Everything, Everywhere...

Nora and I went to see Everything, Everywhere, All At Once a few days ago. For those who have not seen the movie, but are planning to see it in the near future, I would recommend that you not read the rest of this post, as I feel it is important not to have any preconceived ideas about the film before you see it.

For the rest of you, Everything... was entertaining on a number of fronts. It is surprising in its plot twists, challenging to follow at times, touching in its ultimate message, and relevant. 

Before continuing, I checked a few of my past posts about family and am providing a link to three of them.

https://wurdsfromtheburbs.blogspot.com/2019/07/7-cakes-in-7-days.html  

https://wurdsfromtheburbs.blogspot.com/2013/06/for-rachel.html

https://wurdsfromtheburbs.blogspot.com/2011/09/parentsparenting.html

In some ways, Everything, Everywhere.. is a simple story about a woman's relationships with her daughter, her husband, her father, herself. Simple in that we all think about, agonize over, try to make better all our own relationships, so the story is very relateable from that perspective. However, the presentation of this simple concept was very unorthodox, even complicated as the story involves all the different versions, or worlds, in which we all might have lived had we made different choices at various times in our lives.

In the case of the lead character, Evelyn, she gradually comes to understand that even in those lives where she was more famous, or wealthy, or successful, it is the relationships she formed that was most important. That being happy had far less to do with fame and money, than having people with whom you can share your life, the ups as well as the downs.

There is one particular scene in which, while still thinking that she (and her husband) would have been better off had they not met, fallen in love, and ran off together, Evelyn actually tells her husband (in a different life path where they are not married) that it was best that they didn't run away together, because, see how successful they both are now in this alternate life. But the man not her husband in that version responds that he would have been happy running a laundromat and cutting coupons with her, more so than he is now, despite being more successful in this life, without her.

Another interesting story line is that her husband (from an alternate life) has come to her present life to save the entire multiverse from extinction (so, yes, there are two active personalities for the same man, which toggle off and on). As it turns out, the 'evil' entity that is trying to end all the versions of life, is trapped in Evelyn's daughter, and the 'other' husband along with all the people from that particular universe, believe they must destroy Evelyn's daughter, aptly named Joy.  And, they believe that they need the 'right' version of Evelyn to do so, hence they have been travelling from one universe to another seeking that version.

But as the film progresses we realize that Joy is also seeking this exact Evelyn, not to destroy her, but to convince her that nothing matters, and that it is better not to feel, not to care, not to love. There is an entertaining scene in which both Evelyn and Joy are rocks, and isn't this nice, a pretty vista, but no pain. There is also a big bagel used to reference such a place, where one can avoid being hurt simply by not being vulnerable to hurt, i.e, not being alive, but that is too hard to explain in such a short post as this, so, again, I encourage you to see the movie and stop reading.

While happy endings can be cliche, certainly overused, and not always fulfilling, there is a happy ending in this movie, even in the world where everyone has hot dogs for fingers. (Sorry, not a reference you can possibly understand without seeing the film.)

Evelyn defeats the evil in Joy, not by fighting, but through love. While perhaps, a stretch, it is the same force, love, that enables parents to survive the teen years of their children, and which when employed properly, leads to children and parents rekindling their love and their relationships when the teens become young adults in their twenties and thirties.

I have commented more than once in other posts about the research that has been done to determine what truly brings happiness. While there is certainly a monetary component as it can be difficult to be happy when hungry, without a home, and lacking the basic creature comforts that we seek, there is generally a ceiling on how much money, how many possessions, one needs beyond those basic needs. In general, the research shows that once people earn enough to be comfortable, having more money or possessions does not add significantly to one's happiness level. Put another way, billionaires and no more happy than millionaires, and millionaires no more happy than those earning over $150,000. 

Money can certainly buy temporary happiness, but you need the love that only a partner, or children, or family or close friends provide to find long term happiness.

From that respect, Everything, Everywhere... delivers the same message as all the great movies, especially holiday movies like "Its a Wonderful Life" and "A Christmas Carol", deliver. The sad part is that despite the obvious lessons that we all cry over and nod our heads in agreement, and perhaps even resolve to pursue more assiduously every January first, far too much of our culture revolves around gaining fame and fortune, and too often in the quest to gain those transitory prizes, we kill just a little more of our humanity in the process.

