THE USUAL NOTE FROM LB: From the summer of 2002 to the spring of 2010, Gwen the Beautiful and I were the proud and often exhausted owners of a beautiful Ozarks property we called Cloud Creek Ranch.
In many ways, the ranch was paradise. But it was a paradise with a price that started going up before we even knew it existed. Here’s another Monday musing about our adventure and the lessons we learned.
Oh, and if y’all detect any irony, please believe me when I say it comes straight from the universe and not your kindly Uncle Larry B.
by Larry Brody
There I was, standing in line at the Paradise Post Office, waiting to mail a package to Youngest Daughter Amber and minding my beeswax when, suddenly, I heard the age-old question:
“What do you want?”
It was more than a simple query. It was an exasperated growl, from a young man to the young woman who was entering the lobby with him. One simple sentence, filled with pain and anger and genuine puzzlement.
“What do you want?”
The young woman’s answer was equally filled with feeling, none of it the kind that makes you smile. “More than you can give me,” she said. “I’m so gone from here.”
She pushed past the young man and went back outside. He stared after her, then realized everyone else in the place was watching, and rushed to catch up.
I was next in line. “How can I help you?” Erica the Postal Clerk said.
“Shouldn’t that be, ‘What do you want?’” I said.
Erica shrugged. “That’s just Tommy and Joanne. They’re at it like that all the time. He’s always trying to figure her out, and she’s always saying she’s leaving. But he never understands her. And she never leaves.”
“I know some people like that,” I said.
Another shrug. “Don’t we all?”
As she spoke, I knew I was at a fork in the road, a place where something important, both to those involved and those interested in the whys and wherefores of human nature, branched off in at least two different directions.
If I chose to, I could follow the closer road and try to learn more about Tommy and Joanne and their relationship. I could delve into the mystery of human romance and the pain that comes when romance starts to collapse. I could turn it into a poignant piece of writing that would disguise the fact that I wasn’t able to help them overcome their limitations and remain lovers forever.
Or I could follow another road and try to understand something that wouldn’t get me screamed at as a busybody and maybe even punched in the jaw. I could investigate the mystery of human desire and try to get to the bottom of the age old philosophical question, “What do people want?” I could turn that into a light, fluffy little work that would disguise the fact that I wasn’t able to overcome my own limitations and report on some agonizing truths.
If I took the first road, I’d have to hurry after these two, interrupt their ritual, break the pattern that helped define their life together.
If I took the second one, I could be much cooler about the whole thing. All I’d have to do was take a little stroll through the town square, and whenever anyone said, “Hey, Larry B,” I could respond like a roving news reporter, or a census taker, and say, “Brannigan”—or “Jane” or “Jimmy Blue” or whomever—“what do you want?”
And I could laugh knowingly as each answered.
“I want a million dollars, Larry B.”
“I want to get married.”
“I want Uncle Ernest to be alive again and settin’ on that bench yonder.”
Eventually I’d do what I always do in this space. I’d turn that question on myself.
“What do you want, Larry B?”
“Why, nothing, my friend. I’ve got everything already. Love. Life. Liberty. And the ability to enjoy those things. There’s nothing I want.
Except….”
“Except what, Larry B?”
“I want—well, I want to be ‘better.’ A better person in all those ways our parents tell us to be. More caring. More giving. More honest. See what I mean?”
“But, Larry B, what makes you think you need to be better? What makes you think you’re not already the best you can be?”
“Because if I was, I wouldn’t be hesitating. I’d be leaning close to Tommy and Joanne right now, trying to help. I’d be doing everything I could for them regardless of what risk it might bring.”
“You look sad, Larry B. Like you just figured out that no matter what way you go you’re going to learn something you’d rather not know. About others. About yourself.”
And, as I heard those words I realized it was really the Universe talking to me. Telling me neither road was safe because none ever is.
So I’m copping out completely. And not taking another step.
Except to turn to those who read this and ask, “What do you want?”
