"May I Have The Envelope Please?"

I just finished reading Carrie Fisher's new book "Wishful Drinking". It's a great, quick read based on her one woman show. In it, she shares stories of her life growing-up the daughter of famous parents providing an incredibly honest and humorous slant including her experience with Electroconvulsive Therapy (ECT) or, aka, shock treatments.

With my father having passed away a little over a month ago (and his mother having willfully chosen to undergo shock treatments prior to and during my lifetime), I read with intense absorption.

On the one hand, as a kid from suburban Chicago, the thought of living a celebrity lifestyle gave off this, I don't know, charmed-life-the-grass-is-always-greener-on-the-wealthy-side-of-the-fence image even though as an adult, I have been able to observe how celebrity and fame, ala someone like Britney Spears, can be a huge price to pay in exchange for one's privacy. What Ms. Fisher manages to do, however, is tell the truth letting people in to her heart in such a way as to let them find a piece of themselves.

Such a thing occurred for me.

Having celebrities for parents or parents who are celebrities, she came to realize how surreal her life was as a child. Her parents weren't just someone else at work or while out to dinner with friends, they were someone to a whole lot of someone's. Their lives, fact or fiction, were played-out in a very, public way.


What struck me...what I connected to was the notion, reality really, of how our parents (my father, mostly, for me) are other people when they're not our parents. They have careers, work friends, friend friends, hobbies, interests, secrets and a whole, entire life we really know nothing about. On a daily basis, they're making connections and having relationships with many a sundry of folk, leaving us in the dark, because we see them as "our parents" not as human beings with full and complete lives...or not.


It was at my father's wake and funeral I met-upon his reality, and my surrealism.



A celebrity. Who knew my father was a celebrity? He died in Bensenville, IL Monday morning November 10th; by 1 o'clock, I was on a plane from California arriving that evening. After having a smart martini...or two, my sister, Lori, a wise woman, asked me if I would speak at his funeral. I, of course, agreed as well as agreed to behave but not before asking, "Define behave?".

Over the next two days, I attempted to formulate, in my mind, some sort of uplifting, positive eulogy in celebration of his life, but it just wasn't there.

It's not that my father was a horrible man, husband or father, because he wasn't. What he was was human. And, I surmise, as humans, we're not able to be all things to all people all at the same time...if ever.

As I grew up in the 60's and 70's, in a house built on what was previously farmland, in the booming Chicago suburb of Addsion, my father did what society expected of him. At times, he worked two jobs to support his family including driving the bus for the Lutheran school my sisters' and I attended. His efforts allowed my mother to be a "housewife" until she returned to work upon my arrival at the 5th grade. Somewhere in there, during the early part of the 60's, he also found time to be chief of the local, volunteer, rural, fire department.

The three-bedroom, one-bath home we lived in was purchased a year after my birth in 1959. And while it was similiar to those in the neighborhood, having been built by a different developer/builder, it was slightly, not unlike myself, different than the others. With one bathroom and tub for the five of us and no shower, my father created one in the basement, laundry room utilizing a garden hose.

In them, there days, laundry rooms had what was known as a "stationary tub". The garden hose was attached to the tub's faucet; then somehow bracketed to the rafters with a shower head screwed-on to the other end and then there I was, in all my glory, showering in the middle of the laundry room, while standing directly over the floor drain.

At some point, a second refrigerator along with an extra oven for the house, were added to the laundry room leaving me to realize, later on in life, how convenient it would be, as a hurried-host, to have the ability to prepare dinner for my guests while showering at the same time...alas, killing two birds with one stone.

Given my father's talent for makeshift, shower installation, he was a handy guy. At his wake, Joe, our next door neighbor after the original owners, the Touhy's moved-out, came up to me and told me how my father had been such a great mentor to him, because here he was a young man of twenty, owning his first home, and my father took the time to teach him how to repair things himself as well as helped him install a new water heater. This, I'm sure, is a true story.

Another true wake story. Harold, the son of my father's boss of many years, came up to me and told with me what a great mentor my father had been to him because upon his return from Viet Nam, my father was the one who'd taught him everything he needed to know about running the family business that, by the way, became MULTI...LOCATION...AL!

To these men, in younger times, myself included, my father was famous.

To me, 'round about age 36, is when he became infamous.

"Hope for the Holidays"

Ah, the holiday season is in full-swing bringing joy, depression, happiness, loneliness and dysfunction to wonderful families all over the world!

I mean, really, let's be honest. The holiday season is a bitch. I'm not lookin' to step on anyone's religious beliefs here or totally poo poo the entire month of December, no, wait, the months of September thru December, because Christmas now actually begins in September. It used to be October, but I swear retailers have moved it up another month. Before long, we'll be shopping for Christmas at Easter and for Easter at Christmas. And then it won't be long before Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas are one. Not bad, as long as holiday pay and time-off apply. If so, I'm gonna split the difference, divide by two, multiply by three, add vacation to it and take off the entire month of October adding in the first week of November just for kicks, and then like the Europeans, I'll keep the intended spirit alive and call it a "Holiday". You laugh, but I know ye, my fellow "Holiday-ers", are out there!

