Category: the bartender

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An INFJ’s Take on Trust and Optimism

How about those holidays? Raise your hand if you’re glad they are over. Reminds me of a quote I ran across a couple years ago: Tradition is our ancestors’ way of controlling us. Then I think of all the traditions I’ve created that my kids will probably feel like they have to perpetuate – the Advent Calendar for one. What was I thinking?

Anyway, I’d gotten Will a nice shirt for Christmas. After opening it, he held it up and Jen and I both said, “Oh! A date shirt!” He didn’t respond. Never mentioned it at all until a couple nights ago. (Often our best chats happen in a text stream.) While he was out with friends, he sent me a text saying that he wasn’t ignoring our comment about it being a date shirt, but that he doesn’t want to disappoint me by not dating.

We back-and-forth texted for quite a while. At one point I told him that I didn’t care if he dated or not but that I wanted him to be happy. If dating is part of what makes him happy, then I’d be thrilled for him. More importantly, I’m not disappointed either way! He explained that he’s still hesitant after his last attempt – 3 years ago. (I wonder where he gets it.)

Then I texted something about how trust is certainly an issue, but that I really think the bigger issue is trusting yourself. “Trust yourself to not get in too deep with a wrong person. If you can trust yourself, you can navigate anything. By now you’ve certainly learned that you can recuperate from a broken heart.”

I reminded Will (myself?) that all “the experts” say that the real learning happens within a relationship. (Excuse me?! Have I not been learning a ton about how to be a happy, functioning, fulfilled, capable single person? How many of these so-called experts are in happy, committed relationships?)

I talk a big game.

I sound pretty optimistic for someone who is still hesitant to get out there after not having tried for almost 7 years.

I laugh at myself for developing this side story with Hank. Where do I think this could go, knowing all my reservations and my lack of trust? Still, my inner optimist wants to think there could be someone out there, even if he’s fictitious and I’m the one who made him up! Hell, maybe that’s the best kind of partner. He’d be there when I need him, but there wouldn’t be any of the messy stuff like schedule conflicts, lack of alone time or having to sleep together. Ick. Hank is the guy to go out to dinner with, have the deep conversations with, go for walks with and catch a movie with. He’s also the guy who doesn’t get bent out of shape if I don’t want him to spend the night, or move in, or co-mingle bank accounts. He’s a travel partner and ski partner who is like-minded when it comes to politics and open-minded about philosophy, reading and art.

Yeah. He’s definitely a unicorn, but he’s my unicorn.

But, wait?! Aren’t I also describing a best girlfriend? Wouldn’t she check all the boxes?

As I write this, I realize that there’s this tiny part of me that still wants to be attracted to – and attractive to – a guy. Is it my age (mortality?) telling me I’m running out of time? Is this a Crone’s Relationship Biological Clock? Hell, no! The little I’ve read about Crones tells me they wouldn’t give a shit about whether they are attractive to anyone. They are too busy inhabiting their skin and being glorious in their own Crone-y way to worry about whether a relationship would fulfill them or not!

Unicorn Hank isn’t going to expect me to pick up his socks, cook his dinner (and complain about the food), demand back rubs and be too busy to go to a movie with me. But history tells me (at least my history) that an IRL Hank comes with expectations. Thoughts of those expectations start the stress and the physical manifestations of that stress. That’s when I know I can’t really be an optimist, that I do have trust issues (even with myself), and that relationships are fine for other people, and I’m fine NOT being in one.

When Will asks me why I don’t take my own advice and trust myself, or why I don’t get back out there and try again, I’ll explain that I’m really busy with projects. I’ve got to finish recovering the couch because Pansy “loved” it up too much. (Clearly, I’m an optimist if I’m taking the time to recover the couch without attempting to discourage Pansy’s fondness for scratching.) Oh, and I’ve got to get the shelves up in the new bathroom. I’m sure Jen will be coming home soon, so I better plan menus and bake her favorite things. I should really get some seeds ordered and figure out what I’ll be planting where, come May. I’ve got some blog housekeeping to do, and I’m still ruminating on that novel I pretend to be writing. Doesn’t the popcorn on the ceiling in the hallway need to come down? There’s always work and meetings and classes.

