"What a great shade of red!" Eric remarked to Erin in a string of mashed consonants as nine-year-old Vicky again skipped into the living room.
"Pardon?" Erin, sitting across from Eric in a caramel rocker, quietly asked with a puzzled look. He patted the right arm of the red, gold, and beige sofa on which he was sitting. Vicky stood silently next to her mom, eyeing Eric's crutches, which he had placed on the chocolate carpet in front of the dazzling couch.
"I like this hint of red in your couch," he clarified, choosing a combination of words he thought Erin -- and Vicky -- would probably better understand. He had just met Vicky for the first time. "Great job of decorating."
"Oh, I thought you said, 'Want to go to bed?'" Erin interrupted with an earnest look on her face.
Eric saw her eyes twinkle beneath her dark hair, which was peppered with gray. Her flush face broke into a broad smile.
"No-o-o ...," Eric finally replied in disbelief that his comment could be so misunderstood. "I said I like this red." He felt a nervous smirk cross his face, as he pounded the couch's cushion next to him.
Erin's petite giggle exploded into throaty laughter.
Vicky watched Eric with wide eyes as she nervously curled her long black hair between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand.
Eric tried to imagine what she was thinking. How could a mom be so open about that misunderstanding in front of her nine-year-old daughter? How could their communication get so off track? They had only known each other a couple of months. Was she really thinking, all along, what it would be like to sleep with a long-recuperating Vietnam vet who was still struggling with a war-time brain injury? Or, was it just Eric's sloppy speech?
"When did you do all this?" Eric asked, deciding to ignore the misunderstanding and expand on his original comment. He couldn't recall the room's colors from his first visit.
"A couple of weeks ago ..."
"Jamie wants me to come over and play with her trains," Vicky finally piped up.
"Fine," Erin approved, and Vicky skipped to the front door. "Back in an hour?"
"Yeah," Vicky answered from the hallway.
"Our neighbor's daughter is heavy into model railroading."
"Well, that's refreshing," Eric said with a chuckle. "I usually associate scaled-down trains with 60-year-old men."
They didn't fit the norm as a couple, either. But, perhaps, that's why they were attracted to each other. Erin was Jewish, a single mother of two daughters, able-bodied and carefree. Eric was single, never married, a German Lutheran, disabled and uptight. But they were both seasoned demonstrators against the Vietnam war.
And they were both writers and called public relations their profession. That's how they had met. She worked at the public relations agency he had chosen as outside support for his corporate communication department at a soon-to-be Fortune 500 company.
But they had another common bond. They both felt a basic need to go beyond conventional expectations and deal with reality on their own terms.
"Why do you spend time with a cripple?" Erin's mother had asked her. It was a revelation Erin shared with Eric during their last date.
In an attempt to placate Eric's disappointment with her mother, Eric observed loftily, "The same people who taught us the alphabet at three reflect, years later, an earlier generation's norms that may not mesh with what we think is today's reality."
"She's out of it," Erin lamented.
"Maybe not," Eric assured her. "A family's skeletons are always best left in the closet."
"Skeletons?"
"Members of the family who happen to be eccentric ... disabled ... gay ... elderly ... unattractive," Eric flippantly rattled off. "We all have skeletons. They hurt a family's image as fine breeding stock when the younger generation goes out 'courtin'."
Erin giggled.
Deep down they both knew that some of the social norms of the 1950s were still alive in 1981. Eric was surprised, though, to discover that Erin's mother was more concerned about his physical condition than his non-Jewish heritage.
And, somehow, he expected urban people to be more "contemporary" in their attitudes than he had encountered while growing up in rural America.
But that didn’t puzzle him as much as when he discovered Erin had no grasp of the Christian concept of grace – that an individual receives what he or she doesn’t deserve.
After that second "house visit," Erin and Eric gradually drifted apart, although they kept in touch. Six months later, she called Eric and mentioned she was writing to an extraordinary man, Toby, who was about to get out of prison.
"Extraordinary?" Eric pointedly asked with a laugh.
"Yes," she replied more seriously. "He's a lawyer and a fantastic writer. We write to each other every day. He's got such a sense of humor."
At the time, Eric didn't ask why he was in prison. But Eric was surprised to learn, not more than three months later, that Erin and Toby were married.
"We should get together," Erin suggested over the phone. "Come visit us. I've told Toby all about you. I quit my job. Toby can't practice law anymore, but we've formed our own advertising business here at home. It may be something you'll want to consider. We could do almost anything for you. Toby has so many connections. He's brilliant. We're calling ourselves ‘T and E Brilliance.’ Isn't that classy?"
"That's class," Eric agreed, trying to show a little more enthusiasm than he was feeling at the moment.
Eric did meet Toby. And Erin was right. Toby was tall, dark, handsome and brilliant. He had outfitted their basement with a computer, a copier and a light table.
"As you can see, we've got the setup -- and the brilliance -- to do an extraordinary job for you," Toby pitched, as he threw his arm around Erin.
"I can see that," Eric replied, using a quick glance around the basement offices as an excuse not to look at Erin.
"You have a masters?" Toby asked as he climbed the basement steps behind Eric, awkwardly presenting himself as a human shield against the fall he expected Eric to take at any moment.
"No," Eric said meekly.
"Should take a look at it," he urged. "May help in your circumstances."
Eric went home, amused by how rapidly a person's life can change.
Two days later, he received a call from Erin, again asking for his business. In reply, Eric wrote a business letter, addressed to both of them, explaining in concrete terms why he thought T and E Brilliance was not the right fit for his company's public relations needs.
Eric never heard from Erin or Toby again.
More than 40 years since, Eric now recognizes that aging has at least one benefit. It's a time when an individual can move from feeding someone else’s ego to nurturing his or her own soul.
Eric's takeaway tip from his story: Side-step those who gain a sense of self-worth by patronizing others.
Here’s to elderhood and vulnerability!
Jim Hasse, ABC, GCDF retired, author of “Opening Up” newsletter
“Story-guided Discussion for Finding Peace with Vulnerability”
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Avoiding toxic individuals is often difficult during the holidays, but gets easier as I age and assert my right to be me.
I agree with Dr. Neil B. Shulman. In “Humor and Medicine,” he writes:
“Life is the dash between two numbers on a tombstone. So we should try to make that dash as joyous and healthy for ourselves as possible -- as well as help everyone else’s dash.”
But, sometimes, that’s so difficult.
I don’t remember much about my great uncles anymore, but one still stands out in my mind because he really needed psychological help – something not available in the 1950s in rural America.
In almost every conversation with family and friends, he would revert to his habit of bragging that his “this” and his “that” were “the best.” I avoided him whenever I could.
As a 13-year-old, I remember asking myself why he had become so narcissistic in a family of laid-back German Lutherans. I probably should have tried to find out more by listening to him more but, doing so, was exhausting.
* When have you successfully side-stepped a toxic individual?