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JON, Feb 2017 – on the road:

Carrie’s stepfather is in the hospital again—another heart problem. He thought he was in the clear, just like he thought he was in the clear from the skin cancer that came back. That one’s not an issue for now, but his heart is acting up again.

I don’t understand the old man. He’s got this big company. He’s got his own church. He’s got a nice wife who wants to do everything for him—beautiful but quite driven, my mother-in-law, Carrie’s mother. So what’s wrong with Marcus? Why is he in hospital again watching the rhythm on a cardiograph or whatever it is called instead of watching stock movements and membership growth?

I have some theories …

It’s easy to judge a man when you’re having a peaceful coffee break between two long patrols in the vast, empty whiteness that is the desert around here. Easy to think. Easy to judge.

But I guess  it’s because of the morning drama—Carrie’s mother on the phone, crying about the latest developments—before I went to work. And now, it’s difficult not to think about.

And then there are the kids. I should call Carrie, check on her, see how she’s handling them. But for now, coffee. Watching people come and go. Thinking about what’s going to happen.

At the moment, it looks like he’s going to be okay. I think they’re going to do a bypass this time. But why didn’t he back off the first time this was a problem? I mean, everyone could see he was working himself too hard. And he’s the man with this weird, happy, self-made religion, teaching everyone else how to live. Of course, he’s also building computer systems as his main work—the ones we all depend on—so he’s an important guy. A leader. An example. Or he should be.

And I guess that’s exactly why he didn’t slow down. That’s why he didn’t stop. That’s why he just kept going until he collapsed.

It’s ironic, really. Despite everything he tells others about managing their lives—emotionally, spiritually—he’s not following his own advice. Do as I say, not as I do. And you can’t just excuse it as a one-time slip. Sure, he’s only human, even if he’s a big CEO and the leader of some important spiritual whatever. Of course, he’s stressed. Of course, he’s got responsibilities. That doesn’t mean what he preaches is wrong—only that he’s in a different position from the rest of us poor schmucks who have to listen to him, buy his courses, attend his congregation.

But then it keeps happening. Again and again. He gets sick. Ends up in the hospital. And then you begin to wonder.

And then I begin to wonder.

Sitting here, stretching out this coffee for as long as possible, why am I even thinking about my stepfather in law? Someone who’s more remote to me than my actual father-in-law over in Scotland? Someone I’ve never really clicked with?

I don’t know what Deborah saw in him. I always found him… weird. Aloof. Too full of himself. Maybe that’s what she fell for—not his ego, exactly, but the way he seemed to have everything under control. She needed a man like that after the disaster of Carrie’s real father and his drinking. Marcus never touched alcohol. He’s a health guru. Which makes it even more tragic that he won’t follow his own damn advice and slow down.

You can drink all the herbal tea you want, but if you work 25 hours a day, your body will give out. Especially when you’re over sixty. Sixty-five, I think.

So why am I telling you about him? Why am I thinking about him and not my own father?

There’s something here I don’t want to think too much about.

I don’t even know where my father is. That pisses me off. Asshole hasn’t even called my brother since he got back from Africa. And my mother—do we need to put her in a nursing home or what?

That pisses me off too.

But this coffee won’t last forever.

And maybe that’s why I’m thinking about the father I don’t have. The father I don’t want to have. Or maybe just any other person, really.

Because when I get together with the guys tonight, we’re going to talk about the boss. We’re going to talk about our colleagues who aren’t there. About the morons over in the municipality. We’re going to talk about everyone—except ourselves.

To take a long hard look at our own lives, what works what doesn’t either alone or in that big social brouhaha that will be Jefferson’s bachelor party that … that amounts to a crime. 

So maybe, at the end of the day, I have more in common with my weird stepfather-in-law than I’d like to admit.

But I’m gonna enjoy the rest of this coffee until the very last minute of my pathetic little break. 

So there is a difference.

I hope it counts.

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89B-10022025

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Soundtrack: Depeche Mode – “Everything Counts”

The graph on the wall
Tells the story of it all

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