Oh! I have to finish those slacks I found at Goodwill. I let the hem out and now there’s a faded line where the old hem used to be. I found a Prismacolor – Light Umber. It’s a close match. (Luckily, Jen didn’t take all her art supplies with her.) After applying the Light Umber, I’ll sketch over top a bit with a black Sharpie to blend it and … Who am I kidding? I don’t let anyone close enough to see a faded hemline on my slacks.

Anyway, I’m entirely too busy. Besides, why would I want to mess up this good thing I’ve got going.

p.s. Will says the couch looks like the 70s – in a good way. Pansy won’t go near it. Yet.

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Who Will Serve Your Tacos?

“Jesse! “

“I know, Hank. It’s been awhile. At least that’s what everyone says to me after I resurface from my preferred lock-down location. But, something’s driving me crazy and I had to run it by you. Besides, I’ve missed you … and your beer.”

“Well, it’s always a treat to see you walk in that door. Having the usual?”

Jesse nodded and took off her jacket.

Hank slid a beer across the bar and said, “So what’s got your mind spinning now, Jess?”

“Okay, I know we are wired to survive. At least that’s what the books – that we are allowed to read – tell us. We wouldn’t still be here mucking things up if that weren’t the case. Many moons ago, threats looked like a saber-toothed tiger. And I get that threats have changed as we’ve evolved.”

Hank dried his hands on a bar rag, “Have we all evolved, Jesse?” Hank laughed, “Yeah, now some of us face a threat by being in the wrong place with a different skin color. Or, a threat is being exposed to a communicable disease; or being alone in an alley while wearing a short skirt; or losing connection to the internet while binge-watching Castle.”

Jesse laughed. “When Jen is home from college, we binge on Castle! Love that show, even if he’s full of himself. Anyway, if you consider the fact that many of us survived childhood, middle school, learning to drive and decades without a television remote, it’s pretty clear we’ve demonstrated that we do have the capacity to survive. The other thing is that we’re wired to protect our offspring.”

“I gotta stop you there, Jess. I know some who aren’t wired that way, or at least their wires are crossed.”

“Oh, I know that’s true, Hank. Sadly. But, it’s also true that some who didn’t procreate still have the desire to protect the offspring of others. Did they get an extra dose of empathy? Is that a carry over instinct from a previous life when they did have kids? Or is it part of our basic wiring to protect the species?”

“It’s gotta be part of our basic wiring. If we aren’t giving birth to the ones who grow up to work in the factories or plow the fields or serve the tacos, someone’s got to give birth to them. We’d all better look out for the kids in order to keep society running. Right?” Hank walked to the end of the bar to greet a new customer.

When he returned Jesse said, “So with these instincts of survival and protection of the species….”

“I know where you’re going with the, Jesse…”

“What the actual fuck, Hank?!”

Hank laughed and shook his head. “I know. I know.”

“How has the definition of a threat changed so much? I know that perceived threats change for each of us with the passage of time. A steady diet of Taco Bell, beer, coffee and ramen was not a threat in my 4 – okay, 5 – years of college. Now, I’d definitely consider that diet a threat. See, that’s proof that I want to survive, right? I’m not thrilled at the prospect of my kids subsisting on that kind of diet, but the one who does, well, he seems to be surviving. How can the definition of a threat be so different for different people? Weren’t we all afraid of the saber-toothed tiger? Why aren’t we all afraid of Covid? Why are some of us afraid of a mask? Why are some of us afraid the government will force us to get a shot? Wouldn’t we have been thrilled to have a government protect us from that saber-toothed beast?”

A customer looked over at Jesse. “Sorry if I’m a little worked up, Hank.”

Hank wiped a worn spot on the bar that had seen a lot of wiping over the years. “Never apologize for being passionate, Jesse. Maybe ‘fear’ isn’t the right word. Many don’t want to be inconvenienced. Our lives have become cushy since the days of fending off tigers. Now we have time to sit around, with a remote in our hands, deciding we don’t have to be inconvenienced by wearing a mask, or getting a shot or staying home to watch the football game when we’d rather meet friends at a crowded bar.”

Jesse slid her empty class over to Hank. “So how has business been?”

