Yesterday I was driving Erik Noisewater (age 4) to school and telling him about the dream I had. I said my recently departed Aunt Linda was in the dream, and she was young and beautiful. And I was so happy she was alive somehow. Then, of course, by the end of the dream I learned that she was dead after all. I told Erik that I was crying but couldn't remember if I was crying in the dream or while I was awake after it was over. He said, "But parents don't cry." I told him parents cry too. I said I hardly ever cry, and when I do I almost never do it in front of anyone - so he just hasn't seen me cry is all. Then I reminded him that he has seen his mother cry. To which he said, "Yeah she cries and you just go, 'I know! I know!'" 

Wow, the way he said that, the way he imitated my response to his mom crying - it was bad hearing that. There was an incident the other night and I was not exactly the most empathetic husband of all time. I don't want to make it seem like this is dinner every night at the Noisewater dining room table, but it happened. I think everyone is breaking down in these damn COVID times. It's tough. It's wearing on everyone. 

"I know! I know!"

What an asshole.

I'm going to be better. 

The Second To Last of The Aunt Linda Posts

Day after day we pulled the rental car up to Aunt Linda's house, with her car parked in the driveway, and went in there to clean up, throw things away, and decide what was worth the sentimental value for the family or of value to anyone else. By the third day in a row driving up there I must admit it felt like punching into a job that I hated. The work was hard physically as well as emotionally. We finished the days drained with our feet aching like we were waiting tables on a double shift, our knees and backs hurting from being on the floor in funny positions going through endless stuff, looking for her will, finding what would need to be shredded, and what would go into the endless trash bags. 

The kind of things aunt Linda kept were the kind of things that didn’t make it easy to just throw things away. You had to sort through all of it and then you had to pull out all her little sticky notes that she had in her books because you couldn’t give them away to someone else with your aunt's crazy notes inside. She had so many notes written down on envelopes and kept them long-term. Why?

Prior to living in the house we were cleaning out, her and her husband Jim lived up the the mountaisn of Colorado in a house they planned entirely. But for some reason they had extra everything such as wall outlets and electrical sockets. After her husband died she got to old to maintain the mountain house, she couldn't chop all the wood anymore at her age, and bats of all things took over inside. When she moved out of that place to a nice Colorado community back in civilization, she took all of the extra stuff from when they built the mountain house, all the door hinges, electrical outlets, and everything else to the point it was like an aisle at Home Depot if you wanted one of some shade one just every single type. So someone who wants stuff for their garage to have everything would be nuts about that but if the niche person doesn’t come to an auction then it's all going into a landfill.

My mom said it was definitely a stressful way to spend her birthday but it was an enjoyable day because she spent it with her kids and she has great kids. We for sure had some nice times at night reminiscing. I tried to explain to my sister and my mom what was so sad about my days working in Aunt Linda's home. Her having such a cluttered house forced me to have to sift through her whole world, all her areas of expertise, photography, sewing, alternative medicine, architecture, birds, and motorcycles to name a few. As a result I learned more about who she really was for really the first time, and she was already dead. I was too late. But the process forced me to properly mourn her. Of course I didn't get through trying to explain all this without crying, and I had a hell of a time stopping. I can't remember the last time I did that in front of anyone. You ever notice when people start crying when they hadn't planned on it, it's often when they try to explain why someone or something was so important to them? It's something about that explaining process where you're trying to get it out and just lose it. 

Oh, and then on the plane ride home we had one of those giant planes with the rows of two on the sides and a big row of four in the middle - and it was totally full. Very scary thinking about catching Covid on that thing. Then this Asian guy in tinted blue glasses hops on board the plane without a mask. The woman next to him said something about being scared of getting sick, and this asshole says, "We're all going to die some time. We can't live in fear. Then he launches into something about how he has guns and how he pets his gun like an animal, and how he will shoot anyone on his property. He says he lives in California and the governor there is a communist. He's saying this all loudly to make sure people around him hear his nonsense. My sister says to me just as loudly, "This would be a great time to put on some headphones!" I said back even more loudly, "Yes, some loud music. The louder the better!" And then my sister tipped off the flight attendant that this guy wasn't masked up. He put it on, but then since he was in front of me diagonally, I could see that he would let it dangle off his ear for long stretches of the flight. I double masked it. What a festering pile of bat guano this dude was. Like the bat guano that took over my aunt's house so long ago.

Okay, that's all I got. Take care, everyone. And reach out to those relatives you don't talk to enough. If you don't have kids of your own, reach out to those nieces and nephews. Or just make sure you keep a nice circle of friends as you get older. I would hate for any of you to let your circle shrink and shrink to the point where you're just pounding vodka all day and letting all your hobbies and interests sit in tons of Tupperware tubs for your relatives to have to sort through in an emotional weekend like the one I had. 

So I get a phone call this morning from downtown saying that there has been a change in my assignment and there was going to be a change in my schedule.  Then this woman, in a very matter of fact way, informed me that I would no longer be at the same office.  I told her this was not good news for me, and then she tried to explain that a lot of people like the hours I would have.  I let her know that it's not the schedule that bothers me, it's the fact that place has been like my home, like a family.  She apologized but told me that there is nothing they can do with so many retirees this past year, them not hiring anyone else because of the budget, and assignments going to people with more seniority.

After I was done talking to her, as I thought more about missing all these people I have come to know and love, I started to cry.  I only cry about once every two or three years, so that's kind of a big deal.  Then as I'm pumping my iPod full of aggressive heavy metal music to go on an angry therapeutic run, the same woman calls me back to tell me that because I seemed upset about that decision, she was able to move some things around and keep me at the same place.  They will let me know for sure by the end of the week.

So all that crying for nothing?  Not really because I think this happened to make me appreciate what a great job I have, somewhere I love going every morning, and how that could all change any day.

