Too Fat For My Cheerleader's Costume

 So a lot of my life I've been a cheerleader -- to family, friends, and even acquaintances. It's been fine -- I've enjoyed lifting people up -- trying to get them to see the bright side of life -- and not ironically, like the great Eric Idle song where the chorus is sung by a group of guys dying by crucifixion.

But in another example of changing as I age, it occurred to me yesterday during a particularly fraught phone call, where the person told me her life is terrible. She's right: her life IS terrible. And it's also sometimes exquisite -- and the same is true for us all.

And, my cheerleading is taking a toll on my soul. I seem to be absorbing more and more of the negative energy, and it's not good.

I imagined myself as a cheerleader, and then the reality of being 40 pounds overweight -- and what is funnier than a fat cheerleader? Few things.

I truly wish well for everyone. My late Mom was the same way -- she was the consummate cheerful person. And as she aged, she more and more refused to hear other peoples' woes. All of us respected that. I NEVER burdened her with my problems -- everything was "Hi Mom. Let's go to lunch!" I felt I owed her that as she aged -- and she made it, mostly happily, to 93.

Paul and I were talking about this the other day -- his father was given the respect of not being burdened. He asked me if MY Dad was the same -- no -- my father used to proclaim himself the family psychiatrist. "You tell ME your problems -- I will deal with them." He dropped at 63.

So I guess the trick is, like everything else, making smaller the radar screen. I actually did it yesterday -- ran into an old acquaintance who started telling me his woes trying to regain his Bar privileges. I faked a call and quickly sped away. Keep away -- negative energy.

Meanwhile, early yesterday I attended an affair where over 50 people were very happy and only ONE was not -- the bris of Jonathan and D2's new nephew -- Ariel. His father and grandfathers spoke beautifully -- about how our people always emerge stronger from calamity. We hope this new baby is an example of that following the ongoing war in Israel -- and anti semitism worldwide.

Man -- this whole world is rough, and just getting rougher, as Bruce sings. Nowhere to run, baby, nowhere to hide, as Motown told us.

Dear friends have an oasis in Maine -- gorgeous house on a lake where Wifey and I spent two trips, and I visited on a men's errand earlier this year. The place represents peace and tranquility.

Last night, another nutcase unleashed horror probably 14 miles as the crow flies, from the house -- in Lewiston, Maine. As of this am, 22 dead, and the toll will likely rise. The shooter was an Army firearms instructor, of all things, and so he knew how to kill effectively. I think one of the bars he hit was a place we visited -- or may well have been.

So I know my friends will think of this whenever they visit one of these rustic Maine watering holes. But they will still go. It sucks what happened. Being where you wish to be can also be exquisite.