And make that hole in the bagel that much bigger. 

 

7 Cakes in 7 Days

More than five decades ago, my parents discovered a place in the Bartonsville, Pennsylvania area which offered housekeeping cottages, and a pool, surrounded by woods.  Those first few years, we rented one of the smaller cabins, jamming three generations of family members into a two bedroom cottage.  We did not visit every year, in the beginning, but as our enjoyment of the area grew, other family members visited us, planting the seeds for what was to develop.

Over the years, our visits expanded to multiple weeks, in bigger cabins, and included various cousins, aunts, and uncles.  During those years, many new friendships were also born with families with multiple generations like ours.  While in many ways, our family was unique in that my parents had six children over the course of 22 years, we were not unique in seeking a place to go each summer to relax, play with other kids, and just be together.

Back then, there were very few places to purchase food, or take a meal out, which meant that my mother began squirreling away the paper and dry goods we would need for weeks in anticipation of the trip.  Then, in the early morning hours of the day of our departure, my dad would spend a considerable amount of time lashing the boxes and suitcases to the top of our station wagon.  When he finally finished we jumped into the car for the endless trip up 611, the highways of today not having been carved into the land yet.

My participation was brief, being the oldest, and being a young man who sought enjoyment outside the family unit, but my younger brothers and sister, spent the vast majority of their childhood summers looking forward to the 1, then 2, and even 3 weeks at the Poconos. 

As time passed, and I became a father, my wife and I began to bring our kids to visit my parents at this retreat, sometimes spending the week, sometimes only a weekend.  The bug soon infected my children who found pleasure in visiting with their cousins and spending time with their grandparents and various aunts and uncle.  Over time, they came to feel what my younger siblings felt, but which had eluded me as a teenager.  Eventually, a week at the Poconos also became a yearly rite for us as well.

In the meantime, we slowly took over the string of cottages which compose Countryside Cottages, expanding our usage to roughly half of the cabins while establishing a hold on the same week(s) every year so that we were vacationing with the same people in those cabins not occupied by us.  We had expanded our reach beyond blood lines to include members of other families who had continued their yearly trek, many of which had also begun in those years spanning the 70's and 80's.

Through the years, we drank endless quantities of alcoholic beverages by the pool, discussed the events of the day in voices that often became raised or excited, played games in and around the pool, and ate countless meals together, sometimes at the pool, sometimes in a huge gathering at one of the cabins, and sometimes in smaller groups at the local diners and restaurants.  Then at night, despite, or perhaps because of the arguments which may have punctuated the daytime, we gathered at one of the cabins to slaughter some more brain cells, play all sorts of card, board, and verbal games, laugh, remember, and create the memories we would recount the following years. 

This past year, which just ended today, included all 6 siblings, my dear mother, one aunt, 4 spouses of the 5 boys, 10 grandchildren, including the spouse and fiance of 2 of those, our cousin and her husband, various one day visitors, and even one ex-wife who came to participate in a baby shower for the wife of her son.  Conspicuous in his absence, as he has been for the past 7 years, was my dad who passed in 2012, but as many people have commented, my middle brother looks more and more like him every year, reminding us of the patriarch of this event.

And the cakes?

Well, as is typical of my mother, she makes sure that she recognizes each of her family members, as they reach certain milestones of their lives.  This year featured an 80th birthday cake, a 60th birthday cake, an engagement cake, the aforementioned baby shower cake plus an accompanying cheesecake, a 50th birthday cake, and in no small feat, a surprise 85th birthday cake for my mom, who handled it with her typical aplomb by saying it wasn't necessary, and then helping to serve each and every person a slice of what was the best chocolate cake of the week.

There was a time when I worried that when the day came and my mother no longer graced us with her presence, that this family event may break down, as we all know that mom is the glue that holds us all together.  But, happily, my youngest brother and his family have embraced this area, making upwards of 10 visits a year.  In addition, the young adults of the family who have not begun families, continue to share in the family joy, and the younger children of the six siblings have internalized their parents love of the Poconos, so I no longer worry about the longevity of the event.