“I’ve got a bit of a reputation, I guess. Folks – not a lot of ’em, mind you – come here knowing it won’t be crowded. They know most will be masked, as much as possible, anyway. I’m doing okay, for the times.”

“I’m glad for you, Hank. For awhile, there, I worried you wouldn’t be able to keep your doors open.” Jesse reached for her new beer and took a sip. “Why does it look like some believe that protecting others puts their own survival at risk?”

“I dunno, Jess. Do they equate survival with freedom?”

“Maybe that’s it, but how free are you if you’re dead?”

“Well,” Hank chuckled, “some think that’s the ultimate freedom.”

“You’re such a philosopher, Hank. That’s one of the things I love about this place. But, all of this gets me to thinking about the need to belong to a group, which is part of that survival instinct. It was a lot easier to go up against a tiger when in a group. It’s also an offshoot of the desire to protect offspring. You try raising children as a single parent. We need a village!”

“How’s your village, Jess?”

“Don’t get me started!” Jesse took another slow sip as she pondered. “Okay, so the village raises or protects the children and the species survives. Right? Society continues to function. Fields are plowed; widgets are produced in the factories; apps are designed for our devices; and all the tacos are served. Much of the functioning of society is handled by groups – families, churches, schools – you get my point. And even though I’m not much of a joiner, I can see how the group you belong to can dictate many of your beliefs and choices. I’ve a friend who is a diehard Broncos fan. Her bathroom is decorated in Broncos memorabilia.”

Hank looked at the end of the bar. Before he walked down to take an order, he looked at Jesse and said, “Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about that kind of thing, Hank!”

When Hank returned, Jesse asked, “How does one intentionally decide to join the anti-vax group or the anti-mask group? Doesn’t that go against the basic instinct of survival and the other – perhaps, as you suggested – not so basic instinct to protect the species? What kind of chemical mash-up happens in a brain when it sees a mask and determines that a mask is bad? What goes on in a brain that decides vaccines are bad?”

Jesse shook her head. “Is that directly related to the power (brainwashing) of the group? I’ll admit to some brainwashing from my left-leaning, save the children group, but I’m not walking around boosted and masked while suffering from some sort of cognitive dissonance stemming from my choices conflicting with my instincts.”

Hank folded and unfolded a bar rag as he listened to Jesse’s rant. “I seriously think that we are all dealing with cognitive dissonance, Jesse. Maybe that’s the only thing we all have in common.”

Jesse nodded, “Oh, I know! But maybe they aren’t bothered by cognitive dissonance, just as they proclaim – those who are still alive to do so – that they aren’t bothered by Covid.”

Hank put both hands on the bar and leaned in. “At the end of the day, the members of those groups will continue to believe the propaganda coming from the leader of the group. They’ll go home and fall down some rabbit hole on the internet that confirms everything that their leader tells them. They’ll binge-watch conspiracy theories and call their friends and rant and rave, just as you are doing right now. They’ll share posts about how only stupid people wear masks, or the government tracks you with the shot. They’ll vote for those who think like them. And all along they have no real clue that their own choices are jeopardizing their very survival.”

Hank leaned back, “What ever happened to critical thinking, Jesse? How will society function when so many are misguided?”

Jesse reached for her jacket, “They think they are critical thinkers, Hank. Even though they haven’t connected the dots on why it’s not as easy to get tacos these days.”

Edit: I hit publish, and got on the treadmill to read the next chapter of Caste – the Origins of Our Discontents. Chapter 20, The Inevitable Narcissism of Caste, speaks of the narcissism of group leaders. Perfect timing? If you haven’t read Isabel Wilkerson’s powerful book, you really should consider it.

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Thanks For Being You

Jesse slowly opened the heavy wooden door just enough to let her eyes adjust to the dark.  There were two cars in the parking lot, but she wanted to make sure there wasn’t a crowd, before entering.  “Jesse!  How are you?  Come in.  It’s safe.  I promise.  My hands are cracked and sore from continually wiping everything down with a Clorox solution.”  Hank held up his hands.  “You’re okay.   I promise.  There are only two tables of customers right now.”

