by Robert L. Seaton annotated by Glenn Morison & Virginia Howard
www.morison.ca/quitting
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Copyleft by Glenn Morison 2008
Some Rights Reserved 2008. This work is made freely-available under a Creative Commons Canada Attribution-Noncommercial 2.5 Canada License.
First Printing June 2008
Second Printing September 2008
Third Printing November 2008
Fourth Printing November 2009
Cover Photo by Russ Martin Printed and bound in Canada, 2008. www.ArtBookbindery.com ISBN 978-0-9810185-0-8
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In 1979, the first year of his Master's degree at York University, Robert Seaton published a paper in which he brought the field of Grounded Theory to bear on the reasons people are hesitant to use non traditional alternatives to the banking system. Grounded Theory had arisen in California in the early 1970s in the field of Social Psychology. Most science is experimentation that seeks to either support or disprove theories or hypotheses. Grounded theory inverts this process. Data is collected and as it is analyzed theories and explanations emerge. Put another way, data is collected in response to the understandings that emerge. This is why it is called, by some, emergent theory. Robert spoke to me often of the 1981 conference at UCLA where he was invited to speak. Both [Barney] Glaser and [Anselm] Strauss, the two biggest names in the movement, attended his presentation. Robert was the very first to publish a Grounded Theory paper in the field of Economics. He wasn't the last one but very few others ever followed and the whole school of thought, while it still passionately adhered to by some, particularly in public health, has passed its apex. Those who knew Robert said he looked like he had a limitless career in front of him as the seminal Grounded Theorist in Economics. By the time I met Robert when we were both doing Doctoral work at Ohio State University, he had switched his prime interest away from alternative economies and towards the economics of sport. Robert's colleagues, at the University of Toronto where he taught from 1992 to 2005, told me that only on very rare occasions would he refer to this false start. It was very odd indeed, then, to see Robert spend the entire year of 2005 engaged in a Grounded Theory study of the quitting and his extension of the voluntary simplicity movement. While his journal's title is simply "Quitting: Is more better?" he unquestionably sets out with a grounded theory approach. His quest involved quitting something new and different, every day for 365 days. He acknowledges that he is not free of motivation or choice but, unmistakably, it was his intention to keep the journal for a year and exercise patience in developing categories, trends and general implications in any formal way. In publishing his journal we hope to share the value of the courageous and important undertaking of 2005 that Robert leaves as part of his rich and varied legacy.
Glenn Morison, Baltimore, MD June 1, 2008
Bob was a good man, a devoted husband and a wonderful father who lost his way. Like a fine ball of wool that retains its quality but is no longer of much use when it becomes inextricably tangled, Bob was not going to return to his previous form. For many years, our marriage was a delight with new adventures and opportunities coming our way in a constant barrage. It wasn't until Bob’s birthday in 2003 when we saw the first signs that something was wrong. He said he was missing his mother and feeling a little down but his birthday had always been a day for Bob to be at his playful best. In fact, just the previous year, Bob had led us all on a treasure hunt of his life by placing clues all over the house about what he had done at various ages to arrive at his 46th birthday. Andre and Rebecca loved it. However for birthday number 47, Bob took the day off work and slept almost the entire day. He looked awful and hardly even thanked our children for the gifts they had made for him. They were devastated not to mention terribly confused. As things progressed, between Bob's unprocessed grief, abuse of prescription drugs and his career disappointments we became estranged. Bob's journal of 2005 chronicles the final stages of our separation. The entire year was and remains phenomenally painful for me. Bob avoided the past by reducing it to anecdotes. Bob avoided the present with his use of painkillers by numbing himself beyond the ability to interact in any meaningful way and chose to live in the future, inside his head, sharing his journey with no one. My perfect marriage became hollow, bitter and empty. Life became like the dregs at the bottom of a bottle of home made wine. As you will read, Bob emerged a changed man at the end of 2005. Even as I join Glenn in the publication I remain ambivalent. I was freed from the torture of living with Bob yet I was also denied the possibility of returning to what I had cherished. How I wish everyone who reads this book could have met Bob at his best. He was practical yet playful, focused yet flexible and while outstandingly able he never took himself too seriously. Even more I wish that our children, Rebecca and Andre will remember their father who loved them without limit.
Virginia Howard, Toronto, ON June 1, 2008
Field Notes for Quitting: Is More Better?
Q stands for Quit, C for Comments and N for Notes. Glenn Morison's comments are in Arial Font. Virgina Howard's comments are in Arial Italic Font.
January 1
Q: Merlot C: Very little save some social situations which may be awkward. N: I drink rarely and never to excess. I am not sure there is much to be gained by drinking all wines. Merlot is my favourite and the one bottle we have is a gift from Sandi and Jamie. I have some sense of sacrifice as there are only two bottles of wine in our cupboard.
January 2
Q: Telling Jokes at the start of my classes. C: My reputation is built on starting all my classes this way. N: I have told a joke at the beginning of each class for years. People always tell me jokes. Re-telling them has never been an effort. Will I feel constipated if they keep coming in and I don't let them out?
Bob charmed me with his corny humour when we first met. What was once reason for endearment became a source of irritation and embarrassment. In 1997 Bob had a formal complaint laid by a student who was a member of (PETA) People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Bob had heard a joke that had the phrase "cat crumpling machine" in the punch line and told the joke at the beginning of a class. His student never spoke to Bob directly but she was more than ready to write letters and talk to anyone else who would listen. In the end, even though Bob received a formal reprimand from the chancellor's office, he continued to maintain that telling jokes was part of his academic freedom and he was all the more determined to start his classes this way. This was one of the many ways in which Bob's boyish charm grew into tedious immaturity. In the last years of our marriage he treated this joke telling as if it was compulsory. I can't believe that others couldn't pick up on this perfunctory behaviour. I would cringe not only when he would tell jokes, like a dog doing tricks on command, at a party but also whenever I imagined him at the front of his class embarrassing himself.
January 3
Q: Reading about the Washington Nationals on the web. C: This can take up to half an hour a day during spring training and early in the season and even more if they are in the pennant race. N: The last article I read was about the signing of back-up catcher Brian Schneider. The Washington Nationals are not the Montreal Expos.
The Montreal Expos were moved to Washington and their name changed to the Nationals after the 2004 season.
January 4
Q: The word "but." C: Have you heard the joke about the politician looking for a one armed economist? She got tired of hearing the economist always say, "on the one hand... but on the other hand." My entire life's work is about what follows after the word "but." N: For sure I am moving the project to another level. I am pretty sure I got through the day without using the word.
This quit struck me as both absurd and impossible when I first read it. The word “but” is one of the most common words in our language. I still don't believe he succeeded even though you will not see the word again in the journal.
January 5
Q: Hearing of a loss of life without pausing to note it. C: Reading a newspaper or watching or listening to the news may ask me to pause a lot! N: I would like to quit having nightmares about bloated corpses being washed up towards me. I have seen enough images of the Indian Ocean Tsunami damage on the news. I have awoken in terror for the last three nights. Perhaps compassion for thousands is beyond any of us. I have a quiet expectation that I will develop deeper and more appropriate compassion through this project.
January 6
Q: Calling Andre "The Hawk" C: He doesn't answer to it anyway.
N: Andre Dawson received 270 out of the required 387 votes to enter the Baseball Hall of Fame today. He won't be inducted this year and probably never. Coincidentally, I got my letter from the Hall of Fame confirming my appointment as Scholar in Residence from May 1 to August 31 of this year. The formal documents for signing and immigration to follow soon. While I was delighted to get the letter, the let down with Dawson was all the more disappointing.
Robert's full name was Robert Louis Seaton. He explained his name as being his dad's indulgence because it sounded like Scots writer, Robert Louis Stevenson. I guess Robert felt that gave him the right to name his kids whatever he wanted to.
Bob was a nut for the Expos long before I met him. Our first trip together was to Montreal in May of 1977. He loved Montreal and I had only been twice. He enjoyed showing me around like he owned the city. I had underestimated his love for the Expos before we went to that fist ever series played at the Olympic Stadium. We had to sit in the right field bleachers and he was like a little kid over a rookie outfielder named Andre Dawson. He was hollering all night like an eight-year-old and when Andre finally tipped his hat at Bob as he trotted off the field one inning I half expected Bob to tell me he had wet his pants. "Did you see that?" If he asked me once, he asked me a hundred times. All around us people were giggling. Years later when Andre was born, and we were pretty sure he'd be our last and Bob asked me if we could name him Andre Dawson it wasn't hard to say yes. Now, if he had wanted me to name my son, Rusty Staub Seaton I may have had to argue! Thank God Andre didn't have red hair! That we had called our daughter Rebecca, after my sister, made yet another reason to give in to his wishes. Although Andre often reminds me he's always the only Andre, I think he likes that.
January 7
Q: Caring about Dr. Moon's under use C: Can I do it? Can I quit caring? N: Dr. Moon is a brilliant visiting scholar from Korea with our department this year. He has given one public lecture and a few visits to a few classes. I am frustrated that he is being ignored, maybe just because it takes a little work to understand his English.
January 8
Q: Pausing without breathing. C: Breathing is needed to sustain life. Better than breathing without pausing. Pausing every time you are made aware of someone dying is indeed a lot to ask of yourself. What does it mean to pause after hearing that 150,000 people have died? What does it mean to pause when that information comes after you had first been horrified to hear that 90,000 people have died. Can one person hold the difference between 90,000 and 150,000 deaths in their heart and mind? My idea of pausing and repeating people's names when I hear that they died just doesn't seem to apply. N: As many as 1,000 children orphaned by the disaster will be coming to Toronto in the next three months. Most of these will be coming to live with family. While it is truly sad that these children are orphaned, I found some joy in knowing that at least these children have family to help them and the family here has the satisfaction of helping and providing new life and opportunity for the most innocent of the innocent. Although I hadn't thought too much about what the pause at the death of another was for, or what my motivations or my hopes in doing this were for that matter- I now see that "making space" is broad enough yet powerful enough to allow me to continue with both anxiety and expectation about what it will bring. I forgot to breathe during one of my pauses yesterday.
January 9
Q: Pretending I like Elvis Presley. C: You'd be amazed how often people just assume that you have to like Elvis Presley. N: Yesterday would have been his 70th birthday and there is too much on the news. When I think of Elvis, I think of Elvis Costello. I never got Elvis Presley.
Did you hear about the woman who had four different husbands? She married a banker and when he died she married an entertainer and when he died she married a minister and then her last husband was an undertaker. One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready and four to go.
I had a lazy morning reading the paper and listening to CBC radio. Given my new "pause rule" that is no longer the same experience that it once was. And nothing seemed to fill the pauses today. Just an awareness of how often people mention death. Or at least how often people mentioned
death on CBC radio this morning. January 10 Q: The idea that giving 20% of annual income to charity is in any sense adequate C: I don't know how much I will give. Does the word adequate even apply here? N: We have already written a cheque for $1,000.00 and sent it to OXFAM for the Tsunami relief.
Having given up using the word "but" last Tuesday I want to also delete the word "although" from my vocabulary for it is simply a substitute for the word “but.”
I don't think Robert ever sorted out the income he made as a professor. Savings made him even more uncomfortable than overspending. I remember at Ohio State when we were doing our doctoral work and he turned down several scholarships because he knew there were classmates who had greater need. I was right, I found out later, in my hunch that Ginny was totally unaware he did this.
January 11
Q: Drinking coffee that is not fair trade C: There are times where I need a coffee and I am caught where there isn't any. N: I had a shitty coffee with Tim today. That made it easier to quit shitty coffee.
Bob needed his coffee. The painkillers he took both caused constipation and fatigue. Coffee kept him awake and seemed to help him with his other problem too. Coffee was Bob's friend.
January 12
Q: Referring to my own publications in my classes C: Having to re-write a few of my lectures. I think I mention them just so I can be sure that somebody somewhere actually read them. N: One of the students in my sports economics seminar began the class with a joke today. I was a little confused at first because not expecting a
joke, I thought he was asking a question until I recognized the joke near its end.
It's Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final, and a man makes his way to his seat right in the centre ice gold section. He sits down, and taking note that the seat next to him is empty, he leans over and asks the person on the far side of the seat if it is taken. "No," he replies. "It's empty." "This is incredible", said the man. "Who in their right mind would have a ticket like this for final game of the Stanley Cup playoffs and not use it?" "Well, actually, the seat belongs to me. I was supposed to come with my wife, but she passed away. This is the first Stanley Cup we haven't been to together since we got married in 1962." "Oh ... that is so sad.. It's terrible. But couldn't you find someone else to take the seat?" The man shakes his head "No. They're all at the funeral."
I remember Bob's first co-authorship. Bob was out when Professor Rodgers called and got me. He sounded so disappointed as he knew how much Bob wanted the co-authorship as an undergraduate. They had a great relationship but Professor Rodgers (his first name was Lawrence but Bob referred to him Steve after a baseball player) couldn't decide whether to just have him call or have me tell him so he gave me the choice. I waited for Bob in our apartment and pretended to be reading the Canadian Economics Quarterly when he came in. A slow smile came across his face. "Yesssssssssssssss" he hissed like a snake before falling to his knees and crawling over to me like a dog and resting his head in my lap. I think he phoned his parents and to tell them before calling "Steve" to find out more.
January 13
Q: Closing my office door C: Colleagues will notice the difference. N: A new colleague told me a joke today (I had heard it many times before)
A mathematician, a statistician and an economist are interviewing for the same position. The mathematician is asked "What do two plus two equal?" She replies "Four." The interviewer asks "Four, exactly?" The
mathematician looks at the interviewer incredulously and says "Yes, four, exactly." Then the statistician is asked "What do two plus two equal?" He answers "On average, four - give or take ten percent, but on average, four." Finally the economist is asked the same question "What do two plus two equal?" The economist gets up, locks the door, pulls down the blind, sits himself right next to the interviewer and asks "What do you want it to equal?"
I do not know why Robert was writing these jokes in his journal. Maybe it was as simple as he was used to telling several jokes a day and was experiencing a little withdrawal. Maybe it was to ensure he didn't take his project too seriously. Maybe he was worried he would forget jokes if he quit telling them. Nevertheless, I have left them intact in order to preserve his original tone.
January 14
Q: I will chop Toronto in half by never going east of Yonge again except when I go to Cooperstown. C: I have no real reasons to do so. I could probably set a west limit at High Park and a north limit at Bloor as well as the obvious south limit at the lake. I won't do this (yet.) N: Ginny and I met Mike and Deanna for drinks tonight. Ginny knows Deanna from High School and Mike is a very funny guy. We got out of the habit of getting together. They just called- it was good to get out. We went to an Irish place, O'Brien's - at Coxwell and the Danforth. This is about eight subway stops east of Yonge. Riding home I realized how rarely I ever go east of Yonge Street
Robert was thrilled when the Society for the Advancement of Baseball Research (SABR) chose him to be their 2005 Scholar in Residence at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, New York. His love of baseball was never more beatific than when he visited the Shrine. I remember when we walked through the actual Hall where all the busts are he refused to talk. He said he was listening for the players voices. It was like he was making a connection that the rest of us couldn't. He phoned me right away when he got the appointment and before our call was over he was all anxious about getting the time off of teaching. He had applied five times before and he was a little paranoid that his Dean was the one scuttling the process.
January 15
Q: Not having an obituary prepared. C: My father had done this for both my mom and himself. This was a great gift for both my brother Teddy and me. N: I took an hour to read the obituaries this morning. I read of a man who served as a church board member for 57 years. A 21 year old man who died after 13 years of being treated for cancer. A 33 year old single mother who leaves three children for whom a trust fund is being started. I read about a 50 year old man who died of a heart attack and appears to have no living family. And the professor who taught me my one and only Psychology class back in my second year of my BA. There was also a listing for a 103 year old woman who had lived in the same nursing home for 17 years. And 31 others. Each one, I paused for. Some for many breaths, some only for one. Mostly, this was a good experience. I really like the Blues. As much as I have enjoyed the Blues in my life, I do not want the Blues mentioned in my obituary. Nor do I want the Montreal Expos mentioned. I don't think I want my professional associations mentioned either. I might want just a simple list of the 50 people who had the most influence on me. I am not sure.
Relating to the idea of pausing for each death could really make a difference. If I have the time, this could change my perception of my own finality, non-human life, the ways we honour death and many more possibilities. I am excited about this quit.
January 16
Q: Watching The Business of Sports or any other TV show when it produces the response of jealousy or anger. C: I'll miss content that will be useful in the classroom. N: Robertson can shove his "scandal sells, analysis fills" up his ass.
Bob loved this show and for many years seemed to be able to push aside any feelings of envy. Bob was giddy with pride each time he was on it and loved to gather the family together to watch the tape. One fond memory was a year end show when they showed Bob in a set of out takes. Bob was talking about a law suit a college player had launched against a coach for playing him when he was injured and in the middle of a sentence forgot what he was talking about. He paused, looked all around himself, as if searching for the four corners of the earth and then asked the
interviewer with a total deadpan, "What were we talking about?" Bob had been told it would be on but wouldn't tell us why we all had to watch the show.
January 17 Q: Rooting my ear with my pinkie finger when it is itchy. C: A doctor told me once to ``never put anything smaller than your elbow in your ear.`` N: This is a life long habit that more people than I care to admit have suggested I stop.
January 18
Q: Eating anything that mixes oil and potato. C: Very little. I eat fries about once a year. N: I wish I had thought of this before I ordered the fries. They were awful. Ned's is nothing special at the best of times. I threw them out. January 19 Q: Thinking of the death of a person without thinking of their birth. C: Every time I hear of the death of another person I now will pause, breathe and think also of their birth. Who knows? N: I have cheated a few times on the resolve to pause when I think of death. I turned away when I walked by a paper box and saw the Sun with a headline about a suspicious death at a Sick Kid's hospital. Rather than pause immediately I made a mental note to take my pause and breath later when I was on my streetcar. Perhaps this is an insignificant variance, perhaps not. I also found myself thinking about the three children whose mother died whose obituary I had read on Saturday. I wrote a $150.00 check for the Jamie, Jessica and Sean's trust fund. I found myself struggling with whether to write a note or not. In the end I decided that if I didn't write something the children's father or whoever is looking after things could worry that he/she should know me. So I just added a brief hand-written note indicating I was moved by the obituary. I held the letter in my hand for about half an hour pondering Anna's life and what she might have experienced in her 33 years. It felt respectful. It felt right. It felt worthy. The breaths themselves were a gift beyond expectation. Somehow both from and to me.
Every time I read this journal, I grow in frustration. We are barely past the middle of January and he is completely out of touch. I
remember at the time he made reference to Jamie, Jessie and Sean as if I knew them. When I asked who he was talking about he laughed and told me that they must have been three children that he dreamt of being adopted by our co-op. Of course, when I first read his diary and remembered the three names I was deeply troubled. Was he delusional or a liar? I didn't like either choice.
What I see when I read these parts is Robert beginning a practice that served Robert very well the last twenty-six months of his life. Robert wore this abstract gentleness with great comfort. The others on the executive of the New Democratic Party Riding association where he had become treasurer were all much younger than him. They spoke with reverence about his peculiar breathing patterns. They related to me how Robert would breath before any change of subject in a way that signaled the change that was to come and gave everyone the chance to prepare. They said his breathing alone became like a guide and a mentor. It was not part of the Robert that I ever knew or experienced and it was fascinating to hear him spoken of as this wise elder who could direct a room with his breath.
January 20
Q: Eating without naming everything I am eating. C: I will become more aware and more appreciative of the food I eat. N: When Ginny was still home schooling Andre and Becky-Lou, eating had a central place in our lives. We were always experimenting. Often we ate very simply. We were into "slow food" before there was even a name for it. We also ate a lot of raw food. Popcorn with yeast nutrient was a frequent meal for a while. Every summer we "ate Ontario." Once a week all the home school families in the co-op would get together and do a lesson that arose from cooking. Chemistry, geography, politics- it was all there in what we ate. I miss that. With the kids in regular school, we just can't do it and I seem to be busier than I was even though I am doing less.
January 21
Q: Having days as freaking busy as today. C: Hard to operationalize the commitment. N: Meetings, classes, appointments, errands-- and a headache to boot. From 8 till 8 then I went to bed.
Years ago Robert had heard some bureaucrat use the phrase "operationalize the commitment." He thought it was hilarious for all it really means is “do.” I am sure he had his tongue firmly planted in his cheek as he wrote this.
January 22
Q: I will quit judging strangers who have run out of gas or are stuck in snow. C: Save myself a few moments of grief once or twice a year N: There was a huge storm today. Our counselor Naomi called early to tell us that she wouldn't be able to see Ginny and me today. I usually judge people for getting stuck in snow or running out of gas. These are not cases of bad luck. These are cases of bad judgment. Or at least this is what I say to myself as I pass them by thinking "I never ran out of gas and I never got stuck when I have had a car" or "if they were like me and didn't have a car, for sure this wouldn't happen." What do I know? Maybe it is the first and only time in their life that they have run out of gas or got stuck in snow. Maybe they usually carry a compact little shovel in their car. There are lots of ways to give people the benefit of the doubt. As a sign of good faith, I took Andre out with me and we wandered the neighbourhood looking for people who were stuck. We spent four hours and shoveled and pushed for over a dozen people. It felt good and Andre came home saying, "I hope it snows again tomorrow, dad."
Andre was more vulnerable to Bob's problems than Rebecca was. Andre was beaming when he came in from this day with his dad. Bob's patience seemed more easily tested as the kids got older. Rebecca had moved on and accepted what her dad had become by the time Bob left, Andre was still pining for the man who had played with him as a child. I can picture Andre's face like it was yesterday as he uttered the words, "I sure hope it snows tomorrow." I too was praying for snow. I lived those years in constant hope of those unlikely turns that would bring us back together as a family.
January 23
Q: I will quit eating meat without telling people I would rather not. C: I have always let hospitality trump being vegetarian. Could changing
this value change me? N: A man was hiking in the woods when he came upon a bear. The bear chased him down and stood over the hiker on its hind legs seemingly ready to maul and devour him. Panicked, the hiker cried out in prayer, "God, please convert this bear so that he would be faithful and compassionate and spare me." Immediately a soft look came over the bear and he dropped his front paws into a prayer position and bowed his head. Then the bear spoke in a quiet but clear voice, "Dear God, for the food I am about to receive I am truly thankful."
January 24
Q: I will no longer listen to or watch a newscast without taking a moment to ask, "Do I have some way I want to respond?" C: I could be awfully busy responding N: I was sitting quietly in my office trying to cope with a headache while waiting for my pills to kick in and all of a sudden I screamed out in a loud voice, "Fuck Me!" Since I decided to quit having my door closed when people were in my office I have kept it open all day. Realizing this was a little out of line, I just put my head down and pretended I hadn't been that one as I began to scribble on my note pad. Nobody walked by or looked in to see what I if I was OK. Perhaps nobody heard me. Perhaps nobody knew it was I who yelled. Perhaps nobody cared. When it happened, I was thinking about a story I had watched on the news last Friday night. Several talking heads were talking about the desire for Canada to win Gold medals at the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver. A goal of 12 Golds and 35 medals was being announced and the lobbying for government resources was in full swing. This does not represent my priorities! I began to think about how you could associate a dollar figure to a Gold medal. My question is, "What are the cheapest Gold medals?" Or put another way "What sports should we invest into if our bottom line is a medal count?" While I could give the Canadian Government and the Olympic committee the advice on the real way to get medals per dollar, I can also use this kind of argument, adding a tone of sarcasm, to criticize the whole idea of funding sports with a focus of securing medals at Olympics.
Robert had once told me about his "one touch of each paper" rule. When he was on his game, any piece of mail, any memo, anything like that he would touch only once and then pass it on, file it or recycle it. It is very hard to do but Robert was a master of it and it regularly saved him time. A year or so ago he told me that he had
developed this ability with other things including thoughts, suggestions and requests. I didn't press him for the details but he was always remarkably composed. For instance, when I once asked if there was somewhere in Toronto where I could hear a Spanish language Mass he immediately started making phone calls and had me on the doors of the church within an hour.
January 25
Q: Going outside without a hat and gloves when it is cold outside. C: If I do it I won't get pissed off like I did today. N: It is bloody cold and I went out today to do some shopping with Andre. I didn't bother bringing my toque or gloves. That was stupid.
January 26
Q: Going without wearing long underwear any time it drops below 15 degrees Celsius. C: I'll be warmer. N: I hate cold weather. Toronto doesn't get much. I bought some long underwear today even though its supposed to turn mild by the weekend. The one good thing about cold weather is that I get fewer headaches.
January 27
Q: Going a day without thinking about the Tsunami and its victims without making a $100.00 donation to the Red Cross. C: I will give more to the Red Cross, including the $100.00 I gave today. N: I went all day yesterday without thinking about the Tsunami and its effects. I haven't written about the fact that every day my pausing, breathing and remembering the birth and death of every person that I have heard of dying is having a major effect on me. Each day is a struggle. Each day I have to choose to end my pause. Each day I have sense of guilt for my lack of compassion. I have some expectation that I will deepen or increase my compassion yet I already sense that the pursuit of "enough" compassion is a little bit like Sisyphus rolling the rock up the hill. One of the many things that sets the Tsunami apart from other natural disasters is that the ratio of dead to wounded was about 6:1. Most natural disasters result in a ratio of something like 1:10. The wounded dying off rarely make the news and while there may not be as many, I am sure that there are many who continue to die from various situations related to the Tsunami. What was referred to as "the biggest natural disaster in recorded
history" has become "yesterday's news" in only a month.
Robert was always a compassionate person. Entries like this one read odd to me when I first read them in 2005. Of all the people that could use discipline in their compassion he was not one that would ever come to mind. When I saw him later in the year, it was like he was taking a break from compassion rather than the fine tuning that he seems to be up to here. On one of my visits just last year, Robert introduced me to his friend Sam. Robert was volunteering with the Ontario Mental Health Association and had people he promised to visit with twice a week each. Both of them had run afoul of the law. Robert was so gentle and so patient with Sam the day we had lunch together. Sam started pouring salt on the table and counting the grains out loud. Robert did nothing but watch. Sam stopped at 100 and put the grains in a separate pile near his water glass. The conversation continued like a television show does after a commercial. This epitomized the wonderful blessing that Robert had become to these two men.
January 28
Q: Eating meat or seafood without making a $500.00 donation to PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.) C: Because I have already eaten meat once this year, I sent a $500.00 cheque today. N: My entry last Sunday (the 23rd) about eating meat was too hedged. I realize that I hardly "quit" anything. I just redefined what I already do. This commitment is different.
January 29
Q: Asking my kids one too many questions. C: We may talk more, we may talk less. N: I found a booklet with the title "Rebecca's Guaranteed Grade 12 Math Study Guide." It was a fifteen page book that seemed to systematically review all the work of the school term. It was flawless in its presentation. Math has always come easy for Becky-Lou. What was most interesting was that it had a $5.00 price in the corner and the guarantee said there would be a full refund it did not lead to a pass in the course. When I asked Becky-Lou about this she said she was helping so many of her other students that she decided to be compensated for it. Ten out of twenty-six students had bought it netting her a cool $50.00. I asked her if
she would mind paying ten cents a printed page and a flat rate of $20.00 for use of the computer for her little business. I said that would make the total invoice $35.00. She answered that she would mind. Not using the word "but" gives me the opportunity to avoid the instinct to hedge on how I feel about this. It's great! She's making use of the resources available to her at home. She's helping other students. And she is receiving deserved compensation. I did ask her if she had a sliding price so those students who had greater need or couldn't afford the five dollars. And before she could answer I asked her what she would do if somebody who paid the five dollars started making photocopies and selling them for two dollars. She replied saying, "Dad, would you like to buy an autographed souvenir copy for $7.50? Any time you want one, just ask and I'll sign it for you." And then she walked away.
January 30
Q: I will give up the notion that I don't floss enough. C: I may floss more. I may floss less. N: I bought a "sonic" toothbrush today. I don't even know what that means. Does it make sound?
Robert is really struggling at this point. I was very scared about Robert when I read this entry for the first time when he emailed his journal to me. With this entry and others like it, there is no sense of play or enjoyment and little sense of learning. Usually Robert and I spoke at the very least once or twice a month. Not only had we not spoken at Christmas he didn't make his annual call to me on my Thanksgiving even though I had called him on the Canadian date and reminded him I looked forward to his call. He seems confused and depressed as I reread the journal.
These entries are likely directly related to Bob's use of Subtunol. It could make him, for lack of a better term, intellectually lazy. I still shudder imagining what he might have been like around his colleagues at this time when he could be so absorbed in self importance with the most foolish of ideas. For a little while he took to calling me Ginnybuns or Ginnybunny and then he would smile like a Cheshire cat. Thank the Lord he did this when we were alone because Andre, in his youthful maturity, had evolved past the "fart joke" age and would have been appalled at this.
January 31
Q: I am going to quit eating white bread. C: I only eat white bread a handful of times each year. N: I will treat myself to a soft quit to end of each month.
February 1
Q: Imagining that I will keep every resolve: C: Getting my first broken pledge out of the way is a helpful thing. N: I forgot that my doctor, Dr. Patel, has his office four doors east of Yonge Street. Quitting ever going east of Yonge Street was a stupid idea. I need to see my doctor. Getting through a month without ever really admitting to breaking a resolve was a good thing. Getting through two months without doing it could be too much of a good thing.
While reading magazines at my doctor's office I came across a story about Michael Mangal who is thought to be the only survivor of over 100 residents on the island Pillwpanja hit by the Tsunami. While I waited outside of the doctor's examination room I breathed. I took 400 breaths in memory of these lost lives imagining that each breath as it began represented their birth, each inhalation and each exhalation corresponded to their life and the pause before my next breath represented their death.
Other people might focus on stories about the survivors. It comes down to the old adage about whether you perceive the glass to be half empty or half full. I am and always have been on the half empty side of the debate.
I thought of a corollary. If you are unsure whether a glass is half full or half empty, drink some. Then you will be sure it is more than half empty.
February 2
Q: Watching the Movie Groundhog Day on Groundhog Day. C: I like tradition. I just forgot. N: The consulting work I am doing for the National Hockey League Players Association to help them with their collective bargaining is very distracting.
Robert must have phoned me somewhere around here. He was very worried about the work with the National Hockey League Players Association. He was almost paranoid. A 6'5" 250 pound
former Colgate University defenceman who worked for the league came to see him in his office and insisted Robert close his door. [I now see why it was a problem for him to open it.] Robert thought he was being pressured to reveal secrets from his research and consulting. He was talking about organized crime being involved with the hockey owners. I also remember Robert saying he thought he was in "sticky territory." [Robert always had trouble with puns!]
February 3
Q: Understanding success as anything that lasts past nightfall. C: I would love to quit being successful. Unfortunately, it is too vague a concept and I am not sure it will be useful. I find myself wondering what if any value there would be to removing the word "success" from my vocabulary. As it is I am having trouble enough writing without "but" and "although." My quit is now workable. N: Last year when I was attending a forum at Becky-Lou's school, we were put into small groups for discussions and one of her classmates said to our group, "when you tell me I am good at something, what I hear is you telling me I should be better." Success breeds pressure.
February 4
Q: Red wine C: People expect me to drink red wine. N: Ginny had suggested earlier in the week that we have Trish and Bob over for dinner. They are ok- more her friends really. Ginny asked me afterwards why I didn't drink any wine. We had taken the Pinot Noir to a party the previous weekend and when she opened the Merlot I remembered that I had quit drinking Merlot on January 1st.
I hadn't told my wife about my project yet.
She found it a bit odd that I had not spoken to her. It was more than a bit odd really. It wasn't a matter of forgetting or not having time. I was deliberately avoiding it. When she asked me the other night why I had not eaten a hot dog a friend had bought me at one of Becky-Lou's lacrosse games, I lied to her. I was feeling a little queasy instead of admitting that eating a hot dog would cost me a $500.00 donation to PETA.
I think the reason was that I was worried I would give up my project and
would be embarrassed or it might have been because I have some fears about where all this will take me. I think I Am also worried that maybe that she would begin disagreeing with the things I was giving up. In a quiet moment of honesty I admitted that I am a little embarrassed about all of this. She showed a general lack of interest and provided no encouragement for me. I am hoping this is a reaction to my not telling her.
When I read the words "a little embarrassed" I still want to reply "that was the entire problem." The randomness that I experienced as unpredictability and irrelevance is described by Robert as being true to grounded theory. At this point his constant self congratulation was still being held at bay. I remember him talking on the phone one day and I could hear the dial tone. He was talking to nobody. He was asking about the water bill but I know he was talking to a dial tone. I was going out the door at the time and made a mental note to ask him later but by the time I remembered it seemed too far in the past to bring it up. He wasn't delusional. I figured he was practising lying and, to be honest, was scared to ask about it. Reviewing the journal I don't see how it fit into any of his quits so I will never know what he was up to.
