Time To Get Out of Dodge

 I'm very fortunate that, despite family genetics that has affected all branches of my mother's family tree, I have never suffered from depression. Anxiety, yes, but mostly the humorous Woody Allen in "Hannah and Her Sisters" type, where I fear each headache is a brain tumor "the size of a basketball" and track all of my family members' flights to make sure the planes don't fall out of the sky.

I know about depression, though, and it's very different than the blues, or short bouts of melancholy. I get those, thankfully infrequently, and am climbing out of one of those now. And I know the trigger.

Wifey has pointed out that as a man of many close relationships, I draw energy from people. The best is when all are happy -- say at a party, or a dinner with martini toasts, or a family gathering watching our amazing grandsons play. But lately, sadly, there has been a bunch of negative energy.

It's pointless to audit the sources, but they range from the end of long time friendships, to difficult times for family and friends, some life threatening, but mostly not.

And it came to me that all of this dark energy got to me, finally, and changed my normal uplifting, joking, source of humor and comfort to a guy less fun to be around.

I'm reminded of the beginning of "Moby Dick," when the narrator Ishmael describes the same thing -- a period of his life where he lingers too long at funeral processions, and is quick to anger. In his case, it tells him it is time to put to sea, which he does, to become the recorder of one of American Literature's great tales.

Well -- the Big Man works in mysterious ways, and I have been asked by a dear friend to take a three day trip with him -- to fetch pet cats from a Summer house since their plans for snowbird-ship this year have been changed.

I immediately saw the comedic side of this trip -- two gray haired 61 year olds schlepping a total of three cats home from New England on two flights -- there is zero chance every gate agent and fellow passenger we meet won't assume we're a senior gay couple -- not that there's anything wrong with that, as Seinfeld taught us.

But for me, as it turns out, the get away is coming at the perfect time. I truly now look forward to changing my scene, to talk like a beatnik, and spend some time sipping vodka on the dock of a beautiful lake, the only sounds the conversation of a friend since junior high, and the occasional loon. Hopefully the actual loon will calm this loony fellow.

A truism is that Man plans, while the Big Man laughs. We think we have control over our lives, and that everything is cause and effect. I know people to whom that falsehood is a mantra -- whenever tragedy befalls someone, these people take comfort in "Well -- that would NEVER happen to me, because I would have known better than to (fill in the blank).

I've come to understand this is nonsense. Sometimes even all the wise choices and proper courses of action don't help a bit. The best we can do is hope...and ask the Big Man for His blessings.

I've also learned it's folly to judge other peoples' reactions to their life situations. Wifey used to get that a lot. She'd be the first to agree that she's lived a charmed life -- first as the adored only child of two parents treating her like the Second Coming, and later, after the Ds came, of being able to enjoy motherhood and only work as she pleased -- and since the Ds became adults, literally doing only what she chooses. And yet she has had struggles, and difficult times, and a health crisis two and a half years ago.

We all have our demons. Those of us lucky enough to not be anhedonic also have plenty of joy, too, and it's sure nice when there's more of the latter than former.

All I know is, this weekend I get to celebrate Father's Day a day early -- Jonathan's Canadian sister is here, and so he and D2 are spending Sunday with his family. And Joey, who is the best father a guy could hope for for his grandsons, told D1 that he wished to spend his FD watching golf, quietly.

So the plan is for everyone to come here Saturday -- kids, dogs, adults, and older adults (Wifey and me). I love those afternoons.

And then, a few days after, if all goes to plan, a couple of flights to cooler climes for a few days -- and some much needed head clearing.

I have a strong feeling I'll return with my pleasant nature restored -- or else I guess I'll have to find a whaling ship looking for help.