Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Dear Ms. Teaching,

This is such a hard letter to write, and I’ve been struggling with it for a long time. As prone as I am to dither, agonize and procrastinate when faced with difficult choices, I have made a decision, and I think it’s best to be direct:

I’m sorry, but we have to break up. It’s time. Look, we’ve been together, more or less, for 45 years now and I just don’t think I can maintain the relationship any longer. I mean, it’s been fun and all, and I’ll always remember, with great fondness, our time together. You’ve helped make me who I am today and I appreciate that. You’ve made me a better person, father, maybe even husband, although I’m not sure Carolyn always agreed, even as she has loyally and patiently stood by me. Still, I’ll never forget you — I confess that you were much more than a dalliance; no, you were a part of me, almost the definition of me.

That’s the problem, of course. In the competition for limited time, you frequently won and my family lost. It is never good news when your daughter’s first complete sentence is, “Daddy’s at a meeting.” You consumed me, my time, my energy – and I loved you with an undeniable ardor. I guess I always will, but it’s time to end our, yes, I’m saying it, our affair.

Oh, please, you’ve had to know this was coming for a long time. Just accept it and move on. There are lots of younger, more energetic, more ambitious targets of your various and undeniable charms who can meet your ever escalating needs.

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Really, as trite as it sounds, it isn’t you, it’s me, although surely even you must admit that you have become increasingly needy, increasingly demanding. I don’t know, maybe you always were but I was just so smitten that I couldn’t see it. I was obsessed, our connection so strong, we just seemed meant for each other; but that passion which once possessed me has not just diminished, it’s disappeared, completely gone.

But even if a passion ember still existed, the energy to do anything about it does not. I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but I couldn’t get through our most recent tryst without a nap! Where I used to think about you all the time, often ignoring my family and neglecting my obligations to please you, now, once I leave our room, I devote almost zero energy to you. You deserve more than that, you know you do. But my family also deserved more and it’s (finally) their time now.

So this is it. Yes, I know it sounds harsh, but please, I’m begging you, don’t call me. I’ll call you if I want to get back together, but don’t wait up. No, I mean it, don’t call me. Because if you do we both know I will at least be tempted to respond to your siren call, and resisting temptation (and flattery, and the need to be needed) has never been one of my great strengths.

Thanks for everything, thanks to everyone, all those who made our affair so memorable. But I’m done. Buh-bye.

Happy New Year (and Happy Old Ones, Too)

New Year’s Eve, 1968. Our second date. Found out, among other things, Carolyn was a good sport. Playing charades (which she hates), her song title: Don’t Let the Screen Door Hit Ya Where the Cat Bit Ya. This would have been awful even for someone who liked the game!

We are all changed, to a greater or lesser degree, by our relationships, as well as events, random or not, depending on how you view the universe. (See Ray Bradbury’s A Sound of Thunder) In my own case, I think that’s especially true (and yes, I know we ALL think we’re more unique than we really are), because, at a really immature 20, I was wandering cluelessly through my life, with no idea as to what I was or where I was going. Becoming my authentic self wasn’t even something I had even thought about, wasn’t even in my field of vision. I can’t say who I was trying to be, mostly because I didn’t really know who I was.

Lucky for me, I found a partner who only knew how to be authentic and encouraged, prodded, and supported my halting journey toward a true self. I must also credit my career as a teacher for helping me forge my path, because kids, not just Holden Caulfield, can always spot the fakes and phonies, but none of it would have been possible without that safety net of unconditional love every day I came home.

I look forward to continuing that journey, and am thankful for having had someone to hold my hand as I’ve stumbled along these past 46 years. As I’ve told so many students in the past, life is a marathon, not a sprint, and as I start to make out the involuntary finish line in (what I hope is) the distant future, the goal is to keep on going, and work hard to help others as I can, or at least not run or stumble over anyone along the way.

May 2015 be a year of growth and joy for all of us.