

My boys were telling mini-horror stories last weekend about some of their driving escapades when they were first learning to drive. Time to be nervous all over again.

Hippies, Yuppies, Bobos and Stickies (Seniors Toiling Indefinitely): More older people are sticking to the job.

I’m likely to need to keep working well past the usual retirement age, given my lack of financial prowess to-date.

But my goal is not to ‘toil’ but to keep immersed in whatever my vocation is till I croak. Studs Terkel is my role model… 91 and still working.