Light and Day

I’m not sure, but that might’ve been a panic attack.

I’ve been bouncing in all directions for the last few weeks, so I guess this probably wasn’t the best time to watch The Light Between Oceans, an incredibly moving story that I thoroughly enjoyed, though I’m sure some people would dismiss it as just a tear-jerker. Fuck them.

The film tells the story of a couple living in a lighthouse in post-World War I Australia, who make an understandable but nonetheless disastrous decision when a boat containing a dead man and a live baby comes ashore on their island.

It’s painfully ironic that people who are entrusted with providing this guiding light could stumble down such a dark path, but so many of us have trouble finding our way even at high noon.

The thing had me weeping and wailing as the inevitable confrontation takes place, but I also found an excuse to conjure up all these terrible thoughts about what a lousy son I was, how I caused my parents all kinds of worry and misery with my constant screw-ups.

What all this grief has to do with a lighthouse in Australia I have no fucking idea, but when I’m upset, it doesn’t take much for me to go full-on Chernobyl.

I’m finally switching to a new bank after months of rage and madness at my old institution, which is gleefully screwing me over the hacking of my accounts.

Light the Way

I was hoping for a quick resolution to our dispute, but it’s looking more like the siege of Leningrad.

One of the managers at the new place sat me down Saturday for their version of 20 questions. He smiled when I told him my mother’s maiden name.

“She’s Italian?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, wincing at his use of the present tense.

My mother’s been gone for 15 years and I still miss her terribly, especially when there’s bad news on the doorstep. I was going to correct this fellow, but I thought better of it. Why embarrass the man and make myself miserable as well?

I went out Saturday night to unwind at a happy hour event, but my attitude was severely off.

I had been making improvements with the anger management, I really had, but the banking woes have made me super-irritable, so Saturday’s atrocious train service made my foul mood that much worse.

And while I met great people that night and had some nice conversations, I just don’t think a 60-year-old man should be hanging around in bars.

I got pretty depressed, thinking that I was too old to have fun and destined to haunt the bingo halls and I think many things contributed to my intense (over?) reaction to the movie.

So I think that banker had the right idea. I should think of my mother in the present tense, make her a part of my daily life instead of the fading past, and let her be my lighthouse guiding me through the unforgiving ocean.

Comments

Bijoux said…
I did not see the movie, but I did read the book! Very good, as I recall. I sure hope the banking crap is reaching a final conclusion for you!
Rob K said…
Oh, thank you, Bijoux! I really appreciate your support!
Jay said…
Rob, Rob, Rob ... why the heck should a 60-year-old man NOT hang around bars if he so desires? We're still in Italy and I can tell you that men over 60 years seem to constitute the main clientele of bars here, especially in the evenings in rural areas. If you see a bunch of old men (and I do mean 'old', not just 60-ish) hanging around a doorway in a dusty old street in a small town, you've found a bar. But leaving that aside, just ... why should you not?

I'm glad I have OH though, because I could easily talk myself into 'over 60-year-old women should not do this or that'. Look - if I can rediscover my right to wear a bikini on a public beach at 63 years old, I see no reason why you should not enjoy an evening in a bar!

Your mother and mine are both beyond our reach, having passed away. You and I both grieve about that and wish we'd been a better son/daughter, but this is absolutely normal; we all do it. And I can tell you as a mother of imperfect adult children, that your mother and mine have both forgiven us and would never have us beat ourselves up on that account, because we love our children unconditionally. Mine would have had tears in her eyes if I had suggested otherwise. I'm betting yours would have done, too.
Rob K said…
Oh, Jay, you're the best! I just love your approach to life--and you look so hot in that bikini!

I guess what I should've said is that I don't want to bars to be my only way of socializing. I'm really not enjoying myself as much as I used to. But I'll certainly hang around any bar where you're drinking!

And thank you so much for your kind, thoughtful comments about my mother. I know you're right and that this guilt is something I created in my head.

The price of freedom is eternal vigilance refers to a nation, but it also applies to individuals who are plagued by negative thoughts and limiting beliefs. I'm so glad I have you in my life to keep on the high road!
Rob K said…
EDITOR'S NOTE:

My good friend Mario, author of the most fabulous blog "A Cuban in London" left a very nice comment today, noting that the last line of my post is a good guide for life.

Unfortunately, dimwit that I am, I accidentally deleted his comment instead of posting it. I apologize to him and you.
Ron said…
Rob, I followed the link you shared about the movie, The Light Between Oceans, and watched the trailer. OMG...what an amazing film! And I cannot believe that I'm not aware of it because it looks like a film I would LOVE. I will most definitely try to find it online because I want to see it!

Hope all is going well with your bank issue.

Have a great week, buddy!
Rob K said…
Hey, Ron, sorry to post your comment so late.

I really do think you'd get a kick of this movie. I appreciate support on this bank--I'm going to need all the help I can get!

Take care, buddy.

Rob
Well, one is for sure: you can recognise your own issues and you do come up with solutions to solve them. Many people are in denial about their anger management problems.

A good reflective post.

Greetings from London.
Rob K said…
Thank you, Mario! I'm certainly trying!

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