Playing Fair and Being Kind

A GOOD MAN?

I’m listening to a jazz septet. One of the musicians toyed with the memory of a fine jazz musician. He recalled that “He was a good man, most of the time.” It was a play on words and sentence structure and it brought a chuckle from those around. I thought how clever. I would like that on my gravestone if I ever get one, that is. “Here Lies George Goodwin. He Was A Good Man, Most of The Time”. People years from now would wonder why the words were written in stone above my head. They would wonder if the joke was intentional. I would hope that the words would lighten their mood somewhat. Bring a smile maybe.

In reality I have been a good person. I’ve lost the meaning of ‘good man’. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what it means to be a ‘good man’. What is the definition of man? The word means little if anything anymore to those of us who have become aware of male dominance, male privilege, male expectation. Half the population, at a minimum, cringes when the word ‘man’ is uttered. We men have made a mess of things forever. I can’t convince anyone if they aren’t already aware of that situation. Men are, generally speaking, unable to be comforting to anyone for any length of time. That is all I want to say here. I can only offer a suggestion. Begin reading, reading some more, and engaging women and other men in discussion. Mostly it is necessary for men to engage and then listen with lips held firmly shut except to ask a simply worded question. A question beginning with “Who, What, Where, of When”. Never ask a “Why” question. Just take my word for it.

Therefore I want to be remembered as a “Good Person, Most of The Time”.

I’ve changed my mind about not traveling this winter. I’m going. I’m going to get the car ready to go across the country so I can visit many friends from Facebook and others I’ve known before then. This time I have a vague idea, or loose plan, of how to travel more inexpensively. In the past I’ve used the interstate highway system rest areas to catch a few winks and I’ve checked into motels or inns to get better rest and to clean up. Sometimes I’ve stayed with friends to rest and to clean up. Well this time around I’ve decided to utilize my Y membership to stop and take a shower and generally clean up for just a few bucks and to use the interstate highway rest areas more often to sleep. I downloaded a list of Y’s and a link to maps that detail the rest areas. We’ll see how it works out. I’ll let you know.

I’m also taking my tent and other camping gear for use when I hit the southern latitudes. I find camping to be very relaxing and inspiring for writing. I tend to eat more healthfully as well. I want to lose weight and gain knowledge with this process as well as see old and new friends. I look forward to late January when I drive south. By the way, I have studded snow tires on Beastie II now so they will have to be changed out for regular highway tires before I leave.

I have so much in my head to relate but I need some of these things to marinate before exposing them to the light of day. A love relationship which I have ended before it got started and a few friendships I’ve started and needed to alter in order to maintain my “Good Person, Most of The Time” status. This February I will be 77 years old and I think I’m getting the hang of this being alive business.

Well, I’m going to put this up for viewing by my faithful public. I hope your day is as nice as mine has been. Be well and do no harm. See you around the neighborhood.

Here is a story I wrote this afternoon. I was napping and dreamt of my old cat El Greco. It reminded me of a recurring dream I’ve had other times. Let me know what you think or if this makes you think of something that has happened to you.

OLD TIMES

The man sees the dog. Both are a lot older than last time. The man stands and observes as the dog examines with nose the ground and lowest parts of the building. The dog is ignoring the man’s presence. It’s like he knows the man but has chosen to ignore him. This hurts the man’s feelings and the man struggles to remember when the dog had left. The man doesn’t know if the dog left or died or if the man had neglected the old boy and the dog stayed behind to find food and shelter on its own.

“Ranger”, says the old man. The dog doesn’t change direction or attitude, just keeps his head low and his nose to the ground. Now the dog is farther away as he continues to process all of the smells that come to him. He wanders slowly. The man feels sad. He feels sad that the dog is there and he is sad that he hasn’t known the dog is still alive. He wonders if the dog is getting food and water. The man feels the guilt of neglecting the dog.

How long has it been? He can’t remember. This scene plays out. It came as a surprise, unexpected. The interruption by the dog’s presence confuses the man and he can’t focus on what he was doing just a few minutes ago. He decides to let the dog go away and he decides to begin a new train of thought. The dog seems to be doing alright for itself. He misses the dog still. But it’s too late.

G. M. Goodwin

November 30, 2015