There is much talk of the disintegration of the family unit.  We scatter to the wind to find love, jobs, happiness, often limiting contact with our siblings and parents to weddings, and funerals.  We too easily excuse why we can't see our relatives, using the pressures of our hectic lives, and the wedges that continued absence from one another creates as reasons.  Even our extended family, despite this wonderful yearly get together, includes people whom I could pass on the street tomorrow and not recognize. 

In the end, it takes effort and usually just one incredible person to make it their purpose to see a family stay in touch.  For us, my mother is that person, someone who organized so many family events that I would not be able to calculate the number.  But more importantly, someone who impressed on all those who know her, especially her direct family, the importance of family. 

So often we bemoan the lack of heroes in our time.  When you find yourself uttering such thoughts, think about the person in your family who has done the most to keep you in touch and in contact.  That is your hero.  And, should there not be one, take on the mantle yourself so that someday a niece or grandchild will be able to recount the story of your family's togetherness as reflected in your own particular version of our yearly vacation in the Poconos.   





 

 

For Rachel

Last Tuesday featured the high school graduation of my youngest child, Rachel.  While this was our second high school graduation, my son passed this milestone three years ago, it was still extremely special and very emotional.  While it is true that I cry much more these days, the wet eyes and lump in my throat that Rachel's graduation brought forth, lasted a few more days than the everyday teary moments.

As I have mentioned before, I have a lot of alone time during my second job.  I am usually at the mercy of my thoughts for at least 5 hours each shift.  This past week I tried not to direct the mind meanderings but allowed it to conjure up as many memories of Rachel's childhood as I could.

Some were shared experiences, some individual moments.   Here are a few.

Rachel's birth was difficult, to say the least.  After 24 hours of labor which ended in a brow presentation, the petite woman doctor, clutching a plunger above her head with both hands, attacked and plucked Rachel out of the womb.  It was horrific!  (OK, perhaps that is an exaggeration, but that is how I remember it).  When frustrated or angry with my wife, I will sometimes recall that moment, and no matter the cause of my consternation, forgive her with a "yes honey" and/or a kiss on the forehead.  Amazingly, such a horrendous moment produced as gentle and lovable a creature than I could ever imagine.

As a toddler, Rachel was rarely still.  Even when dead tired she would press on.  I recall bringing her home from an especially long day at the park, carrying her into the house and putting her down on the kitchen floor.  When I turned back to her after removing my coat, I found her fast asleep on the floor, coat still on, head on the cool linoleum.   That drive and energy never left her.

As a young sister, Rachel loved her brother JW, but could only say Da-doo.  She followed him everywhere, always a few steps behind, invariably calling Da-doo.  At a friend's horse farm, she had somehow lost her pants (or escaped during dressing) and was seen running after JW and his friend, diaper falling around her legs, "Da-doo wait", being repeated over and over again.

Rachel started swim lessons around age 5 or 6 at a local YMCA, then progressed to the local swim club.  There she was among gaggle of other little girls waiting for their chance to swim the 25 meters across the pool.  Over time she became proficient at the breast stroke, even excelling for a few years.  While my son had played a bit of soccer, he was never very good, but Rachel actually won some events.  For a few brief years I was able to understand the parental pride of seeing one's child do well in sports, was able to fantasize about the Olympics, or better yet, free college.  Eventually Rachel's love of the water moved her from swimming to water polo but alas, her knees were not up to the challenge and her career was short lived.  Still, she stayed on the team, coaching and encouraging her team mates, which made me just as proud in knowing that she didn't drop out when the going got tough and she could no longer play.

As a child, Rachel had an impish smile with dimples on both sides.  While there were times during her early teenage years that those dimples remained hidden, for the most part she passed through middle school and early high school only hating being in the presence of her parents, as opposed to actually hating her parents as so many of her peers did their parents.  But even if the smiles were less frequent, she would occasionally step out of the required teen attitude, and light up the room with her smile and inner light.  Sometimes an especially happy day released the inner Rachel, sometimes a funny happening that she would share with us.  Happily for us, and especially her mother, Rachel only occasionally became less Rachel and more a teenager.