“Hank!  I’ve missed you.  I drove by so many times and wanted to …”  Jesse took a seat at the bar, surrounded on both sides by empty bar seats.

“Jesse, don’t apologize.  I completely understand.  I stayed closed as long as I could, but the bills piled up.  I didn’t have a choice.  I had to reopen.”

“I tried waiting until the parking lot was empty.  How is your family?  All healthy?  How are you coping?”

“My family is fine.”  Hank walked to stand closer to Jesse, but not directly across from her.  “How are any of us coping, Jess?  Business is down, of course.  The good thing is that this place attracts folks who are as concerned about this damn virus as I am.  Many wait to come in when there are only a couple cars in the lot.  I’m relieved.  It’s manageable that way.  But still, the bills …”  He started to reach for a glass.  “Are you having anything today, Jess?  How are you?  How are your kids?”

“Yes!  Beer, please.  In a bottle, please.”  Jesse winked and shrugged her shoulders.  “Sorry, Hank.  It took a lot of guts for me to come in here.  I’ve so missed this place and you, too, of course!”  She thought about taking her jacket off and laying it on a stool, but changed her mind.  “Daughter is home, studying online.  Son has had a couple scares at work, but tests came back negative.  Thank the gods.  Although, can any of us really trust the testing?”

Hank had grabbed a glass, but put it in the sink full of soapy water before reaching for a bottle.  “Have you had to test, Jesse?  I have.  It’s not a big deal, but it provides a little reassurance.  I guess.”  Hank popped the top and slid the bottle down the bar, meeting Jesse half way.  “What made you decide to come in today?”

“I’m feeling hopeless, Hank.  The election business, on top of the virus, on top of the usual …  I’m exhausted, sleepless, frustrated, angry and rudderless.  Never mind all the new gray hair.”

Hank laughed, “Join the club!  There are quite a few of us, and many of us have gotten grayer.”

Jesse took a napkin and wiped the top of the bottle, pulled down her mask and took a long sip.  “I know.  And I shouldn’t bring all this negativity in here, but I was starting to feel desperate.  I guess I was desperate to know that I’m not alone in feeling this way.  I think I know where you stand on a lot of these issues, so I wanted to …  I don’t know what I wanted.  I just know that things can’t keep heading in this direction.” Jesse took another sip and chuckled.  “I like your mask.”  He adjusted his mask, embroidered with large white letters on black – Barkeep.  “I’ve got another that says, Boss, just in case I’ve got a group in here that doesn’t have a clue.”

Hank folded a bar rag.  “I thought of you and your daughter when I heard the announcement for the new Supreme Court appointee.  That’s a blow, Jesse.  All the progress made, over so many long years …  I can’t imagine what you must be thinking.  But then, the election, and …  Well, I think I know how you feel about that.”

Jesse sighed as she looked at the bottles on the back of the bar.  She observed the different colored liquids.  Some were dark and rich looking, while others were clear, like water.  She thought of the altered states that the liquids produced.  She thought of how many sought solace in those colored liquids.  How many more are seeking solace in them now?

“I don’t know what to say, Hank.  First, I’m mad at myself for taking for granted the progress that women made.  I’m mad that I haven’t applied myself to that fight.  I feel that many of us have failed the next generations of women, and men, too, by letting this happen.  But at the same time, I’m celebrating that we have a woman as V.P.  Go figure!  And we have a president who might …  I dunno.  They’ve got a lot of work ahead of them, but I do feel a little safer with those two in place.”

Hank put on a new pair of latex gloves.  “I hate these things.  I don’t know if it’s better to wear them, or just keep my hands in bleach all day.”  He snapped a glove too hard, ripped it, and sighed.  “It’s optimistic to think this new administration is going to fix everything, but I do hope it’s a step in the right direction.  Have you been in lock-down this whole time?”

“Yes.  I’m thankful that I can stay home and still do some work.  I do feel guilty for not supporting local businesses, but we all have a different way of coping.  I feel bad for not coming in here.  I feel bad for not going to my favorite coffee place.  Let’s face it!  I feel bad about a lot of things!”