February 5
Q: I will no longer have anyone at Smithson Massage Works except Lois work on me. C: I may have to miss a massage from time to time. Lois is the best.. Why settle for anyone else. N: The words "it never hurts to ask" are greatly underrated.
February 6
Q: Keeping this project a secret from Ginny. C: A fucking truckload full of implications N: I printed off this journal and gave it to Ginny with a box of dark chocolate for our anniversary. We have been married 19 years.
One of Bob's many endearing traits was his attention to anniversaries. He was always combined the right traditional and modern gifts like when he gave me a wooden box of silver coins for our fifth anniversary or when he made me a multimedia sculpture featuring broken pieces of pottery and strips of leather for our ninth
anniversary. And when there was no gift he figured out something like a collection of Alice Cooper kitsch and best of CD of Alice Cooper last year [because of his signature tune “Eighteen.”] To put it mildly, Bob missed the mark this year. It took me three days to scratch my way through his entries.
February 7
Q: I am quitting caring about the Seton Hall Pirates basketball team. C: There was a strange sadness as I read their records. I didn't really care. I found myself longing for my more innocent days when the record of a basketball team that had a name that sounded like mine was important. N: When I was a little boy dad used to say the school was started by my great grandfather. I started cheering for them there and then. It wasn't until later, long after I had become "hooked" that I realized that Seaton and Seton weren't even the spelled the same.
February 8
Q: I will quit giving anything from this project to Ginny unless she asks. C: It could become quite a wedge. N: Ginny still hasn't acknowledged getting my print off of this journal. I may not have the option of not giving her subsequent entries. I will either have to make up a special version for her or be subjecting myself to self- censoring each and every day. I hate both options.
February 9
Q: I am going to give up coffee for Lent. C: Coffee is pretty important to me. It keeps me awake and keeps me regular. I am sure forty days (forty days and forty nights right?) is something I can do. Because of this being time restricted I see it as outside my project. I am thinking of it as recreational quitting. N: When I was walking by the Newman Centre I saw a whole string of people with black smudges on their foreheads walking out. I realized it must be Ash Wednesday. I was amused by our common ground. I wanted to ask them all what they were going to give up. I wanted to ask them if they thought forty days is a short time or a long time. I wanted to ask them if they thought of giving something up each and every day instead of one thing for the forty days. I wanted to ask them if they told each other what they were giving up. I wanted to ask them what they would do if they changed their mind about what they were giving up or failed in
their resolve. I wanted to ask them why they were giving up what they were. I wanted to ask them what benefit they thought it might be to them. I wanted to ask them if they thought what they were giving up was significant. I wanted to ask if any of them were giving up masturbation. I didn't ask them any of these things. I just let them file past me. It was more out of shyness than a respect for their privacy. I figure if you wear a black smudge on your forehead you are asking to be asked. Normally I would have just thought they were being a little pretentious. Tonight, as I write, I admire these forehead smudgers. If I weren't doing this project I probably would have walked by with either no thought whatsoever. If I had it would be something smug like "I bet they think they have done something of value in there." They may just be choosing hope over acceptance rather than trying to balance the two. I have nothing to gain by self-satisfied judgments.
The purpose of forgoing in Lent is to provide focus. In the desire delayed, there is an opportunity to transpose that physical hunger into a spiritual craving for the Holy. In these choices, there is opportunity to give thanks for just how often our needs ARE met. Robert doesn't show an understanding of this either or any number of places in his journal. While my instinct might be to criticize Robert for falling short of what many Catholics find in Lent, the fruit born later by what he calls a "project" takes my instinct away.
February 10
Q: Using heterosexual household analogies in my macroeconomics classes. C: I will always use same sex couples when I am using domestic examples as I have 14 years worth of one-sidedness to compensate for. Being more attentive and inventive should make me more sensitive. N: I had a student (B.R.) come into my office today and accuse me of never using any gay examples. When I asked him to clarify what he meant he said whenever I used a household analogy, which I do from time to time when describing how a government manages a nation's economy, I always use a heterosexual couple as an example. He was really gentle about his complaint. It was not an attack. He just said he would appreciate if I was more thoughtful and explained he wouldn't have bothered coming to see me if I didn't think I could be.
February 11
Q: I am going to quit referring to the Nationals as my favourite team. C: As they only moved from Montreal a few months ago they have been my favourite team for less than sixty days. While the Montreal Expos have been my favourite team since their inception in 1969. N: Two baseball loving friends made a pact with each other that whoever was the first one to die would come and tell the other one whether or not there was baseball in heaven. After one died he came looking for the other and was immediately asked whether there was baseball in heaven or not. He said, "I've got good news and bad news. The good news is that there is baseball in heaven. The bad news is that you are scheduled as the starting pitcher next Tuesday."
February 12
Q: My privacy with this project. C: I am going to talk to Ginny, Andre and Becky-Lou as soon as I can I am trying to figure out why I had not told Ginny about my project earlier. I feel I have let her down. I feel I have even been "unfaithful" in some sense of the word. I feel guilt, even a sense of shame. Her response, which has been added to by a distant silence today, seems angry. No doubt she is feeling betrayed and deceived. I want Ginny to be a full partner in this project. I want her to embrace the value in this work as much as she has embraced my academic career. I also want the kids to know what I am doing and to experience and think along with me.
February 13
Q: M habit of giving letter grades to each month of my life. C: I have done this for almost twenty years. N: In the evening at home, Ginny finally spoke to me about my project.
"We did all this quitting stuff with Martha and Phil, and Carol and Neil, and Anita and Andrew when we worked through [Duane Elgin's] Voluntary Simplicity. And we did a fare sight better than what you are doing? Are you trying to recapture something? So much of that is just part of who we are now. Look around our co-op unit. It's simple. I work half time. You're not very busy having given up so many of your causes. But this quitting stuff?"
She was at a near scream pitch as she waved around my twenty printed
pages as if it were some indeterminate weapon to be used for torture.
"If you were doing this well at all, I might be swayed, but you're not. Pausing every time you heard about death? That's impossible! Have you even written anything about having done that? It's probably because you haven't ever really done it. You'd end up hyperventilating in a corner if you ever even tried."
"And many that aren't poorly thought out", she added, "are just downright stupid. White bread? Going east of Yonge Street?"
She gave me credit for nothing.
She stared me down and asked, with a tone that somehow was both pleading and disinterested all at once, "What do you want?"
I wanted to scream back at her. Her comments hurt deeply. I wanted to ask her how much of this was about my not telling her sooner and how much was criticism she was pretending was constructive or helpful. What I wanted to do and what I did were not the same. I didn't have the strength to argue back and I didn't really have an answer for her question. What do I want from this project? At least I took it that was her question.
"Timeout!" February 14 Q: I will no longer initiate physical displays of affection with my daughter. C: Sad but necessary. N: After supper, while Ginny had her coffee, I began again, "Time In!" [With the help of our counselor Naomi we had developed a time out rule. When we have disagreements or passionate discussions either one of us has the right to make the "Timeout" symbol and take a time out for as long as we want. Even several days if that is what we want. It has served us well and timeouts are rare to begin with and almost never any more than 15 minutes. Just long enough to regroup, refocus and come back ready to communicate better.]
In the quietest and most sincere tone I could muster I asked Ginny if there was one thing that bothered her.
She became quickly exasperated. Her exact words were, "For God's sake, do what you should do and quit what you should quit."
It had not been the first time Ginny had been frustrated with my propensity for self examination. For some time it has been clear to me that she didn't want to hear the grade I had given my life at month's end. The month my parents died she overheard me muttering to myself about a "D" and ignored it. I think she felt sorry for me because of my loss. Instead it was more pity for me that I would call it a "D" month. What is most saddening is that she found these things quirky and charming when we met.
Ginny repeated herself about the co-op and all the values we already live by. She said I was missing the point, missing the value in making things simpler.
She was right. Some of my resolutions indeed seemed more geared towards Voluntary Complexity than any kind of simplicity.
As I became quieter Ginny became more focused: "I think you should give this project up. It isn't going anywhere. I don't want to support you in this because that would mean I valued it. I am not saying stop it, I am just saying don't expect me to be helpful."
Ginny usually knows what is best for me and the stronger she expresses herself the more right she has usually been. The problem is that I don't want her to be right this time. I am six weeks into this project. Just because there has been much fruit yet, doesn't not mean there will not be.
Fuck.
As if this wasn't enough to make one shitty Valentine's Day
I had an awkward moment earlier with Becky-Lou. I went to give her a hug and a Valentine's kiss on the cheek and she stiffened. While she didn't say anything or push me away, it was clear that I had crossed a newly erected boundary.
I had read the book Reviving Ophelia a number of years ago and braced for this day. I am thankful it was delayed so long.
Naomi was full of provocative questions. She would catch you off
guard with very simple questions such as “How come whenever you mention Bob's parents you stare at the floor?” or “When is the last time you held back saying what was on your tongue?” More importantly she knew when to simply say things like, “Can you say more about that?” or even just stare blankly making it obvious that you weren't finished even if you didn't know it yourself. Her skill as a strong counselor was unfortunately matched by her gutlessness. She never really called Bob on his fear. I trusted her to hold him accountable for his absence and she betrayed that trust. Counseling is not so much about technique as it is about trust and my trust in her was always forced. I agreed with Glenn that we would title this publication, “Quitting” yet I think “The Great Escape” would be more apt.
February 15
Q: I will no longer use the word penchant. C: I like using it. N: Our friend Susan, the mother of one of Andre's friends, was over for a coffee this afternoon (I had water and I tried to enjoy the smell of the coffee they were drinking) and when I was talking about a colleague and said "he has a penchant for alliteration." Susan rolled her eyes and asked, with an exaggerated French accent, "Un penchant vrai?" Then she leaned over our kitchen table, demanded my eyes and added, "Robert (also said with a French accent), you have a penchant for the pretentious." We all laughed.
Most of us boomers grew up with mothers who would say to us “they are not laughing at you, they are laughing with you.” Adult life has shown me that this line is not always so easy to draw. Here is one of those times. I think Bob thought that she was flirting with him. Susan could be harsh and her forthright mocking was insulting to us both. I no longer had an instinct to defend him. I could mark this very moment as the proverbial beginning of the end.
February 16
Q: Using the word "success" in any tense other than the present. C: The National Hockey League canceled its season today. I do not have to say I was unsuccessful in helping avoid the cancellation. N: I had fully expected the owners and players to reach an agreement by
today and I expected I would be a key contributor. My briefs to the players association were pretty consistent. It is not the salary cap that is the problem. It is having the salary levels tied to revenues of the teams. Basically what I said is that they should not trust the teams to accurately report revenues.
Basically we (the players) are millionaires wrestling with billionaires (the owners) so we are on a tilted playing field. We can level it by having greater resolve. I hope the players are up to it.
I played the board game Careers a lot when I was a kid. At the beginning of the game you had to set goals for stars (fame), hearts (happiness) and dollars (cash). The total of these was to be 60 and the first to reach all three goals wins. Therefore, one person could have 60 hearts and 40 stars and far exceed their goals in those areas and at the same time be too short on cash to win.
I continue to think about seeking fame, happiness and money. Since junior high school my usual state of mind has been at 30 fame, 20 happiness and 10 money. In fact, as an associate professor I am doing much better than "ten" for money. Even though determining achievement of happiness is more arbitrary, I consider myself well over the twenty mark. What I haven't done is succeed in fame. 149 hits when you Google yourself is not much to be proud of. Would I be more content with 500?
I have stayed in sports economics for a number of reasons. One is that it being such a rare area of academic study, I stand out. It also allows for consulting work. This includes everything from economic viability of collective agreements between players and management to applying quantitative analysis to in game situations and coaching choices. And in my quiet moments, I realize the biggest reason I followed this work is because I thought I could write mass market books for sports fans instead of academic journal articles for professors.
So, here I am in the middle of a huge hockey lockout that seems to make the top of the front page every day and I am nowhere to be found. Not commenting on CBC or even any of the private networks. Not standing behind Brendan Shanahan and other players when they hold press conferences. No fame at all even though even I might well have a claim to a better overall understanding of these issues than just about anybody.
Analogies are not always helpful. I remember when Andre was two and
demoniacally wild, Ginny and I would talk about him "skidding," for he seemed out of control like a car in a skid. One day we just agreed to stop using the metaphor of skidding and it seemed like the very next day Andre became a little calmer and a little easier to deal with.
Thinking of my life as a game of Careers, unless I am the only one in the game, has set me up to have a pretty good chance of losing. What's more, I could do really well. Unfortunately, since I have the wrong "success formula" I still end up losing. I am going to leave this metaphor behind.
Not long ago I had the idea that "success lasts beyond nightfall." I have a long way to go!
I know there was a point where Bob could laugh at his cravings for fame. I just can't remember that time very well.
February 17
Q: Reducing grades for essays with poor grammar. C: One less decision to make. N: Foreign students.
February 18
Q: Apologizing for my negativity. C: Do people expect it from me? N: I like this quit.
February 19
Q: Seeing all choices as reducible to the trade-off between optimism and acceptance. C: I am going to seek to see more choices of this type as either/or rather than striking the right balance. N: Over a month ago I resolved not to waste my energy thinking about the way our department was ignoring Dr. Moon, our visiting scholar from Korea. One of the things this resolution has helped me see is how often I resent things in my workplace.
A few years ago we struck a subcommittee to develop a new way of doing our introductory classes. We have over 2,500 students each year and have
them taught in sections of 200 or more students. I liked the group. My friend Jack is always fun. Shannon Harrah is a new professor who brings a feminist voice to the table. Harry Randle is a quiet and thoughtful man. Rajagopal Singh chaired our committee. Raj was simply way too hesitant to be the right chair in a group that already was more interested in talking than doing. If I had nothing better to do, I would have enjoyed their company. Instead, I was frustrated.
What was suggested is that the whole content and structure be changed to be five large lecture sections for two hours per week and one tutorial for an hour a week in which fifty students work with a teaching assistant. The tutorial would work straight from the text and essentially be exam preparation. The lectures could be considered "marketing tools" for the department. Those of us who are currently engaged in research we have a passion for would be invited to make a two hour presentation in which students would be given an idea of where the theory taught in a first year class could take them.
It is a lot of work and some of the overly comfortable profs could be "exposed." What angers me, though, is that it was agreed upon at department council and a committee was struck with idea of implementation the fall of 2004. We are still nowhere on this. It is not incompetence. I would say it is better described as avoidance of anything new and different.
If I accept that people voting with their feet is in fact making the decision it seems I have two choices. I can either keep on caring about this idea and persuade them to change their vote or I can simply accept the real answer is no in spite of the fact that the verbal answer was yes. This reduces my response to a trade-off between hope and acceptance. I am left with the choice, do I continue being hopeful for change or do I resign myself to accept what is.
The last meeting about the new format for the first year courses was ten months ago and that was only because I encouraged the chair to call it. This is dead and gone. It's history. I have accepted that. It does not mean that I am a person without hope or optimism. It means I have no good reason to have any in this situation.
Robert wrote me a wonderful email when this plan was first proposed. Except in the rarest of cases, Robert's enthusiasm was always understated. This was one of those rare cases. He hated
the fact that so many professors dreaded introductory classes. It was his first economics course, taught by a term lecturer named Tim Sundberg who went on to work for a grain company, that convinced Robert to change his major to Economics. Robert was always so frustrated that the department at UofT couldn't see the intro courses as marketing devices. Robert's passion for change was more measured after 2005, the frustration expressed here was gone. He either acted or walked away. He knew when to hold and when to fold and he did. It was a simple but all important skill that he found somewhere in his year of quitting.
February 20
Q: Nachos C: Less cheese N: The lack of coffee is leaving me a little bunged up and a lot tired. Both of which are affecting my appetite.
February 21
Q: I am going to give up feeling any guilt about coasting. C: My quit for the nineteenth was absurdly vague and yesterday is as innocuous as you can get. N: I am stalling.
On top of this, I am pissed off that I quit coffee for Lent. What was I thinking about quitting something for Lent? I don't even know what Lent is and I am missing my coffee. I even paused as I walked by the caffeine tablets in the drug store today. I have never had to use them.
I am not much in a quitting mood today.
To her credit, Ginny is transparent in the very best sense of the word. It is probably her most admirable quality. When she told me I didn't have to quit this project, only that she thought it wasn't good for me and didn't want to encourage me- that is exactly what she meant.
I do not need to quit my quitting project for her or for me. In spite of that, I have decided, again, that it is OK to coast at this if I have to.
February 22
Q: I will quit being indifferent to my colleagues who have a career agenda. C: While promotion is no longer an issue for me, I know Professorship does mean something to a number of colleagues and I can make a difference by encouraging them, writing letters on their behalf and chatting them up to the few people who like me around here. N: The annual memo asking for applications for promotion came around today and once again I cast it into my recycling box.
I never think of Robert as a bitter man. I think of his feelings about his career as the exception that proves the rule. He was told by his department head once that "you shot yourself in the foot when you self published your first book and you cremated and buried yourself when you followed suit with your second and third books." Bob never let go of his grumbling about this and I am sure it is underneath the quit above. I give him credit for leaving it out. Robert had the idea that books about the intricacies of baseball's economics could have mass market appeal. After not finding a publisher for his first book Three Strikes: The History of Labor Unrest in Baseball he didn't even bother trying with numbers two and three. Ginny tells me there are still boxes full of unsold copies of his books that Robert stored at the co-op.
February 23
Q: I have made a point of never using a password on my laptop. I am going to quit this habit today. C: There is now a password required to get into any of my files. N: Ginny's stand against my project has freed me from worrying about having to show her my journal entries.
February 24
Q: None C: None N: I was pausing and breathing and remembering that I heard that there was one Yemen national killed in the Tsunami. I went searching on the web for her name and any details that might be available. I got lost searching and ended up reading a lot of related stories, such as how the Cabinet has docked one days' wage from every worker (all sectors-
private, public and mixed) to offer for relief. I also read a number of unrelated stories including an opinion piece that ridiculed the U.S. for giving the Secretary of State position to Condoleezza Rice, simply because she is a woman.
More than two hours of searching, reading and being distracted produced no result except finding an email address for the Yemen World Post. I e- mailed them asking if they could send me a story about this person and how I had not been able to find the name when searching. Within an hour I received a short notice that a 24 year old woman, Maysa Faharan Nasser, had died while vacationing.
I was struck by comparing this to the front-page news of the "missing Canadians" during the first few days after the Tsunami.
I cried, thinking of Maysa. I cried thinking of her parents. I cried imagining her brothers and sisters. Maybe a fiancé. Maybe a husband. Maybe children. I cried thinking of how much fun she might have had while vacationing.
I emailed back asking if they would be able to forward a letter to her family.
Indira, whose office is next to mine, came into my office when I was crying. She closed the door when she came in and gave me a funny look when I asked her to open it again. "Are you sure?" she asked with her usual soothing tone.
I tried to explain, without telling her of my project that I was thinking a lot about the Tsunami and somehow the emotion had been attached to this one Yemenis woman. Maybe I wasn't being clear as Indira misunderstood and thought I knew Maysa. I didn't really regain my composure enough to correct her and before Indira left, awkwardly backing out of my office, she asked me again, "are you sure you don't want your door closed?"
Not a good day! It was the kind of day that used to lead to a "D" grade month.
Bob could never trust his strengths. Although he was deeply compassionate, and even entered the field of economics so he could uphold the poor, his compassion was often misplaced. His
depression seemed to arise of a growing guilt for his compassion being never enough. The entries he is making here show how he confuses vulnerability with weakness. He is weak yet not vulnerable because he keeps everything in his head. His journal entries make me claustrophobic. He could speak about his faults but he would immediately set his own limits on what his admissions would cost him. The Bob I married was exactly the opposite, not the least bit weak but always vulnerable knowing that openness could take him to new places.
February 25
Q: Renting movies to watch. C: I lied to Ginny. She wanted to rent Kinsey. I told her I'd read some bad reviews and wasn't interested. I encouraged her to rent it. She didn't. I hope this will provide more opportunity for family conversation and self made entertainment, which seems to have waned as the kids have aged.
February 26
Q: I took another day off quitting. C: There are many things I don’t want to quit. At the moment, my wife, my family, our therapist, my doctor and the treatment he prescribes are all on that list. N: We met with Naomi today.
Just over a year ago Ginny had a short relationship with Randy, the father of one of the street kids she mentored.
We had a number of meetings right after the shit hit the fan and we have tried to meet each month since then. We haven’t met for a while as Naomi was in Florida in December and she canceled due to a storm in January. Every session begins by us each having the opportunity to ask five questions of our choice of the other. This is so we can practise our listening skills while the one responding is to speak on the question for as long as they have need. Knowing we have this opportunity once a month has been helpful and the formality of it also ensures that we put some things on our agenda that we might otherwise brush aside. For the first six months I asked the same questions. Today I reverted to the core questions of trust.
“Have you seen or spoken to Randy since I last asked you?”
“No.”
“Have you spoken with his daughter?” “No. One of the other women works with her now. You know that.”
"Have you fantasized about being with him?" “Rob, fantasize is your word; not mine. I’ve told you before, thinking about him does not mean I want to be with him. I don’t want to be with him. I am with you because I want to be with you. I honour you by giving you the honest answer when you ask because it does cross my mind what it would be like if I could be with him. It still hurts me that you couldn’t let us be friends. So my mind wanders sometimes. I don’t indulge these thoughts but they have their own life. It is not like I can take one of your pills and make those thoughts go away. I don’t mind being held accountable for my actions and choices but I want to be entitled to my own thoughts.”
“Are you still committed to our marriage?” “Yes.”
“Am I an adequate husband?” “It’s not about you being adequate, what matters is that I am thankful, and I am thankful for what you bring to the marriage. I don't expect you or anyone else to satisfy some abstract level of adequacy. That's an unrealistic expectation for anyone." Ginny breathed a huge sigh as she paused. "I have told you this every time you have asked.”
Ginny always asks good questions. I have always admired her for this. I just wish she asked me more questions. This is why I appreciate the way we begin our sessions so much.
“Are you afraid about going away to Cooperstown?” “Yes. I know I need to trust you. And I thought at first that it would be a good thing to force myself to do it. And I still think that. It doesn’t mean I am not afraid. I am afraid of you seeing Randy again. I am afraid of losing you. I am afraid of losing our family. I am afraid of losing what matters the most to me. I can’t correct my fears, they are what they are.”
“When you ask me if I fantasize about being with Randy are you expecting another answer? Do you want me to say “no”? “I want you to forget about him. I wish he didn't exist. I want to forget
about him.”
“Are you committed to this marriage—or is it one of the things you are going to quit?” “I have never wanted to quit this marriage. Are you asking me about my quitting project?"
We are not allowed to answer questions with questions. Always attentive to and seemingly trusting the process, Ginny simply looked on and listened as she waited for me to continue. Naomi did the same. At first, she interrupted a lot to remind us of the rules we agreed to. She doesn't need to know.
"I am quitting things for myself. I am trying to focus my intentions. I am trying to be less distracted. I am trying to get more clarity with my choices. I am trying to be more present to you and the kids. I am trying. I want you to hear that. I want you to see that. I want you to believe that."
“Are you going to talk to your doctor about quitting your Subtunol habit?” “Ginny, I go to see my doctor every month so I can keep ahead of that. You know what happens when I try to get through a headache without one. Its not a habit any more than insulin is for a diabetic or nitro is for a person with heart trouble. Of course I will talk to him. We always talk. If I could quit and function I would.”
“How many did you take this week?” “I don’t count. No wait, I did. It was fifteen. I felt the clusters coming on every day and took an extra pill at night on the weekend. Do you want me like I was a year and a half ago?"
Naomi reminded me not to pose questions and suggested that I had already answered the question, if I had more to say we would have time later.
It wasn’t a particularly good session. It felt like a step backwards. I guess we were not ready to miss a month. We're into some patterns that aren't getting us anywhere. Ginny says I don’t trust her and I say I have reason not to.
Ginny asked to come with me to the doctor the next time I went. I said OK.
Bob learned the skill of complete recall in a class in ethnographic research. I didn't realize how good he was until lying in bed one night before we went to sleep he recited an entire conversation he had earlier in the evening with my father on the telephone. The conversation had been over half an hour long and as Bob repeated it he was also imitating my father's accent and idiosyncrasies. He may have been filling in some of the details but he may not have been. He had all the names of my father's partners right and was busy quoting telephone numbers and other unneeded details as well. As time passed, this skill atrophied some although when he describes these sessions with Naomi, even though he is editing out lots, I don't doubt the accuracy of any of it.
February 27
Q: I will quit getting laughs by making fun of things that I consider "below me." C: This will be a step towards quitting to considering people to be "below" me because of their interests and aptitudes. N: In my Macro II lecture and I explained that the notion that "everything has a market value" was also enunciated by retired wrestling star Ted DiBiase's with his motto "Every man has his price." I jokingly suggested his autobiography, by the same name, might be good supplementary reading. I had a sense of guilt later for getting cheap laughs at the expense of TV wrestling for it had been a big, and dare I say important, part of my childhood going to the Gardens to see The Sheik, Mil Mirascas, Bobo Brazil and all the others on Sunday nights.
I probably came across as a snob. I don't want to do that.
I would call this entry Robert's nadir. Rob never was a snob in any sense of the word with the one exception that the appendage "baseball snob" might apply on some occasions. What is he talking about is not very clear. The very fact that he knows all those wrestlers names tells us that he is not above them in any way. Maybe he did sort some things out. His work with the mentally ill the last of the two years seemed to come without any sense of ambivalence or condescension. I only ever met Sam but the way he talked about Charlie and David made it so clear that the
relationships were mutual, honest and symbiotic.
February 28
Q: Reaching the end of the month without taking stock of the project. C: The fact is that I am having these thoughts and writing them in my journal may allow me to leave them behind. Developing theory would be premature. N: I am most struck by the entries of February 19 which I can't even understand myself and February 24 where I didn't even set out to quit anything. This could be an excuse to cease the project. Instead I will add to my criteria the notion that I won't quit for quitting sake. If there is no inspiration to quit, I can take a day off. Bob Marley, answered, when asked about the lack of political content in one of his songs, "sometimes you have to take a day off of the revolution." He is not a bad guy to follow.
In order to quit something I will ensure that it is: -realistic to accomplish -measurable -not clearly harmful to myself or anyone else -of potential benefit for myself and others -not in direct conflict with another resolution I make -reversible if it shows to not fall into the above criteria
Ginny's question about what I want is unanswerable. Grounded Theory has no prescribed wants. I have no wants in this project other than understanding. Ginny should appreciate this.
How Bob thought I could appreciate anything at this point is beyond me. His inner world was already dwarfing his outer world. Nothing looked the same to the two of us. I used to have to look away from Andre and Rebecca when he was talking because I was so tired of their looks which seemed to be asking “When is dad going to snap out of this?” If I had been my own client, I would have set up an intervention back in January if not sooner.
March 1
Q: Tea. C: I had six cups of tea today as if I was making up for my Lenten
prohibition on coffee. This "recreational" quit is having a more clear and noticeable impact than many other quits I took far more seriously when I made them. N: 104 people were killed yesterday by a car bomb in Iraq and it made page three of the newspaper. I am burdened by thinking of 100 deaths clanging off the North American public like a poorly hit golf ball against the wicket at a driving range. If everyone were to pause and breathe we would have a different world.
March 2
Q: On January 15 I vowed to quit procrastinating about writing my own obituary. I have not done this. I have not worked on my obituary. Rather than a new quit today I want to reaffirm my resolve to quit this procrastination. C: The "production" of Mr. Science's funeral is an inspiration. An honouring of death breathed life. N: Reading through the obituaries each day has continued to become a bigger and more meaningful part of my life. Last Saturday a picture of a man wearing a beanie with a propeller jumped out at me and drew me in. Underneath the picture was his name: Mr. Science. Down the page they gave his name as Al Gallagher and then explained that everyone called him Mr. Science because of his work at the Science Centre in which he often performed in this character for groups of school children.
Curiosity got the better of me and I went to his funeral today. The service was inspiring. I have only been to a few funerals in my life.
It was at Lawrence Avenue United Church. It was mentioned that "Mr. Science" hadn't been active at the church. At the same time it was clear the clergywoman had known him and it sounded like his wife was a very active church member.
After a few prayers and a hymn, they had this strange thing where they took a propeller beanie off the table that was on a table at the front of the church with a picture of "Mr. Science." Next they picked up the beanie and placed it on the head of which I imagine is to be the new "Mr. Science." He feigned opposition and reluctance to wear the beanie in much the same fashion that when our parliament elects a Speaker that he or she will feign reluctance in being led to the Speaker's chair. He then proceeded to do a number of, well, scientific magic tricks. In one he had a liquid that appeared clear and then would turn blue every time he turned
his back. At first a few people yelled blue when this happened and slowly the whole congregation was doing it. Even me. There was a lot of laughter. Other tricks included disappearing (Styrofoam) coffee cup and a balancing trick with hot dogs that I can't even begin to describe other than with his own closing line which brought the house down, "see, you can teach old dogs new tricks."
It was clarified for us that these were Al's favourite tricks that he had developed at the centre over the years. After that, another friend who gave the eulogy explained that this show and the "passing of the beanie" had been Al's wish and that he had shared this shortly after his diagnosis (that was the only mention of any illness.) His words were warm, appreciative and hopeful for the richness of his legacy for his colleagues, friends, wife, children and extended family. The handout we were given said "Celebration of Life" and that indeed was what it was.
Robert never stopped going to funerals. I never knew how often he went, it is just that they came up in conversation. The connections he spoke of having with the deceased were so vague I sometimes doubted they were real but it never made sense to push him on this. I imagined it was his way of going to church without having to admit he was going. He may have gone once a week for all I know. Maybe every Wednesday afternoon. I don't know. The stories he told were always about something he liked such as the sermon, or a song, or a poem. In particular, I remember when he gave a verbatim recital of the words of the Legion color party from a veteran's funeral. Looking back he must have either studied them or gone to a lot of veteran's funerals. I can only hope this helped him prepare for his own death.
March 3
Q: Any reference of my inheritance as being jointly owned by Ginny (to Ginny or anyone else.) C: This is the way we operate already. I am only committing it to paper. N: Two stock brokers are standing next to each other in a bank line-up and four men enter waving guns and telling people to freeze. As two of the thieves take the money from the tellers, the other two move everyone else against a wall - including the two stock brokers. They tell everyone to turn over their money and jewelery. One of the stock brokers sticks a folded up wad into the other stockbroker's hand. "What's this?" he asks as he feels it to see what it is. The first stockbroker replies, "It's the $100 I
owe you!"
I have long since given up worrying about my financial future.
My brother and I each inherited $300,000.00 when my parents died and we sold their house. Given the income Ginny and I are making each month, the security of our housing co-op and our relatively simple lifestyle I don't ever figure Ginny and I will need to use it. We placed it in an ethical fund where it earns a small and steady return. It provides a quiet security well above and beyond the planning that we were always comfortable with.
Ginny has always referred to this money as mine. She liked my parents a lot and financial gain from their death conflicted with her grieving process. Even though I tend to think of this as "our money" as would any court of law, I rarely speak of the money or what we could do with it.
Robert and I were both generous with money but our motivations were different. For me it was a chance to help somebody so who we gave money to and how and who they helped was most important. For Bob it was more like a discipline as if giving away a certain amount of money purged his guilt for having income and financial security. He would bounce back and forth between impatience and procrastination about where we would actually give our money. I think once he committed to giving the work was done for him. This difference led us to many disagreements. It made a big difference to me that we would support cancer education and prevention before we would donate to research and cure finding. For Bob this was a non issue- as long as we showed our compassion with a donation he was content. He could be so analytical in every other area, this always mystified me.
March 4
Q: Pretending I don't care about my gold medal study. C: Again, this one will be hard to operationalize. N: I worked some more today on the idea of assigning costs to the possibility of winning gold medals. I know that you can't account for an athlete stumbling out of the gate such as our hurdler hopeful, Perdita Felicien, did in the 2004 summer games. I realize that there are so many variables that will be impossible to account for and I am coming to see this is a huge project and nothing I can do much on before I go to
Cooperstown. I remain motivated because I believe that it could have a real impact if I do a good enough job and get it in front of the right eyes.
March 5
Q: "However" C: Another word. N: On January 4 I resolved not to use the word "but" in this journal. On January 10 I resolved not to use the word "although." The word "however," which I used again yesterday, is making frequent appearances in my writing.
This is not a wise economic decision. The word "however" (not to mention the words "but" and "although") still appears to have a significant positive marginal return. This means it has tangible value. It fits in a sentence well. It is understood by others. It conveys a point. And so on. In addition it has little if any opportunity cost. I don't pay any money to use the word. I don't have any shame in using it. It doesn't prevent me from using any other word.