While Rachel, when asked, claims she will never have children, her love and caring for her pets throughout the years convinces me that she will not only be a mom some day, she will be a wonderful one.  When we decided to put our dog in the kennel for the day of the grad party, Rachel was upset even though she knew it was best for Bubba who gets overly excited when people come to the house.  She loves him and, I am sure, will demonstrate that same love and concern for her babies when she chooses to become a parent.  Like her mother, she has a great capacity for empathy and compassion, two traits which, if there was a test for parenthood, I believe should be of main importance.

Which brings us back to graduation day.  Rachel's high school uses a local college arena for graduation, both because of the size of the class and to eliminate any weather related issues.  Of course, they read each and every name as the young adults walk to the stage for his/her diploma, but they also show the picture of the person, in this case the graduation picture in which all the students looked their best.  The camera generally likes Rachel, and so, of course, the picture that flashed of her ever so briefly on the screens was the loveliest of the lot.  I was just able to cheer before the emotion of the moment overwhelmed me, but I could still clap and clap loudly I did.  As she walked back to her seat, almost gliding along the hardwood floor, she was truly Rachel, as carefree as those diaper- less days of her youth yet brimming with the confidence, relief and sheer excitement of the day, mixed with the boundless hope of the future that lay ahead.

Congratulations Rachel!! 

Your mother and I love you, not just because you are our child but also because you are an amazing young adult, full of love and energy and goodness.  We wish you as bright a future as your smile, and as much happiness as the depth and breadth of the seas.



        

Parents/Parenting

I first heard Cat Stevens' song Father and Son, in the late 70's.  I am pretty sure I owned the 8-track tape, although I can't say on which album the song was contained.  I do remember that my reaction to the lyrics and sentiment was immediate and extreme.  And, of course, I identified with the son.

Recently I heard the lyrics again.  My reaction was no less immediate or extreme.  But I was forced to realize that my identification had changed.  I was the father now. 

How did that happen? Where did the time go?  All questions for some future blog.  For now, Father and Son.


Father


It's not time to make a change,

Just relax, take it easy.

You're still young, that's your fault,

There's so much you have to know.

Find a girl, settle down,

If you want you can marry.

Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.

I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy,

To be calm when you've found something going on.

But take your time, think a lot,

Why, think of everything you've got.

For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not.

--

As a son, I was never a fan of the lines, "It's not time to make a change, Just relax, take it easy."  To me, youth is exactly the time for change, exactly the time for restlessness.  I was certainly restless, searching for the changes that would help me understand myself, my world and my part in it.  Now, so many years later, I am still an advocate for change.  Not just for the young but for all ages.  Stagnation remains my least favorite state, the status quo my always questioned foe.

"You're still young, that's your fault, There's so much you have to know."  These lines could certainly not be understood then, by me, as they cannot be understood now by our sons (and daughters).  Only through the eyes of time do we realize all that we did not know when we were young.  I often tell young people that they have the luxury of selfishness at this point in their lives but it is a luxury that slowly fades as we move from children to child caregivers.  And like all luxuries, it is frequently taken for granted.

I can clearly remember the day, alone in my basement apartment that I prayed for a young lady to enter my life.  Of course, in retrospect my prayers may not have been driven by a spiritual need, but fortunately for me they were answered anyway.   So, I heartily concur with the lines

"Find a girl, settle down, If you want you can marry."

I especially like the option of marriage as opposed to the command to get married.  It is the finding of the partner that is so critical.  As for the settle down part, I would encourage a nice lengthy unsettling time filled with curiosity about each other, maybe some travel, and an openness to the new.  Discovery on ones own is wonderful, but with a partner, well that is priceless.  Now, of course, I hope my children think that I feel that

"...I am old, but I'm happy."

The easiest thing for parents to say, and probably the least effective is

"I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy,"

But we will say it anyway; just try to limit it to once a week.

As for

"To be calm when you've found something going on."