Hank nodded his head.  “Strange times, indeed.”  Just then the door opened and a boisterous group of 20-somethings came in.  None were wearing masks.  Hank walked around the bar to meet them.  “Hey guys!  Thanks for coming in, but we’re closing up for the day.  Try us again, but please wear your masks next time.”  Hanks eyes crinkled, so they knew he was smiling through the mask.  He had a way of delivering the message that let the kids know they would be welcome again, but not today.

Jesse watched the group look at each other, look at the two other occupied tables and, rather than pitch a fit, walk out discussing where they might go next.  “Nicely done, Hank.  I like your style.”

“I’d like their business, Jess, but I’m not going to argue with them about wearing a mask, and I will not risk my other customers or myself.  It’s a delicate balance keeping this place afloat.  I do not have the energy to argue.  It’s just easier to be nice about it.”  Hank walked back behind the bar.  “You waste energy feeling guilty, Jesse.  Conserve your energy.  We are all doing our best to get through this.”

Jesse laughed, “Admit it, Hank, your best is better than most.”

“I don’t know what they’re dealing with, Jesse.  This is my best.  Maybe the folks who get all riled up about masks, maybe that is their best.  I don’t know.  I only know what works for me.”  He laughed, “But I do have the Boss mask, if they want to argue.  I’ve only had to use it a couple times.”

Jesse reached for her bottle, “You see why I missed this place?  Thanks for being you, Hank.”

 

 

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The Courageous Bartender

Except for one lone stool, the bar was full, most likely due to the fact that Hank was working.  She grabbed the stool and looked around to see if she recognized any faces.

“Jesse!  Welcome!  How are things?”

“Good, Hank!  How are you?  Nice and busy in here!”

“What brings you out on this snowy night?”

“I came for some of your legendary advice.”  Hank laughed as the guy seated next to Jesse said, “That’s why I’m here!”

“Wine or beer tonight, Jesse?”

“Surprise me with something hot, Hank.  My bones are getting too old for this climate.”

Hank slid a mug across the bar and said, “Cider and Fireball – the only thing that’ll do the trick.  As far as advice, I dunno about that, but what’s on your mind?”

Jesse sighed and said, “Of course this is about my kids, particularly the 20 year old.  I want to encourage, not discourage.  I’d like to motivate without pissing him off.  I wrote a little bit about courage, but before I send it to him, I wanted your take.”

“Sure.  Let me see what you’ve got.”

 

Hank held her phone as he read:

I am no expert, but I think one of THE important aspects of a good life is courage.  Have courage to try new things, meet new people, go new places.

That’s what keeps a person moving along their path.

You have courage in spades!!!

I think the saddest lives are lived by folks who are stuck because they don’t have the courage to try something new.

With courage you might try something and hate it, or try something else and mess up.  That’s not failure, that’s experience!  The real important thing is that you have tried, and that you keep trying.  It’s so much better to have a long list of things tried, places seen, foods eaten, people met ….   than a short, boring list of STUCK.

I love you.

 

“What would you add, Hank?  What do you think I should take out?”

“Well, let’s put it up to the group!”  Hank looked to the other end of the bar.  “Sam, how do you define courage?”

A woman at the end of the bar put down her wine glass, looked Hank in the eye and said, “Courage is deciding to be single and staying that way!”

The guy next to Jesse slowly shook his head.

Hank looked at the guy next to Sam and said, “How about you, Ron.  What’s your take on courage?”

Ron didn’t hesitate before saying, “Giving up the great paying job for the job that doesn’t crush my soul!”  He raised his beer glass in salute.  The others clapped in agreement.

Hank looked at the couple seated next to Ron.  “What’s courage to you two?”  She looked at Hank and said, “Ignoring what my dad said about who to date.”  The couple looked at each other and laughed.  He said, “Meeting her dad,” and they all laughed.

Hank said, “It’s your turn, John.  How do you define courage?”

John paused a moment before responding.  He looked at his glass and said, “Getting the diagnosis that changed my life, undergoing chemo and beating cancer.”  Everyone at the bar raised a glass in honor of John.

Hank turned to Tom.  “Good luck beating that one, Tom.”  Tom looked a little nervous before he said, “Making my wife and kids a priority over my job.”  Ron raised his glass in Tom’s direction.