Fortunately, this project is not about making wise economic decisions. I have whole lifetime of proof that I can make wise economic decisions. This project is about something else. It is Happening! The Ground Is being Cultivated! The Theory will Emerge!
I like Robert's image of “cultivated ground.” Such ground has no beauty or fruit in itself but it is necessary for beauty and fruit to come forth. These entries are neither beautiful or fruitful yet they may have been just as necessary as preparing earth is for planting flowers, fruits and vegetables.
March 6
Q: Stopping anything without considering the implications of what I might be starting. C: This is unquestionably a healthy tension to maintain. N: Stopping and starting are related. In fact, one is always the other. Think of the people who run marathons with the run-walk method where they run ten minutes then walk a minute, repeating this pattern for the entire race. When they stop running they start walking. And when they start running they are stopping walking. If you look at January 5 where I stopped hearing of a person dying without pausing I really started pausing
when I heard of a person dying. On February 12, I spoke as if I was stopping keeping this project as a secret from my wife when really I was starting to tell her about it.
Maybe it is put better in Laurie Anderson's song Walking and Falling
You're always falling. With each step, you fall forward slightly. And then catch yourself from falling. Over and over, you're falling. And then catching yourself from falling. And this is how you can be walking and falling At the same time.
I have held back on certain things that I was going to quit because it was really about starting something more than quitting. There is a creative tension here that I want to push.
Bob missed the first part. I could have been saying these words to him the entire year.
I wanted you. And I was looking for you. But I couldn't find you. I wanted you. And I was looking for you all day. But I couldn't find you. I couldn't find you. You're walking. And you don't always realize it, but
March 7
Q: Patting myself on the back for my environment friendly choices. C: First choice was "quit being smug" N: There are only three of McLean's "101 Easy Ways to Save the Environment” that I have not done that I could do. By writing this here, I will be able to refrain from telling others.
March 8
Q: Making decisions without considering "admitting powerlessness" as an option.
C: I am struggling with my working definitions of "serious decision" and "powerless." My quits have all been about my personal will and choice. The twelve step movement challenges that as strength and even names it as the essential weakness of us all. I am doing the opposite of the twelve steps. I am embracing my power to choose! I am using choice as my route to freedom! N: I was browsing books in a used book sale at the city library and came across a copy of the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous. If Bill W. (the author who is credited with founding AA) hasn't got anything to say to me about quitting who does?
I read "Bill's Story" which is a short biographical review of his life with alcohol. He had a lot of trouble giving up the one thing he needed to give up. So far, I have not had trouble giving up the things I have given up. Coffee for Lent has been perhaps the hardest. I have been more tired than I ever remember. I have been going to bed at about 8:30 every night when midnight used to be early. I am not sleeping well- to say the least.
I also noticed that the twelve steps are more about starting than stopping and that none of the steps mention quitting drinking. Step one is about being powerless over alcohol and is the only one that mentions liquor.
The twelve steps are not about relinquishing. Instead they are about developing. Developing habits. Habits of prayer. Habits of honest relationships. Habits of self examination and lastly, habits of service to others.
Even though I certainly have no sense of being powerless over alcohol, at 25 cents the book was a good buy and I can revisit it as I continue this project. There may well be something there for me.
Ginny and I were both surprised when a number of Robert's Narcotics Anonymous friends came to the celebration of his life. They too were surprised when nobody had ever heard them. I sense I could have enjoyed Jack (his sponsor) and Mark (who said he learned a lot from Robert) had I met them in other circumstances. Once they found out that his NA life was truly anonymous I think they felt that Robert would have preferred we had never met. They were as much caught off guard as the rest of us. No one knew! They only gave me their first names so I wasn't able to contact them for any input in this publication. This whole chapter of Robert's life stands out in its privacy contrasted with the
rest of his life which he always spoke of quite freely.
March 9
Q: I am unable to "quit paying war taxes" with my 2004 return. I will do this for 2005. C: I have written the letter, in the form prescribed by WTRC (War Tax Resisters of Canada), to the payroll department of the university with copies to the department chair and the faculty association. My checks will have $45 more each month and I will have direct withdrawal from the credit union each month to send the money to the WRTC. Ginny is going to do the same. N: I completed our income tax return today. Our refund this year will be almost $8,000.00. I had made inquires earlier about withholding 10% of my taxes and keeping them in trust with the WRTC to protest the uses of taxes for military build up as I had done in 1991 when I was on contract with the Canadian Football League offices. It was a simple matter of taking a few hundred dollars off the payment I sent in with my tax form. I guess I still have that money sitting in their trust account. I got letters from the government telling me that I owed them money and that interest was accruing for a few years and then nothing. I have assumed that they have written off the debt-- or maybe I will be given a whopping big bill with all the interest charged when I retire and want to collect the Canada Pension.
March 10
Q: Feeling guilty about sick days from work. C: It is not as if I would ever get fired over missing too much. N: My parents died two years ago today in a car crash while on vacation in Arizona.
Tragically, on March 10, William and Rose Seaton of Willowdale died in a multi vehicle collision when returning from a vacation in Arizona. William worked in the car business his entire life spending the last twenty years of his working career as a manager with Canada Sales and Leasing. William was a thirty-year member of the Rotary Club of North York and held every
available executive office. Rose was a homemaker and worked tirelessly as a volunteer with many organizations including the North York General Hospital Guild, Rotary's Inner Wheel and the Willowdale Historical Society. Surviving William and Rose are their two sons Robert (Ginny) of Toronto and Ted of Vancouver. Grandpa and Grandma will also be missed by Rebecca and Andre Seaton of Toronto. A private burial will take place at a later date.
Last year the anniversary date was very tough. It was as if I finally admitted they weren't still away somewhere. It didn't feel that way today at all. If I had to grasp at describing it I would say it was like when you are going out the door and have a nagging feeling you have forgotten to do or take something. Because of this I chose to take a sick day and called in the department to have them post a note on my door that I couldn't be in for my office hours.
I spent most of the day breathing, breathing until I cried. And then breathing again until I cried some more. Forced grief is OK, for me at least. Anything so foreign must be good!
I remembered everything I could about my parents' lives, when I lived with them, what I had heard from their childhood memories and things I remember my brother telling me.
Ginny came home earlier than I thought she would and heard me crying in the bedroom. She too misses my parents. She climbed into bed with me and held me. We made love. It was beautiful.
We made pizza when the kids came home and then looked at photo albums together. I was cared for and loved. The sick day was a great idea. Sick days have always been a sign of weakness.
I was set free by that day and captured by it ever since. My feelings for Bob were the deepest I have had only the predominant feeling was pity. We did make love and I know it was beautiful for Bob and in a way it was also for me. Afterwards I held him like a
baby. He nuzzled me as if he were one too. It fit for that moment but such inequality could never be sustained. It is as if for that one afternoon and into the evening I gave up hope for more and allowed myself to pity and comfort Bob without any apprehension. Had I been able to do that all the time Bob would never have left Toronto but I know this would not have been right for Bob, myself or the kids. There was no overlap between what Bob needed and what I could give. When Bob was sleeping that night I read his journal and became furious with him.
March 11
Q: Getting on the bus last no matter where I am in the line-up C: I have done this for over twenty years N: When I went to make my entry today I see Ginny already made one. I guess I should not be surprised that she figured out my entry code for my laptop. "1994" This is what she wrote:
I'm busy quitting my wife these days. I hardly ever talk to her. I don't meet her eyes. I blame her for being distant. I don't look at myself. I admit that I am not paying attention very well, I promised to take her to my doctor and simply didn't tell her when I had my last appointment. Even in bed yesterday, when Ginny gave me all of herself, I was away. I was thinking about this stupid project.
I need to do something to honour my parents. I need to let go of my grief and get on with life so I can regain my passion for my work, the many causes that mater to me and to enjoy my family again.
This stupid project is self-indulgent garbage and avoids the real issues of my unprocessed grief, my abuse of Subtunol and my avoidance of things that should matter to me.
Did she think that I wouldn't realize it that she was the one who wrote it? Sometimes she playfully impersonates my tone of voice (my professor's voice she calls it) and while she hasn't quite nailed it here, I am a little freaked out that she can be so playful about her accusations that seem so harsh and judgmental: two words I would normally never use to describe her.
1994 was the year the Montreal Expos had the best team in Baseball. Because of the players strike there was no playoffs or
World Series.
March 12
Q: I am going to quit asking Becky-Lou questions that she can answer with "I guess." C: It will take a moment to be appropriately creative. N: Becky-Lou has taken to answering just about every question with the same answer-- I guess. It is meaningless. It is frustrating. It is unnerving.
Are you coming home after school? I guess. Can you help Andre with his homework tonight? I guess. Is it parent's day next week? I guess. Did I see your friend Monica wearing a cast? I guess. Do you think Canada should participate in Anti Ballistic Missile Defense? I guess.
I have started to ask her for numbers instead. What is the percentage likelihood you will be home for supper at 6:00? What are the odds that your school concert is next Wednesday night? On a scale of one to ten if eating borscht was a one and pizza was a ten what would you give as a rating for pirogies for dinner tonight?
This is working. March 13 Q: Pretending the world is not diverse, immense, complex and incongruous. C: My project has often led me to feel overwhelmed. Although it may not always be my experience, I believe that being overwhelmed is a good thing. Is it too much to wonder if "everything we have and do has the primary purpose to prevent us from being overwhelmed by what is?" By quitting I am healing this willful blindness. N: There was another earthquake reported off the coast of Indonesia. It measured 5.2 on the Richter Scale. The one that caused the great Tsunami was 9.0. There was no damage or destruction caused by this one, which has been just one in a series since December 26th. None of which have made any noise in the news. The news piece I read indicated it "created panic sending many residents scurrying for cover." I remember in the days following the phone call when I was told of my parents' death that I had a slight panic attack every time the phone rang. The notion that an entire country (seven times the number of people in
Canada) is feeling the same kind of constant jitters is a little overwhelming.
March 14
Q: Jaywalking. C: The good man in blue who stopped me put it refreshingly and strikingly clear, "it is antisocial behaviour." I will be less antisocial. N: I used to phone a friend between Christmas and New Year's and at the end of our annual check-in we would make a few predictions including how many conversations we would each have in the year to come with uniformed police officers. At the end of the year the one who was closer got a dinner from the other. I can't remember how we started or when we stopped. This does not stop me from still counting (in my head) my cop conversations each year. I had number one today.
I was stopped for jaywalking. The officer flashed his lights, at the corner of Harbord and Bathurst as I crossed against a red and waved me over. Maybe he knows I walk or take public transit everywhere I go? He quoted some figure like $108.00 for the fine and talked about causing MVAs (which I think stands for motor vehicle accidents.)
I was polite. He had a point and he carries a gun. Not to mention a little book to write up $108.00 tickets with.
I jaywalk quite a bit. If there is no traffic, I cross. If that has saved me four minutes a day, I have been saved 280 hours or nearly three weeks worth of waking days of time standing at a street corner since we moved back here and I started teaching at the University of Toronto.
March 15
Q: I am going to quit being averse to pity and humiliation. C: Ginny does not acknowledge that she pities me. N: During my lecture with my macroeconomics class I came to a part where I was trying to explain the difference between grants and tax incentives. I spoke of how a couple giving allowance to their kid was more like a grant and that giving breaks in doing housework was more like a tax incentive.
I remembered the student who asked me to use "gay and lesbian examples" and began talking about a couple of men who were raising
teenagers. I momentarily forgot that I was telling the story that way and referred to the mom and dad. I thought it would be better if I went straight on and referred to the couple again as being two men. Before I was done, I had made yet another reference to them as a heterosexual couple. [I have used this particular analogy for years and wasn't working with any notes.]
Nobody said anything to me. Not even the student who had come to see me in the first place to tell me to use more homosexual examples. No doubt they were either confused or just had pity for me as a guy who was either trying to be really liberal minded and flubbed it or maybe just plain confused and distracted. No harm, yet no gain either. My mother used to say: Some you win, some you lose and some are rained out.
What Robert did develop was a healthy indifference to pity and humiliation which was matched by an equal nonchalance in response to praise and accomplishment. I think the humility that he finds later in 2005 set him free from the need to ever look outside himself for approval or disapproval. It was more complicated with pre-existing relationships, especially close ones like Ginny, myself, Andre and Rebecca. With us, and a few others I am sure, he had trouble turning off our past admiration but with the new people he met, at the NDP, in the co-op that he moved into and through the community garden he worked at there was a looseness that I had never known. His mother's wisdom, which he quotes above, seemed to finally be something he could take to heart and live out.
March 16
Q: Devaluing human life. C: This connects well with my recent resolve to embrace the overwhelming nature of the world and my ongoing resolve to breathe and remember the birth, life and death of all people whose deaths reach my ears. N: The big story in the news has been the four RCMP officers shot and killed in Mayerthorpe, Alberta. "The worst day in the history of the farce since the 1800s."
We left “farce” as is, as well as other possible mistakes out of respect for Robert’s intentions.
March 17
Q: A number of unhelpful thoughts that have occurred to me over the years. C: Thoughts are hard to quit. Namely, these thoughts include: zbeing suspicious of family members who bear a very strong resemblance to each other zbeing disappointed with twins when they are best friends zthinking men who don't care which brand of beer they drink are small minded zbelieving that anyone who is always asleep by midnight lacks imagination zonly men should ever fart in public zassuming that anybody who smokes is of below average intelligence zyielding to the idea a call on a cellular phone to say they are on their way absolves people of being late zhating anyone who patronizes me feigning an acquaintance with a person, book or idea by nodding when they really have no clue should be smacked up side of their head zconsidering that people who serve me instant coffee without telling me it is instant should receive mild injuries.
Some of these ideas seem right out of the games that Robert and I used to play. One was "tell me why" where we would just ask each other questions that began with that phrase. Tell me why you wear white underwear? Tell me why you drink sherry so quickly? Tell me why you've missed an eyelet with your shoelace? And we would try to outdo each other with how obscure and silly our answers could be. We would often side track into ad hominum attacks on people who were different than us. I never took it seriously and I never thought he did. This entry doesn't read light and playful at all and it is meant for himself. I considered cutting it from the manuscript as it seems not only irrelevant but embarrassingly juvenile. A priest once explained to me in bible study you have to be willing to venture down wrong roads in order to be sure you recognize the right one when you find it. Here is a classic example of Robert continuing down a wrong road.
March 18
Q: Any quits that are not recognizable in increments.
C: Too much attention will be required to live life one bus stop at a time. N: I had to catch the bus to the university today and one stop after I got on a group of about 40 pre school kids and about eight of their teachers boarded.They filled the bus.At the next stop a few more people squeezed on. From then on, except when somebody rang the bell to get off, the driver drove right through stops. More than once I saw people swearing at the bus and flailing their arms in disgust as we raced by. I figured it out. Because the pre school kids were so short, from the ground it looked like the bus had only a few people standing in the back of the bus and a whole bunch jammed in at the front. They all thought the driver was an idiot for not realizing the bus wasn't full.
Robert told me this story when I came to visit one time. We were walking through High Park and a pair of wheelchair athletes came burrowing down a hill at us and we had to jump quickly out the way. They laughed at us and I made some statement that it was obviously funnier from their perspective than ours. Robert told me this story in response explaining that the two athletes were like he had been on the bus. They could obviously see something we couldn't or they wouldn't have been laughing. I still envy the certainty with which he accepted that. This seems to be another victory in his quest.
March 19
N: It was our day to see Naomi again. As usual I began with my five questions.
“Have you seen or spoken to Randy since I last asked you?” “No” she sighed.
"Have you written him an email or a letter?" Ginny tilted her head back, rolling her eyes as if their weight drew her head back. She paused, closed her eyes and breathed a shallow breath. "Yes- I wrote him one email."
Naomi often encouraged us to wait for a longer answer rather than jump in with another question. I could feel her eyes pressing my lips shut.
Ginny continued, "I imagine you want to know what I wrote to him and why I wrote to him. I guess I could send you a copy if that would help. One of the places we went together was a gazebo in High Park. On the
inside of the gazebo was a carved heart with an arrow through it with the initials R.H. and G.S. We had laughed at that and so when I saw the same initials spray painted with the same heart onto the side of an onramp on the Lakeshore, I wondered about who R.H. and G.S. were, and, of course, I thought of him too. I wrote and told him where he could see it."
"Did he write back?" I interjected.
"Yes- he wrote back one word. Thanks, with an exclamation mark. That was it. I could send you a copy of that email too if you wanted."
I had caught her and she knew she had crossed the line we had agreed on. "Would you be willing to CC me any further notes you send him?"
Her head was still tilted back and her eyes were open a sliver now. She rocked her head forward and looked, as if, through me. "Yes" she said, as if it meant nothing to her whether she said yes or no.
I had one question left. "Since we are on the topic of you not respecting boundaries, what's with cracking into my computer and making an entry in my project journal?'
Naomi put up her hand, making the stop sign to Ginny and then turned to me. "Robert, would you like to rephrase that question?"
"Ginny, could you say more about the entry you made in my journal on March 11?"
Ginny spoke slowly and deliberately as she responded.
"I was trying to be funny Robert. When your password was so easy to guess, it is a little like you wanted me to break it. I started to read your journal or at least I started reading the entries I hadn't seen before. I was hoping to hear your heart because I never hear it from you anymore. And when I didn't hear your heart I cried. I cried a long time that afternoon Bob. I am not interested in that story Bob. It is not a direction of you that I want to know. It is not a path that is healthy for you. I wanted just to delete the whole file and make it go away. I thought about going to the class you were teaching that afternoon and disguising myself, like I did that time in Columbus. I was going to offer to read your Tarot cards at a café and when we got there I would tell you that whatever you should do, you should not quit anything. Then I was going to tell you that I sensed
you are some strange quest but I couldn't tell exactly what it was other than it was dangerous and you shouldn't take it. But you don't seem to be able to play at all right now. I even miss you practicing your jokes on me before you tell them in class. I am scared. You are not even three months into this and I am scared not only about what you will quit in July or November but what you might try and quit tomorrow. Soon I will only see you on weekends and I can only think it can get worse. That is why I wrote in your journal Bob- and to save you asking, I haven't been back in it since."
It was Ginny's turn.
“Have you seen Dr. Patel since we met last?” “Yes. Once.” “Do you remember your promise to take me with you?”
“To Dr. Patel's? No I don't remember that. I mean I remember you asking if you could? And I remember saying sure. I didn't know that meant you wanted to come to my next visit. I'll see him once more before I go to Cooperstown. You can come then- unless he had some problem with it?”
"Is the Subtunol in the kitchen cupboard the only bottle you have?" "I have another one at the office." Ginny paused, played with her fingernails, and looked out the window. It looked as if she couldn't think of anything to ask. Like I said, she has not been herself lately. She opened her mouth to speak, and then closed it. Pausing even longer before lowering her eyes and asking in a hushed tone, "Are you happy with our sex life?"
I was able to answer right away. "Of course not, Ginny"
Now it was her turn to wait, and make sure I continued. "I think that time of impotence hangs over me like a cloud. Dr. Patel said that its not uncommon after something like the way my parents died. I know better than to be ashamed. It is just that there is a fear now. And when you told me about Randy it felt like a release. The three months I went without touching you weren't intended as punishment. I didn't want to touch you.
I had never felt that way and I didn't know what to do with that feeling. It was a relief for me to not worry about performing and you know, I've told you before, I just didn't want to make love to you when I was so hurt and worried you'd leave me. Making love as it could be our last time every time wasn't as exciting as it sounds like it should be. We've done well, or at least I think so this past while. Maybe we are at an age where we just can't expect to have sex more often. Maybe it is more about quality than quantity right now."
Ginny looked at me tenderly. The tenderness said, "keep talking."
"I don't feel I have a lot to offer that way right now Ginny. It is as if I am waiting for something to happen before I can enter back into that full time. I am being honest with you when I say "No I am not happy." That does not mean that I can just change it."
I wanted to make love to Ginny right there. She looked so vulnerable and needy. She looked so longingly at me, as if there was a giant abyss between us. I was no more capable of reaching across that room than I am of leaping across the Grand Canyon.
"I have a lot on my plate now with work, maybe this summer when I am home on weekends with no teaching load we'll have a chance to get back to where we were. I hope it is enough for you that I want to have a better sex life."
Naomi spoke up to remind Ginny that I had not asked her a question. She reminded us that I was just stating a hope of mine, I was not asking her to respond or state whether it was enough for her or not. Naomi looked back at me waiting for me to continue.
"Trust me" I said.
"Have you thought about quitting sex?" Ginny asked.
"I have thought about quitting a lot of things. Probably sex is one of them. If you are asking if I have actually made a commitment or even made a journal entry about it the answer is no. We can make love today- right when we get home." [I surprised myself by blurting that out. I didn't add anything and that was Ginny's fifth question.]
Naomi seemed to side with me. She steered away the conversation from
our sex life and actually talked about the last time I saw my mom and dad, before they went on their trip. Ginny talked about the day she spent shopping with my mom a week before. I felt better at the end our meeting than the beginning.
Ginny didn't ask me to make love when we came home.
My brief relationship with Randy was thrilling but it was not the reason for our marriage breaking up. In fact, my ongoing contact with Randy was always more painful that enjoyable. Our relationship was uncomplicated at the beginning. We were like a couple of teenagers sneaking around behind our parents. But it wasn't long before the facade of innocence and harmlessness fell and left us feeling like those same teenagers sitting on the couch in the living room with our parents standing over us with their arms folded. I do not regret my time with Randy nor do I long for anything like it again.
March 20
Q: Having a driver's license C: I cut mine up and threw it away. It was due for replacement at the end of March. N: I can take the bus to and from Cooperstown.
March 21
Q: Listening in to conversations on the bus. C: Probably impossible. I have done it for years. I enjoy it. Would I need earplugs? N: A current issue in the news is a fight over putting up posters on telephone poles and light standards. On one side are those who claim this as a right of free speech and a way for grass roots groups and struggling businesses to do affordable promotion. On the other side they are saying that it is "unsightly clutter" that is bad for business. I know two of the guys that have been in the news and I heard them both on the radio today.
Jim Clines is advocating for this as a democratic right. Jim and I were members of the Parkdale Tenant's Association when I was an undergrad. We did some good work I am not surprised Jim has stayed in advocacy. He was always genuinely committed in way that stood out above and beyond others.
William Madlock was a marketing and development officer at the university who was an external reviewer for a graduate student of mine a few years ago. He's got some job with the Chamber of Commerce now and listening to him yabber away about having one pole on every block dedicated to posters and his other neo-fascist ideas just pissed me off.
On January 24 I wrote, "I will no longer listen to or watch a newscast without taking a moment to ask, 'Do I have some way I want to respond?'"
In response, then, I looked up Jim on the web site he mentioned in his interview and phoned him. We'd lost touch when I went away to Columbus for my doctorate. He was thrilled to hear from me, as he didn't even know I was in the city. I told him I wanted to work with him. He agreed to come by my office soon. Over the last couple of years I have had trouble finding the time or energy to see even our better friends let alone getting in touch with people that are out of our loop. I think this is a good sign. Jim is a very warm guy- good tonic with all that seems to be before me.
I met Jim at the service we had for Robert. It turns out Robert had left him $25,000.00 in his will. Jim was embarrassed and offered the money to Ginny who wasn't sure what to do. Robert and Jim connected early on in 2006 and ended up having a standing date to play pool together. Jim said he enjoyed Robert more in those twenty-two months than he ever had but also admitted that it seemed Ginny was the one who deserved the most and received the least with the turns of Robert's life. If there is any one thing I know, it is that Robert died without a care in the world about how anyone would judge his will.
March 22
Q: Any expectations I have ever held of becoming fluent in French. C: There is some energy in this quit I can't pinpoint. N: I speak perfect French in my dreams. In real life, I speak very poor French based on a few courses almost thirty years ago and travel in Quebec. I always enjoy my French dreams and constantly look forward to them. There was a time where I "blamed" these dreams for my not speaking French better. Thinking that since I get the satisfaction of dreaming in French, why bother putting the effort in to actually do it?
March 23
Q: Pining C: I live in the moment and appreciate times like tonight's dinner instead of wishing for what was. N: When Andre was just starting into school we used to play a game where we would tell a story and each person would add to the story by beginning with the word "fortunately" or "unfortunately." For old times sake, I guess, our kids launched into the game today.
When Becky-Lou said, "I went to the library today." Andre chimed in by saying, "Unfortunately it was raining" To which I added, "Fortunately you had a raincoat." And Ginny continued, "Unfortunately it had a hole in it."
And so it continued:
Fortunately I met a woman who had a needle and thread. Unfortunately she was a little crazy and began stabbing you with her needle. Fortunately your friend Sam came and scared her away. Unfortunately the needle was demon possessed and began stabbing you on its own.
Fortunately a police officer came and seized the needle. Unfortunately the needle started attacking the officer by poking his eyes causing the police officer to arrest me for thinking it was me stabbing him with the needle. Fortunately the sergeant at the station believed your story. Unfortunately it was still raining and you had a long walk home a hole in your raincoat.
Fortunately the skies quickly cleared up. Unfortunately a monster came up to you. Fortunately you were carrying your anti-monster spray in your pocket. Unfortunately you couldn't get the cap off and the monster began to eat you.
Fortunately he didn't like the way I tasted. Unfortunately, there was a big bottle of ketchup nearby (You get the idea)
Again, Bob experienced this differently than I did. I thought the kids were humouring Bob and I was worried he would be hurt. I secretly hoped afterwards that his obliviousness was feigned. Either it was genuine or he chose to lie to his diary too. Another question with no answer.
March 24
Q: Trying to wean myself off the Subtunol until my doctor supports me. C: I was not having any success anyway. I tried not taking one of my pills when I felt a headache coming on. I was inadequate for the challenge. I ended up having to go home from the office and to bed, staying there until supper time. N: I read in the paper tonight that the Washington Nationals had 24 people trying out to be their stadium announcer today. I wish I were one of them. As a child I dreamed of being a starting pitcher. Even as a teen when I relinquished that dream I would picture myself as a middle reliever who relied on craftiness and multiple deliveries to keep batters off balance. By the time I was old enough to actually be playing professional baseball I gave up my fanciful dreams. I then began to picture myself in non-playing roles. First it was batting practice pitcher then bullpen catcher followed by base coach and manager. Still today when crossing the street I sometimes pretend I am walking out the mound to take my pitcher out by tapping my left arm to indicate I want a left handed relief pitcher to come in from. What's next? Imagining I am one of the grounds keepers?
If I was a betting man, I would wager that he actually did fantasize about being a grounds keeper and that he would have considered details that would make the average person shudder. I had always admired his ability to daydream and I sense he only released the very margins of it. This was all gone in 2006. Robert just did. His thoughts were connected to action in simple, consistent and productive ways.
March 25
Q: Dismissing any request for my money out of hand. C: This will take a little bit of time and a little bit of effort. N: I received five requests for money in the mail today. Hemophilia, Addictions Research, Ohio State Alumni, SEED (Alternative Investment Developers) and Greenpeace. It is not like I have given to all these
people. I can't remember if I have given to any of them before. March 26 Q: Going a day without looking at the sky. C: It sad to imagine that I have gone days without lifting my head. N: I have always said popular vote, rather than some solar calendar should decide the "first day of spring". Today felt like the first day of spring. The sky had a tenderness I haven't felt since the fall.
March 27
Q: Chocolate, for the remainder of the year. C: No biggie. I had six cups of coffee today and loved each and every one of them. It was the best Easter I can remember! Giving up coffee and tea in Lent provided me this simple pleasure. N: Ginny did an Easter egg hunt for the kids. It is another one of our traditions. As long as they like chocolate and live at home I sure I will continue this. Ginny managed a rare coup- dark chocolate bunnies. Something we all appreciated.
March 28
Q: Looking at any woman for any more than two seconds. C: Does not include Ginny. Does not include women I am in conversation with. N: I walked home up St. George's and then along Bloor all the way to Shaw today before turning down Shaw to get to the co-op. I did this because there was a woman in a pleated red tartan skirt and dark brown herringbone stockings that was walking up St. George's. So I walked north to Bloor instead of south to Harbord. I had to walk a little slower than my normal pace in order to follow her all the way to Christie where she went into a dollar store. She had phenomenal legs and had a playful bounce to her walk that said Springtime in a way I needed to hear. I have no idea how old she was. Twenties I guess. I have always appreciated beautiful woman and while I know I haven't always done a great job of controlling my gawking it is strange for me to follow someone like this for what amounted to about 20 minutes. I have no interest in meeting or even making eye contact when I am taken in this way and I would be horrified if she ever had any sense I altered my route home to follow her. That being said I enjoyed my walk behind her and I am thankful that she was walking as far as Christie.
Reflecting upon former U.S. President Jimmy Carter's admission to Playboy magazine that "I've looked on many women with lust. I've committed adultery in my heart many times. God knows I will do this and forgives me" gives me reason to pause.
If I want to think of myself in the same terms as Jimmy Carter, and there are much worse things one could do, then what I did today is in the same realm as what Ginny did with Randy. What I did was a different in degree rather than kind with what she did. Intellectually, I can give assent to this with very little effort.
That Bob would consider marital infidelity a matter of abstract intellectual pursuit is enough to excuse any more comment on my part.
March 29
Q: Working five days a week. C: I am almost done my term and some things might not get done. It is not important right now. N: I stayed home sick today missing two classes. Four of my pills didn't hold off a disabling headache, which left me throwing up all morning after a couple of cups of coffee. Slowly I felt a little better and write this about 8 at night hoping for a good night's sleep.
2,000 more dead from what is now the third Asian earthquake. The bodies are still not buried in the massacre at the school on the Indian Reserve in Red Lake, Minnesota. The giant fight between the parents and husband over whether a woman should be tube fed or not. The Pope appears to be living out his last few days. Death is everywhere and the news is still thinking Michael Jackson is the most interesting. I did my breathing thing. It did not feel as genuine or respectful as it had when I first started.
Two weeks ago I decided to give up any compunction with feeling totally overwhelmed by the world and its diversity, immensity, complexity or incongruity. It seems flippant now that I wrote that. That complexity made me puke for five hours today.
More recently I reaffirmed my vow to respond to upsetting news. Yet I also stated five days into the project that "I fear already this may result in my avoiding all the media and all the news because the pauses may
become too painful." This is a struggle.
One good thing I have done is giving up feeling guilty about missing work. Staying home today was the right thing to do.
March 30
Q: Walking by purple flowers without smelling them. C: I'll notice more flowers of all colours. N: It was a beautiful spring day. I stopped to smell some purple flowers on the way to school
March 31
N: Having reached 25% completion is a real watershed and a strong indication that I will finish out the year. Back when I ran in marathons, I wouldn't think about whether I would finish until after the first quarter and would begin enjoying that thought of finishing until after the half way mark where I would coast and put the thought of finishing or not out of my head. Miles 18-22 were the killers where I couldn't think about much (except not stopping) and finally after mile 23 all I could think about was finishing. So far, this project has not been anything like running a marathon. That being said, running the first 25% of a marathon isn't anything like running a marathon.
I am looking forward to my time in Cooperstown. I think that this project will be much easier there. I will be less distracted by what immediate impact my choices will have on my family. I will be less distracted by the demands my work places on me. I expect to have time to stay real healthy. It is only a month away.
April 1
Q: April Fool Jokes C: Little
N: Stanton Broberg Chair of the Department of Economics University of Toronto Toronto, ON
April 1, 2005
Dear Stanton,
Please accept my resignation as Associate Professor of Economics. Effective immediately.
Economics, Shmeconomics. That is what I say.
I am sure you can find some other dolt to sit in my office and draw charts and graphs on the front boards of classrooms.
I have accepted an appointment to the Le Chaise de Poisson D'avril at the University of Paris.
Sincerely,
Robert Seaton Former Associate Professor
I did not send the above letter to our department chair, I just emailed a copy to my friend, Jack, who is our rep on the Faculty Association.
Jack called me up and explained that he had immediately met with the department chair and had talked him out of accepting my resignation. Thinking he was calling my bluff and catching my "fish of April" allusion, I began to play along. He's pretty sharp and managed to create enough doubt for me to begin to worry. I was almost ten minutes into the conversation before he hollered April Fool and bellowed laughter over the phone. His office is only a few doors away- I heard his laughter in stereo.
I grew up being taught that April Fool's day ended at noon and that "the fool who plays the fool after noon is the biggest fool of all." So this joke, which ended up back on me, marked the end of fooling for the day.
