Well Who are YOU

I met with an expert witness the other day, a psychologist who is seeing one of our clients for the emotional trauma following the death of her husband. The poor fellow was having a shed lowered onto his property, and doing his "momback" routine, when the crane hit an overhead power line and Sing-Singed the poor guy. Anyway, we had some extra time, and she asked me about myself. I guess I went on for about 10 minutes. And afterwards she said "Remarkable! You talked about your Ds, and your wife, and your elderly parent and in laws, and some friends, but said nothing about how you are." She's right, of course. Since I was almost 21 and my Dad dropped dead, I have become a caretaker. First for my mother, then for Wifey, then the Ds and her parents, and down the line. She asked me to consider who I was before that life change. I thought back -- as a 20 year old, I was about having fun with my friends and charming girls and partying (and studying as little as possible to keep up my grades). But life comes around, I guess, and if you're the kind of man my Dad was and I emulate, you DO become a caretaker. I guess it's just personaility. If you come to my house as a guest, Wifey is perfectly comfortable sitting on the couch talking to you. I feel a deep need to be the one getting up to fetch a drink, and asking if all is ok, and what I can to to, well, take care of you. I wonder what it's like to have the luxury of NOT having that compulsion. No I don't --I already know -- it's how I am after a few vodkas. Hence, my conclusion that more drinking is a better idea... So as a result of that short session, I'm going around reflecting about who I am. I'm nearing 51, and I don't want a red Porsche, so I have to do some more soul searching... How narcisistic! At least I won't do it on Facebook... Wifey asked me last night if I don't get bored of that social network. I truly don't --every time I log on, there's a laugh. The self important typed tell us about their creative processes -- and it makes me chuckle. My former high school mate, now a housewife in New Jersey, is always commenting about liberal stuff, and Zionist causes, and green living... I think I need to head down to Key West. Back in 1980, I was one bad exam from flunking out of Organic Chemistry. I somehow pulled out an A. I made believe I had failed when I returned to our apartment and encountered my close friend and roommate. He asked what I was going to do, and I replied "Head down to Key West fow awhile and sort myself out." Then I showed him my grade, and we laughed. But I was serious...