There were two folks left at the bar, Jesse and the guy to her left, who had appeared downtrodden when Sam declared her status.

Hank skipped over Jesse, smiled and said to Jim, “So now that you aren’t going to approach Sam, tell us how you define courage.”  The group laughed.  Jim cleared his throat and looked at Jesse.  “Courage is parenting a 20 year old.”  They all raised their glasses to Jesse.

 

Jim said, “Wait a darn minute!  What about you, Hank?  It’s your turn.  How do you define courage?”

“Well, it was one thing when I was 20.  Skiing the cliff.  Skiing out of bounds.  Any risk I could take on skis.  As I got older, it was having the courage to end one relationship and start another.  Now that I’m in my 50s, well, courage is knowing when to keep my mouth shut, and doing just that.”  He grinned and winked at Jesse.  “Now what do you think about courage, Jesse?”

“It’s pretty clear that courage is different to everyone.  I ‘spose I need the courage to let him figure it out himself.”  The group nodded their heads in agreement and Jim said, “Great idea, Jesse.”  Jesse stood up from her stool.  “I’ll still send the message, but then I need to have the courage to leave him alone while he figures things out.”

Hank smiled at Jesse, “Good plan, Jesse, and you think I’m the one with good advice!”

 

As Jesse put her coat on she saw Jim gulp the last of his beer.  He shouted, “Here’s to liquid courage!”  Then he got off his stool and walked over to approach Sam.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Hold On Loosely

“Jesse!  Where’ve you been?  I hope you’ve been having some summer fun.”

“How are ya, Hank?  It’s been awhile.  I’ve missed you guys.”

“What’s new?  How are the kids?  How’s life been treating you?”

“I’m gonna need a beer first, Hank.  So far, this summer has been all about closing chapters.”

Hank reached for a glass, “Closing the right chapters, I hope.”

She sat on a stool and took a sip before the foam could run down the side of the glass.

 

Hank said, “I’m sorry about your aunt’s passing.  I’m sure that’s a difficult chapter to close.”

“Thanks, Hank.”  She took another sip.  “We’ve had some deaths this summer.  Too many funerals.”

Hank stood directly across from her, on the other side of the bar, “I’m sorry, Jesse.”  He wiped the bar while trying to think of what to say.  “And the other chapters?”

“Will moved out a couple weeks ago.  It’s time.  I’m excited for him.  He’s ready and wanting to be independent.  This chapter really sucks, tho, Hank.”

“Whew!  I got nothing for ya on that.  I could spout off all the cliches about a son leaving, cutting apron strings and the like, but that doesn’t make it any easier.  So, how are you holding up?”

“Honestly, my aunt’s passing hit me hard, and that was closely followed by Will moving.  For the first time, I seriously considered finding a therapist.  A year ago, my doctor had recommended someone for stress and anxiety.”  She laughs, “Last year was a cake walk compared to this summer.  But, anyway, I kept thinking I’d go through some papers and find the name he’d given me, but then life was coming at me real fast.  Another passing, some more family stuff…”  She reached for her glass, “I’d come home from the office, have a meal with Jen, and retreat to the garden.”

Hank nodded, “The calm spot in the storm?”

“Exactly.  I couldn’t write.  I could barely read.  I managed to cook a couple meals and go to the office and that’s about it.  Now, here we are, the end of July, and I’ve yet to make an appointment with a therapist, but my yard and garden look the best they’ve looked in the 12 years we’ve lived there.  I feel this compulsion to be working in the yard every day.  I keep apologizing to Jen, for spending so much time out there.”

 

Hank asked, “How’s Jen doing with all these closing chapters?”

“Art is her garden.  She is consumed with her drawing and painting.  I’m so thankful that art is her refuge.”

 

“When you are working in the yard, what goes through your mind?”

She laughs, “Everything and nothing.  I started out with a lot of questions.  ‘Why now?  Why this person?’ And then, ‘Is he prepared to be on his own?’  I wallowed in the pissed-off phase.  ‘Why me?  Just how much am I supposed to handle?’  Slowly, the thoughts morphed into, ‘Hello, Jesse!  This isn’t about you.’  I thought a lot about reinvention and what that means.  I got pissed off, again, at the Universe because it seems like all I do is reinvent, and then I realized that’s what this journey is about – reinvention.”