In his first year of university on April 1, Robert's parents were on a cruise down the Rhine River. Robert sent them a telegram with the following text: "I AM ABOUT TO FAIL FOUR OF MY FIVE COURSES STOP I AM QUITTING SCHOOL STOP I AM MOVING TO MONTREAL STOP PLEASE WIRE ME TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR A BUS TICKET STOP THANK YOU ROBERT" His dad got the telegram and after his initial panic found a phone and called his brother, Robert's Uncle Dwight. He immediately went to Robert's house in North York to talk to him. It was well over an hour long drive. Needless to say it wasn't all that funny. By the time They sorted out they whether they should send another cable with the words "APRIL FOOL" or try to call, Robert's mother had taken a sober second read of the telegram and they wired back: "WE ARE UNABLE TO SEND MONEY TO YOU STOP FORTUNATELY THERE IS FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS BURIED IN THE BACK YARD STOP FACING DUE EAST FROM THE THIRD CRAB APPLE TREE FROM THE HOUSE STOP TAKE THREE LARGE STEPS STOP DIG DOWN EXACTLY FOUR AND ONE HALF FEET STOP THERE WILL BE A SMALL WOODEN BOX STOP OPEN THE BOX AND READ FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS STOP GLAD WE COULD HELP YOU STOP LOVE MOM AND DAD." Robert's dad had made copies of both telegrams and had them framed side by side. I think Robert had given up on April fool jokes for a long time before trying another one in 2005.
April 2
Q: Not gambling C: This is a start, not a quit N: There is an incomparable database of baseball statistics that I will have access to in Cooperstown that I am really looking forward to playing with. One of the things I want to do is to determine a formula for predicting a team's success based on spring training results. The accepted adage and wisdom is the spring training records (and even statistics) are meaningless. I believe embedded in the stats somewhere (like the record after five innings of play in each game) is going to be a useful predictive tool. I spent much of the day comparing the combined spring training earned run averages of the projected starting rotations for each of the teams in major league baseball. By this criteria, the Chicago White Sox will win the World Series. I went to an Internet gambling site and bet $100 on the White Sox to win the world series. I will be paid $1900 (US
dollars) if they win. April 3 Q: Teaching classes for the rest of the term. C: My teaching assistant will do exam review in my two lower level classes and I am meeting with each of the students in my advanced seminar instead of conducting classes. I will try and complete these this week.
April 4
Q: Picking my nose. C: I should have done that in grade school. N: Jim Clines came by to see me. We agreed to stay in touch. He thought he might even come down to Cooperstown to visit. He is an old friend who is involved in activism for the right to put posters on power poles. And, as I found out today, involved in a lot more too. He has lived in Montreal and Brussels, working for Greenpeace, over the past decade and moved back to Toronto not long ago. I ended up writing a check for $500 to pay for some of the groundwork he is doing. I hope he took the $500 for what it was. A sign of my valuing his work and a genuine intention to encourage him in what he is trying to accomplish. I sure hope it wasn't seen as a flippant show of the kind of wealth being a professor has provided me. I look forward to seeing Jim some more, I hope before I leave at the end of the month.
April 5
Q: Letting anyone else read this. C: Losing valuable input. N: Three days ago I had emailed my friend Glenn, who teaches at Loyola College in Baltimore, all my entries in this journal. I was very disappointed when I got a very short e-mail back from him today.
Dear Robert,
Breathtakingly earnest and bloodless. Glenn I don't think Glenn gets it. I thought he would. We did our doctoral work
under the same supervisor and he and Sandra were having their kids when Ginny and I were having ours. He has long been part of the voluntary simplicity movement and he has chosen a very humble school to teach at while being active in city politics.
I don't think he gets it. I will not email him back. He's probably jealous. I will quit corresponding with Glenn about my project. He doesn't see the depths I am finding that he never will.
It was my disappointment that was talking. A scientific test of the ends of simplifying one's life is something that would be of real value. The pretension and self congratulation seemed to come with his notes was mind boggling. The randomness was frustrating. And the seeming lack of follow through was totally disheartening. I thought Robert could do better and could have written my note with words of encouragement but it is hard to hold all those emotions together with hope for something better. I had long held it against myself for writing what I did but never did offer anything that could be called an apology to Robert. I now believe my words were helpful and that the reason I did not apologize was that somewhere, down deep, I knew I didn't have to.
April 6
Q: Going to Catholic Church to mourn the Pope C: Once was enough N: I attended a service to honour the life of Pope John Paul II today. I went to the Cardinal Newman Centre, which is just down and across the street from my office. I have never been to a mass before. I have never been to a Mass before. Having tried both ways, it seems to me that maybe only Catholics should capitalize the word mass. Sadly, it was all wasted on me. I just didn't get it.
In so many ways this Pope appeared to be rooted in another world and hurtfully conservative in his outlook in everything from women's rights to liberation movements in Latin America. As an outsider, it seems pointless and ineffective to be critical. I have barely taken note of him except for one of his writings which I have always loved and have assigned as reading in any course I have taught on Labour Economics. In 1981 the Pope wrote what is called an encyclical, a teaching, entitled Laborem Exorcens, which is, freely translated, "On Human Work"
In short his thesis, put in secular and simple language, is that: Work is a distinctively human activity and always happens in community. It is our nature to live to work. Work's purpose is to bring us deep joy and meaning. It is against our nature to be forced to work in order to live. Technology, which is meant to be our ally has become our enemy in that it often robs us of the opportunity for creative labour either by making us a simple tool of production or rendering us redundant and not able to work. Our personal value should never be tied to our role in producing goods as our personal value as intrinsic to who we are. It is important that workers gather together in solidarity to ensure this intrinsic value. Labour is the cause and purpose of the production of goods and services and wealth (capital) is the means by which this production is accomplished. The dominant world order flipped this upside down where wealth (capital) dictates to labour what it should do. The worst result is unemployment where wealth dictates that we are not to labour or are forced to labour for an unjust wage in unjust conditions. Our world economy has divided humanity from its destiny, to join in the ongoing act of Creation.
Keep in mind this was written in 1981 and his arguments are now all the more important, given the emerging effects of globalism.
I have tried to condense a forty page document from memory into 12 statements of principle and I am sure I do not do the original document justice. Nor has the Roman Catholic Church done these ideas justice for aside from some very small pockets, such as the Catholic Worker League, these radical ideas have not found a forum anywhere that I know of. By taking the risk of bringing the ideas into my classroom, I am sure I have done more than just about any priest has done with them.
Bob used to love his work and then be became a person who talked about loving his work. It was like a motivational tape he played for himself, only that the rest of us always had to listen to it. He had such passion when he spoke of this document, it lived inside of him and forced an escape on occasion that Bob would allow because he considered the words, revolutionary, important and loving. This bland, apologetic almost, delineation makes no
sense. I will never understand who Bob was writing to.
Robert loved every minute of work he did in the last 26 months of his life. By working for free he was relieved of all the guilt he carried for his professor's salary. Through his inheritance and the choice to live as "independently poor" he accepted an invitation that very few people receive. His labor was creative and he knew it. He also worked hand in hand with others so that they could labor creatively. He worked on a macro scale with partisan politics and a micro scale as a mental health volunteer. He lost the edge that you can read above in taking the pot shot at "any priest." He simply did what was there to do and gave up any reason to compare the wealth or effectiveness of his efforts with anyone else.
April 7
Q: Considering failure in this project! C: Earlier resolutions on my working definition of "success" have failed. Ha Ha Ha. N: I considered my own labour today in light of my rereading of the Pope's encyclical.
Part of his argument is that the phrase, which a number of my colleagues have jumped all over, that humanity is expected to "...fill the earth and subdue it." This is offered both as a definition of labour and the linchpin of understanding labour as being an activity we have a personal connection with the "creativity of God."
Seeing myself as a co-creator of the world as we know it would demand a belief in somebody or something to be "co" with. In the same way, understanding my "capacity for creativity" as defining what it means that I am "created in the image of God" would require an understanding of a "creative God" in the first place.
I recognize three central avenues of creative labour in my life. One is my work as an economist and teacher where I engage with others in creative understanding and intentional manipulation of distinct parts of our social economy. Another part is my work as a parent where I creatively manipulate our environment to provide opportunities for Becky-Lou and Andre to prepare for and engage in their own creative labour. And the third area has been in my volunteer work, which at the moment is limited to the co-op where I currently serve on the leadership team. My reflection
reminds me that my work in Cooperstown this year will limit my annual involvement in our community garden.
My deep sense of inadequacy, which I recognize is pervading more and more of my life each day, can be understood in the Pope's terms:
"Therefore, while we are warned that it profits a man nothing if he gains the whole world and loses himself" (Luke 9:25), the expectation of a new earth must not weaken but rather stimulate our concern for cultivating this one. For here grows the body of a new human family, a body which even now is able to give some kind of foreshadowing of the new age.
The Pope speaks of creative labour as ushering in a "new earth" and a "new age." My thoughts on my own creative labour have been, for the most part, to prove my own sense of adequacy. My goal, up to age 48, has been simply to be "creative enough."
I may have set my sights too low. Ironically I have also failed to achieve those sights.
I know that many of my entries in this journal have been, in one way or another, about my sense of adequacy. This would include everything from my image as a generous person (January 10) to my ability to function without Subtunol (March 24) as well as many other entries. Even what I wrote about a recent meeting with Ginny and our counsellor (February 26) used this term.
My entries for March 8, which spoke of embracing powerlessness, and March 13, which acknowledged my sense of being overwhelmed by the complexity of the world both speak of this same issue, albeit from the other side. Perhaps what I am trying to do is to quit adequacy?
April 7 is a red letter day! More clarity than ever before! Brilliant! I am working on an important question!
While Robert writes these words with clarity and excitement, he writes them long before he appears to realize them in any tangible way. There is an incredible paradox here and that is that Robert, if he was to quit anything, needed to quit both adequacy and inadequacy. The post 2005 Robert lived without those categories. The words had become a huge trap for him in his marriage, in his career and in life in general. It is not one of those classic "chicken
and egg" questions. I believe that Robert ceased to care about the concepts and then the concepts, without drawing any attention to the fact, slipped out of his reality. In spite of the admittedly somewhat crazed tone, and all the subsequent contradictions, April 7, 2005 was a red letter day.
April 8
Q: My friend Glenn. C: He is my closest friend on the planet. N: I got another email from my friend Glenn today.
Robert,
I was thinking about what else I didn't like about your journal and it seems half the time you aren't possible or aren't even quitting things. Quitting being smug? Quitting attending Mass when you have only been once? Quitting dismissing requests for money? Quitting the fact that you never started gambling? Between these ridiculous double negatives and other supposed quits that would be better described as lame resolutions you are off your mark by a long ways.
Your friend, Glenn. I had to write back. And I did right away. Dear Glenn, You have to know me well enough that I would hate to be called earnest. I was once told that "humour is what is earnest turned inside out." And you know how I try, at least, to bring humour to all things. Earnest is sophomoric. Earnest is inadequate in the worst sense of the word. Earnestness lacks depth of any kind and will always appear smarmy. Earnest is what smug religious people are. Earnest is eagerness without reason or risk. Earnestness is naivety without charm. This is not who I am Glenn. Why insult me this way?
And bloodless? Fuck you, Glenn. What do you want, blood-full? You wouldn't know blood-full if you took a bath in a vat of plasma or
showered yourself with the sacred heart of Jesus spewing all over you. What are you doing collecting your tenure track pay check at that Catholic school while the church that pays your way props up dictatorships all over the world and your institution claws back the rights of women everywhere. I can see you are still basking in your glory of a two year term after a by-election for town council. And why didn't you run again? Because you might lose your tenure! What about that house you live in and that van you drive? And you can call me bloodless!?!
You want to see blood? You want to see where I go when I am pushed. I’ll quit you Glenn. I don't need your unhelpful sarcastic crap. As my grade-eight science teacher once said, "If I want shit from you, I'll squeeze your head."
Yes Glenn, I'll quit you. And not just for this year. I'll show you blood! Robert Writing this gave me a headache. I took some pills and went to bed very early.
Sometimes when you have a particular intention and act on it, the result is not what you sought. I took it very personally when Robert had not replied to my original note. I had fully intended my note to lead us into dialog. I do regret this second letter and I regret having ever had to read Robert's reply let alone know that he kept a copy in his diary and that I would have to not only re-read it but publish it. I leave all this in as my confession. My penance is to admit to the hurt that I caused. I had no reason to argue with Robert about this exchange nor do I have any interest in defending myself now. Robert and I never spoke about this except when we visited later in the year and that was only a brief mention.
I would have loved it if Bob had spoken this way to me. Passion about anything would have been welcome. Strange as it sounds, I remain envious of Glenn that it was he who merited this letter and not me.
April 9
Q: The TV and the VCR. C: Good to have some help when you are stuck.
N: We had planned a weekend with Julie and Kate and their daughter since the fall. All four of us were up with them for our first night of three at the cottage the co-op owns when we got a call from some other members of the co-op telling us that our house had been broken into. We returned to the city right away.
As we arrived and were met by friends we faced a rude picture as we entered through our smashed door. Police tape over the front door. Our place was completely trashed. All of our pictures were ripped off the walls and on the floor. Many were smashed, glass and all. Books were ripped off our bookshelves. Food had been taken out of the fridge and left on the floor. Our TV and VCR were missing. Who knows what else?
We'd already had the conversation in the car as we drove back to the city. How did they know we were to be gone? Was it someone we knew? A neighbour? Did they think there was something there that they were looking for or did they trash the place because they were upset about that they didn't find what they were looking for? Could this have been the hockey owners trying to find something, or intimidate me?
What else was missing?
Some money in a tray on the kitchen table. A box of pens that Ginny had bought, unless they are in the debris somewhere.
April 10
Q: The stereo too. C: I can't believe I held back on it. N: I haven't had a dream about Pierre Trudeau since he died. I used to dream about him often. My dream-based relationship with him built over time just like a real friendship. I must have met him in dreams over twenty times. I miss him and I resent that his being dead has resulted in his not showing up in my dreams any more. We did everything from attend concerts to shovel snow together and it was always enjoyable.
Truth be known, my dream life has been greatly diminished since my parents died in their accident. It seems commonly understood that we all dream every night, it is just our ability to remember our dreams that seems to come and go in individuals and vary from person to person.
I am not content with my decreased dream life and I am not content with
not seeing Pierre Trudeau socially any more.
I once read that mint tea stimulates dreams. I will quit going to bed without drinking a cup of mint tea each night.
What else was missing?
A framed picture of my mom and dad, I think. It is kind of creepy to think of whoever it was choosing to take it. I hope that is not what happened. I am going to choose to believe that somehow it was thrown out in the clean-up without me noticing.
My laptop was not missing, because I had taken it with me on our jaunt. For no reason really, I don't always travel with it.
For the kind of teaching I have done about sharing and the critique I have offered on ownership over the years I am more bothered by this break in than I imagined.
About 50 Subtunols were taken too. April 11. Q: Referring to myself as an economist. C: I will find other ways and words to describe my vocation. I have been avoiding the words but, however and although in this journal. It has been quite difficult. I have used two major methods to accomplish this. The first has been to use other similar words and phrases such as "in spite of" or "notwithstanding." I don't think that quitting the use of other contrasting conjunctions one at a time will yield the result I am seeking.
April 12
Q: Making entries about Subtunol. C: I want to place my headache and medication problem outside my project. N: I met with Dr. Patel today and we agreed now, when leaving the country, was not the time to give up Subtunol. He explained that even at 14-28 pills a week I could end up going through withdrawal. What I still don't quite understand how I could have withdrawal symptoms with something I am not even addicted to.
He wrote me two prescriptions that would supply me with enough medication for two pills a day for the whole summer. My hope is to get through with ten pills a week or less. One of the real challenges will be to know when not to take a pill. If I wait until the headache takes hold, then I need as many as six to even myself out. If I take one preventively then I probably can stop there. This is why I am so deterred from quitting the pills altogether.
The rest of us were all still very jumpy from the break-in but Bob seemed oblivious to it and a whole range of things. I think he was taking considerably more than he is even able to admit to himself.
April 13
Q: My Pete Rose daydream. C: It would have been a sad and pitiful waste for me to spend my scholar in residence time at Cooperstown trying to write a mythical article. N: I know this day. On April 13, in 1963, as a member of the Cincinnati Reds, Pete Rose had his first hit as a major league baseball player. On April 13, 1984, 21 years later, as a member of my beloved Montreal Expos, he rounded first base with his 4,000th career hit.
Peter Rose has more hits as a major league baseball player than anyone else who has ever lived.
Pete Rose is not a member of the Baseball Hall of Fame.
I have had a fantasy of writing a definitive article arguing for his placement in the Hall of Fame. Today, as I noted April 13, as I do every year, I indulged yet again in this fantasy. In the fantasy, in its extended form, Pete calls me up to accept the honour with him and speaks about how if it wasn't for me...
This is a stupid fantasy. Nothing I, or anyone else, will ever write will get Pete Rose into the Baseball Hall of Fame.
Only Pete Rose can write his way into the Hall of Fame. If Pete were to write an admission that be gambled on his own team when he was a player-manager and was willing to accept the mercy of major league baseball, then, and only then, could we see him enshrined.
[I did meet Pete Rose once. At a baseball memorabilia show in Cleveland
he was at an autograph table. I had bought a table too so I could sell signed copies of my books. It was just after the printing of my second, Three Strikes: The History of the Labor Movement in Major League Baseball. Before the doors opened to the public I shook his hand and told him how I'd always liked him and that the day he joined the Expos was a great day for me and the day he left a sad one. He smiled distantly and seemed to ask, "The Expos?" as if he didn't remember playing for them.]
April 14
Q: I need to clarify my choice of April 9th. "I am going to quit the TV, VCR and Stereo." N: Becky-Lou had her headphones on today and from the faint sounds I was sure she was listening to Dave Brubeck's Take Five. It was news to me that Becky-Lou listened to jazz so I motioned to her to remove her headphones and asked her "Is that Dave Brubeck?"
She nodded.
"Do you like Jazz?" I asked.
She nodded and then before slipping her headphones on again added "You can't listen to jazz unless there is precipitation." Then she took a few steps to leave the room before stopping at the door and saying "you also can't have precipitation without listening to jazz." With that set of pronouncements delivered, she made her way back to her room.
It was raining. I hadn't noticed. I liked what she said. I wonder if it is original.
April 15
Q: Listening to the Johnny Cash "Dale to Donna" tape. C: I have no choice. N: What else was missing? I realize that in the tape deck was a cassette I had bought at a thrift shop about fifteen years ago. It was a home made tape of people doing Johnny Cash tunes and Johnny Cash doing other people's tunes. Marvelously crafted. The box, which I still have, doesn't have the songs listed. Instead it simply reads "To Donna, Love Dale." I have often wondered who Dale and Donna were and what their story was. From the handwriting I had always taken Dale to be a woman. What had happened to them that the tape ended up in a Sally Ann thrift store? Had
Dale ever actually given it to Donna? Had they ever cuddled together and sat on the couch listening to every song, as Ginny and I had done with some of our gift tapes? Would either one be horrified to know that I had the tape? Did I do Dale a great favour by buying the tape so that s/he would never see it in the thrift store? I will miss the tape. Having the box is some comfort.
April 16
We met with our counselor Naomi again. This time Ginny got to ask the five questions first.
"How are you feeling about going to Cooperstown?"
"I'm looking forward to it. I am nearly done my work for the term and I should be relaxed and ready to go. I've got some good ideas on what to work on and can't wait to get focused. I am a little off my game because of the break in and have some moments of anxiety about being away. This doesn't mean that I am not going to miss you and the kids. I will.
I feel secure. I feel good. I also think the simplicity of staying in a bachelor apartment and not having to balance all the duties of a term at the university will give me some good rest."
"How often do you intend to come home?"
"Like we talked about, it will be possible to come home every weekend. I expect I will come home less often. Every second week or so, I guess."
"When is the last time you enjoyed each of the kids?"
"I am not sure what you mean, I enjoy them every day. They are great kids. We are very fortunate. Could I do anything else other than enjoy them? I enjoyed them at dinner last night. We did dishes together"
"Could I come and spend a week with you, and find a camp for the kids to go to in July?"
"I didn't think of that it all. Our kids don't do camp. Do you think they'd want to? Sure- we can do some planning later. Just the two of us?"
Ginny did not speak.
"Sure the two of us" I added. "I look forward to that." I added. "Can you tell me anything about what is going on in my work right now?" "You're working with the same kids right now. No new ones right? One, her parents are from Rosedale- I think you said. Is this a quiz? I don't think we've talked about your kids much lately. Is there something I am supposed to know?"
At the point Naomi reminded me that I wasn't supposed to answer back with questions and asked me if I had anything more to add.
I didn't have anything more to say so I asked my questions. "Have you seen or talked to Randy in the last month?" "No." "Why were you asking me about enjoying the kids?"
"Why? Because. Because you are out of touch. They are drifting away from you and you are at your desk a lot, lately. A lot, Bob. You are there more than before but the computer is not on. You don't have a note pad out and you're not reading. I am not sure what you are doing in there. It is a little creepy. Like Jack Nicholson in that movie you liked so much, when he spent months typing 'all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy' over and over again. [The Shining] If I had to describe you to somebody else I would say it is as if you are focused on being unfocused. You said you enjoyed Rebecca and Andre at dinner last night but they weren't even at home for dinner last night. And the dishes? That was almost two weeks ago when you last did the dishes with them. If you could've answered me with some detail about something you enjoyed doing with the kids, it would have made me feel a little bit better because then I could trust that even if you don't look it you really are alive in there."
"And the same with asking about your work?"
"Rob. You know I love my work. And I know you've appreciated my choice to home school for so many years but since I crossed the line with Randy, you've never asked me about my work. Not once have you asked me, Rob. I know because I have been waiting. When I have talked, maybe you've actually listened but you haven't given me any reason to
believe that you are. Our third year of funding is finished in July and although things look good, there are rumours. And if there is an election and Conservatives get in I figure we'd be first on the chopping block. So I am anxious, you know, and I want you to care about that."
"What makes you want to come to Cooperstown?"
At this point Ginny looked down at the floor and held her head down for what seemed to be at least a couple of minutes.
Another one of our rules is no speaking once we've asked our question so I looked at Naomi to see if she could coax Ginny to answer. Naomi was looking at Ginny, not me. Finally, Ginny looked back up, tears down her cheeks.
"I know I am not supposed to judge or even evaluate the questions. But how can I answer that? I want to be with you. You and me, alone. Together. No distractions. That is why I want to go to Cooperstown. That is why I want our kids to go to camp. I want your attention. I want your full attention. I am not even sure that I get it here with Naomi and that is the main reason we decided to come here. So at least an hour a month we would know the other person would hear us."
"Do you still want to do counseling together?"
Ginny rarely gives the vibe of impatience or resignation.
"Yes" she said with her hands crossed over her chest, her eyes staring beyond me and her shoulders slumped like a heap of soggy towels. While her mouth said yes, her body mumbled. "What the fuck else can I say?"
It moved on to be one of our better sessions. Naomi pushed us on some of our opening questions. I realized I had set a goal of helping with dinner every night and had done nothing. I admitted to forgetting to invite Ginny, for a second time, to come with me to see Dr. Patel. Ginny seemed relieved that I was admitting to things I wasn't doing. It was nice to see her smile, even if it appeared to be coming at my expense.
Cooperstown was mentioned only in passing. This affirmed me as most people could be very easily distracted by such an event. I seem to be the most bothered.
We set the second week in July, the 11th to the 17th as the week to spend together. Ginny was going to arrange for the camps. I was anxious. Ginny was right. I hadn't been paying a lot of attention to her. As we set out the plans for this week she hit pretty hard about the cost to the kids that I was only half there.
The other thing she did was to push me a little on the Subtunol use. I have cut down. I haven't had a week with more than fourteen pills since the last meeting. I know that she pities me, with my headaches. I decided a few months ago to embrace and accept pity as an indicator of weakness I am healthy to admit. I did this in the session. I just soaked in her sadness when she was talking about my pills. It wasn't easy to hear.
Easy is not always best.
I am going to quit choosing easy so often.
Many wanted to interpret Robert's choices as simply copping out. Quitting his job, ending his marriage, living in a studio apartment, and so many of his other choices were easy for others to understand in that light. Committing himself to partisan politics as if it was full time work in an age of cynicism, giving himself in such a vulnerable way to walk with those who have mental illness, all the volunteer work he took on at Andre's school and all the other things Robert involved himself with were anything but easy. Again there is a paradox, Robert needed to compartmentalize his life so he could live more freely within the compartments. While we might all do this to some extent, the extremes with which Robert was drawn to make live out this path are more than most of us can imagine.
I still can't read Bob calling this a good meeting without getting queasy.
April 17
Q: Considering what it will mean for this project to be over C: Until it's over. N: A week ago I quit going to bed without drinking a cup of mint tea. I don't really like drinking mint tea and I haven't remembered my dreams any better so now I will put a garlic clove under my arm before retiring to bed. I can't remember where I heard that was a way to stimulate dreams. It seems worth a try anyway.
April 18
Q: Teaching intermediate macroeconomics for the rest of my life. C: I said it out loud as I wrote it. I like the sound . I said it again, out loud. April 19 Q: Pretending to be indifferent about this break in. C: I am not sure what not being indifferent means in this case. I just know that I am not content with my feelings as they are. I am not content without finding out what happened and getting something, other than insurance money, back. N: What else could they have taken? The stethoscope my mother and father in-law gave me as a gag gift when I received my doctorate. Bastards! Why the hell would they have taken that? I phoned the police and spent about half an hour on hold only to be told that they would phone me if they ever recover any of the property or had any other leads. I told them about the stethoscope and described it. There were no tell-tale clacks of computer keys when he said he was adding that to the file. I didn't believe him.
April 20
Q: Ice cream. C: I had an ice cream cone today- the last of the year. N: Maple Swirl
April 21
Q: I will give up knowing the answers to seven questions. C: To willfully forget a matter of trivia will be a major breakthrough. I don't need to know these answers. I am never going to be a contestant on a TV game show and they wouldn't ask these questions on there anyway. I am going to put these seven questions in a sealed envelope and open them at the end of the year and get them all wrong. Most people would assume such control of the will is impossible. Stories of willful subjugation of the memory of awful events are common. Stories of willful subjugation of trivia are not. N: Where was my grade six friend Neil Wills caught shoplifting? How many home runs did journeyman catcher Joe Azcue hit for Cleveland in 1963?
What was the level of the Dow Jones Industrial Average on January 1, 1984? What colour dress did Jane Fonda wear in the final scene of Cat Ballou? Who were the first two of my classmates in junior high to have sex? What is the Hungarian word for movie? What was the name Johnny Cash was born with?
Since Robert died, I have often had trouble thinking not only of him but of our relationship tangibly. Knowing the answers to all except the Joe Azcue question because of conversations with Robert is a gentle way to celebrate our friendship. Woolworths, 14 (I looked it up), 1258.64, red, Chris and Samantha, mozie, Johnny Cash.
April 22
Q: Telling the shaggy dog joke about the great big green hairy ape that ends with the punch line "tag you're it." C: Will I quit telling jokes one joke at a time? N: My favourite joke, which I can't imagine not telling.
A new inmate is sitting in his prison cell when he hears from down the cell block another inmate yell the number "43." Immediately, he could hear all the inmates laughing. A few minutes later it happened again only this time it was a different voice, yelling a different number. Again the result was laughter throughout the cell block. After this happened several more times the new inmate finally let his curiosity get the better of him and he asked his cell mate what was going on. He explained that they used to tell jokes to each other to pass the time and now to make things easier they have just attached numbers to their favourite jokes so when a person yells a number everyone remembers the joke and laughs. Wanting to fit in, the new inmate scurries the courage and yells out "25." No reaction! Thinking it odd, he tries again in a few minutes. This time he tries a different number. "36." Again not even one small chuckle. After trying a few more times he asks in frustration, "What is going on, are their no jokes with those numbers?" To which his cell mate calmly responds, "Oh sure there are jokes for those numbers all right, it is just that some people can tell a joke and some can't."
I wish I had Bob telling this joke on videotape for the kids because he loved telling it and just got better and better at doing so.
April 23
Q: Thinking with contrasting conjunctions. C: Horrendously ambitious. N: Removing contrasting conjunctions has been both liberating and difficult. As I am continually trying to extend this practice into my daily conversation I find I often fail. So much so, that the only sure way will be to eliminate conversation altogether.
April 24
Q: Dialectical thinking C: I have thought in such terms since I began university. With causation going in two directions, nothing is simple. N: In many ways each of my quits has been a step towards this one big one.
April 25
Q: Quite C: I may have to use electroshock therapy for behaviour modification N: I went into the office today to get my mail and my student evaluations were there. I read through them quickly. The one that stuck out was the one that said, "He uses the word 'quite' way too often. I once counted 23 times in a 50 minute lecture!" Time to quit quite.
April 26
Q: Taking any more than five of my pills in a period of less than six hours. C: My thoughts of quitting entries about Subtunol are neither helpful or realistic. N: I went for a walk to High Park today which was both pleasant and uneventful. The walk home was neither. At the corner of Roncesvalles and Dundas, I broke one of my pledges and jaywalked. The trouble was that an elderly woman on the other side of the street started to walk when she saw me start. Either her eyesight was not good enough to see the traffic signals or she was just instinctively following my lead. The trouble was that there was a car coming on her side of the street. Fortunately I was able to sprint across the street to push her out of the way of the oncoming car. The car swerved to miss us and hit a mailbox causing the woman who was driving to do a very good crunch job on the
front of the car. I did not tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing other than the truth. Nobody realized what had happened. Both the woman who I pushed to the ground and the woman who smashed up her car thought that I had taken the initiative and risked my life to run across the street and save her. By the time I had finished talking to the police and all the other people who had stopped to help I began to even wonder if that isn't what actually happened. I was a little in shock and kept repeating "it all happened really fast." I don't think it ever occurred to anyone that I could have been the cause.
I don't think it is. Because of my resolve not to jaywalk I have a distinct memory of choosing to cross on the don't walk signal.
I turned out to be the hero for being an asshole. As much as there is something intrinsically wrong with that, who would be better off if I had told the truth?
April 27
Q: Any sense of guilt from yesterday. C: I would like to be able to cease having a mind's eye all together. M: Today I was a little shaky. It is like I have a tape loop of the woman and the car repeating itself over and over again in my mind's eye. Is this penance? More importantly, what is penance? A payment in order to receive forgiveness?
The two people, the driver and the woman I knocked over, would have to be made angry with me first in order for them to then forgive. I hold, a day later, that I do them no favour by offering them the opportunity to forgive me.
As far as we know, Robert never told this story to anyone.
April 28
Q: Promoting TV-Turn-off week. C: An observation rather than a choice. It is the middle of TV turn-off week. I noticed an ad in a streetcar shelter I pass each day. Having not replaced our television from the break-in this is a non issue for our
household. The issue is that I ran this campaign for years. April 29 Q: I am going to give up teasing Andre when it is the obvious thing to do. C: I didn't tease Andre about the performance. It would have been like me to do so. N: Andre had a spring concert at his school. He plays violin in the junior orchestra. The best thing about the concert is that it was short. Even at that, I am glad we didn't make Becky Lou come. Tomorrow morning I leave for Cooperstown. It was nice to be out with Ginny and enjoy the concert and some of our neighbourhood friends my last night. I am leaving on a real high note! Excited about where I am going and appreciating, more than I have been, what I leave behind. A Break! Like I have never had!
April 30
Q: Being bothered by being late. C: Lame. N: I just phoned and left a message at the Hall with the director that I would a day late. I didn't explain why.
Robert was turned away at the border for not having photo ID with him. Robert forgot that he had cut up his driver's license and came back to Toronto before realizing that he could use his faculty identification card. This put him in such a surly mood I was actually happy to see him go.
May 1
Q: Trying to learn Spanish C: First quit on the same day that I started it. N: I write this while hurtling through upstate New York on the bus. I will not do one of the things I had imagined I would do with my free time, which was to do a canned Spanish course with my Walkman. Listening in to the teenage couple in front of me repeatedly declare their unending love for each other was much more interesting.
May 2
Q: Speaking of my past more than one sentence at a time. C: I know already this may be a little odd as I am meeting new people for the first time every day here in Cooperstown. I trust this quit might make me, if nothing else, focus my conversations on the people I am talking to rather than myself. N: I love my apartment. It is going to make for a simple life. It is very sparse. The walls are all a light, sky like, powder blue with all the furnishings either teakwood or plush velour. There are lots of windows and a lovely print of that famous painting of the umpires in the rain, Norman Rockwell's Bottom of the Sixth. I also like its "four-ness." Four plates, four side plates, four glasses, four coffee cups, four knives, four big spoons, four little spoons, four big forks, four little forks, four bowls, four pots, four pans, four large pieces of furniture, four small pieces of furniture, four windows, four bath towels, four hand towels, four face cloths, four mirrors, four sets of wall plugs, four pieces of art if you include the small framed postcards on the side tables and curiously enough, four tones of paint. (I feel four-tunate to be living here.) In contrast I realize our home is very busy and has none of the symmetry I now realize that I appreciate so much. I have always liked our home being busy. For the busyness is because we have all been active people engaged in community in a variety of ways. Some of the busyness is comprised of beautiful treasures. I think of the framed poster of the Undergraduate Prom that Ginny and I crashed when I got my doctorate. And the Huron artwork given to me as a gift when I finished my stint at the Canadian Football League offices. And the little stand of Mountie and other Canadian Kitsch that we have picked up here and there over the years. The charcoal portraits done by a street artist in New Orleans. And so much more that chronicles our adventures north and south, east and west.