I'm 45% Better Today!

Today, as I was getting ready for a shift on the rickshaw, I was playing a song by Yo La Tengo, I think "Deeper Into Movies," and I noticed that I clapped my hands. Wow. I was enjoying a song and not just farming the music to get the cries out of me. Sometimes it really feels like there is a certain amount of crying in your heart that you can actually feel, like mucus, like you would take an expectorant to knock loose your phlegm, you use the sad bastard songs to get all the crying loose and out of you.


But this wasn't that. This was genuine enjoyment. Then once I was working, I was enjoying the company of people and making jokes. Oh yeah! I'm funny too! I'm not worthless. Then, Heterosexual Life Partner (HLP) met me out for a couple of dollar Leinenkugela, and I put down a whole plate of tacos. My appetite's coming back! I may have overdid it because my stomach wasn't quite stretched out enough for that undertaking, but I'm thrilled that things are looking up.

Still, there is that pressure of being single, and I felt it tonight. You get that feeling that you should always try to be meeting people, putting yourself in situations where you could meet folks, and not necessarily sleeping with everyone, just talking to them and having some laughs. All that pressure was off when you thought you were on your last stop. Suddenly, the bus lets you off earlier than expected, and it becomes somewhat of a race against the clock. I'm 33, still relatively good looking, have a decent head of hair, I'm in good shape (but need more muscle mass), so I could still meet someone. But, by the time I have kids, am I going to be 40? Also, when you come out of something like this, you just can't see yourself loving someone else. Sure, it's going to happen some day, but do you fall madly in madly, deeply in love with someone in your 40's?

Am I just over thinking all of this? Probably, but still, I'm 45% better, tomorrow I'll feel even better, and by the weekend I'll be ready to go, only I have so few single friends and I'm not quite ready and . . . Ah, fuck it. I'm on the home stretch here, so let's just feel good about that.
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Update: I just inadvertently caught a glimpse of her face in a picture. That shot me down to 30% better. Tomorrow is another day, but tonight is starting to really suck all of a sudden.

Have You Ever Seen Someone Jogging and Crying At the Same Time?

Well, you would have if you were near North Avenue Beach along Lake Michigan in Chicago at around 2:00 PM today. Usually running is when I do my best thinking, and it's the time where I'm most confident; Not so confident this time.*

I found it kind of odd that hundreds of people saw me running around crying, sitting in the fetal position trying to distract myself by watching volleyball, again, crying, and no one asked me what was wrong. Is that a big city thing, an American thing, and/or a detached modern society thing? I feel that in Sweden, for instance, someone would have stopped and asked how I was - preferably the concerned pedestrian would be a buxom blond-type Swede. Still, when one is going through a horribly depressing episode, as I am, one can tend to get a little self-absorbed, so I guess it's possible I'm apt to jump to the conclusion that no one cares about poor, poor Ken.

Still, I said to myself that if I ever saw someone in a similar position, I would make sure that person was okay. Oddly enough, as I was on the home stretch of the run, I saw a young woman sitting outside of her apartment building, talking on the phone, and she was either crying or had been before. Since I made a pledge only moments ago, I just had to honor it, so I turned around and asked if she was all right. She assured me that she was fine, and to me it was evident that although she didn't want any of my "counseling" at that time, she smiled in a way that suggested that she was touched that I took the time to see if my fellow Chicagoan was okay.

So, what do you think? Given similar circumstances, would you stop and ask someone if he/she was all right? Oh, and you don't have to ask how I'm doing. Old Gancey is going to be just fine. I promise.

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*The day before was during the anger stage, so it was, of course, a very angry run complete with swearing, punching street signs, and ripping leaves off of most every tree I passed. Very tough-guy, right?

Non-porno Movies That Make a Guy Reach for the Tissues

My roomy and I were watching Remember the Titans the other day, and he said it’s on a short list of movies he can admit to crying during. This led me to assemble a list of the All Time Greatest Male Tear Jerker Films in no particular order.

1. Old Yeller (1957): Everyone has lost a dog at some point in his/her life. Sure, not all of us have shot our frothing at the mouth dog in our backyard, but I think you get the idea.

2. Hoosiers (1986): That scene at the end when Gene Hackman is giving his speech and they are zooming in on the picture . . . I’m dripping tears onto my flipping keyboard just thinking about it. Let’s just move on.

3. Field of Dream (1989): “Dad, do you want to have a catch?” That’s all I have to say, ladies and gents.

4. Brian’s Song (1971): I love when Billie D. says, with a tear in his eye, “I love Brian Piccalo.” Come on?! The heterosexual, man-love flowing between Lando Calrissian and Sonny Corleon (just look at him presenting in this photo) is so THICK in that movie, and it teeters at the brink of gayness. I’m surprised Billie D. didn’t slip him some Colt 45, take advantage of him, and say, “works every time.”

5. Rudy (1993): Didn’t we all want him to finally get in a game? And then when he gets that meaningless sack on the quarterback we are as happy for him as a fat Jon Favreau.

6. Electric Horseman (1979): This one gets me every time when Robert Redford talks about his reasoning for setting the horse free, and there is a likeness between the aging rodeo star and the aging racehorse. Okay, this one wouldn’t make anyone else’s list, but I can’t discount a movie that gets the waterworks going every, damn time.

So, what are the commonalities of the male tear jerkers? It appears as if a guy needs an animal or sports to justify crying, which means Ed (1996) and Gus (1976) are the ULTIMATE male tear jerkers. If only Both films had taken a page from Old Yeller, and culminated with both animals being 'put down' by means of shotgun.

DOES ANYONE WANT TO WEIGH IN HERE? WHICH FILMS HAVE I MISSED.