Staying Still

I remember one trip I took to New York City where I spent most of my time in one place. My brother had opened The Putting Lot, a miniature golf course in Brooklyn. Once opened, someone had to be there all the time to greet visitors. I took a few shifts, wanting to be part of the experience. My first thought as the hours passed and only a few people came was that owning a business could be very boring. There would be so many times that you have to just be there, available in the event that someone may want to access what you have to offer. Of course there would be busy times but so much of your life would be sitting in one place while the world moves about. However, the longer I stayed there and the more people I met I came to the realization that you see a whole different side of the world when you sit in one place and see what comes to you. You are a witness. As a frequently traveler and visitor to New York City I seek out experiences. I move about the city, navigating with maps, looking for the things that strike me as quintessentially New York. However, staying put at a “destination” for others I was able to see a great diversity of the city: neighborhood kids, hipsters, tourists, curious neighbors, families looking for something to entertain the kids, supporters, and friends of those involved. It may have been my most authentic of all New York experiences, put in a place where the city came to me.

This memory came to me last night at my step-sister Sarah’s graduation party. I took up a spot in the corner of the dining room. It was nestled against the wall and not easy to move in and out of and so I stayed there as the night progressed, about five hours in all. My tablemates changed all night long, probably 25 in all. It felt good to sit in one space and have people come to me. A great diversity of people, from many times in my life, came to sit by my side. I was struck by the wealth of connections I have due to my father. He has connected me to the world that I might otherwise turn away from and for this I am thankful. I feel truly blessed. One man talked about his friends who tried to turn him into the DEA when he was dealing coke. Another man talked about his college sorority from at least 40 years ago as if it was the most significant set of relationships he could ever have. Another shared his work lobbying in Santa Fe after he updated me on his daughter’s adventures and son’s film making. A group of women talked about the best new restaurants in town. Some that sat by my side were family and we caught up on the week’s events since I saw them just days ago. One woman talked about visiting the wardrobe of Walter White on Breaking Bad. Four of the men who have been around the longest in my life sat, passing a joint, breaking into lyrics, and talking about what it is like to grow old. A group of teenagers in short shorts waved as they passed through (could they really be the same kids that were just little kids last time I looked?). Another woman talked about her job in the neurological ICU and how to help families deal with death. A dear friend who I haven’t seen in years came in. She is visiting to help move her mother into a home and had been in caretaking mode for 24/7 for five days straight, sick to her stomach with stress and sadness but able to still tell a good story, give a glimmer of hope, and see the beauty in so much around her. I watched as Jeremy, my step-brother, struggled to answer each time he was asked how life in Romania was. How to answer truthfully and still be a decent conversant? How to sum up a year in a few minutes? I watched my dad flow in and out, returned to the state of a full house of his friends. I watched Marylou set out more and more food, providing people with all that they could need. I watched people re-introduce themselves to Sarah’s boyfriend who she recently got back together with after years apart. Some immediately negative, recalling past misdeeds, others more forgiving assuming if she has come to peace with it so should they. I watched the faces of dozens of people who I have known my whole life. Everyone gave some greeting: a touch, a hug, or company for some time. My life has been touched by so many people and it felt grounding to sit in one seat and let them come to me. 

I ended the night next to my father and a few of those that stayed. I listened to my dad talk to one man, who has been sick with hepatitis for the last 17 years. My dad said he has a whole different understanding now of what it is like to live life sick. This man said he hadn’t made a single long term goal in the last 17 years. He makes decisions about what he can do each day. I heard my dad say that each day in these past few months he has woken up with thoughts about how to make it through that day the best he can. He has always lived in the moment but never been so much at the mercy of his body and the system of healthcare. I watched these two men bond, with big old goofy grins on their faces, and I was so thankful they came to where I could witness that exchange, to where I sat. When you sit in one place you see a great deal.