May 3
Q: Dairy C: I stopped in at Curds and More to do some shopping and saw some cheese marked, simply, New York State. New York State Cheese. I just had to buy some. It was moments like this that I dreamed of from the day I was accepted for this term. I don't know what it was except to say that the cheese wasn't good. In fact, so bad I threw it out. N: I met very briefly with the director of the Hall today. We had exchanged a few emails and had one phone call. He wasn't at all like I
expected. I expected a baseball fan working in a dream job. Instead, he comes across as more than a little pompous. He dresses real slick and speaks in a condescending tone, seemingly to everybody. His name amused me, Stanley Knowles. That was the name of the longest serving NDP Member of Parliament. He had never heard of him and brushed off my question like I was wasting his time. He also told me to get myself a name tag from the personnel office. He didn't ask, he didn't suggest, he told me.
May 4
Q: Anxiety arising out of a feeling that I am unworthy of this wonderful opportunity. C: My "work" if you can call it that is a gift beyond description. N: I feel like a little kid in toy land with the library and the database to play with. And my breaks? Well, what else do I have to do other than wander through the Baseball Hall of Fame nodding hello to a statue of Babe Ruth, glancing at George Brett's pine tar bat and Cap Anson's ancient glove and just smelling the history of the game as it were the richest and finest coffee in the world? I am completely ready to take my stab at sorting out Spring league as a predictor of the coming season, developing a finer measurement of what is called the "ballpark effect", furthering the case for Pete Rose in the Hall of Fame (although I have managed to avoid any day dreaming of the importance of that), taking another stab at the over-rated strikeout and many other questions on the minds of baseball researchers everywhere. I have a "too good to be true" feeling that I will simply let go of. I have had enough of not too good to be true in my life that I am well deserving of this.
Bob had ongoing issues with our marriage being “too good to be true.” In fact, Bob had felt that I was “too good” for him ever since we started dating. Finally, lying together in bed in a cabin on Lake Simcoe, late one foggy April morning in 1985 he agreed to never say that again and to his credit he lived up to his promise but that does not mean he stopped thinking it. His slow descent, accelerated in 2005, ensured that his thoughts were matched by reality. The apparent clarity and acceptance that Bob shows in this entry would have been most welcome, at any point, in our marriage.
Here is a great example of where Robert seemed to be going backwards, even descending in circles with regard to his sense of
self worth. There may not be a happier more content entry in his entire journal yet he is still proving to himself that he deserving or worthy. Each time I attend Mass, I pray "Lord I am not worthy to receive you but only say the word I will be healed." This is how we resolve the question. The discussion ends with the unarguable conclusion, "we are unworthy." This was not an option for Robert. He either had to dedicate his life to seeking worth and value or forsake the pursuit altogether. Coming to see this as his question was no easy choice, let alone acting upon it.
May 5
Q: Listening to the news on the radio. C: The web is my only news source N:. Doubleday Park is in use seven nights a week and I can see Pony league, high school and even college ball whenever I want. I am sure I will sort out some other things to do with my time as they occur to me. It all feels so leisurely, like vacation, only better. I haven't had a headache since I started and have only taken one pill! I don't feel like quitting anything because my heart is quiet as it is. I have not listened to the news since arriving. Maybe that is why I have been headache free.
May 6
Q: My 13-year boycott of Coca Cola Products C: I am not going to verify whether Coke owns Eureka Springs or not. N: I should have read the small print or at least let my imagination wander a little as to what it means that I am the Eureka Springs Water Scholar in Residence. Among other things it means I have a desk set up for me in the main hall on the first Friday of every month and I am to sit there and do my work while giving out free samples of ice cold bottled water. I think they are owned by Coca Cola (whose products have not touched my lips since the 1992 boycott.) That Serenity prayer that was in that AA book I bought in March comes to mind- “grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.” In my four hour stint today, some people walked by me, read the sign, pointed to their friends and continued as if I was an animal in zoo. Others just take the free water and ignore me as if I was part of the desk. Four different people actually came up to me with the idea that I was there to answer trivia questions and that stumping me earned them a free bottle. I got three of four right.
Oh, the indignity of it all! Silver lining? I remembered a water selling joke that I did not tell to anyone.
A man's four wheeler breaks down in the middle of a desert. It's the middle of summer and doubting he can survive he decides to hike out. By the time he finally reaches even a dirt road, he is on his last legs and is about to die of thirst. He spots a roadside stand with a small building behind it. Summoning all his strength he stumbles his way to the stand. "Water!" he croaks. The owner of the stand smiles. "Hey, I don't sell water. My brother Steve, he sells bottled water in the shack next door. I sell ties...... Wanna buy a tie?" "If I don't get a drink I will die," the man says. He drags himself over to the door of Steve's shack, hauls himself up on his feet, and starts to walk in when the shack owner stops him. "Sorry, no entry without a tie!"
May 7
Q: Reacting, by looking, smiling, frowning, farting or anything else whenever anyone calls me "water boy." C: His name is Darren. N: For the third straight day I woke up, without the benefit of an alarm, at 8:52. Even though it was Saturday I chose to spend the day working. As has been my habit, I got into the office by 10 and worked till 6 with a restful lunch in the cafeteria. In the evening I went for a walk and caught some innings at the ballpark and then retreated to my inner sanctum: my four-midable apartment.
There was only one disturbance. There is a security guard at the Hall. He is a little odd. Socially awkward, you could say. He kept on saying, "hey water boy" every time he saw me yesterday. The Hall is not that big. He must have said it twenty times.
He kept it up today. And some other people have picked up on it. At lunch, one of the cashiers said I reminded her of Adam Sandler in the movie Water Boy. I don't look, sound, act, smell or in any other way resemble Adam Sandler as that or any other character!
I remember my mother telling me when I was a little boy, "they are not laughing at you, they are laughing with you." He is not laughing with me, he is laughing at me. He's got no right. No authority. No reason.
I'd feel stupid complaining, and I expect if I spoke to him, he'd just call me that all the more.
May 8
Q: My stereotype of a Rabbi. C: Uptight, overly serious out of touch bookish type. N: Six of us from the hall took the van and drove to Syracuse where the Sky Chiefs (would be Toronto Blue Jays) hosted Pawtucket, the Red Sox Triple A team.
Thankfully my "new friend" Darren was not one of our group. His obnoxious ways are mirrored by his appearance. He's about 6'2" and 250 pounds at least. He's got curly black hair that looks more like a nest than anything else. I have yet to see him with his shirt properly tucked in and I think he wets his underarms of his shirt before he puts it on the morning so we won't be able to tell when he starts his daily sweating routine. I was only called water boy once the whole day. I didn't respond. It might have worked.
My quit of saying no more than one sentence at a time of about my past was a little awkward in the van. They played this silly game on the way where each person told a story about themselves and the next person had to interrupt them by saying "speaking of" and grabbing one word from the person's story and then beginning to tell their own. It seems they do this whenever they take these road trips. Clyde, the guy who drove, was very funny and had us rolling not only with every story he told and with the very clever double entendres that he used whenever he started by saying "speaking of." For instance, he interrupted a story that mentioned, in passing, a small town in Texas, called Stonewall to talk about a drunk he saw once who was banging his head into the wall in a bar claiming he wanted to know what it felt like to bang your head into a stone wall. As he finished the story he was banging his head into the steering wheel with each bang sounding the car horn. In fact, the whole drive down was a lot of fun save the fact that I had to really concentrate on not telling stories about my own past (which seemed to be the point of the whole exercise for each of us.)
Where this quit really helped was at the ball game where I sat beside the most interesting guy. A Rabbi. Rabbi Moses D. Kapler. Rabbi Moses David Kapler, who was at the game with his mother. I've never met a rabbi with his mother before. Probably because I have never met a rabbi
before. He too was very funny. And he knew and surely loves his baseball. He works as an itinerant. Syracuse is his base and his work takes him all over. Even to Cooperstown. At the end of the game he said he'd look me up.
We just talked about the game. Perhaps from my cue of not talking about my past, we didn't talk about our experience of the game or tell stories of games we've seen. Or compare notes on players of the past. We did not have the sort of conversation I would normally engage in at a ball game with the people I sit next to. We just talked about the game as it went. It was like we'd been given a challenge to engage completely in the moment and that we had both signed a secret contract to carry this out the whole game.
I have never lived in the moment like this in my life. I loved it.
My favourite instant was when we smiled at a pitch that was fouled off by John Ford Griffen, the Syracuse left fielder. He protected the runner on first by fouling off a high fastball in a hit and run situation and then tripled in the same runner two pitches later. Our two glances, one at the foul off and the second after the triple, felt like we shared an inside joke with none of the other 9, 000 plus in attendance being in on it.
May 9
Q: News- radio, TV, newspaper or Internet (except related to my work)! C: I hadn't actually intended to quit radio news. In fact, I had looked forward to PBS radio before coming down here. I am going to take these nine days and extend them for the rest of the year. I am enjoying the break from the news. Radio, TV, Newspapers are all off my map.
May 10
Q: My fear of water C: I have always been afraid of water. I have never learned to swim. I walked into the Clark Sports Center and signed up for private lessons. I start tomorrow at ten. Soon, water boy will no longer be afraid of water. N: A man in a swimming pool was on the very top diving board. He poised, lifted his arms, and was about to dive when the attendant came running up, shouting, "Don't dive - there's no water in that pool!" "That's all right," said the man. "I can't swim!"
May 11
Q: Stupid lists. C: I was scribbling at the office and made a list of friends I can just phone without them wondering why I was phoning. It is a stupid list. N: My first swimming lesson was pretty much what I expected. It was the lesson I quit when I was six years old. Putting my face in the water. Holding my breath. Blowing bubbles. The dead man's float. The teacher reminded me of Ginny. Same age. Same general shape. Same demeanour. Kind and attentive. Sandra. I had nice thoughts about Ginny while she taught me. It was like being with Ginny without all the work.
May 12
Q: The word "because." C: I want to free myself from the limitations of cause. N: I take the bus back to Toronto tomorrow and I am worried. I have yet to get a headache and I have only taken six pills since being here. There are a lot of things that are not part of my current life, which could be the cause of my headaches. My work, my family and something in our co-op unit are the most obvious ones. I would hate to think that any one of these is what causes my headaches.
May 13
Q: Using the bathroom without washing my hands. C: I read how many of us don't. Sick. N: Just about everybody is calling me "water boy" now. Darren pisses me off. Everything about him screams loser. He is in that terrible zone where he is just weird enough that you want to have nothing to do with him and not so far that you can have real empathy for his handicap. The fact that everybody has followed him in a "friendly" mockery of me... Well- where does that leave me? I am writing this on the bus back to Toronto. I am not enjoying the ride so much this way.
May 14
Q: Masturbating when I am mad at Ginny. C: Too sad. N: I walked home from the bus terminal after I arrived late at about two in the morning and everybody was asleep already. And now, as I write this at ten in the morning, everybody is gone. Ginny woke me up briefly to
tell me that she was going to take Andre to the Eaton's Centre where they were doing a tag day for the cancer society. And Becky-Lou had been invited to a friend's cottage for the weekend and left last evening.
My weekend home and I am lying in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to the birds.
Maybe this summer in Cooperstown wasn't such a good idea after all.
Next weekend I can't come home as I have obligations at the Hall. I should have phoned Ginny to have our appointment with Naomi, our therapist, switched to this week. I forgot. A Freudian Forget?
I can see clearly that I have coped with the fallout of Ginny's affair by lowering my opinion of her. So much of my esteem came from her marrying me that it was crushing to think that she would be with somebody else. My own esteem is based on her opinion of me. In an effort to increase my own esteem I have lowered my opinion of her so it won't matter as much anymore what she thinks of me. I think this will be a healthy thing to have out in the open. I haven't felt clear enough about this before to tell her.
Traveling twelve hours by bus to be alone in a big empty townhouse has a way of clarifying things.
She didn't even wake me to ask if I wanted to go with her and Andre. Just assumed I would be too tired.
May 15
Q: Looking forward to my trips home. C: The disappointment this weekend was too great. One trip home at a time, each day at a time. That is my slogan now. N: I looked at Ginny as she was cleaning up the kitchen today. She has probably never looked better. It could be that my not being around is good for her. It also made me worry that she had decided to see Randy again with me away. I am too scared to ask.
I'll be home again in two weeks. I can ask then. And that would be a good time to talk to her about the undue pressure I have put on her to fulfill my need for self worth.
May 16
Q: Going home every weekend. C: Such a trip on the bus is not worth it. I will need a few days, at least, to recover. N: What an awful bus ride! A gourmet recipe for a headache. A nine out of ten. I craved pills the whole way as I held myself to the new limit I have set of three every eight hours. I took six on the ride and then went to bed when I arrived and was lucky enough to sleep.
May 17
Q: Coming into the Hall before 10am. May 18 Q: Resenting Abby. C: She was my swimming teacher in grade two. N: When I was seven I had a swimming teacher try to cure me of my fear of water by asking me to lean over and look in the water and then she pushed me in by hitting my bum with a flutter board. It didn't work! Her name was Abby. Real tall. Real thin. Her nose had a pronounced lean to the left. Her shoulders were a little uneven too. She didn't look like a swimmer, or any other kind of athlete. And she certainly wasn't much of a teacher. I am still angry at Abby. That is 41 years of being angry with Abby. If she's alive, she'd be in her mid to late sixties by now. And I am sure she's not writing about me in her diary. She doesn't deserve my resentment. I can appreciate Sandra without comparing her to Abby.
Bob may have had an affair with Sandra. To my knowledge Bob was never unfaithful to me and it is only a hunch about Sandra. The fact that there are no such references in this journal mean nothing as it seems quite clear that [self] deception and fabrication are part of these writings. It was just one conversation when he dropped Andre off after taking me swimming and he told me that “swimming took him places he had never ever been before.” He began the sentence with his head up and a tone of triumph but ended it with his eyes to the side, a drop in volume and a tone of defeat. Putting that together with the fact that that he talked a lot about her and his lessons on the phone to me and never mentioned her to the kids when he would call from Cooperstown leaves me with this suspicion that will never be resolved. About a
year ago I called the pool and asked for her but when they said that she was no longer teaching there, I just hung up.
May 19
Q: Using a stove more than one day a month. C: I will buy and make a salad every day and that with the beans and rice will be my meal for the day. N: Yesterday I bought about six kinds of beans and fresh spices at Pujulio's and soaked the beans over-night. Today, with some creative use of my four pots, and four mixing bowls and four elements on the stove I made 32 different meals of beans and rice and froze them in plastic bags.
May 20
Q: Reason and therefore. C: Getting rid of the word "because" is only a humble start in deleting the notion of cause. Indeed I would have to get rid of all sorts of words such as "reason" and “therefore" to begin the kind of linguistic change I have worked with contrasting connectors. N: It is Hall of Fame weekend and the place is overrun. It is also water boy day. Thankfully I am not the one who has to carry the water. I might have given away 2,000 bottles today.
May 21
Q: Going to yard sales. C: When I got back to my apartment I felt bad for not buying things. N: I went out walking to garage sales today. The older I get the less I chat. Today I was feeling different and I felt a need to be chatty. I saw a beat up old stroller and remembered the time Ginny and I saw a stroller for sale at a yard sale for $5.00 and insisted on paying $10.00. We used it for over two years and gave it away when Andre didn't need it any more.
May 22
Q: Email C: I asked Ginny to check the mail at that address once a month, both to keep my account alive and to make sure I hear about it if any friends or relatives die or are severely ill. N: Ginny called and told me that they caught the guys who had broken into our house. It turns out we didn't know them. They didn't know we
live in a co-op and didn't know we were away for the weekend. I haven't thought about the break-in since being here. I wasn't feeling the sense of relief that Ginny expressed. We haven't been talking a lot lately and she has never used email much. Both Becky-Lou and Andre use email infrequently. I can phone home if I need to and maybe I can even do something helpful like hand-write letters to Ginny and the kids.
From: Robert Lewis Seaton <[email protected] > To: Undisclosed recipients Date: May 22, 2005 1704hrs Subject: going off line
To Whom it May Concern:
As many of you know I am working this summer at the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY. I am going off line until the end of the year. If you need to contact me you can write to me National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum, 25 Main Street, Cooperstown, NY 13326. My email will be held until the end of the year so you can email me at this address if you are sending me a joke or you can wait until January 2006 for your response.
Thank you, R.L. Seaton Robert would want you to know that Ted Williams was the last baseball player to have a batting average over .400 with the requisite number plate appearances to qualify for the league title. In 1941, he entered the last day of the season with a batting average of .39955. Rounding up to .400, as protocol would dictate would have made him the first man to hit .400 since Bill Terry in 1930. His manager let Williams choose whether to play or not. Williams chose to play in both games of the day's doubleheader and risk dropping his average. He got 6 hits in 8 at bats, raising his season average to .406. No one has reached .400 since. Of all the stories about the competitive spirit of Ted Williams, this one tops them all.
May 23
Q: Nothing C: I am too happy and content to quit anything today. I want to do the Bill Murray thing from the movie Groundhog Day and wake up and live this day all over again. N: Today was the Hall of Fame game. The only exhibition game held during the regular season. Toronto and Montreal used to play once a year in the Pearson Cup exhibition long before the inter-league schedule allowed them an entire series in each other's ballpark each year. And now, of course, there is no Montreal. This year Boston lost to Detroit 6-4. The game sells out months in advance every year and all the good seats tend to be corporate give-aways. I have managed to scrounge tickets twice in my life and have fond memories, which will now fade to the back, as today I sat in the Hall dignitary section on the first base side. (Normally I choose the third base side.) I was only three seats behind and one over from the Commissioner, Bud Selig. I sent him copies of each of my books. He never acknowledged them.
The game was only part of the fun. The World Series trophy was on display. (I had my picture taken with it!) Stuart O'Nan, author of a great book on the 04 Red Sox was in town. Talmage Boston, a baseball historian I have always admired, also did a reading. Bobby Doerr, a favourite player of my dad's was in. A parade of Hall of Famers. A Babe Ruth impersonator. And more! (Probably even face painting for the kids) Happy as a pig in shit!
I realized as I climbed into bed with a goofy grin on my face that I haven't had a headache since my bus trip and I love it. I probably didn't even need to take Subtunols on Tuesday and Wednesday. I can actually imagine quitting them if this keeps up
May 24
Q: Mistrusting the motives of religious people. C: Kurt Vonnegut wrote, or said - I am not sure - maybe, probably, both, "Unusual travel suggestions are dancing lessons from God." I think this rabbi has something to offer me N: Rabbi Kapler, from the ball game in Syracuse, showed up at the Hall today. Among other things I broke my resolve never to speak of my past for longer than one sentence at a time. I had actually kept that resolve up very well and continued to find that I learn way more about people than I
used to.
My new Rabbi friend was way different than at the game. He had been to yesterday's Hall of Fame game and made some perfunctory comments before telling me that he liked me. He was clear. He wanted me to hear that he considered me special. He is not homosexual, or at least he told me, explicitly, that he wasn't. He was just drawn to my manner. He told me that he has always been fascinated by economics. He told me that there was something special about me, that he needed to see if he could tap into it. It was all very flattering.
His style, though, was like an interrogator. Question after question, leaving me just the right amount of time to answer and then asking another question before I could do anything to direct the conversation myself. You would think this would be unnerving. It wasn't. Like I said, it was flattering. It was even interesting to me as I found myself being remarkably candid and expressing new ideas in response to his pointed and challenging questions. It wasn't long before we were into talking about this project. A subject I don't bring up. A subject I never would have imagined getting into with him (especially after the immediacy of our conversation in our first meeting.)
He loved the idea, wanted to know what I'd quit, what didn't work, what I'd learned, who I'd told and scores of other things. We had gone for lunch and spent much of the afternoon in the park just talking. He took only occasional breaks from his intense questioning where he let the conversation flow in a more free flowing manner. It was like he was on a mission of some kind. Even the breaks seemed calculated towards a purpose. He even convinced me to run off a printout of my entries to date to give to him.
I don't look Jewish, and he's not into any strange kind of conversion thing, I don't think. I did mention my inheritance at one point. I can't imagine he's after that? I am not sure what his game is. The simple answer is "who cares?" It is an understatement to say that I find him easy to talk to.
I am ready to trust. I am able to withhold judgment like I never have before. Maybe this project, almost five months in is taking hold? This is the entire problem. I can't wait for the theory to emerge and I must wait for the theory to emerge. No wonder there are so many who have dismissed Grounded Theory. They are simply too feeble. Not tough enough to live with this inherent tension. Traditional science takes us out
of the real world and into controllable bite sized pieces without these ambiguities. That is precisely its problem. The world is ambiguous!
May 25
Q: Quits that are actually starts C: My friend Glenn was right. A lot of my quits aren't quits. Albeit couched as quits, they are starts. I am going to put this right by quitting these starts.
Even now, this entry makes me want to scream! For he has several more “quits” that are “starts” before he is done.
May 26
Q: My judgment on my brother Ted. C: In this honest moment I can admit that I hold a judgment on Ted. I judge Ted for working too hard. Every relationship he's ever been in has ended with issue related to his workaholism. Ginny and I lack the ambition to work too hard. This has worked for us. N: Ginny called today. Our conversation was short. Ted had phoned her when he received my broadcast e-mail where I told everyone I would be off line for the remainder of the year. He wanted to know if I was OK. He wanted to know if I had quit my job at the university. He wanted to know if Ginny and I were still together. We have had very little contact since our mom and dad died. No big arguments or anything. Just fewer opportunities to see each other. It is not like we had a whole bunch of contact before then. He runs a restaurant in Vancouver and when he's not working he usually travels: Mexico, Cuba and other ports south. I guess I should call him. I usually use the excuse that he could call me. He's taken that excuse away.
May 27
N: I am writing this at 2:30 in the morning on the 28th. This is the first time I haven't written on the day in question. I went for dinner with Clyde tonight. Clyde Peter David. Clyde is a security guard at the museum. He is the one who drove us to Syracuse for the ballgame. We have grabbed lunch together a few times and talk ball at some point each and every work day. He is a nice guy and he both knows and loves the game. He enjoys the fact that his name is the reverse of a phenom, David Clyde, who pitched his first game in the majors at 18 and went on to a
very short and undistinguished career.
Clyde and I ate at the Pioneer Street Diner and he bought me a beer. I thought I should accept his generosity as a matter of common courtesy and if I told him about quitting liquor I might end up getting into a discussion about my whole project. Well, one thing led to another and we talked sports and drank till closing time before I stumbled home and he took a cab. Among other things, I certainly spent more than a sentence at a time speaking about my past. In fact, I probably went on for twenty minutes or more at a time telling stories of this or that. (I have come back and edited this for all the typos. 14 in these two paragraphs!)
May 28
Q: Alcohol of any kind. C: I want to talk with Clyde on Monday to see what else I might have said or done. N: God, what a hangover I had this morning. And it was Eureka Springs water day. I wanted to change my sign to read Eureka Springs Grumpy Scholar in Residence. My Subtunol served me well and the hangover never developed into one of my cluster headaches.
I don't want to spend too much time analyzing why I got hammered for the first time since before Becky-Lou was born.
Entitlement, I think, is the word. I am 48 years old and entitled to do what I want.
It is not so much that I have a moral concern or guilt over breaking a pledge not to drink. It is a concern for my own well being. I am kind of blacked out on some of the night holding only this vague recollection of Clyde telling me a story of his going to ball games with his dad and how much he missed him and that I replied by taking repeated deep breaths (as per my resolution to respect each life I heard of passing with a pause and breath) that got all the more intense as he went on. If I recall right, he just shook his head at me and walked away to the bathroom. What had at one point been something gentle and beautiful, under the influence of alcohol, had become simply weird if not ugly.
May 29
Q: The word success or any word relating to it
C: To ensure that I stay away from the notion of success in the past and future tenses. N: I was in a panel discussion tonight- that is why I didn't go home to Toronto this weekend. I spoke about the economic effects of both the colour barrier and breaking the colour barrier in major league baseball. I was not working from a paper I had written. I was bluffing it and I got away with it. I am withholding from calling it a success (due to my quit), even though it felt that way at the time. I know that the list of words I will need to quit is endless. Having quit good, better and best and now success I am aware that I can find other ways to speak of positive results. The point is to heighten my attention so that I stop looking to make such evaluations. I may need to quit other words as I use them or I may not.
May 30
Q: Walking by the house where Rabbi Kapler teaches his classes. C: I used to walk by Michele Randle's house when I had a giant crush on her in high school. I never even spoke to her. Conjuring that memory was neither expected nor appreciated. N: Rabbi Kapler came by again and we went for a walk together. He had read my writings in their entirety (up to May 24) that I had given him and had many more questions to pepper me with. He asked a lot about Ginny and the kids. He asked about my Subtunol. Once again, he didn't reveal much about himself. He spoke several times about the study group he is leading in Cooperstown. I think he said it was Vayikra (which sounds a little like Viagra.) The group is meeting to discuss sacrifice. He hasn't invited me. Maybe I, as a non-Jew, am not welcome. Maybe he is waiting for me to ask if I can come. Maybe all these questions are an interview to determine my suitability. I am not going to ask if I can go. I walked by the house where they were meeting when I went for my evening walk. Did I want to be noticed and invited in?
May 31
N: The hardest quits have been mental habits. Quitting ways of thought. They are also the resolves that I am breaking most frequently. I don't think of them and I am hesitant to become obsessive in my checking. For instance on February 7th I said I was going to quit understanding decisions as a choice between optimism and acceptance. This is too subtle. This is too constant. Other than a few inconsequential moments where this quit made me rethink something, I haven't been diligent in this area. It would exhaust me to do so and probably give me a headache each day. The
week before last I said I'd "quit being indifferent to karma." Again, it is difficult to keep focused on and on top of a resolve like that and I am not even sure what karma means.
I also need to acknowledge that there are also some things in my life I cannot give up without a total remake of my life.
One is the computer. As huge as giving up my email was, I may not have that option when classes start. I was the one who called for a "paperless department" a few years ago. I left all the department people off my mass e-mail I sent out saying I was going off-line. I didn't want to deal with their reactions.
Another is Subtunol. I have drastically reduced my consumption here and in a whole month I have only once allowed that to develop into a headache. Given my track record, this is miraculous. I still live in fear of the headaches and expect I could be back up to my old patterns come September. I am still not secure enough to imagine life without my pills and go back to torture of constant headaches before I started using them.
Another is masturbation. My sex life has been pretty much non-existent since Ginny had her thing.
Holding back on such stupid things. I am such a fucking worthless asshole.
Although Bob was prone to being a little arrogant, such exaggerated humility never served him well either.
June 1
Q: I am going to quit the search for a new favourite ball team C: Even if the White Sox stand to net me $2000 this year if they win the World Series. The Expos/Nationals are my team and I will see them this weekend! N: My old friend Jim Clines, whom I never got around to seeing again in April, called me today. He is going to a meeting in Washington of the International Resisters of the Draft and asked, since he was driving, if he could come by see me. I thought it would be great. I figured he would be very impressed with my simple life of bagged beans and lots of walking that I am developing. He will come this Friday, the day after tomorrow. He called back about an hour later and asked if I wanted to continue on to
Washington for the weekend and stay with him at the hotel he was going to. I said sure- and then remembered I was supposed to be going home this weekend. I called Ginny to ask her if it would be OK and she responded with a feigned Maritime accent, "suit yourself." We have said this to each other for years. I think we got it first from some movie, maybe Cape Breton Miner's Museum. I am not sure. Trouble is it can be said in very different ways. Everything from the earnest and encouraging, "I am totally happy supporting whatever you would like to do" to the snide and swiping, "you are going to make your own choice anyway, so why are you asking me?" It is harder to tell one from the other over the phone.
June 2
Q: I will quit thinking of anyone other than Ted Williams as the greatest hitter of all time. C: It was stupid to ever think any other way. N: It was baseball card day at Hall and exhibitors from all over were showing their wares. Card collecting has never done much for me. Too many collectors are indifferent to the game and collect just for financial gain. They often know more about the card than they do the player. I did see a Ted Williams card, which I have never seen before. And the stats on the back are phenomenal. It is not like I don't know his statistics- they just look better on the back of a baseball card. I had always known he lost a number of years to military service both in World War II and in Korea, what I'd forgotten that these were all in the very prime of his career.
June 3
Q: I will quit reading while I am a passenger in a car or bus. C: I will no longer take the chance of nausea and headaches. N: Curt Flood was the first athlete to challenge the reserve clause in court. This means that he, more than any other athlete, moved pro sports into the era of free agency where players can make teams bid for their services, meaning that their contracts became exponentially more lucrative. Prior to that, players played for the team that owned them or didn't play at all. I realize with the Cooperstown library at my disposal I could write an article, in which I evaluated history's evaluation of Curt Flood. I could examine the existing corpus of books and determine how kind the references are to this quiet unassuming African-American outfielder with a sweet stroke and a fine set of wheels. My hunch is that I will find he is
not given the heroic place he deserves. I spent the morning rifling through the indexes of a number of books and then at noon took off with my friend Jim and we drove through the night to Washington.
June 4
Q: Avoiding telling Ginny how she has lost esteem in my eyes. C: In a cafe in Georgetown, I wrote Ginny a series of postcards to try and explain how I had to cope with the blow to my ego when she saw Randy. N: Florida played at Washington today. I was by myself since Jim went to an evening meeting, I was able to get a great seat about ten rows up, even with the bag at third base. I can't imagine anywhere I'd rather sit. If you want a good seat possible for a game, go by yourself- singles are always available.
I spent the day wandering what is a much more engaging city than I remembered. There is a complex beauty to Washington that I had not considered. I felt safe. I felt cradled. It felt familiar and comfortable. The city is my womb. I miss the heavy air of the city. Washington's air is even heavier than Toronto's. I took long slow breaths trying to capture the tastes and odours in the air. At different times I enjoyed everything from garbage to flowers and curries, sweat, exhaust, cleaning solutions and slightly less than fresh fish in between.
June 5
Q: Waking to the sound of an alarm clock. C: I caught the bus back to Cooperstown after the game as Jim was going to be there a few more days. I arrived at two in the morning. I didn't set my alarm. In fact, I threw out my alarm clock. N: A Mexican named Jose came to Washington and wanted to attend a big league game. To his dismay he found that all the seats were sold out. However, the management gave him a high seat by the flagpole. When he returned to his home country his friends asked him, "What kind of people are those Americans?" He said, "Fine people, they gave me a special seat at the ball game and just before the game started they all stood up and sang 'Jose can you see?'"
June 6
Q: Subtunol. C: It is clear.
N: My rabbi showed up and he was again different than I expected him to be. Almost immediately he asked me about Subtunol. My rabbi? I have come a long way in a few weeks. From never having spoken with a rabbi to having my own. Moses, that is what I am calling him now, asked if maybe every time I mentioned a number if it weren't a fraction of what it really was. "I am guessing that when you say one you mean four. And when you say four you mean 16 pills."
What a strange idea? Why would I lie in a journal?
Instead of asking question after question he was full of prescriptions and proscriptions today! So much of what he said is still ringing in my head. "If you are going to lie to your diary you've got a long long way to go." "You are not the first person in the world to be addicted to prescription pain killers."
"If you want, you can call this your bottom."
"Do you wonder why I know this? I know this from experience." "The Big Book is a very good idea." "Addiction is always a spiritual illness."
"Your diary tells me you are about to lose your family."
"The irony of six months of quitting with no real steps towards quitting the one thing you need to quit the most is a story line out of a bad movie of the week."
"I believe I can help you"
"I am here most Mondays and will be while you are here, we can meet."
June 7
Q: Listening to Rabbi Kapler. C: Fucking Rabbi! Fucking rabbi? I got a headache today. I did not take any Subtunol. I wanted to. All day.
N: Things were going so well. I was headache free. I was making the right quits. My life had become simple. I was noticing more things. This was working. Fucking rabbi.
June 8
Q: Noticing June 8 C: It is under the sign of Gemini and the number 8 looks like two embryos. N: The Skinner twins, who I went to elementary school with, were born June 8.Even though I haven't seen them in over 30 years I have remembered their birthday every single one of those years.
June 9
Q: I will never again refer to myself as old. C: The day long headache left me feeling old and weary. N: My headache dissipated without any use of my drugs. A breakthrough? Can I grow out of my headaches when I am 48 years old? Could it be that the Subtunol craved the headaches? For half the world's population, Pope Leo the 16th is only the second Pope of their lives. Do I need such statistics to make myself feel old? No. I can feel old without them.
