Recently, I was completing my drive from Wheeling, WV to Dunedin, Florida. I seldom make such a long drive, but when I do I treasure being able to listen to programs, which I normally do not have or make the time to listen to. Most people who know me are aware that I listen mostly to National Public Radio. There are a number of programs of which I am particularly fond, including such programs as Car Talk, Weekend Edition, On Being and interviews by or with Terry Gross. Yesterday, driving from Savannah, Georgia to Dunedin I had the good fortune to hear an interview she recorded on June 19, 2015 with Mark Maron (comedian, writer, director, producer, actor, person) following his interview with President Barack Obama in his garage office in Los Angeles. One can listen to both his interview with President Obama and the interview with Terry Gross, which follows his interview with the President. It is not my intent to repeat the substance of that interview or to comment on it. Suffice it to say that it was noteworthy for a number of reasons, not the least of which is the fact that the name of Mr. Maron’s program is WTF (Yes! What the Fuck. One does not expect the President of the United States to appear on a program with such a title. But then, most people know to expect the unexpected from President Obama. Regardless of where one is politically, one will find him a person and a President about whom nearly everyone has something to say – positive, negative, and neutral. I am sure, in years to come, when individuals are working on a doctoral dissertation on some aspect of his presidency, his history or his personality from the safe environment of the Presidential Library which will eventually be located in his home town of Chicago, one will find a wealth of possible topics upon which to wax for far more that the required length of the dissertation. Even now, as is true for any sitting president, there is no shortage of conjectures, opinions and emotional reactions to the man and the politician.
Mr. Maron seems to be one of those unusually bright, talented, erudite, individuals who are not short on opinions or courage. From my standpoint one of the qualities I most admire about this man is that he talks about the process of maturing in confidence, which, not surprisingly, had led to his ability to have empathy for others.
Empathy is, in my opinion, one of those behavioral attributes, which only seems to come with the courage to look at and accept one own humanness. It seems as if most of we humans struggle with getting nakedly honest with ourselves and, if we do not kill ourselves or poke our own eyes out first, we eventually come to the point where we recognize that we are basically no different than any other human. Oh my! That can be a disappointment. Whether it is an Eleanor Roosevelt, that Jesus fellow, the man we now call the Buddha, King Lear, Dylann Roof or Charles Manson, we come to realize that what separates us from each of these people other than possibly as single chromosome is a spit second of action. Daily, I am confronted with a symphony of voices (Okay, so it is not a symphony. It is the chorus of noise on the first day of practice and the first day of picking up a musical instrument by a grade school band.) All expressing different emotions and opinion about what I should do to or in or … Often it is not pretty. Just recently I wrote a blog about the confessions of a pacifist. Second by second I think or act out on thoughts and feelings, which are far, removed from the man I person I would like to envision myself as being. Sometimes I am that kind, patient, loving, listening, empathic man I aspire to being. Other times one of the other voices makes a cameo appearance; an appearance which one hopes is brief. When I am this honest about the myriad of opinion, thoughts, and emotions this person, which is me, has it is very difficult to judge others.
Just this morning I was talking to a good friend who is also a neighbor. He was mentioning that the other day, while I was out of town, an emergency vehicle had come for one of our neighbors who struggles with finding the courage, the strength or perhaps the love for self which would allow him to take better care of himself. My friend was remarking that it is difficult to have empathy for this man since he seems to refuse to take care of himself and then calls the emergency team when he is medically in trouble. At least someone call the E-squad. I was remarking to my friend that it seemed to me that the behavior of this man is no different than that of the addict who “knows” his behavior is not healthy and is having an adverse affect on others, but who is unable, for whatever reason(s) to take that next step towards getting help with addiction recovery. Daily, I say or do something, which I know better than to do. Whether it is eating a snack, skipping the gym, speaking before I think (frequent), I can identify with the anyone who says or does something, which from my current perspective seems dumb or stupid. I was saying to my friend, “it seems to me that we humans are, as Pema Chodron, stupid no matter who intellectually bright we are.”
One of the statements Mr. Maron made was in reference to his reaction following the interview with President Obama and after al secret service people, wires and other Presidential paraphilia had been cleared. When he was left just with his producer he cried. Just about the time he said that I found myself crying also. I had no idea why I was crying except that there was something about the situation and how this African American, mixed race, kid who grew up in Hawaii and this often caustic, sarcastic, host of “What the Fuck” connected as two human being having a conversation in a garage which resonated with the sense of wonder, gratitude, awe and magic which allows this often inept, simple, country boy who has spent his entire life waiting to be revealed to be the fraud that he is have the audacity to write, work as a counselor and pretend to be a person who is inhabiting the costume “de jour”.
I often find myself crying. The tears might be triggered by some situation or event, which touches my heart. They might be triggered by the news of the killing in the church in South Carolina. I could be the shooter – a few synapses firing to the left or right and then I am – or one of those shot. Fortunately, I have never physically hurt anyone but I have certainly hurt others with words or even with inaction. The tears might, at times, be a simple reaction to some irritant in my eye. They could be a response to a feeling of exhaustion, grief, helplessness, loneliness or some other feeling or emotion.
This range of tears seems to be a uniquely humans characteristic.
Sometimes, especially with a child, but also at time with we adults, tears signal distress.
I would be remiss if I did not fess up to the fact that tears can also be a way of attempting to elicit sympathy, empathy, or support. This might be especially true is I am tempted to divert the attention of someone, i. e. a partner, from transgression or mistake of mine!
As a male – you know one of those Y chromosome animals – my tear ducts might be slightly different/smaller than that of the XX person, but, in general, we males and females seems to have a wide range of emotions. We males may attempt to shed tears internally or in private, but thank God we have the ability to cry with/for/along side of others. Thank God we can learn to cry for ourselves.
It is interesting that often we males are uncomfortable with the tears of females and even more so with the tears of ourselves or another male. Yet, why would I want to trust anyone who does not cry? I need to know that others are as human as I am.
Hats of to Mr. Maron for not making a big deal out of his tears or the fact that he is, as is true for others, a work in progress and me. This short witted, bright, passionate, flannel shirt wearing, garage office Y chromosome person will continue with humor, acting roles, interviews and in other ways to tickle my mind and my heart.
What the Fuck!
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