Hank smiled, “I recognize some of those thoughts.”

“I reminded myself of the stuff about young men and how it’s supposed to be difficult right before they leave.”

“Right!  Or they’d never leave!”  Hank washed bar glasses as he listened.

“I reminded myself that my aunt was far better off now than she’d been the last couple years.”

“And did that help?”

“I suppose those thoughts are part of the process, but they didn’t help as much as planting, pulling weeds, moving soil, cutting grass, trimming trees and sweating.  Those things finally got me out of my head and moving.”  She laughed, “Now I’m starting to worry about what I’ll do for therapy come winter.”

He said, “Maybe you won’t need any therapy come winter.”

They both laughed.

 

“You know,” she said, “this morning that song by 38 Special was stuck in my head – Hold On Loosely.”

Hank grinned, “That’s always been a favorite.”

Jesse said, “I haven’t heard that one in a while.  Then, this afternoon, Jen and I were on our way to the store and it came on the radio.”

Hank reached for her empty glass, “That song fits except for the part about, ‘Don’t let go.'”

Jesse got up from her stool, “No kidding.”

 

 

 

 

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Where is Your Focus?

“How are you, Hank?”

“I’m doing well.”  He closed his notebook.  “Getting caught up on paperwork.  This weather is crazy, right?  Either we’re blasted because everyone has cabin fever, or we’re dead because no one wants to get out in the cold.”  He patted the stool next to his, “What’s new with you?”

“Don’t let me interrupt your bookkeeping.”  Jesse draped her jacket over a stool.  “I’m just getting out of the house to get a break from climbing the walls.  Kids are good.  Things have been a bit bumpy lately, but after a minor course correction,  I think we are headed in the right direction, again… for now.”  She shook her head.  “Parenting isn’t for sissies, Hank.”

He smiled and said, “Not even for the parents who have awesome kids like yours.”

“I’ll take that.  Thanks.”

 

Hank pointed to a 20-something sitting alone in the far corner.  His pint was half empty, and had long since gone flat.  His focus was on his phone.  “He’s an up and coming App Designer.  That kid is making a name for himself.  He sleeps and eats the stuff.  I wish I had that kind of focus.”

He looked up at the TV screen mounted in the corner above the bar to see an update on the most recent school shooting.

Hank nodded in the direction of two women sitting at a nearby table.  They were going over paint chips, fabric swatches and catalogs.  “Those two recently joined forces to open up a staging/interior design firm.  There aren’t enough hours in the day to meet the needs of their clients but, somehow, they’re getting it done.”

Jesse took a drink of her beer, and glanced at the TV in time to see the local news channel announce a new Amber Alert.

She looked at Hank and said, “I admire folks who know what it is that they love to do, and then apply all their energy to that thing.  It’s inspiring!”  She pointed to the opposite corner.  “What can you tell me about that fellow?”

“I don’t know much about him.  Keeps to himself.  He usually brings in some kind of geology books to study while he’s having a beer or two.  Mining engineer, maybe?  I don’t know, but he studies that stuff all the time.”

The newscaster casually mentioned opioid epidemic, sexual harassment, and AR-15, with less emphasis than he used when discussing the current weather forecast.

 

Hank shook his head and got up to walk around to the business side of the bar.  “You know, Jesse, working here gives me an opportunity to observe people.  I see where they apply their time, energy and focus.  The damn TV is always on, too, for those that like to keep up on what’s going on in the rest of the world.”

He grabbed a bar rag and started polishing the bar.  Jesse had long ago* noticed that he usually polished the bar when he was about to start explaining some insight about the human condition.  He said, “A few years back I had what you might call an epiphany.  I noticed that the more folks focused on outside stuff, the more the news got worse.  We love our distractions.  We are distracted by our phones, our jobs, our cars, our hair and nail color, our relationship status, our bank accounts, and the lack of or spectacular existence of our abs.”

He folded the rag, placed it on the bar and forcefully flattened the rag with his palm.  “Where do you think this world would be if folks applied the same kind of focus to parenting and family?”

 

*Hank, the bartender, makes several appearances on my other blog.