June 10
Q: I will no longer be looking anywhere save the floor when I am in a change room. C: I think I glanced too long at a man's groin today. N: My simple life affords me the luxury of noticing such wonderful things. When two men approach each other in order to pass one another in a narrow space in a change room there seems to be pretty clear rules on who goes first. In descending order, the man goes first if 1) he is blind or has some other obvious handicap 2) he has his head down and is not looking 3) he is there first 4) he is moving, has momentum 5) he is naked 6) he is bigger 7) he indicates through an action such as speeding up or putting his head down that he doesn't want to stop I have always had trouble with naked men in locker rooms. Feels too
competitive. And I don't compete well in that situation.
A fellow picks a woman up in a bar and takes her home. When he takes off his shoes and socks, it is apparent that his toes have had something dreadful happen to them.. "Eeek!" says she. "Oh, I used to have toe-lio," says he. "You mean polio?" "No, toe-lio." So they continue. When he takes off his pants, his knees look like they have been beaten with sledge hammers. "Eeek!" says she. "Oh, I used to have the knee-sles," says he. "You mean measles?" "No, knee-sles." Still undaunted, they continue. When he takes off his underpants, she laughs and says, "Don't tell me! Small-cocks!"
While Bob had time for such important reflections I was busy single parenting and working a job that had become stressful with all the uncertainties of funding and red tape in the justice department conspiring to sideline it. Had Bob phoned more often it clearly would have made things worse.
June 11
Q: [A day off quitting!] C: A landmark day! I swam and there was no fear. I experienced a calmness in my breath and my muscles that I never imagined as possible. I also had another headache free day which means another day with NO pills. Breakthroughs left and right. And I have over two months to go here in Cooperstown. So much can happen. I couldn't imagine spoiling this. I can't risk getting on the bus and losing this feeling. Sandra was so proud of me. N: I phoned Ginny and told her that I couldn't come home. She mentioned getting my postcards. She didn't say anything more than the fact she got them. This means I will have to talk to her!
June 12
Q: Forgetting the birthdays of my family members C: I should phone my brother. N: It is Becky-Lou's birthday today. I forgot. And Ginny didn't even mention it on the phone yesterday. I guess she forgot too. When I remembered I phoned a florist and sent flowers. I then called and found out they were just going out to dinner. Becky Lou wanted to go out for pizza with friends and to include Ginny and Andre. Isn't she fantastic!
June 13
Q: Getting up without spending an hour in bed after waking up. C: I am growing content with my own company. The quietness of no music, no media and no people in my home has been long overdue. N: The garlic clove under my arm has started to work. I dreamt last night that I was drinking beer out a pitcher at the "Club Polska." I have never heard of such a place. It was a lot of fun. Various people from different parts of my life were there. There was no apparent purpose to the celebration. The primary feeling was unbridled freedom to laugh and smile. I enjoyed waking up. I spent the day lying in bed. I just called in to the Hall and said I was sick. I am eliminating reason and cause even in my dreams! Can getting rid of words like because, reason and therefore really make this much difference? Who Cares!!!
June 14
Q: Judging long distance swimmers as simple minded. C: Ironically in spite of how much I used to run I have quietly thought swimming was different. N: Sandra, my swimming teacher, had me chase her around the pool today. I had to keep my eyes open so I could see her turn. She would toy with me slowing down and speeding up so I would come close to her without ever catching her. I had a goofy grin on my face for the rest of the morning. I can see myself making a daily habit of swimming. What an accomplishment! I can hardly wait for each lesson.
June 15
Q: Reading anything except books that speak about Curt Flood. C: I would love to quit reading altogether. I would need to quit working to do that.
N: My eighth day free of my pills and not even a hint of a headache. I am loving my work on Curt Flood. I am loving my work on the spring training statistics I am crunching. I am loving the balance of one project being numbers and the other words. My swims and my walks are pure and free and easy.
Quitting the news has been huge. The news have been a burden for me (for a long time.) In the circles I travel there is a huge unspoken pressure to keep abreast of current events. This duty had grown to include the .alt news world. In the run of this project I sought to qualify and direct this duty by making rules on how I can react and respond to what I see on the news. All this, I now recognize, comes from this sense of obligation.
Maybe the headaches are just a result of cramming too much stuff in my head. Maybe my head was simply saying to me "I'm mad as hell and I am not going to take it anymore." And I finally figured out a way to respond!
June 16
Q: Reading jokes, which is something I never did much of anyway. C: Puns tell us a lot about our language. I will never quit telling puns. I will never quit listening for them. The key word is listening. N: I have not missed the jokes people usually forward me.
June 17
Q Words with four or more syllables. C: I want to speak more simply.
June 18
N: Fuck -- a headache. I did not and will not take my pills. Now all I do is sleep on the first day of a headache. It is Saturday. I did not have to go into the Hall today. I did not get out of bed.
June 19
N: The headache is worse. Still no pills- 11 days and counting. Quitting does not matter right now.
June 20
Q: Sentences more than twelve words long. C: Simple language will lead to simple experience. N: I took today off too and again spent it in bed. My headache has started to come around on its own. The problem is that I would rather just take some of my pills. I could have just gone into the hall and left them at home. Instead, I slept most of the day and was able to sleep through the night as well.
June 21
Q: Eating beans and rice breakfast. C: I bought a juicer. I am going to have juice for breakfast. N: I was back at the Hall today. I found it hard to smile. I threw out all my pills. I still have a doctor's order for more.
June 22
Q: Computer. C: I bought a typewriter at a hospital store. N: I am ok when I am walking. I am not ok in front of the computer. That is when the headaches seem to come. I can't do the spring training stuff without one. I will only do the Curt Flood work, by hand.
June 23
Q: Going to the ballpark each night. C: This is to cut out the chatting. I need more quiet. The baseball games each night are quiet. The other people there are not. These ball park chats are too taxing. This place isn't very big. I see people twice and they want to talk all night. I am paying a lot of attention to my body. Mostly, its sounds and sensations.
This helps. In fact, I have one only task each day. No headache with no drugs. I will quit any other pursuit.
This is one of the most distinct ways Robert changed over 2005. When I first met him, Robert loved to chat. It didn't really matter who where or why. When he was really busy with his dissertation and also trying to be as involved as he could with Rebecca, his social time was cut down to nothing. It was like he had made a choice to ensure that whenever he could be talking, he would. Ginny says this just slowly declined over the years and by the beginning of 2005 he could be described as quiet or reserved. Clearly his year of quitting took this to mythical proportions. And when he reached the synthesis of these two extremes it was as if every word counted. He would even speak as if words were rationed out and could not be wasted. His manner of speech was not totally unlike his writing in this journal. His sentences were short and his words were never complicated. I think this is why he was so effective in the work he took on. He became eminently understandable and forever focused on the efficacy of all social intercourse.
June 24
N: I stayed the day in the Hall without doing a thing. I just sat and closed my eyes. I breathed slowly the whole time. I also changed the book in front of me a few times. I did nothing other than feel sorry for myself. My head pulsed and spun every second of the day.
The one thing I did do was to write this poem. I can embrace my headaches. Surrender and catch and release.
Grit
I've got grit. Strands of grey matter Gray? Grey? Why is it grey? Feels brown today.
Shades of grey matter screaming to be released Captive in a skull too small Closed off to anything anything of any worth Hate turning and finding a home within itself A home that I did not chose A home that is still a home Hate, I welcome you I welcome your turning and churning I welcome your spills and fills Do what you need to Have your way with me Suit yourself. Whatever and wherever you wish. Be grey- doesn't matter to me.
To my knowledge Bob chose poetry to express himself only twice in his life. I still have his ode to me in its hand written original form.
Ginny Ginny spectacular in every way My dearest friend and safest place my clever confidant and holy space.
Ginny Ginny fresher than the finest flower My source of wisdom and familiar face my inspiring leader and starter of every race.
Ginny Ginny pillar of my very being My entry into manhood and perfection in every trace my exquisite comforter and provider of my very base.
September 1, 1979
This was Bob at his best. Sincere, corny, playful and unencumbered in all his efforts.
June 25
Q: Going to bed after midnight. C: I was tired and went to bed early. N: It is not a work day. I will go back into work Monday. I wandered and wandered today. Around town and out of town. Tourists everywhere. Some days life intrigues me. Some days it does not. I played a game. With each group I saw I asked myself a simple question. Who wants to be here? Sometimes it was obvious. Sometimes not. I had fun. Kept me amused for just about the whole day.
June 26
Q: I was tired and went to bed early. C: I am going to quit eating within two hours of going to bed. N: Today was very much like yesterday. I walked by all the town churches as they were letting out. The flow starts at ten and lasts four or more hours. These people look happy, mostly. Starting church in a quitting year still doesn't make sense. I played a different game as I walked. What's that smell? Sometimes it was obvious. Sometimes not. Kept me amused for just about the whole day.
June 27
Q: The Hall of Fame. C: Or, at least, I was made to. N: The headache that I had stayed off came back. It began just as I entered the Hall. Then my buddy Darren entered the main hall and yelled. "Hey water boy, how about a bottle of water?"
I was just too fucking pissed to handle it. I charged at him. I wanted to tackle him. I was in a rage. I had no control. He dodged me like a matador. I was the foolish bull. I did not tackle Darren. I tackled Babe Ruth. It was a statue of Babe Ruth. And I knocked his head off. The statue is The Hall to many people. It is close to being with Babe as you can get. And millions, over the years, have been there. That close to Babe Ruth. I am sure fixing it will be at some serious cost. They will not ask me to pay for it. They have asked me to leave. I am finished. How can I argue? I knocked Babe Ruth's head flying off of his body. In the National Baseball Hall of Fame, no less. I now have a lasting image in my head. Babe's head was rolling down the stairs into the foyer. A bus tour of women wearing big gold badges. They had just arrived. Giselle was just starting their tour. The badges said "Golden Girls." The Babe's head smiling up at them from their feet. I did not know what to do. I went to my office. Within a few minutes Mr. Knowles walked in. He is the Director. He is a pompous ass. He is not my boss. I am paid by and report to SABR. Mr. Knowles gently told me to go. He said he had "no authority" to do so. He said it would be "substantially easier for me" this way. He said it would be "better to go than to be forced to go." It made sense. I went home.
I packed my stuff. I went to the bus station. I did not know what to do. I got on a bus for Washington, DC. I remembered a Babe Ruth joke.
A man walks into a bar with a dog. The bartender says, "You can't bring that dog in here." "You don't understand," says the man. "This is no regular dog, he can talk." "Listen, pal," says the bartender. "If that dog can talk, I'll give you a hundred bucks." The man puts the dog on a stool, and asks him, "What's on top of a house?" "Roof!" "Right. And what's on the outside of a tree?" "Bark!" "And who's the greatest baseball player of all time?" "Ruth!" "I guess you've heard enough," says the man. "I'll take the hundred in twenties." The bartender is furious. "Listen, pal," he says, "get out of here before I belt you." As soon as they're on the street, the dog turns to the man and says, "Do you think I should have said 'DiMaggio'?"
June 28
N: I found a room in a place called the Howard Inn. This is not HOJOs! The Howard Inn is a men's hostel/hotel. It is in Adams Morgan. A rough part of town. A room with a mini fridge plus a hot plate. $35 per night. I can stay here until September. That should give me time to sort out why I am here. I am going to take a few more days off quitting.
June 29
N: I called Ginny today.
She hadn't tried to call me in Cooperstown. I told her what happened. I told her I was still free of my pills after 19 days. I told her I did not have a phone. I told her I was on the edge of a major breakthrough. I told her that we couldn't meet in July. I told her I would be back in the fall. I gave her the phone number of the front desk. I didn't talk to the kids. I could have. I didn't think they would make sense of all this.
The pills were a symptom, Bob treated them like the cause.
June 30
Q1: Sentences with more than ten words Q2: Words with more than two parts. C: I was using three syllable words. I was using twelve words per sentence. I am not going to include proper nouns. Writing Wash'ton instead of Washington would be stupid. I can't really quit much. I have quit just about all there is to quit. All I have to do is think about the fall. My room makes no noise. My life is quiet. My life is simple. It can be more so. It is my choice. I want to transcend choice by choosing nothing.
July 1
Q: Being Canadian C: I will give up thinking I belong to a nation. N: I was out for a walk today. Today is July 1. It is Canada Day. I walked into our Consul office on Pennsylvania Ave. The decor was humble. I am glad.
It is fitting. July 2 Q: Eating anything except raw veggies, fruit and nuts. C: I have started to eat very simply. For a week I have eaten only a few things. I have eaten only raw veggies, fruit and nuts. N: The project is six months old. I have quit lots. All I am doing is living in a hotel. I have no work. Nothing my wife or kids expect of me. No phone. No laptop Not using any kind of news or music source.
July 3
N: I still have a clove of garlic under my arm each night. This is a sweaty city. I am alone. I am dreaming at night. Night after night. They are all simple and benign. Simple and benign. Not of note. That is my life. Simple and benign. Not of note. I have quit to that level. My life was neither when I started all this. Neither simple nor benign or not of note. My grounded theory would want me to make notes. I am making notes.
July 4
Q: Speaking unless I am spoken to. N: I went the whole day without talking to anyone. I don't want to do it for the rest of the year. There was only one awkward moment.
I nodded when I left the hotel. The desk clerk, Lenny, was trying to chat. Mundane stuff like the weather, baseball and other patrons.
July 5
Q: My doubts that they are not with me. C: I will act to ensure this is true. This means calling more often. N: I phoned Ginny today. We didn't talk long. I said hi to the kids. I feel like I have left them. I have not. I will be back soon enough. Mental health leave. I need to trust Ginny and the Kids. The New York Mets are here to play our Nationals. The ad blared from a car. I was in a 7-11 store getting an apple. I had time to walk to the game. I saw them win today. They are now in the midst of the pennant race. They are in first place. They have not been there much since 1994. I can go to lots of games.
As a family we used to sing "Ginny and the Kids" to the tune of Elton John's “Benny and the Jets.” There remain so many wonderful memories to hold on to.
July 6
Q: Having to quit things. C: There is not much to quit anymore. N: It is a long walk to the ballpark. It is about 6 miles. I went again today. I can go to every Nationals home game. I have never watched a pennant race. I will have to leave for classes after August. There may be a way to extend this.
I'd prefer to stay all year. It would make my quits easier to sustain. I have quit quitting. I haven't made a real quitting entry for two days. I just noticed this. I haven't taken a pill in thirty days. I have made it I am doing little. I am saying little. I am reading little. In fact, I read only as a reflex. Like when I see a street sign. I must read it. I was about 6 when I noticed this first. I try to read letters when I see them. So do you. Try looking at this sentence without reading it. You can't.
July 7
N: It was a strange day. Soldiers and police here and there. Maybe there was an attack of some kind. I spoke to no one. I felt heavy. I cried. Many times. I cried a lot. My tear ducts were sore. Thirty-one days without a pill. The pain is worth it.
July 8
N: I have not spoken a word in three days. I think I know what happened. A bomb, maybe many bombs, went off somewhere else.
July 9
N: It was London.
38 people died. I walked to the ballpark knowing the Nationals are away. They are playing in Philadelphia today. I touched gate 7 and turned back. The walk has rhythm. I pass 9 fruit stands on this walk. I buy fruit at each one. By the end I have eaten a fruit salad. A walking fruit salad. 9 is the square of 3.
July 10
N: I heard 23 sirens today. 23! I didn't count them. I just knew there was 23. Each one a problem. Tragedy with each one. I cried. Not every time. People dying. People maimed for life. People losing the life they knew. Brutal. I did not see any of them. Grief is pure this way. The sense of loss is untouched by any real event. My tears are pure. No contact of my own to confuse me. No ego, no fear, just sadness. I don't want to lose this.
Clearly there was something about Robert's tears that he thought were impure. Beginning there, his forays into improving his compassion begin to make more sense. If we can trust Robert, which may not be wise at this point in his journal, it is ego and fear that brought the impurity that he speaks of. The Robert that I came to love, admire and value so deeply in the last 26 months of his life was delightfully free of ego and alarmingly free of fear. The pre and post 2005 Roberts were radically different in this way. He was probably quoting somebody else but I heard him say several times,
"Justice without charity is cruel and charity without justice is foolish." This truly ruled his life. Ironically this speaks not of the purity that he writes about in his journal but of the unclear and murky nature of our world. One cannot be purely just any easier than one can be perfectly charitable. However, Robert pursued both justice and charity with great vigor in the last years of his life. In this there was a single mindedness that probably got at the heart of where his misguided meandering through abstract tears were reaching for.
July 11
N: It is the All-Star Break. I recall it from a sign at the Hall of Fame. The Nationals are in first place. I will not give up baseball yet.
July 12
Q: The knife and the spoon. C: I gave them to a street vendor. N: I owned one knife, one fork and one spoon. I will keep my fork. It can cut, it can spoon. A spoon can't cut. I could have chosen the knife. Doesn't matter now.
July 13
N: No pills. No headaches. One quit at a time.
July 14
Q: Clothes that aren't white. C: I have three t-shirts. I have one golf shirt. I have one dress shirt. I have two pair of shorts. One pair of dress pants.
I have one pair of runners. One pair of dress shoes. I have seven pairs of underwear. I have seven pairs of socks. I left some clothes in Cooperstown. I threw out all my clothes except the runners and the shorts. I bought two new pairs of briefs. I bought two new t-shirts. All white. All right! I will wash them in my room. I own less now. It is very hot. I will be moving back to Toronto. It will still be hot when I move.
July 15
Q: Eating on Fridays. C: A young man asked me for money. I gave him five dollars. He asked me why. I told him it meant little to me. I would go the day without eating. I did. N: I spoke at length today. First time in a while. I didn't really speak at length. I listened at length. I heard it at the time. I don't recall what he said. I spoke, rather than nodded, to keep the flow going.
July 16
Q: Thinking about moving back home. C: I will cross that bridge when I come to it. N: It feels like I will never have a headache again. It has been like those food tests. The ones where you quit everything. And you add back one item at a time. By doing this you find out what is wrong.
I have quit my life, as I knew it. I have no headaches. When I move back home I will add back. When the headaches start I will know what to quit. This knowledge is beyond value.
July 17
Q: Cutting my hair. C: I have not cut my hair all year. I never thought of it as a quit. I just never got to it. My hair doesn't grow on top of my head. And it grows slowly on the sides. I will make this formal.
July 18
Q: I will quit cutting my beard too. N: I made a habit of taking Subtunol. My parents died in a car crash. Ginny had an affair. I started to get headaches all the time. No The order is wrong. Ginny had an affair. I started to get headaches. My parents died in a car crash. I think it is My parents died in a car crash. I started to get headaches. And I know that the Subtunol was after the headaches. Then Ginny had the affair. Now. I no longer have headaches. I no longer take Subtunol. Ginny is finished with her affair. My parents cannot die again. I am living in Washington. I am doing little in Washington. When I started to quit Subtunol, I started going to funerals. I have gone to fourteen.
Toronto, Cooperstown and now here. I think of my own each time. My parents did not have one. They told my brother they did not want one.
I am still chilled by this entry. It is liked he has stepped completely outside himself and believes by this clinical description he has arrived at his predestination. Robert's journey, and its many twists and turns, could have easily led to a much different end than it does.
July 19
N: The Nationals are back in town. We won today. Beat the Rockies 4-0. I am now buying outfield tickets. I don't watch the game the same way. I let my mind wander more. Not so much wander as ponder. I want to think of only one thing per day. I want to not wander. I pondered the appeal to the third base ump. A player can appeal a ruling he doesn't like. The catcher can point at the third base ump. He does this when he thinks a ball was a strike. It mean he can reverse his call. Our world should be more like this. When we don't like things, we should appeal. Someone should be there to say yey or ney. Someone should rule anew. Someone should say there was a mistake.
Bob's love of baseball could be a lightning rod. It was something to be frustrated by when I was bothered. However, there was a boyish charm about it that I never grew tired of and I still love to conjure. No matter what he got caught up in it was always a game. It was meant to put a smile on his face. I can picture him, acting out like a home plate umpire, calling for an appeal and then breaking into the same grin he probably had when he was in elementary school.
July 20
N: More great pitching in today's game. There are too many numbers in baseball. Life is not like that. I do not keep track of day and night fights with Ginny. I do not time the hug length with my kids. I did not graph the number of students in my classes. To explain the game with numbers is a short cut. A number is not worth a thousand words. Hernandez was artful in his pitching today. Balance is beauty. Off balance is ugly.
July 21
N: I want to revel in how simple my life has become. I will devote each day when the Nats are at home to them. The walk there, the game and the walk home. Eating while I walk. That is my day. More pitching to delight in. With pitching, less is better.
July 22
N: I did not go into the stadium. It is Boycott Coke Day. There was a picket line. Well, a leaflet line. It seemed a proper thing to do. I still have not had a coke in over ten years. I used to give out leaflets on Yonge Street on July 22. This year was not the same. I "worked" for them this year. I gave out their water at the Hall. I am not putting this right. They will sell coke at the next game I go to. I just want to reward the protest. I picked a bad game to miss. Roger Clemens was near flawless. We lost to Houston 14-1.
July 23
Q: Surprise. C: I have rid my life of surprise. N: We pulled off a double steal today. That is where two players try to steal at once. Sometimes you want one to get caught. The player going from first to second. That way the player from third gets home. You don't see this in the major leagues. The defense is too strong to let it happen. The offense is too strong to fool around. It was the surprise that worked.
In retrospect, I can see that Robert is preparing to quit baseball. That is what this series of entries is building to. He is saying his goodbyes. After this year, I never knew Robert to mention the game let alone attend one or watch one on the television (TV being another quit that he maintained past 2005.) I am not sure what he did if and when other people brought up the game but he certainly never did. I couldn't imagine anything that seemed to anchor Robert as much as the grand old game did. He may have realized an anchor is not an asset if it is dropped in the wrong place. In the end Robert found his salvation when he finally chose work over play. Baseball was a distraction.
July 24
N: Houston beat us 4-1 to end the home stand. A work of beauty by a 24 year old rookie. Wandy Rodriguez . What's with that? Wandy? If I hadn't quit the net, I would try and find out. The Nats aren't home for a few weeks. I will spend my days walking.
July 25
C: I have not spoken a word in ten days. A grunt goes a long way. I have a number of grunts.
They are becoming like words. The inner quiet is of value. Washington is a noisy city.
I tried asking Robert about his grunting not long before he died. He would only grunt in return. When I told him I was serious, he grunted again and smiled then added, "I don't like talking about grunting." We both smiled.
July 26
N: I played a game today. Can I make him do it? I stare at somebody and control his or her next action. Pick your nose. Turn left. Stumble. I did real well. I had the power. I did not take many risks. I played it all day. I think I walked 30 miles. 12 hours at 3 miles an hour? I rested a lot too. Ginny called. She asked me to come home. I told her I would call tomorrow. I am not sure that I want to go home. I am not sure I can.
It was noisy in the lobby of his hotel and he wasn't saying very much. I felt like I was talking to one of the teenagers I work with. He was saying “yes” all the time but where his mind and heart were remained a complete mystery. However, when we were finished I knew I would see him.
July 27
N: I called Ginny from the bus station. At eight in the morning. Just before I left. It was a 17 hour ride.
Or more if it is late. It was not late.
July 28
N: I arrived at 2:00 in the morning. No headache. No pills. I had a lovely walk home. We said little. That made it easy.
July 29
N: Ginny had planned a meeting. She told me when I woke up that it was at 11. Becky-Lou, Andre, Ginny, Naomi and my doctor, Dr. Patel. Naomi had control of our meeting. Each person got to talk. Andre went first.
"Dad, we miss you."
He looked at Naomi and made a slight change.
"I miss you. When are you coming home to stay? Mom says you got fired from the Hall of Fame but I don't believe that. You can't get fired as a guest can you? She said something about you beating up Babe Ruth. He's dead. You can't beat up a dead baseball player can you? If you were fired, why aren't you home with us? Its sad around the house and I want you home."
Becky-Lou was next
"Dad, it has been different ever since gran and gramps died. Mom said you started getting headaches after that and then the pills you take, you are taking too many. She says you are addicted and you have to stop. I want you to come home. I miss you. You're funny. I feel good when you smile and I smile when you feel good."
At this point Becky-Lou began to cry. She started to twitch.
And then she spoke some more.
"Mom cried all night when you called last. She told us you are an addict and she told us that you can get well. But you won't because you don't admit your problem. I remember you before your headaches. You were different, dad. You smiled more and laughed more and most important you paid attention to me. Now your eyes are always somewhere else and you are somewhere else. You remind me of Uncle Ted sometimes."
My brother Ted drinks too much.
"I want you home too. I want my dad; the one I used to know, back... I..."
Becky-Lou just buried her head. Gazing at the floor. For a long time. Ginny does this sometimes. She looked like her mother.
"I don't care what you do different. I don't care how you quit those pills. I just want our family to be like it was."
And then Ginny went.
"You look like you're listening, Robert, but I can't be sure anymore. You have become a stranger. Maybe I betrayed you by reading your journal and talking about your addiction to the kids but I don't think so because they knew, they just didn't know the word."
I have not had a pill in over a month. This should count.
"I think it is time for you to stay here. Or have you quit us? Is that what this thing has been all year? A way to quit us. We are not the problem but you've made us all feel that way. Not everyone has their parents die in a car accident. Why couldn't you just reach out? Instead you started the pills and then this quitting charade which from my viewpoint looks like a quest to nowhere."
Quest to nowhere. Now, that I like.
Nowhere gets a bum rap in this world. Ginny had more to say. "I am not sure we can have what he had before. I told Rebecca and Andre about my relationship with Randy. I told them I was wrong but I lied when I told them that you have forgiven me. I told them that you will always think less of me and until you do forgive me I am going to be worried about our marriage. We are in a lot of trouble Robert and either you don't know it or you really do and this path you’re on is to make sure we can never recover. We wouldn't be here today if I didn't think that hope was still alive. I know this is hard for you and Naomi has a plan. Dr. Patel is here to help you too"
Dr. Patel smiled. He has a gentle smile. I trust him. "What I am trying to say is that I want you to stay here." Ginny picked up a piece of paper. It was on the glass table in front of her. She read it slowly.
"I want you to work with Dr. Patel and whatever specialist you need on both the headaches and the addiction. I want you to meet every two weeks with Naomi. I want you to try Narcotics Anonymous. I want to meet every night at ten and ask each other "How was your day?" and we have as much time as we want to answer. Unless you can do these things, Robert, I don't think we can live together.
Naomi had not said anything yet. "Do you understand what you wife is asking you?" she asked.
I nodded. "Did you hear your children?"
Yes, I said. Naomi spoke again.
"Dr. Patel, you are a very special doctor. To have taken time to come to something like this is not something we can count on a lot of doctors
doing. Are you still prepared to work with Robert on those two issues?" "Of course" he replied, smiling at me. "Now you can speak," Naomi said as she squared her shoulders towards me.
I said, "thank you" to everyone. Each one, one at a time. I looked at each of them as I did. This is not the way I want to spend the next month. If I want my family, I may have to. I have gone almost two months without a pill. I have gone just as long without a headache. That seems enough. I did not say all this. I just said, "thank you" I think they all took it as a "yes." I did not mean, "no." I did not mean, "yes." I meant, "thank you."
I made a point of finding Dr. Patel and Naomi before publishing this diary. Both asked me to change their names. I have to admit I agree with Ginny that Dr. Patel was primarily responsible for Robert's abuse of Subtunol. He simply did not execute due diligence in monitoring Robert's use of the drug let alone the issue of Subtunol being a drug that is now rarely prescribed precisely because it is so addictive. I had made this judgment before meeting Dr. Patel and have to admit I did not give him much of a chance upon meeting him to prove otherwise. Naomi on the other hand was delightful to meet. Robert had spoken of me in therapy and in particular telling her that he envied my marriage. He never ever said anything like that to me. Naomi, in the calm and reassuring manner that had been described to me before I met her, encouraged me to accept that envy as nothing other than a pure and simple affirmation of the strength of my marriage.
July 30
C: I did not go East of Yonge. I will stick with that quit.
I have grown weary of talking. There is too much talking going on here. N: I have five weeks until classes start. I want to transport my DC lifestyle here. I will not use Subtunol. I will sleep instead of getting a headache. I will enjoy my children. I will not quit this project. I have not sorted out all my quitting. I have work to do. Making this work will be a huge effort. Huge is not a huge enough word! Ha Ha Ha. Ginny has laid out what she wants. Ginny is working Mondays, Tuesdays and Fridays. Becky-Lou is at lacrosse day camp. Andre is at a camp put on by the law faculty. They do mock court. It is Tuesday. I can still eat only raw fruit, veggies and nuts. I bought 14 kinds of nuts today. I went to 10 stores. I didn't have to. It was a walking project.
The fact that Robert periodically added a laugh track to his journal is the one thing that makes me absolutely certain that this journal is genuine. Such silliness, and such an ability to amuse himself, was something that anyone who had met Robert knew about him.
July 31
N: The Hall of Fame takes in its new members today. Ryne Sandberg and Wade Boggs. I had pictured this day many times. I don't want to miss it. I left on the 12:30am bus to get there in time. I was not ready for the life that Ginny wanted of me. I left a note asking her to give me August. I said I would be back at the month end. Then I would be ready for her plan. "We can build the life you are talking of then." This is what I wrote to her.
I surprised myself. So much for a surprise free life. And then one more surprise. I did not stop in Cooperstown. I stayed on the bus and returned to DC. I transferred in New York. I returned to my room at the Howard Inn. Somebody else had stayed there. It had a funny smell. I was able to ignore the smell. It is where I wanted to be. Needed to be. It is my home right now. I had a vision years ago. It might have been a movie. That I was resting on a beach. A shaded, empty beach. I don't like resting on beaches. If I did go, it would be shady and empty. In the dream I am in treatment of some kind. Maybe this is where I am to go. Am I to travel south, to a beach? Am I to sit on a beach for a month? Or is this room the beach? I don't think I can do my project when I get back. My project does not fit into Ginny's plan. My quits no longer fit my job. I feel pressure for the first time in months. I have to make the most of the next 30 days. I have to make the least of the next 30 days. I want to delight in all that I have quit. I want to delight in how little my life is. I can manage! No one else gets to do this. My time is coming to an end. I want to quit that much more. I have thirty days to complete this journey.
Bob had been vacant since the intervention. It was not a surprise when he left. I couldn't quite call it a relief but I knew if our meeting had not secured his attention nothing I could imagine would either. It was a matter of “better sooner than later.”
August 1
N: I am sleeping at least ten hours each night. I am not tired. I just sleep. I still walk most of each day.
August 2
N: The Nationals are back in town. Los Angeles is here. My days have more form when they are here. I like the form. I have the dates of their home games in my head. The only words I write are for this project. I no longer read. I only read when my mind can't stop me. Street signs, headlines in the papers, ads. I have let the project slip away. I am not quitting something each day. I am bringing my quits to one place. I am seeing where this has taken me. This is not what I thought would happen. It is what has come to be. The word pure keeps coming to mind.
August 3
Q: Day dreaming. C: It has become a quit. N: LA again. I did something odd today. It was just at the ballpark. I put tape over my eyes. Then I put sunglasses on. I took in the game as a blind man. Nobody noticed me. Or least not that I saw. Ha Ha Ha Ha. I enjoyed the pop in the glove the most.
August 4
N: The walk to the ballpark seemed quicker today. I don't know why. Our pitcher's line was 9 4 0 0 0 13. I heard the announcer give it as I walked out. It was stunning. I will always see beauty in a pitching line. I have tried not to. I can't. I didn't wear the tape or glasses today. I have not spoken a word in four days. Not since I checked back into the Howard. I screamed at one of the strikeouts. It was not a word. It was a scream. A scream is not a word. A word can be a scream.
August 5
N: I cried today. I saw a mother hit her boy. I have never seen this in my life. He was six. I'd guess he was six. They were too far away to hear. She looked young. They were black. They looked poor. He did nothing. I did nothing. They turned a corner. They were gone. They stayed with me. All day. This life has its drawbacks. I am still open to attack. This was an attack on me. On my senses. On my feelings. I know the problem is the boy's.
And the mother's. It is also mine. And yours.
Robert does not react in any way other than to experience this scene played out in front of him. He reacts as if it is a play or a movie that has no consequence in any real sense. Robert was not like this at all either before or after this project. Robert was always committed to pursuing the consequences of his actions and some of his earlier quits seemed to be intended to even sharpen those intentions. It is as if he had to strip back his acting on his intentions so he could rebuild them from scratch and avoid pitfalls, traps and patterns that he had fallen into. I shrink at the size of completing such a task with integrity and this is why I can be so forgiving when I read through this journal and remember what Robert was like when I encountered him in September.