Forget it.  Harness those emotions, perhaps, but fore go calm.  Be loud, be obnoxious, be boisterous when you've found something going on.  Like those young people protesting on Wall Street this past week, like myself when we clambered on buses and went to Washington DC for anti-nuclear power rallies, voice your opinion.  There is plenty of time to be calm when you are focused on your family and getting a good job and paying the mortgage.  (I think they are the calm activities?!).  Even if you are uncalm for the wrong reasons, when you don't fully understand why Wall Street's denizens need to be protested or why nuclear energy has problems, eschew calmness even in the face of corporate talking heads and your best friends' father who works at a nuclear facility.

"But take your time, think a lot"

Take your time evokes the same image as be calm, and I won't have it.  I like "think a lot" but wonder if that is my bias as a result of aging (perhaps maturing is a better word here).  Think a lot as opposed to just following the herd, but not if it begets a reluctance or inability for action.  I think that our current president thinks a lot, perhaps as much as any we have had in the recent past.  But maybe the thinking is getting in the way of action on his part to make his thoughts into policy. 

"Why, think of everything you've got" is another line that I believe virtually impossible for the young to comprehend.   They lack the experience to compare and contrast.  I didn't respond to it then and I would avoid that line as a parent now.

"For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not."

That must be the most depressing line of the song.  It is surely the leading cause of the young's avoidance of growing up.  Let's hope that while the dreams may change, they are still alive.  I see far too many people in their 40's and 50's who have lost their dreams and/or not been able to formulate new ones.  It is no way to live; one might even say not living at all.  I have been fortunate in that I rediscovered my dream of writing and, unlike dreams that require physical prowess or energy, writing only requires a bit of time and thought.  You will still be here tomorrow, and bring your dreams along is my advice.

---

Son

How can I try to explain, when I do he turns away again.


It's always been the same, same old story.

From the moment I could talk I was ordered to listen.

Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.

I know I have to go.


All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside,

It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it.

If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them They know not me.

Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.

I know I have to go.

---
 
As a son, and like so many other sons, I found it difficult to "try to explain".   Not because my parents wouldn't listen, they were extremely open to my thoughts.  It was more because I was convinced that their time was not my time, as I am sure my children think today.  At the least, we need to be open to their explanations, even if they don't make sense or are immature.  After all, they are children.  What we must not do is "turn away again" and allow them to think our response is and will always be "..the same, same old story."  Our worst response, one which will drive them away both physically and emotionally is similar to the "children are best seen and not heard" philosophy that some of our parents were raised by, or, as Cat Stevens says "From the moment I could talk I was ordered to listen."
 
"..there's a way and I know that I have to go away.  I know I have to go."
 
This is one of those lines that reminds me how immature my understanding of life was in the heady times of my youth.  For a short period of time, "I have to go away" meant literally, leaving the earth.  I was far too important to just go away by moving out.  I had to go away permanently.  I am not talking about an actual death wish, but I certainly engaged in some activities that were less than healthy.  It was mostly subconscious of course, but so clear today.  Luckily, the "go away" part became a lust for travel and then finally just moving out.  In the song, Cat Stevens does not seem to sing that line with any malice, but I am sure that "going away" for some sons meant hurting ones parents in the process.  When Kevin Costner in "Field of Dreams" recounts leaving home he remembers it as "I packed my things, said something awful and left".  Consciously or subconsciously, all our sons and daughters dream of going away, which includes leaving the stifling influence of their parents behind.  Knowing we smother them, even if with love, might make their going easier.  It will certainly make the coming back more comfortable when they pass from sons to fathers and daughters to mothers.
 
Finally,
 
"All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside,
It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it.
If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them They know not me.
Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away."

I don't remember crying all that much as a young adult.  Strange, but I seem to be more prone to tears as I age.  Is it that I ignored all the things I knew inside as I navigated the seas of expectations involved in being a spouse, an employee, a father?  Is it that I now understand who I am and hence the line "it's them They know not me" has finally come to be an actual fact? 

Perhaps it is the arrogance of experience that tells us that the young can't possibly know who they are because we are still trying to figure out ourselves to this day.  Or perhaps the young do know who they are but the answer is even more disturbing for us because they know who they are not - us.

For me, Father and Son evokes all the emotions of growing up, and growing from knowing everything, to thinking you know something, to knowing how much you never knew, to just being happy that 

as Cheryl Crowe aptly stated

it is not knowing what you want its wanting what you've got.