Excommunucation

"He's a real nowhere man, living in his nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans ... for nobody," points out the Major Prophet John Lennon.

Self absorption is an interesting thing.

This morning while I sipped coffee at the Breakfast Club, a man who has been trying to track me down for a while finally prevailed. He sat next to me and talked. Showing me pictures of his past, he lobbied for me to intervene on things he wanted done but are impossible to accomplish. He an ordered an omelet, cut it up, stuck the fork into it and then held the first bite in the air for minutes ... as he continued talking.

"You better eat," Ryan told him, "it's going to get cold."

So he looked confused for the briefest of seconds. He inspected the first bite and ... he kept talking to me.

Ryan shook his head with a smirk and looked at me. I winked and he shrugged his shoulders.

By now I was fascinated. How long will it take before he eats the food dripping from the fork in front of his face? Luckily, there is clock at the Breakfast Club and it was behind him so I could track this. Jodee was making faces at me as he ate breakfast sitting behind the person talking to me. With all of the preposterous stories I've heard in my career, I've learned to keep a straight face though Jodee tries his hardest.

Five-and-a-half minutes he shoved the fork in his mouth.

That was my litmus test. As soon as he did and couldn't talk anymore, I stood up and slapped his shoulder. "I have to go," I said.

And I did.

Ryan looked at me with a grin. Jodee laughed. Franklin, who is brown, looked at me with his thumb stuck to his ear and his pinky in front of his mouth as though it were a phone and mouthed the words, "Call me."

I came home.

It's funny. For decades my job was to fix things that people thought were wrong. Even now, as I write this, my table is covered with notes of people who've called imploring me to help them get into Union Mission, the J. C. Lewis Health Center and the Peter Brassler Dental Clinic. These are programs that I helped revive or start but no longer have anything to do with.

We excommunicated each other. I have nothing to do with them. They have nothing to do with me.

In my own self-absorbed way, I think the place has gone to shit since I left, though if you talk to the people running things now I'm sure they would say that everything's great!

When I walked into the house this morning, I grabbed a box and started opening drawers. There are all of these framed pictures that used to be meaningful but they're not anymore. So I filled one box and then got another one and filled it too. Then I flipped through pictures and made a pile of the ones that I thought my beautiful daughter Chelsea may want. And another for my beautiful daughter Kristen. Then I noticed there was nothing for Jeremy.

I felt bad.

Carrying the boxes downstairs to trash can, I tossed them in and walk back into the warmth of the house.

Then I looked at all of the newspaper clippings of things I used to do. I throw them away.

Afterwards, I search for notebooks full of things I've written. I throw them away too.

Cleaning the kitchen from the mess made last night, the sun pops up shinning through the sliding glass doors. Fixing myself something to drink, I walk outside on the beloved back deck and kick my shoes off. Warmth has returned. Sitting, I toast Fran's thousand shades of green. Goddess meanders out and lay beside me.

Today is future focused and not past driven. I have lots of things to do that I'm looking forward to. Some will be hard or awkward. Others will be liberating and my cup will overrunneth with joy.

"Hey God," I say out loud. "Thank you for all of that. Some of it really sucked but I'm not going to focus on those things. Most of it was great! But ... thank you most of all for now ... It is so much better."

Amen.