August 6
Q:Staring at women. C: I tried to quit this months ago. I never wanted to. It has just happened. I can still tell a woman from a man. It is just that I no longer think about it. This is not unlike the rest of my life. I am no longer able to respond as I did. In general, I cannot respond. I have given up power. With Ginny and the kids. In the work place. In the co-op. Being able to respond is what gives power. I have no power. There is a link between power and headaches. I have relieved this pressure. This is what I have done.
At this point, and for the next five months, Robert was holding us hostage with his lack of communication. For him to have even imagined that he perceived that he had no power at this point is an insult that none of us deserved. Even now I prefer to think he was
lying to himself.
August 7
Q: Baseball. C: I resolved that while walking to the ballpark. Clearly, it is the one thing I have held on to. I knew this would happen. Ever since the day of the Coke boycott. They are falling out of the pennant race. Still in it. This doesn't matter. It is a last bastion in my quitting project. The time has come. I am thankful to J. Peavy. A farewell gift. 9 5 0 0 2 10 He also knocked in the winning run. N: Jack Peavy beat the Nats 3-0.
August 8
C: I phoned Dr. Patel today. I want to extend my time until the end of the year. It is not so much for the project. It is just what I want to do. He was pleased I am not taking pills. He told me I was an adult. He said it was my choice.
August 9
N: I wrote a letter to Stanton
Stanton Broberg Chair of the Department of Economics University of Toronto Toronto, ON M6R 2J5
August 9, 2005
Dear Stanton,
I am seeking leave for the fall term. My doctor, Dr. Patel will support this request. His letter will come tomorrow. I also have the support of the Faculty Association. I know this is late and I am sorry. I trust you can adjust. I expect to return to teaching in January. I am prepared to teach the three courses that are currently listed.
Yours Truly, Robert Seaton August 10 N: I wrote a letter to Ginny. Dear Ginny, I love you. I miss you. I am very content right now. I am seeing more clearly than I have in years. I am sorting things out about my parents' death.
I know your depth. It lives within me. I have made a home for it there. I will never forget when we met. My skin burned for months. My heart seared. I believed in myself like never before. I never felt safer than I did in your arms. I never felt valued like that. Our marriage has been like this too. And I know it is not now that way. I have not come back from your affair.
I feel ready to now. I am ready to truly forgive you. I am ready to re- make our marriage. I want to begin this in January. Dr. Patel has me on sick leave until then. I am going to stay here. I have a doctor to see here. Mostly I will rest. I need rest. Rest from everything. I am still pill and headache free. I am not doing the quitting thing any more. As Becky- Lou says, I am just being chilly. I will be strong when I get back. I will be ready. We will do well. I must do this. I do not use the word must very often. Being so clear is new to me too. It excites me.
I look forward to coming home. I treasure your patience. I cherish your patience. I need your patience. It is hard to talk to you. I want you to put
our marriage on hold. I am going to write the kids and tell them too. I hope you will write me back soon.
Love, Robert I had a friend over and we drank two magnums of wine together as I shared this letter with her. We giggled a lot that night. We were laughing in the graveyard, as my mother used to say.
August 11
N: And Andre
Dear Andre,
I love you. Daddy is really really tired. Too tired to come home. Too tired to even phone. I am sorry I am so tired. I don't want to be. I am more tired than when we walked that twenty mile walk. You and me.
It is not just my body. My mind and my heart are tired too. I need some special rest. I am going to be resting for a few more months. When I get back I will be really well rested.
You know that meeting we had? We talked about the pills I was taking. I am not taking them any longer. It is just rest that I need now. I am looking forward to seeing you. I will come home for Christmas.
I love you, Daddy August 12 N: And Becky Lou
Dear Becky-Lou,
You know me. You know me very well. You are wise. You have great insight. You know things have not been right. They have not been right for a long time. Both your mom and I made some bad choices. We are
paying for those choices now. Sadly, you and Andre are paying too. I am not able to go back to work now. I am going to take some time to rest. I will go back to work after Christmas. Until then, I am going to rest. I am going to rest here in Washington. It is a place for me to rest. I am looking forward to when I come home. Our life will be like it was before. I can't come home yet.
I know that you will do great in grade ten. You are so wise. You have such talent. I guess fall lacrosse season will soon be here. I wish I could watch you play. I will come and see you play indoors. It will only be a few months. Mom is going to help you wait for me.
Love, Daddy August 13 C: A lanced boil. Four months more seems long enough. Long enough to see where this takes me.
August 14
N: I attended a mass today. I was just walking by. I saw all the people dressed in black. It was a funeral mass. The man who died was very old. The coffin was open. I could not see him. How did I know he was old? I don't know how. His name was Bill. No one seemed to be sad. That must be why I thought he was old. They did not say much about him. The Priest mentioned he was baptized as a baby. I had thought of Bill as a baby. His wife's name was Adele. I think. She had two sons with her.
I think. I did not go up for the bread and wine. I did go through a line and shook Adele's hand. She thanked me for coming. I have not been thanked for a long time. Maybe since I was handing out water at the Hall. Thank you.
August 15
N: It is very hot. The AC in my room makes a lot of noise. It makes more noise than cool air.
August 16
N: Hot again. August 17 C: I have not heard back from Ginny. I thought she might phone. I am still walking twelve hours a day. I am not missing baseball.
August 18
N: I got a letter from Ginny today. Dear Bob, Yes.
I couldn't bring myself to phone you because I am so scared. I am not sure that you are in touch with time and space anymore Bob. You congratulate yourself on all your strides but from where I sit you've just walked out on us. You're a shit for it Bob. I am not sure how your adherence to this writing project, which surely wasn't my idea, is going to be something you can turn off on December 31. It went from being annoying to a devastating obsession really quickly and I am still not entirely clear on what you did to get fired from the Hall of Fame. That was a dream come true for you and you walked away from it. You've
never even come close to doing something like that before and you act as if it was random and inconsequential.
I called Dr. Patel and I know he is on your side. He's convinced you really are drug free and he's convinced that you are going to come back like you say but my gut just doesn't trust him. If you were a stranger and I was given your file as a social worker I would be asking for a full psychological work-up. I pulled my punches when we met with Naomi and the kids. I regret that I did that because I may forever have doubts if that was my one chance to get your attention.
I am going to take you at your word that you were not asking me but telling me that you were going to stay until Christmas. So when I say "yes" I am not saying, "yes I give you permission" or "yes I agree with you." Nor am I saying, "yes this is what I want." When I say "yes" I am saying that this is all beyond my control and that I am going to assume that you can fulfill your promise by returning at Christmas to work things out.
I think of you every hour of every day and Bob, I pray for you every day when I go to bed.
Love Ginny
August 19
C: I did not know that Ginny prayed. That part read funny to me. I trusted her to wait. I could not get ready to work in two weeks. I could not get ready to add back all my other quits either.
Robert asked me about prayer quite a bit in the last 22 months of his life. He never said anything about prayer but he asked me all about what prayer was in the Roman Catholic life. He seemed to know something about the prayers of the Mass, which I assume that he picked up from attending funerals, but he never spoke of his own ideas. His questions were pointed and thoughtful but always open ended enough to avoid any clue about what in particular was leading him to the question. I can only guess that he found a way to pray through Narcotics Anonymous. Perhaps it
was the serenity prayer that worked for him. Robert's secret life of prayer will remain so.
August 20
N: It was too hot to walk my full walk today. I am not sure how hot. It just felt hotter than the other hot days. I found a bench in a park and sat there for a long time. I am not sure how long. Most of the daylight hours. I ate my meals at that bench. I made no eye contact. I spent most of the day looking at the sky. Through the trees to the sky. I used to look at clouds this way. There were no longer clouds. I tried to perceive the change in the hue of blue. I did. I perceived the change in the hue of blue. Something new. I was not asked for money once. No one tried to sell me drugs either.
Do these last two lines suggest that he was asked for money and offered drugs on a daily basis? It is hard to imagine he could spend his days walking through the neighborhoods of Washington that he did and not have that experience. It leaves me trying to imagine whether he was truly able to take a sabbatical from compassion. He lacked compassion neither before nor after 2005 but his journal so often recounts events as if it were absent. I can only conclude it was absent from his journal but not his life.
August 21
Q: Minutes and hours. C: I have never worn a watch. I had a clock in my office. We have several clocks at home. That is how I kept on time. I no longer need the one small clock I had with me. I gave it to a woman selling things off a blanket.
She smiled. She thanked me. My first thank you since the last time. In my normal life, I live for thank-yous. Thank-yous are a form of payment. They give value to labour. I am not my labour. I do not need thanks to have value.
Again he seems to jump ahead and speak with clarity only to betray it later. Yet such insight, while seemingly false if not delusional here, is in complete concordance with the way he came to live his life after his experiment. By living completely outside the moment for several months, Robert learned how to exist in the moment all the time.
August 22
Q: Jokes. C: I no longer have contact with people to tell them. Jokes only exist between people. I think little. Jokes do not come. I have nobody to tell jokes to. People expect jokes from me. Many asked me for one each time they saw me. I am free of this.
August 23
C: I spent the day pretending to limp. August 24 N: I switched legs.
One of the things that Glenn and I did agree on was that this was funny.
August 25
Q: Comments and Notes
I will no longer name my comments I also received a letter from Becky-Lou today.
Dear Dad,
I read your letter and I talked to mom. We didn't talk to Andre because he seems not to care as if he is pretending that he is younger than he is right now. Mom and I are really worried about you. I told mom I was going to write but she didn't ask to see what I've written. I think I know what mom means when she says that you are not in touch with time and space but I am not sure. I see that you are on a quest. Are you on a quest to nowhere or just quest to some place I don't understand? We read Waldon Pond at school last year. You must have read it, right dad? Mr. Bohanon said that the book is full of lies and half truths. He said that Thoreau had access to money and had people bringing him food and keeping him company. He said these things bring into question the validity of the book as a work of non-fiction and he wants us to read the book as fiction. The problem is, dad, that your life is not fiction. My life is not fiction and mom and Andre's lives are not fiction. The way you were when you were home and your letters tell me that you have created a small, tiny, world inside your head and have called our life fiction. All this is terribly hard for me and I am worried about mom today. She asked me if I thought that this was all because the Expos had to move from Montreal. It is like you, from a thousand kilometers away, or whatever it is, are dragging her into your world with you. She's shaky and she doesn't know what to do. I don't agree with mom saying to you do what you need to do and come back and we will work on things then. I think it is great that the headaches are gone and just as great that you've stopped taking those pills because of it but I can't live with you imagining that we are all behind you living in some hotel in the middle of a city that I only know from TV and movies. You told me that Economics is about compromise so can't we compromise? Can't you come up here for a week a month? You can do what you need to do there and mom will be ok. It is four months to Christmas. I mean, like three visits. I love you too dad and I am scared.
Please come and visit. Love, Your Becky-Lou
August 26
No entry. Is saying "no entry" the same as having no entry? August 27 I needed a sober second look at this. I don't have that kind of person here. I asked Lenny to read Becky-Lou's letter. He works the desk at the hotel. He stared at me and asked one question. "Who's Thoreau?"
August 28
I walk by a large Roman Catholic Church every day. It is not the one I went to the mass at. I walked in and asked for the priest. "No Priest here" said the janitor. He had a heavy Spanish accent. "When will he be here?" I asked. "No priest here- once a month." I thanked him. I walked out. I have grunted and nodded many thanks this past while. Each day. I have not spoken for a long time.
My church failed Robert. Because of Rome's failure to open the debate on ordaining women and married men so many parishes are left without priests. Because of the lack of imagination on how they might be used, lay leaders are not given the training or placed in positions where they can serve people in need. Robert was so vulnerable here and so open to what a wise and prudent respondent could have offered. As it was he simply walked away. This is just one of countless concrete examples of why I stay continue to fight the fight and not just walk away from my church.
August 29
The Washington Post.
Displayed in stores. Displayed in boxes. It rests in bus shelters. It lies on the streets. I want no news. I want for nothing new in my life. I have set up four months for nothing new. I want to pause. To pause for four months. As if I was taking one breath. For four months.
August 30
I still walk most of the day. I bought new shoes today. Walking Washington twelve hours a day. What are you doing? Walking Washington twelve hours a day. What do you think about? Not much. Really? On some days. If someone asked me, this is what I would say.
August 31
Today I thought about Becky-Lou and Ginny's letters. I had not been thinking of them. Often, I am not thinking. I gave over to thinking of them. I know the two letters well. I have not read them many times. I just know them very well. They are not saying the same thing. Ginny is not as worried as Becky-Lou. Ginny is wiser that Becky-Lou. Ginny knows me perfectly.
If I had read this at the time my response would have been, “Yes I do but I wish I didn't!”
September 1
Again, I spent money on something other than food today. It was a bus fare. I had a blister on my heel. The guy next to me kept on making small talk. He was talking about New Orleans. I guess they are having a great big flood. I played as if I couldn't hear well. I thought he would tire of talking. Tired of saying stuff over and over. He just spoke louder and louder. Maybe my hearing is worse? I have not been using my hearing much. Maybe I was not feigning? I do not need to talk. Lenny at the desk at the hotel is used to my grunts. Sometimes he grunts back. The other day we each grunted three times. Three distinct grunts. Three each. Six distinct grunts. We smiled.
September 2
My steps seemed lighter today. My back was straighter. I walked more quickly.
September 3
More of the same. September 4 Regret for what you did not do is more. Regret for what you did do is less. I am not doing much. I am trying to do less each day. This adds up to more regrets. I want to be wrong in my adding.
September 5
I walked around the Georgetown campus today. I had not planned to do this. I just walked off my course and there I was. There was the start of class buzz. I have been part of that buzz since I was five years old. I don't miss it. Today it was buzz for buzz's sake. I saw some students with Anti-Bush, Anti-War signs. I watched them. I have carried many such signs. I found a distanced pleasure in watching them. Pleasure?
I think the word pleasure disappeared from Robert's vocabulary after this year. He sought not pleasure but integrity. Or in Pope John Paul's words, to "share in the work of creation."
September 6
School starts for my kids today. Last year Becky-Lou said something priceless. "I can't help it if I look good with a backpack, I just do." She's probably got her backpack on today too. No doubt Andre is hopping all over the place.
September 7
The Pro Football Hall of Fame was opened in September 7, 1963. There was a picture at the league office. The date was at the bottom. I saw it each day when I interned there. I did not read the date each day. I don't want to know this date. I just do. This project was supposed to rid me of such details. It has not. Yet.
September 8
I spoke out loud today. To myself. I just wanted to hear my voice. It would be selfish to talk to someone else just to hear my voice. It would not have shown respect.
Asshole!
September 9
Many people have a problem with ringing in their ears. I know it drives people crazy. I have never had that problem. It never came with my headaches. It is not a ring I have. It is more of a hum. It is not in my ears. It is deeper than that. It is the sound of flat. It is not a flat sound; it is the sound of flat. The notion of flatness is in my head as a sound. I wish you could hear it. I wish I could create it. One of my grunts comes close. It may be the sound of all things. Sound compiled- in my head. All sound compiled into one constant note. All words are part of the sound. No word equates with the sound. Perfect sound.
September 10
Blue. September 11 Pause.
September 12
I am thin. I have never been thin. All this walking. All the fruit and veggies. All the water. And fewer and fewer nuts. I have been the same weight for years. I think. I have not owned a scale as an adult. I weigh less now. A lot less. I am sure. There is a mirror in my room. I took it off the wall today. I took it down and gave it to Lenny at the desk. He smiled. He nodded. He took it. I grunted.
September 13
My buddy Glenn from Baltimore showed up. He just knocked on my room door. It was about seven at night. "I am here for Ginny" he began. He looked at me as if I was a stranger. I don't blame him. I had told him in an email that I quit him. He blurted out his first words. "Ginny's worried. “She called and I told her I would come and see you." He stammered. I don't recall him having a stammer. Glenn is as close a friend as I have ever had. We both had our first children at the same time. Both had daughters. At Ohio State. We see the world the same. I am sorry I quit him
"I am sorry I quit you" I told him. He pointed out a flaw in my logic. I have not quit him if I am talking to him. How can I be sorry for something I did not do? At the park he asked me if I wanted to play 1-0. This was a people watching game. We used to sit in crowded areas and talk. People we liked were 1. People we didn't think we would like were 0. He was quiet after we played. It was a long while before he spoke again. "What should I tell Ginny?" he asked me. I answered. "Same as what I told her. "Wait. Wait until Christmas. I will be home." Glenn grunted. I notice other people's grunts more now. A while later Glenn said, "I am glad we're not quit." It was warm. I have not done warm for a while. It was nice. I had become free of warm and nice. Free, also, of words like cold and mean. I wasn't telling Glenn these things. I was not saying a lot. What did you quit today?" he asked. "I am not really doing that now. "I am sitting with all the quits. "Well, walking with the quits. "I walk a lot now. "You're lucky you found me here." He wanted to read my journal entries. I gave him what I had typed. He read them quickly. He asked to look at the entries in my lap top. He read them quickly. He said nothing. He had to catch his bus back to Baltimore. I walked him to the depot. We hugged. We agreed to meet again Saturday. In the morning at nine. Then I walked home.
September 14
I craved toast today. Right when I awoke. Flax bread, toasted. I used to eat it all the time. It was not like I used to crave Subtunol. Did seeing Glenn cause this? I don't think so. I was tired today. That did have something to do with seeing Glenn. September 15 I went to a barber and had all my hair shaved off. I did not have much. I also had my beard shaved off. I had lots of beard. It had not cut it since 2004.
September 16
I looked at a woman today and thought "one." I did not want to. Glenn. I want to free myself of value of any kind.
September 17
Glenn woke me up. Pounding on my door again. He asked me a question. "Do you know what time it is?" "No," I replied. "Quit time?" he asked. I said yes. I could have grunted. I did not. This was to meet Glenn half way. I took him on my daily walking route. It was funny.
I often left him to walk straight when I turned. I would laugh when he looked back for me. He spoke about my journal. "Where is this all going to end up, Rob?" "Back in Toronto, I guess," I answered. "I wasn't asking a question about physicality." he answered. "That is the only question that makes sense. "I don't want to know where I am going. "I don't know and that is what I want." "When will that change?" he asked. Things became clear to me today. Adding Glenn will take a big toll on my flow. I asked if we could just play games. He was OK with that. One was "pick the soccer team." We each chose 11 people as they walked by. Glenn wrote what they looked like on his American Blackberry. We then chose where they would each play. We then argued about who would win the soccer game. We did they same with baseball. We used to do this with each other in Ohio. We also played "never." When a mean looking peace officer walks by you say- "He has never used more force than needed." When a very wealthy well dressed woman walks by you quote- "I kind of like spending the day shopping. Never thought of doing that before." We played these games for hours. This is what Glenn and I will do. Our walk ended at the bus station. I thanked him for coming. I thanked him for spending the day with me. "You're my hedge" I told him. I meant that I could enter my simple life a little further. I said that having him grounded me in my past. He looked at me like he didn't get what I was saying. He just said "I'll see you." He did not say when he would come again. I'm not sure why he was not clearer.
Taking a page from Robert's book. Lost.
September 18
I think people fall into two camps. In one camp are people who have been in prison In the other are people who have not been. One camp is people who answer yes. The other answers no. That is to the question, "Have you ever been in prison?" Such a thought is normal for me. I am trying to avoid normal. I would not have chosen this thought. My only thought September 10 was "blue." I had looked at the sky. I could recall nothing else from that day.
September 19
Fear and unrest. I don't want to see Glenn. It seemed early when I left my room. It seemed late when I came home. I am finding new washrooms each day. This is as close to "work" as I come. I have not seen the doctor yet. Dr. Patel had arranged for me to see a Dr. Bosman. I could screw up my leave. I need to do something.
September 20
I waited 4 hours in Dr. Bosman's office. They must have wanted to punish me for not coming sooner. I was able to hear English as a foreign language, I could not make out what people were saying. They were speaking English. It was all Greek to me. Breakthrough? The visit was perfect. Dr. Bosman asked me if I had used Subtunol. He did some doctor things like listen to my chest. Then he agreed to see me each week. Then he asked me for $75.00.
I did not have it with me. I went home and got the money. I took it back to him. I will see him each week. $75.00 a week insures worry-free income for my family. This is not a hard choice.
September 21
I do need Glenn. That is, if I am going to re-enter my old life. I need him. I need to keep grounded in some way. I could phone him. It doesn't seem right. He told me a joke when I saw him last. The first joke I have heard in many weeks.
There's this a guy sitting in a bar staring at the bottom of his drink. For half-an-hour he doesn't move. Then, a big angry looking guy in motorcycle leathers sits down next to him and a after a few minutes takes the drink from and just drinks it all down in one gulp. The poor man starts crying and the biker replies, "Relax, I was just joking. Here, I'll buy you another drink." "No, it's not that. Today has been the worst day of my life. First, I slept in and was refused a doctor's appointment I had waited months for because I was late. When I left the building to find my car, I found out it was stolen. The police didn't care a bit when I reported it so I had to find a cab to return home. As soon as I got to the door I realized that I left my wallet in the cab. And once I got inside I found my wife in bed with her tennis instructor. So I left home and came here. And just when I was going about putting an end to my life, you show up and drink my poison..."
I was seeking to discern if he was suicidal and I decided that he was not. I don't believe he ever was.
September 22
Ginny still has a ticket stub from one of our first dates. On the stub it says "keep this coupon." That is why she kept it.
It was a draw ticket from a fund raiser. A dance to raise money for the Take Back the Night march. There were very few men there. Ginny liked the way I handled that.
September 23
A got that hum again. The sound of flat. I would love to hear it for a week or more That would mean more time.
September 24
The desk clerk waved me over today. He gave me a letter. It was from Glenn.
Dear Robert,
I really enjoyed myself with you the other day. Playing some of those games again took me back to a halcyon time. I have tried to tell Mary about those games but she never seems to quite grasp what we shared. Such frivolity seems lost to you and I sense it was really good for you to give over to it. But, I was hurt at the end. When you called me your "hedge" it was pretty hard to take. That doesn't really put us on equal footing and makes me feel like I am being used rather than being engaged. However, I want to honor who you are and what you have done with this year. You have kept a direction and you have made radical changes. You have even shown what I consider to be faith, in that in spite of evidence to the contrary, you seem to continue to expect there will be some discovery in the way you are living out this year. I also deeply appreciate not only Ginny but also your understanding of her. Any less of a woman might have packed you in long ago and you seem to realize, at some level, that you are very fortunate that all she had was a brief affair that seems now to be well in the past. And you are even more fortunate that she is able to wait for you now. I encourage you though to read again what she has said to you, as it comes from a place of resignation rather than strength. I want to make sure you understand that I am not speaking for Ginny here. Ginny and I only spoke twice. Once when she called me to see you and once when I told her that I had. You have to decide what her motivation is, I am not writing you to answer that question because
that is your work.
It hardly seems like you still have kids. How can you expect Rebecca, let alone Andre to have any grasp of what you are doing here Bob? The Robert I know would be aware of this but you don't seem to be. It doesn't make any sense to me that you aren't in contact with them. Ginny would understand that you've chosen some quest but there is no way that can expect your kids to piece all this together in a meaningful way. I expect Ginny has them seeing a counselor as it is but this "project" of yours may have them paying counselors and therapists for years.
My main point is that you need to a find a way to balance what you think you are accomplishing with realizing who you are which is, among other things a father, a husband and a professor, and last I knew, damn good at all three!
I also want to give you credit that you have built on your quits and you have arrived at some sort of simplicity but I am left wondering about the cost. If you are right about the re-mapping the brain that you think you are doing, what if it isn't a better map? You talk funny now. My God, if I didn't know better I would guess maybe you had a stroke. All those short sentences and all of them spoken with one breath. If it weren't so unnatural then I would be willing to give you credit. If it weren't so contrived I would be open to its value but I just don't see it having any.
Another concern I have is that you don't appear to be imagining the value of what you are doing. I think the whole exercise is self-indulgent. You seem to have lost all the vision you had when we were studying together. Your passion about alternatives to banking was truly revolutionary. The baseball stuff went from sideline to centrefield pretty quickly and it seemed to be around there that you lost your edge. I don't even know if you can even see that edge anymore. Bob, I need to be honest. I think, you are terribly lost.
I want to talk to you about a lot of things. For instance, I want to share with you about what the Mass means to me. Each day I take the simplest of meals. Although a little wine and a tiny wafer of bread are no simpler than a banana and carrot or whatever it is you eat, there is meaning in my meal. Who I eat with is important because it could be anybody. I have no idea of who will walk through the door of the chapel. It could be the faculty member I just fought with in a meeting, it could be the student who I just failed, it could be the fool who rear ended Mary last month. I
really have no idea and having to be that open to sharing a meal with anyone every day is a very good thing. By contrast your simple meal is open to nobody. You are completely in control and you know you will only eat with yourself. And what is the meaning of your carrot? What is the meaning of the apples you munch on as you walk the streets of Washington? Nothing in your writing indicates to me that you have come to understand them in any way that will provide meaning or direction in your life. Again, the simple symbols of bread and wine, body and blood, nurture and nourish me every time I receive them. You can't be forgetting the forgotten of the world you used to care for so deeply. By taking in the redeemed body of Christ and the redeemed blood he shed, I am calling to mind all whose body has been broken and all whose blood has been shed. I travel through time. The brokenness of all history is in that meal and the broken of today's world are in that meal. By eating and drinking we take on that brokenness and yet we do it with hope. Transcendence is radical imminence. By being radically present to pain, we not only find we transcend it we draw others with us. I have hopes and prayers for you that you can't even begin to imagine but I share with you this one, that in the simplicity you seek, you might recognize that the true life of the Spirit seeks simplicity not as an escape but as a way to find clarity so we can accept the complexity of the world. This is what I do whenever I share the bread and the cup.
I want to tell you about the Sacrament of Confession. How freeing it is to just lay your burdens down. I read your journal and see a man who has found everything to be beyond his grasp so he has quit trying. When I confess I do almost the same thing. I admit that everything is beyond my grasp but then God says keep trying for I am with you. It gives me fresh strength every time I go.
I want to tell you about the co-housing movement that we are working on here and what you might be able to do with that in Toronto. I long for the guy I knew in Ohio. I long for the guy I spent a week with two years ago.
Don't get me wrong. I am happy for you that you seem to have put the Subtunol behind you and although I have no idea what a chronic headache is like, I felt the pain as I read your writing and I can almost appreciate the desperate ends you've gone to.
But I need you to ask me about these things and more. I need you to want to hear me and we have to meet as equals. So I am leaving the ball in your court. Call me when you are ready.
With affection and love, Glenn I admit that the words "with affection and love" were a stretch. My letter was neither affectionate nor loving. My letter was condescending and sanctimonious. Robert's pasting of it into his journal leads me to such a clear condemnation in the clarity of passing time. I know that I believed it could be the last time I ever wrote or spoke to Robert. I thought he could "quit" me again or that this incredible pursuit could end up taking his life. My letter was fraught with panic and a sense of incredible defeat. I felt like I had let Ginny down by failing to deliver her husband back to her. I felt like I had grasped at air instead of taking Robert into the safety and comfort of my arms where he needed to be. I knew the irresponsibility of leaving the ball in Robert's court but I chose to do it anyway. More than anything else, reading my letter reminds me of how thankful I should be for the time I spent with Robert in 2006 and 2007.
September 25
I'm thinking. September 26 I cannot stay on this path and see Glenn. It is one or the other. I am choosing this path. Glenn will accept my choice.
September 27
It is getting a little cooler here. Will I still walk 30 miles a day in December? I will not worry about December. I have no worries.
September 28
I had a stronger pang today. This really will all be over in a few months.
I am worried about December. I could come back here each summer. I could teach fall and winter. I could come to Washington each summer. It would be like being Buddhist, on weekends. More than any other thing, I don't want this. I don't want to be anxious. It was the starting point for much of my teaching. I have grown weary of puzzles.
Bob's curiosity always served him well. His curiosity led him to be an intriguing scholar, a surprising lover, an ever engrossing father, a devoted son and many other things. It was, without doubt, the most overwhelmingly attractive quality that drew me to him. At his best Bob would pursue his investigations playfully and artfully never worrying about their destination. At his worst, he became private, obsessive and defeatist in his seeking of understanding. I cherish my memories of Bob pursuing new smells like a puppy in spring, or new ideas like a child with a new toy, or testing the limits of whatever was there with our children just because they could. No one can take these delights from me. They too will live forever.
September 29
The pang was even greater today. I began to plan to make the most of the next two months. I was angry with myself. I have not felt anger in a long time.
September 30
I bought new runners today. The shoes I bought last month fell apart. I spent over $100.00. I was surprised. I felt nothing. I thought it would feel like eating too much. No regrets on my break from spending. I never liked to spend.
October 1
I stared at a man today. It could have been a woman. She was in-between. He was in-between? I used to stare a lot. Ginny never liked it. I seem to have quit it. I don't miss it. This woman just drew it out of me. This man just drew it out of me? October 2 I made a point to listen to the sound of my feet today. The crisp cooler air makes them sound unlike before. I want to notice less. I want to look for less. I want to see less. I want to be free of judgment. I want to be free of placement. I want my feet to be quiet. I have three months left to get there. They will make less noise as it gets colder. That will make it easy not to listen for them.
October 3
I almost walked a new route. I almost went left, not right, out of the hotel. I did not. I almost did.
October 4
It is Andre's birthday. I phoned him. He had lots to tell me. He likes his teacher. He has made a new friend named Tal. He is taking swim lessons.
Try not talking for a while. It seems silly to talk when you haven't. Andre was very chatty. That made it easier. Ginny was chilly. Or maybe showing her respect for my choice. I am taking a break from her. I can admit that now. I guess this is what others call a "trial separation."
October 5
I am being breathed. I am being breathed. These words came to my mind today. I don't know where from. The voice was mine. It was not my voice out loud. It sounded like my voice. It was in my head. I conjured the voice. I have not noticed a breath for months. I have never thought of breathing not being me.
It is such entries that still make me want to say that Robert would have made a great Catholic. He seems to have stumbled upon the great teaching of Genesis that life itself, in the form of breath, is the first gift of Creation and that each breath we take is a gift from beyond ourselves. I want to think Robert mistook the voice of God for his own in a world where so many mistake their own voice for God's.
October 6
Sirens made me cry again today. The siren made me cry. Not thinking about the siren. The siren.
October 7
I had a vision today of Rabbi Kapler. Not a real vision. I was just thinking of him. It was clear. It was more than a thought. That is why I call it a vision. Visions and voices. He was trying to speak. The harder he tried the more he could not. Is it me that stopped his speaking? Yes, it was.
October 8
I read back in my journal today. I can barely recall what my headaches were like. Has all this been to get to this point? Have I arrived at my end point? Three months early! October 9 I had a thought once. It was of being my own friend. This is not what I am doing. It is something like it. It is not it. I am trying not to notice my own self. Something most will never know.
October 10
It is not my fault. October 11 The wind can sound like a person.
October 12
I should drink more water. I drink a lot of water. I should drink more water. I drank more water when it was hotter. I want to rid my life of the word should. Ought too. Ha Ha.
October 13
The last thought of the day. The last of only a few thoughts. I have only a few thoughts each day. About as many a day as I used to have a minute. Maybe thinking causes headaches. As of today, I will stick with the trade. Fewer thoughts for fewer headaches. The Subtunol was an attempt to stop thinking. Washington has done what Subtunol couldn't.
October 14
Walking. Broccoli. Carrots. Apples. Peanuts. Water. More water than last week. This is my life.
This was his life.
October 15
Robert L. Seaton The Howard Inn J-4 2426 18th St. N.W. Washington DC 20007
Stanton Broberg Chair of the Department of Economics University of Toronto Toronto, ON M2K 1R7
Dear Stanton,
I am writing to ask for a leave of absence. This is not a request for sick leave. It is a request for an unpaid leave of a year. I continue to struggle with many issues. I admit I am well enough to work. I just do not want to at this time. I will fax the forms next week. Finding people to take my lectures will not be hard. I expect to be home for Christmas. I will also vacate my office at this time. I trust you will be willing to support my choice. Please do not call my home. I would prefer correspondence be made directly here.
Regards,
Robert L. Seaton
October 16
I can still hedge. I may not work in my field. I am still of my field. This is who I am.
