Blunt Reality

 So I spoke with Mirta last night, my sister of another mister, on my way from toddler sitting to Kon Chau.

D1 had asked for some help on account of it's the week between camp and school, and so I fetched the energetic tyke at an art store, with plans to visit Target for some Grandpa toy shopping. Alas, he PTFO in the car, and when I got to the North Miami Target, he briefly awoke, but then his eyes closed again. I knew a nap was better than anything, and so I drove him home, as he blissfully slept.

Anyway, when I left, it seemed my SUV had a mind of its own, and exited on Bird Road heading to the dim sum place Wifey doesn't really like, on account of it was last updated during the Reagan Administration. I love it -- the dim sum is, I believe, best in the city. But back to Mirta.

Mirta always tells me I have given her deep life lessons -- in dealing with others, and her family. But it occurred to me Mirta has taught me something, too. She and I are opposites: I am a people pleaser, and Mirta always tells it the way it is -- effect on the listener be damned.

As I age, I am coming far closer to her side. Whereas I used to always pause and find a way to sugarcoat a message to loved ones -- now I'm just direct and honest. And it turns out people don't like it!

Mirta always jokes that her mien is why she doesn't have tons of friends, and her family is often annoyed at her. But she keeps in little resentment -- she tells her sons when they are acting like boys instead of men -- and to me, that's far more healthy.

So many of our relationships are based on blocking. To some extent -- it needs to be that way. If Wifey shared with me EVERY trespass I daily make against her, or vice versa, our marriage would be a version of "Who's Afraid of Virginia Wolf?"

Instead, we keep a lot inside, and it tends to build pressure like the tanks on an old steam train. Every so often, there has to be a venting. Mirta's approach is the vent often, as needed, and that is indeed more healthy.

Lately, I keep returning in my mind to a scene often played out in college. Barry and I would have over our frequent apartment crashers -- Eric and Jeff G. We four would spend hours sitting around a formica table, often with a few beers, planning out and philosophising about our futures -- the type of girls we should marry, and career paths. We were pretty mature, and thought we had lots figured out.

Last night, I did a thought experiment with Wifey: imagine 62 year old Dave being present with 21 year old Dave -- telling him things that would indeed come to pass over the ensuing 4 decades. 21 year old Dave wouldn't have believed a lot of it.

Sure -- health challenges, good times and riches and sonofabitches were foreseeable, but some events -- zero chance.

But that's made the journey exquisite -- and hopefully it stays exquisite.

Unfortunately, for those near and dear to me -- dealing with crotchety old man Dave is a lot tougher than dealing with chill -- everything rolls off like the proverbial duck's back Dave.

I think everyone can get through it.