When I was a child, where from, I believe, all things emotionally, spiritually and psychologically good and bad derive, Christmas was a joyous time. Why? Because I was on the receiving end. Unless you're a child, that whole "it's better to give than receive" thing is completely bogus at the holidays, really.

Recently, I was having a conversation with my nephew, Matthew, about air travel. He and I are in agreement over how peaceful it is. Why peaceful?, you ask, when many people hate to fly. Well, we find it peaceful, because there's nothing to do and no one, unless we have an aisle seat, and the middle or window passenger needs to use the restroom or have a tray passed to the aisle, is going to ask us to do something. It's total veg time. Read, nap, do a wordsearch or crossword puzzle, eat, watch TV, if available, and pretty much be waited on the entire time.

Similiar to (Have you made the connection?) Christmas as a child. No one asks a child to do anything at Christmas but be animated and excited while opening gifts and smiling for the camera. No one, lest they be charged with child abuse, is going to ask a child to pull a full-course turkey dinner for twelve outta there ass on the first day off they've had in months!

Patience. If you're an adult, and more than likely female, because, really, they are still, for the most part, the caregivers , patience is usually wearing pretty thin by December 25th especially if you're someone like I used to be. Given the whole joyous, anticipation of being on the receiving end at Christmas, it was a bit of a turn for the worse when, as an adult, I first arrived at this time of year.

Instead of reaching into the chest freezer in the basement for Christmas cookies awaiting their gifted exposure and meeting up with a note from my sisters' who'd baked them in, I don't know, June reading "leave these alone you pig" (yeah, like that was gonna stop me!), I now had to bake them myelf. What's up with that?

In an attempt to emulate my mother, during the holidays, I would give, give and give of my heart, my mind, my time and my money to only end up over-anxious, over-stressed, over-exhausted and completely over the holidays; however, even though I was over the holidays, or so I thought, I would full-on belly flop into the big let down pool of January. Lord, let me tell you, after near two months of making everything about you, you, you and not me, me me, I would crash and burn becoming a depressed, bitter, angry mess as soon as the last ornament was pulled from the tree.

Slowly, as with everything in my life, I learned I was accountable. Me, me me! I was the one setting myself up for the big let down. I held such high expectations for the holiday season, wanting everything to be perfect, of which I've learned there is no such thing, that once January arrived, and the fantasy life I'd been living left and reality returned, I went into full melt-down.

Once I started to grasp the whole emotional, psychological, mental and physical accountability thing, I began to change. At first, maybe not for the better, but change nevertheless.

My first executive decision was to make sure I planned something in January to look forward to. Ultimately, this took a whole lotta pressure off that crucial time between December 24th and January 1. I also worked at changing expectations (you, you you!) into hope (me, me me!).

You see, to me, if we're living life in an expected state, we're not living in the moment, because what we're really doing is postponing the joy (or sorrow as the case may be) until such a time as a specific event or another person or another person's reaction to an event is what we wanted/expected it to be . Expecting a certain outcome, for me, is just another form of co-dependency, meaning, I can't feel what I want to feel now; I have to wait for someone else to respond to me or for some event to occur, before that can happen. However, if we exchange hope for expectations, the connection to an outcome ceases to be, because we've now allowed ourselves to be comfortable with our actions in the moment; therefore, comfortable with whatever occurs later-on regardless the outcome.

Eventually, over time, I've been able to create balance where the holidays are concerned. I no longer actively and skillfully plan something for January. It's not that I don't have things planned, I just don't need to anymore. And I don't need to, because I more so have learned to treat Christmas as just another time of year but maybe with a few more social activities and some outside lights, and a tree with ornaments thrown in the mix...or not. It is what I choose it to be. This year, I have a fresh, peace sign wreath on my door sent to me by my friend, Tamara, with a fake one hanging over the entry gate to where I live. I also have a few Christmas parties to attend, and I'm not yet sure about putting up a tree. Last year, was a yes; this year, is a maybe.

I no longer feel compelled to feel better at the holidays than I do any other time of the year. As a matter of fact, not trying to feel better or make others feel better at the holidays, has actually created someone who does and by keeping the lid on the expectations during the holidays, has lead to someone who tries to keep a lid on expectations throughout the rest of the year. Do I sometimes lose the "mood" so to speak, yes, but, hey, that's life.

If you happen to be someone who gets thrown for a loop during the holiday season, I found this on MSN. It's focused on what it's like to be single during the holidays, but the suggested actions someone can take to alter their holiday experience, I believe, are universal. Whether you're feeling alone or lonely in a crowded room as you long for a loved one or whether you're feeling stressed, exhausted maybe realizing you're in the expectation state as opposed to living with hope, take a looksee; maybe it'll help.

http://lifestyle.msn.com/relationships/articlematch.aspx?cp-documentid=13426439&GT1=32023

Welcome!

Welcome to "The Larry Chronicles". What I hope happens here will be the collection of a readership base spreading all things good and bad, ying and yang about life.

Human. I want this blog and the writing contained within to be human. Reaching out to any and all connecting with my readers emotionally, intellectually and spiritually by way of my writing. At times, because that's how life is, it's gonna be dramatic; other times, tragic and then where would we be without comedy.

So please join me for the ride as the posts within this blog turn into the pages of my first of many books.

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Thanks for reading!