October 17
Dear Ginny,
This is a hard letter to write. I will be home just before Christmas just as I promised. I am not so certain about what is next. I have written Stanton at the school. I have asked for a year leave of absence. I may spend that in Toronto. I may spend it here in Washington. I may do something else. What I need to do is have things open ended. There are days when I know I am on to something. There are days when I realize I have touched something. There are days when I see there could be an end to what I am doing. There are also moments where I am scared. I am scared that going back to work will mean my headaches return. I want a clean slate for my future. I don't want to see the end until I arrive at it. I hate it when
I have pressure to get there by year end. So I am telling you this now. So you don't have to cope with it at Christmas. I have looked at the finances. I can support myself with my money. I know you are set to do fine. This could all be over January first. It could last a whole year or more. I don't think it will. I have been trying all year to do one thing. Jump into the boundless and make it my home. I have not done that yet. It cannot be forced. I am anxious about coming home. I am anxious about how you will read this. I am anxious about how the kids will react. I am still headache and drug free. I never even think of them any more. I am more anxious than fearful.
I love you. Robert October 18 I did not send the letter. I phoned home. I told them all I look forward to seeing them. I did not tell Ginny about my new plan. It could change.
October 19
I hate thinking about trying to "finish" in eight weeks. I don't know my endpoint. I know that having one is a problem. Life now costs me less than $1,000.00 each month. $190 each week for my room. $5 each day for food. The rest for water, laundry and other things. I am sure I could live off my parents' money for 17 years. I would have to sort out how at the Credit Union. I could take my pension out and give it to Ginny and the kids. After 17 years, at 65, I could live off my old age pension. Maybe it is time to just quit my job?
Robert never did work for pay again in his life. Labor became its own reward and his choices and his inheritance allowed him to live without the requirement that most human beings live with until 65 or a few years younger if they are lucky.
October 20
I need to get past the pressure to finish well. This entry a day thing is no longer helpful. It is as if each day is a clock tick. One day closer to the project's end. I want days to slip by like breaths slip by. I will no longer concede to the day. I will no longer note the passing of a day. I will sort out the meaning of that in time. Time will always exist. Like all things, it does not need to be measured.
I bought a power bar today. I did this to do something new. I don't like power bars. It did not give me any extra power. I do not need much power. I mean the thing you eat. Not the thing for plugging many plugs in at once.
I still can hear Bob's voice when he would spurt with delight “tu fais la double” whenever I would challenge him with a double meaning.
I played a game today. Change the race. I look at a person and picture them with a new race. A black man as a white man. An Algonquin elder as Chinese. An Arab woman as a Slovak. I have done this for years. Long before it could be done with software. I did it to keep my mind off other things. Things like Ginny and the kids and what I am doing. I don't want to have to use games for this. Highly distracted!
A new day. A new game. What is in his pocket? What is in her hand bag?
I picked people at random and would guess pocket's contents. I wish I could pay them money to see how close I come. I would not do that. I want to get through a day without a game.
I did get through the day without a game. I feel like I forgot to do something. Like not paying a bill. Or something just as simple. It is bigger than that. I don't feel like I was. The freedom is gone. The wordless insight is gone. I felt tension in my gut.
I stopped at a kid's park today. I used to play in parks with Andre and Becky-Lou.
I went back to the park again today. A person in a guard outfit asked me to leave. She said I needed to have a kid with me. She said it was a park rule. I saw on the sign that it was a co-op park. Kicked out of a co-op. Irony has five letters and three syllables. Rules are made to be broken.
I had to talk again today. I had not spoken in weeks. Now, two days in a row, I speak. An addict was sure I had money. I gave him four dollars. And offered him my bag of fruit. He took it. I ended up leaving the park. It seems I am not meant to sit down.
I did my walk in the reverse route today. I noticed many new things. I will not do that again.
I counted them.
Each day I walk by 75 places to get coffee. I would have guessed 30. I have not had a coffee since I came back here. Quitting coffee in Lent was very hard. It is the first time I even thought about coffee. I did not have a coffee.
I spent the day in bed. I closed my eyes. I tried to see my walk. It did not take me the whole day to do this. I tried to conjure up each step. I did not. There are many steps I could not conjure.
I walk by a senior's home. My life is what old age might be like. I am cut off from friends. I am cut off from family. I do little. I am asked to do even less. People over 80 are all these things. I am not the same. I have my health. I have chosen this. I am 48.
I am playing out the string here. I can come back here after Christmas. I am just spending days. I have not let go of hope. Hope that my project will come to something.
It was cooler today. Cool air came in to me. Warm air went out of me. This is what I did all day long. I warmed air.
This may be the essence of Robert recognizing his need for creative labor. This was his creative act that day. Recreating cold air as warm air. It is this principle, followed so mundanely here,
that he took to such beautiful ends in rest of his life.
I smelled something coming in my window today. Rotten turnips? I smelled a lot of garbage this year. All I do is walk. I walk past garbage. It was different in my window. I have a strong sense of here and there. My room and the streets. The sense of scents makes sense for no cents.
November 29
The police were waiting for me when I arrived home. That was four days ago. They took me to the precinct in handcuffs. What could I have done? That day I picked up the bag of money in the alley. The money I dropped off at St. Luke's House. The clinic for the homeless. The money was unclean. St. Luke's turned it in to the police. They found a picture of me. A security camera. They showed me the picture. I was carrying the bag towards the hospital. I was in the background. They took away my laptop. I had to talk A LOT! They asked me about my holding back taxes. They knew the name of our co-op. They asked me about an Arab colleague at UofT. They wanted to know what I did in Washington. They wanted to know how I got there. I had to look a pictures of people I have never met. They must have believed me about the money. They hardly asked me about the money. They asked me a lot my career path. The took my laptop. They took my journal. They asked a lot about my family.
They believed me about my time in Washington. They did not believe how much I walked. They asked who I spent time with. I told them I was always alone. I did not mention Glenn. I thought they might know Glenn. They did not like my plan to return. They said it was a bad plan. I stayed four nights in jail. I ate jail food. I told them my normal diet of veggies and nuts. They laughed. I ate the bacon and eggs for breakfast. I was taken to the airport and sent home. I was given a sheet. The sheet said I had been expelled. I cannot enter the US for twelve months. It was in English and Spanish. They gave me back the stuff they took away. I told them a joke.
A monk is allowed to speak two words every five years. After his fifth year he goes to the Abbot. "Food cold" he states, and walks away. Five years later, he comes to Abbot again. "Bed hard." And then after fifteen years he is granted two more words. "I quit" says the monk. "I am not surprised" replies the Abbot. Before he adds "You've done nothing but complain since you got here."
I need to quit this project. I need to phone Ginny as soon as I land. I am writing this on the plane. I am thankful for this time of rest. I will move on. I am NOT back to square one. Many many days without a headache. Many many days without a Subtunol. And so much more that comes with those days. The project could end here. The project does not end here.
I have to talk to Ginny. I have to talk to my kids. I need to move back in. I need to give up the thought of moving to Washington full time.
Ginny and the kids were at the airport when I arrived. The police had told her what flight I was on. They did not tell me that they called her. Ginny's face could be described with a few words. Pity would be at the top of the list. I want to give the kids credit. They ran and hugged me like they used to when they were younger and I was coming home from a conference. I know they did it for me. It showed. At home Ginny was not herself.
It will be December 30 before you read that Robert believes that “irony has returned.” “Ginny was not herself?!?!” I have no doubt that Robert was delusional when he arrived home and from his journal it is obvious to me that he had been so for much of the year. Time, space and reality seemed to return to Robert shortly in the New Year. He started calling me Virginia sometime in February. This would have worried me but he explained it right away by suggesting that the new name would be a good way to mark our new relationship. In fact, it helped and I mark that request as the moment where I began to trust Robert again.
I will grant that is possible that if Robert had not been arrested he could still be alive and well and walking the streets of Washington. It does appear, just prior to his arrest, that he was talking himself into staying. Even giving into this idea, I point to the immediate change that Robert is proof that he was ready to accept that his experiment is over. He keeps the journal going until the end of the month so he could achieve his 365 day goal but his willingness to leave the experience behind demonstrates that Robert was not ill or even misguided. 2005 was, for Robert, a year of research, of experimentation, that taught him the life he once had was no longer possible. He chose a new life, one with its own value, one that I agree is different than the one he led prior to 2005 but not one that needs to be judged as better or worse by anyone. Given the devastation of the end of his marriage, his ability to rally around to reconnecting with his children so quickly is heroic.
December 2
Ginny asked me yesterday if I had talked to my brother. He had called in the summer to check in. She told him about my project and he did not call her back. I had not called him. I meant to but I did not. My "meant to" is not worth much. That is why I quit using the word "but." Without but I would have just written, "I did not call him." His phone was disconnected. I tried his restaurant and they said he had not worked there for several months and they did not know where he was. I tried a couple of his friends, nothing. With some people I would be worried. I know he'll show up. No need to worry.
December 3
I thought of a couple more friends of my brothers. I called them. I left a message with one and the other said that he too had not heard from Teddy in months.
December 4
Ginny has made it clear that she is not interested in living as husband and wife. In fact, she would like me to move out as soon as I can.. She suggested that I move in with Dale and Rhonda. They live in a co-op unit across the street. Their daughter has just left for Israel so they have a free room. She had approached them and they said it would be fine. I could try to find Toronto's equivalent of the hotel in Washington and see if I can recreate my life there here and be able to see the kids whenever I want. I see many other choices as well.
December 5
I read through my mail and found 131 requests for money. Often Ginny and I would make decisions on extra charity at this time of the year. It is not high on our agenda at the moment. I remember I had vowed to pay attention to each request with particular attention. I did that and said "no" to each one before recycling the letter. I don't need to ever do that again. It felt stupid. I am glad my project is over and look forward to the end of the year when I will finish making entries in the journal. There were a couple of get well cards from colleagues in the department. Statements on my investments. And surprisingly little else. One personal letter- from Jane House. Jane and I shared an office at York and every once in a while I get a hand written letter from her. She has a continuing contract at
one of the universities in Halifax. Dalhousie, I think. December 6 I slept over at Dale and Rhonda's for the first time. December 7 I remembered that I had bet on the Chicago White Sox to win the World Series. I went on the web for the first time since early summer. I went back to the web site and tried to collect the $1900.00 I won. The site explained that it would take six to eight weeks to process. I am deciding to quit gambling. I am just going to do it. This has nothing to do with my project. It has everything to do with wanting to die $1900.00 in the black with my gambling career.
December 8
I called Naomi and asked if she would see me privately, assuming that she was up to date on what I had been doing. Ginny had just told her in the summer that we were not going to get more counseling. When I started to explain some of what happened, she just cut me off. She told that me that she would be open to seeing Ginny and I together except that she had a full client load at the moment. She gave me some number to call for getting a referral if I wanted one. I did not take the number down.
December 9
It occurred to me today that I only went once to my doctor in Washington. I guess they just didn't follow up. I think I just gave the address of the hotel. I did not give them a phone number. I just assumed my pay cheques kept on coming in (or maybe Ginny didn't care) and that my sick leave wasn't compromised. Thinking that perhaps Dr. Patel had covered for me I called to make an appointment. He was out of the country until the end of January. Down deep, I know that he would write a prescription for whatever I wanted. If I am not taking Subtunol and no longer on sick leave then I don't really need to see Dr. Patel any more.
December 10
Our Co-op has evolved with the times. Years ago we had an annual Christmas party. Then we had an entire week of community meals:
Kwanzaa, Solstice, Hanukkah- whatever. Now they just have one party. People make it to be whatever they want. We had the party tonight and it was a little awkward. I did not want to ask Ginny what she had been saying to people so I didn't. I did not know if they knew we were separated. I did not know if others knew what Dale and Rhonda knew. I noticed people keeping everything in the present tense. No questions about what I had done or didn't do. It was like I had just been released from jail. People were scared of my past. I guess I have come back from prison. From something like it? I am quieter now- given my experience of the last year. For years, I have been asked to tell jokes at our parties. I hadn't told a joke since Cooperstown. I know a number of Christmas jokes and enjoyed telling them. They seemed to all like this pun.
A woman goes to his dentist because of some pain in her mouth. After a quick examination the dentist says, "that new upper plate I gave you six months ago is already eroding. What in the world have you been eating?" She replies, "the only thing I can imagine is about four months ago my partner made some asparagus and had this wonderful topping on it. She called it Hollandaise sauce. I put it on everything now--- meat, fish, vegetables, muffins, everything." "Well," says the dentist, "that's probably the problem. Hollandaise sauce is made with lots of lemon juice, which is highly corrosive. It must be the culprit. I'll make you a new plate made of chrome." "Why chrome?" asks the patient. To which the dentist replies, "That's easy. Everyone knows that there's no plate like chrome for the Hollandaise!"
This was our last public appearance as a couple.
December 11
I made some other phone calls to locate my brother. Having no luck I went searching for him on the web. Having to look for Ted Seaton, Teddy R. Seaton, Theodore Seaton, Theodore R. Seaton and Theodore Roosevelt Seaton on all sorts of search engines took me well over an hour. I did it slowly. I was honouring him. I found only two hits that were him. They were both about an award he won a few years ago. I held my breath as I started searching for his name and words like tragically and died and missing. I had not really admitted to myself that I fear the worst.
December 12
I began cleaning out my office today. Although I have only taken a year's leave, I know I am finished at the University of Toronto. I know I can do whatever I want to do, as long at its simple. I have pursued simple all year. Where I got is closer to numb than simple. I can choose simple without making myself numb. This will guide me as I move on my new path.
As I packed each book in the banker's box appointed for its subject, I stopped and thought about the book. What was my relationship with the book? Where did I get the book? Had I taught from it? Where had I read it? It took me twelve hours to get through about half my books.
I chose one paragraph from Small is Beautiful published in 1973 by E.F. Schumacher (page 53) to re-read several times. This paragraph had more influence on me than any other paragraph I have ever read.
Simplicity and non-violence are obviously closely related. The optimal pattern of consumption, producing a high degree of human satisfaction by means of a relatively low rate of consumption allows people to live without great pressure and strain to fulfill the primary injunction of Buddhist teaching: "Cease to do evil; try to do good." As physical resources are everywhere limited, people satisfying their needs of modest use of resources are obviously less likely to be at each other's throats than people depending upon high rate of use. Equally, people who live in self sufficient local communities are less likely to get involved with large- scale violence than people whose existence depends on world wide systems of trade.
That paragraph was my career in economics at its zenith. My career is not there now. Understatement! My project did not follow Schumacher. Rather than "cease to do evil, try to good." I "ceased to do." Schumacher's hypothesis is predicated on the idea that more and more people would follow his way. In short, his desire was that "small would be the new big." What he did was give people ways to opt out of participating in global trade (years before anti-globalism movements.) Any thought of overcoming globalism is only implied. It reads to me, today, like an ostrich approach. If I don't see it is not there. My time in Washington was that very approach making its way to its natural conclusions until an act of my own good will got in the way and here I am. I will never know where I might have arrived had I been able to stay.
My freedom to choose will always be trumped by the freedom of the world.
It is appropriate that Robert and I would agree on Schumacher as it was in a Schumacher seminar that we first met. Our dear departed Dr. Pascual was considered one of the top Schumacher scholars in America and even though Robert had already plunged into the world of sports, he was as anxious as I was to study with Pascual. The facts that there were only five in the class, we had a basement classroom in Arps Hall and the seminar was ambiguously offered as "Current Topics in Economics" all made it seem even more clandestine. We felt like it was the McCarthy era. It really did speak to our hearts and allow us to hold our economic and social convictions together. But Robert's entry reads like a burial for Schumacher. I believe Robert used this paragraph as a standard and neither he nor the world around him was ever going to match. He simply let go of that standard and freed himself of even more bondage related to his sense of (in)adequacy. While he may well have been living up to Schumacher's vision better than every before in his life, making that evaluation was no longer necessary or even desired by Robert.
December 13
Ginny and I spoke today. We spoke for a long time. She was clear. She is not even ready to work towards living with me. She is not ready to see Naomi with me. She wants to be clear with herself about what she wants from it before she does. Sounds like she is taking seriously the setting of boundaries that Naomi had talked about. She does want to make sure I have a healthy relationship with the kids so she promised not to wait too long. She made it clear that I should have no expectations. She told me that she was not seeing anyone and would not either. I believe her. She did not set a time frame on that. She also wanted to let me know that she has been attending Al-anon and the kids have gone to a few Alateen meetings. She isn't sure, she explained, about staying with it since some guy, whose wife was addicted to prescription drugs, had come on to her. She asked me to consider Narcotics Anonymous to deal with the things that might have caused my addiction to Subtunol. If I thought I was an addict I would go. Addiction is not my problem. She prevented me from responding to her statement saying that she was making a suggestion and did not want to discuss it. Again, I know Ginny well enough to take her at her word. Our marriage could be over. Our marriage as it was, is over.
What is before us - well, it's unknown.
Bob used to use the word “unknown” a lot in his professional work. Sometimes it was his ready at hand justification for giving up. At other times it meant Bob was at his realistic best, knowing when to stop a useless pursuit. Even though I had given up on our marriage at that point, I still don't want to admit that Robert had too.
December 14
In one of Rebecca's letters she asked me if I was on a quest to nowhere. This was not a quest. It was the collection of data collected with grounded theory methodology. The fact that she read it as a quest to nowhere is simply part of the data. I have already added back a lot that I quit. Like eating food like others do. Like talking. Like being realistic about having to do things with my day. Like using words with as many syllables as I want. I did something old and familiar today. I walked into Olivia Chow's campaign office today. I spent four hours stuffing envelopes. I have done lots of campaign work over the years- both for the NDP and for the Democrats. I did not know anybody at the office. I was quiet. They might have thought I was a little slow. Nobody knew me either.
December 15
It is not bravado when I say, "I am not an addict." I do not crave the drugs. I have lots to crave. I crave my family again. I crave work with meaning. I crave the desire to respond.
I worked another four hour shift at the campaign office today. This time I was on the phones. It made me a little tired. It was too much talking. More than I have become used to. At night we went to a "Seasonal Concert" at Andre's school. Instinctively I grabbed for Ginny's hand as his class started to sing. She pulled it away. I am going to add to my life loving Ginny without having the invitation to touch her.
In Bob's final years he certainly continued to respect and admire me. I would even say he enjoyed me. I never felt he was vulnerable enough to really love me.
December 16
I have not yet quit my job. At one level, it happened when I put my books into those boxes and brought them to our house. No doubt Ginny will ask me to move them. I have nowhere to put them. Perhaps I can bury them. I know I won't to go back to being an academic.
The words academic and headache sound a little the same if you mumble them.
Not working might be the one thing that stopped the headaches and some day soon I will be able to admit that "diversion" is ideal word to describe my interest in the Economics of Sport. I will add community service, in one form or another, as a must for every day back into my life. Another four hours at Olivia's office. With the election campaign lasting so long there is a Christmas break coming. I can work every day up to the 22nd when they begin their break and go back after New Year's. December 17 I have always had this strange envy of the mentally ill. They have always appeared free of responsibility. It is probably not this way. I am being romantic (about mental illness) - God help me.
The day I wrote "blue" to describe my life is kind of difficult to conjure, I may have been close to approximating that life. Had I kept up the high doses of Subtunol I might have worked myself into a psychotic state. This year has taught me that I can't escape the responsibility of my sanity any more than the guy who tried to win Special Olympic medals by passing himself off as handicapped. Even Popeye knew this- "I am what I am."
I chose to embrace the commitment I made to work in the campaign office today. I worked up to my capabilities today. I had the kids over for dinner tonight. I cooked. Lasagna. They love me. I am going to add back accepting love without words from my children.
December 18
Still no word from Teddy. It is his birthday today. Maybe he will call for Christmas and let us know where he is.
December 19 It was back in January when I first set out to write my obituary. (Insert brief mention of circumstances of death if appropriate.) Robert Seaton was born and died in Toronto Ontario. Toronto was Robert's home no matter where he lived. His body will be buried (give date.) Robert was thankful for the opportunity to love and be loved. Mourning Robert are his daughter Rebecca Louise (last name, partner and children if any) and son Andre Dawson (and partner and children if any.) Also mourning the loss of Robert is his (describe relationship) Ginny and brother Theodore (if he is still living). Robert was predeceased by his parents who died tragically in a car accident in the fall of 2003. He taught Economics at the University of Toronto for many years and published three books and 10 peer reviewed articles. His fields of study were sports economics, alternative economic systems and the co-operative movement. In 2006 Robert resigned his teaching post and began to labour for free with (insert where I worked until I died.) Robert used a business card that read "Urban Dislodger" under his name and then the slogan "Dislodging people since 1957". Robert always sought to lead others to see things in new ways. Robert made a list of "100 people who I have thanked for making my life what it was." Robert thanked each of them. Robert neither saw the glass as half full or half empty: instead he just drank what was in the glass. He asks that his friends gather with one another (in the Shaw Street Co-op common room?) and share stories of the way Robert engaged with and embraced the world while
making sure not to forget to take some time to tell his favourite jokes to his favourite people.
Having sought to avoid even words that imply evaluation, I have just completed the ultimate evaluation- writing my own obituary. This is a paradox I will simply live (and die) with.
Robert died on February 23, 2008 when he was struck by a car traveling south on University Avenue at Queen. The driver wasn't looking and apparently neither was Robert. Ginny phoned me immediately and I was in Toronto within the day. We changed his obituary only slightly.
Tragically, Robert Seaton died on February 23rd. Robert was always a Torontonian. His body will be buried on Saturday, March 1st. Robert was thankful for the opportunity to love and be loved. Mourning Robert are his daughter Rebecca Louise, son Andre Dawson Also mourning the loss of Robert is Virginia Howard and many friends. Robert was predeceased by his parents who died tragically in a car accident in the fall of 2003. Robert also leaves behind his brother, Theadore. Robert taught Economics at the University of Toronto for many years and published three books and a number of articles. His fields of study were sports economics, alternative economic systems and the co- operative movement. In 2006 Robert resigned his teaching post and began to labour for free with the Canadian Mental Health Association, The New Democratic Party, The Toronto Public Library, and The Easton Housing Co- operative. Robert always sought to lead others to see things in new ways. Robert neither saw the glass as half
full or half empty: instead he just drank what was in the glass. He has asked that his friends gather in the Shaw Street Co-op common room (426 Shaw Street) at 3:00pm on Saturday, November 1st and share stories of the way Robert engaged with and embraced the world while making sure not to forget to take some time to tell his favourite jokes to his favourite people.
We took out a few phrases that describe things that Robert never did. We struggled with the wording about Teddy because he still has never been heard from but was seen once by a cousin of Ginny's so we assume he is still alive. We believe we met Robert's wishes.
The reception was one of the most joyous days of my life. All that was good in Robert was held up. Story after story spoke of all his attributes, accomplishments and relationships. Rebecca and Andre will have the memory of that day forever and know just how many lives Robert touched in such deep ways. It wasn't like the sadder memories were ignored. We were still not able to find Teddy to invite him, the Rabbi's presence was a reminder of Bob's venture off the rails and of course, his parents weren't there yet these were acknowledged with respect but never given the centre stage. As more than one person said, Bob should have been here, he would have loved it!
December 20
I am going to add back in being present for my children without expectation or evaluation. My kids are both out of school so I spent the morning with Andre and the afternoon with Rebecca- she came to Olivia Chow's office with me. She was super keen. We weren't even working side by side. That did not matter. We were together. Olivia Chow might win. She might not. Rebecca and I worked together for her. Andre and I went to a glass blowing studio. He made gifts for Ginny and Rebecca. I made one for myself. We blew glass together. We were together for three hours. We talked some. You can't talk and blow glass at the same time.
December 21
Dear Glenn,
I am back in Toronto. I am not sure what is next. I wanted to thank you for your honesty. I can appreciate what you were wanting for me. And I can appreciate your frustration with my project. You are not the only one. It is finished. And my marriage may be too. It seems sober second thoughts on this past year have left Ginny weary. She has made it clear that she does not want to be living as husband and wife at the moment. She is not seeing anyone else. I don't think I am in a place to convince her to have me stay with her now. She may come to that conclusion on her own. While I would be tempted to ask you to speak to her on my behalf I know not to do that. You would do that on your own accord if you felt it was the right thing to do.
I face a very uncertain future. I know you are a man of prayer. I would like to ask that you remember us all in your prayers. I am ready to accept what comes. I am not sure what our friendship means right now. I want you to care. I am not asking you do or say anything.
Your friend, Robert I made my first of many visits with Robert in January. I neither wrote nor called. I just came. I will treasure those visits for the rest of my life. I treasure who Robert became. I will continue to share my affection for and with Ginny, Andre and Rebecca.
December 22
Rabbi Kapler Congregation Ben-El 2512 South Salina Street Syracuse, NY 13212
My Friend,
I guess you heard what happened to me at the Hall. It was an abrupt ending. You have appeared to me in my dreams and even more often in
my thoughts. I regret turning my back on you. Your honesty was very humbling. The risk you took speaking clearly far outweighs any misjudgments you have made about my problems.
I am still drug and headache free although I spent the last few months taking a real time of sabbatical in Washington. It was a sabbatical from just about every responsibility I have.
I know that as a Rabbi you are a man of prayer. Ginny has asked me to move out. I see my children everyday. I do not see her everyday. In fact we have not even spoken for over a week. Things aren't looking up for us. Keep us in your prayers.
To avoid a longer story, I will just say that I am not allowed into the United States for the next twelve months. I am also pretty focused on the here and now. This does not mean I would not like to reconnect at some point or that I would not love to welcome you to visit Toronto like we had talked about last summer.
I will call you. I hope you will be ready to receive my call. In the meantime I would be happy to send you my journal on the year if you would be willing to read it. I will be able to check my email after January 1. Let me know. [email protected]
Sincerely,
Robert L. Seaton
I met the Rabbi at Robert's Memorial service. It was our first meeting but I had read Robert's entries in this journal when I visited Robert in Washington. I was prepared not to like him when Ginny told me he was coming. So, I was quite surprised when he was not at all the pushy and judgmental person that Robert describes him as. And when I read this letter after finding Robert's notes the conciliatory tone made me feel better disposed to him. When Rabbi Kapler spoke at the service it had been clear he had regular telephone contact with Robert over the 26 months between this letter and Robert's death. There was a special connection there and the Rabbi seemed plenty secure in himself that I wasn't surprised when he quickly assented to publishing the entries Robert had written about him.
I was surprised when Rabbi Kapler looked exactly like I had imagined he would look. Bob had never described him but his large muscular frame, confident warm smile and simple yet expensive manner of dress exuded healthy self security. Like Glenn I was anxious before meeting him as if we had vied for Robert's attention even though I knew this wasn't the case. He was gentle and attentive at all times and walked softly wherever he went. It was a privilege to meet him and when he asked if he could hug me on leaving, he gave me the warmest, most encircling and loving hug I have ever had in my life. His presence was so healing and many many friends spoke to me after about how much they enjoyed meeting him. He was like the angel that made everything right.
December 23
I went for a walk with Ginny today. She is in great shape. She walks quicker than I do. I walk a lot longer than she does. At one point we did a lot of walking together. We never ran together. Just weren't matched for it. I don't want to be her walking pal. I'd rather be her walking pal than have no contact with her. She was distant. We had a few moments of levity. At one point we spoke at once saying "Andre's cute right now" in unison. Immediately we knuckled each other's shoulder and yelled, "I said it first" which we had to repeat and hit each other again since we had said it in unison as well. Ginny had played this game with her sister growing up and it has always been played in our home. I expect in January that we'll have more opportunities to sort out if and how we can be together.
December 24
I spent most of the day making mobiles for Christmas. My mobile for Ginny was made of pictures and words. Mostly pictures of her and one picture of us as well as one picture of each of the kids. I also put five words. I had picked out ten words and then settled on five: love, respect, trust, hope and family. For Rebecca, I crafted tiny, little ceramic lacrosse sticks. Ginny told me all the names of her team-mates and I painted one of their names on each one of the mini sticks. For Andre I hung twenty promises including promise to cook beans at my place for him, a promise to take him to a Blue Jay game and a promise to teach him how to play chess. And, well, 17 others. I also made a mobile for Teddy. It was very busy. Pictures of us when we were kids. Pictures of mom and dad. Keys
to my parents' house, which I found months after we sold it. Some of Ginny's recipes that he likes. Some pictures of our parents' friends. Like I said, it was busy.
December 25
Merry Christmas!
Ginny let me sleep over (on the couch) for Christmas Eve.
We have done what others now call "Buy Nothing Christmas" for years. Ginny made me chocolate bark, which I have always loved. She also created a game. She wrote up some rules for a variation of dominoes and then made some dominoes from wood. I wanted to read something into that. I couldn't. Rebecca made me a set of laminated place mats with pictures and poems and other things from school. She had superimposed it all over a drawing of a compass. Very detailed- I had forgotten how well she could draw. Andre had sculpted and painted a player in a Washington Nationals uniform. He was wearing number 7. That is Brad Wilkerson's number. I couldn't tell if he just put a 7 on it or if he was trying to do Brad Wilkerson. Brad Wilkerson bats left, the sculpture was batting right. I told him I loved it.
Ginny asked that I not stay for dinner. I don't know why. It was not what I wanted. She assured me that nobody else was coming over. She said she just really needed to be alone. I went along with it. I didn't really have a choice. Christmas and the First Day of Hanukkah are on the same day this year. I had dinner with Dale and Rhonda and her sister and her family. Ginny had arranged for that. It is not that I don't want to remember Christmases past, it is just that I don't want to compare them to this year, or even future years. As I have written all year, asking an economist not to evaluate things is like asking a fish not to swim.
We did not hear from Teddy. December 26 Ending this project, in five days, will be a beginning in and of itself! Andre called asking if I could go running with Rebecca and him. I did. I haven't run since the first week or so in Cooperstown. My legs are still in great shape from all my walking. It was easy. I think Rebecca held back
a little for Andre too. This is a habit to start.
In the last 26 months of his life Bob's relationship with our children was much better than I ever could have imagined. He kept them both very active with running, walking - even rollerblading. He even formed a book club with them the Rebecca and Andre alternating at choosing the books. They would ask me about him often, and tell me when they thought he had said something odd but I know that they never doubted his sincerity and love.
December 27
I hugged both my kids today. I can do that again tomorrow. I can do that as long as I live. I have already written my obituary. The rest of my life will be what it will be.
December 28
Yesterday seemed like a good day to end my journal. And with it finished, analysis lies ahead. If there is anything I must not do it is this! I will make three more entries and then ignore this work forever.
There is no reason to believe that Robert ever once re-read this journal, made any additional entries or began to compile any formal analysis. The entire journal with various correspondence taped in, was found, with very few other papers, in the bottom drawer in the desk in the bedroom of his apartment.
December 29
Dale and Rhonda said that I could stay with them as long as I want. They mean it when they say that. It could be a long time before a unit opens in the co-op. That would mean staying longer than I want. I will have to live somewhere new. I am not going to choose a place. I am choosing not to choose. A place will choose me.
December 30
I spent the day thinking about what I no longer have. The irony does not escape me. My project of quitting is leaving me longing for what I had. I used to love irony. I gave up irony this year without ever naming it. Its back!
Irony has its own form of eternal life. Robert's project of quitting led him, eventually into action. It was action, or creative labor, that redeemed Robert.
December 31
"I do not like broccoli. And I haven't liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And I'm President of the United States and I'm not going to eat any more broccoli." George Bush, U.S. President (1990).
"I (do not) like
. And I have (not) liked it since
I'm (not) going to
. And I'm ."
and
It is about choice, really. Sensing your own power to choose. It is about knowing who you are and what your choices are. It is not about quitting. It is about inherent authority. I am not the President of the United States, I happen to like broccoli and my mother never forced me to eat anything yet harnessing my inherent authority to respond where and how I choose is the freedom that I have been seeking. This is the very freedom that is before me. My only failure is to believe that I have any control of the consequences of my choices.
Is this a picture of choosing or a picture of everything but choosing?
I spent this year in negative space.
Glenn and I agree that Robert had found his sense of humour with his closing entry and that rediscovering irony was the key step to rediscovering his sense of humour. This does not mean that I share the rest of Glenn's evaluation of the post 2005 Robert. Fortunately, I do not have to. My memories are mine and his are his. Robert no longer lives in a negative space.
Glenn Morison is an ordained minister of the United Church of Canada who has worked from coast to coast within Canada throughout his adult life. Among those he has counted as his friends are rural Cape Bretoners, international seafarers using the Port of Halifax, Salvadoran refugees in southern New Brunswick, the young and old living on the streets of Toronto and the Gitxsan First Nation in Northern British Columbia. Currently, Rev. Morison is a chaplain at the Winnipeg Remand Centre, a maximum security institution dedicated to housing those awaiting bail, trial or transfer within the Manitoba justice system. Glenn also has adjunct status within the Faculty of Theology at the University of Winnipeg where he teaches and tutors in the area of theology and the arts. Having published numerous opinion and humour pieces for newspapers, magazines and the Internet, this is Glenn's first attempt at extended fiction.
www.morison.ca/quitting
Acknowledgements
Thank you to The Alloway Writer's Circle for giving birth and life to this project and to The St. Stephen's – Broadway Foundation for financing the third printing.