Home Alone

From success you get a lot of things, but not that great inside thing that love brings you.

Samuel Goldwyn
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I spent my life as a performing artist, most of that time as an actor. Life in theatre means that you work in very close, intimate relationships with other people. Wherever I went I carried with me the constant frustrating fantasy that I was going to make a family out of whatever company I was working with.

I had no family growing up. It was just my mother and I. We did not care for each other much and she was relieved when I finally left. My siblings were so much older than I that they were never around unless they had to be. Any child can tell the difference between real time and obligatory time.

Any possibility, if it ever existed, for a home and a family was spintered on all sides, in all directions. So I was familyless, unfamilied. I know there are people who say a family can be an aggravation if it's a bunch of people who don't get along. But I have also witnessed families that were so close the moment by moment activities were examples of love that was so omnipresent no one noticed it. I once knew a family with four brothers who were fond of addressing each other by their last names, "Mr. __". It didn't matter who answered. They were all attuned to each other.

My search for a family in the theatre world was fruitless, of course. For one thing everyone I worked with had a family somewhere else, they certainly didn't need me in it. And no one understood what I wanted, The young women thought I was coming on to them for sexual reasons, and so did some of the young men. Some of the older folks were also suspicious of my advances for other reasons. I was searching for mothers and fathers, for brothers and sisters, for sons and daughters. It was a pointless search. And there was always an end date. an out clause, closing night, a time to move on.

I shared an apartment with a guy for a while who seemed glad to have me there. We developed, I thought, a fraternal relationship. We were both actors of about the same age. But he met someone, a woman, and wanted his space, so I left.

I kept thinking that someday I would meet another vagabond who was on the same trail with the same need. It didn't happen.

Now I'm 71. My phone still doesn't work. Even though I have some dear invisible friends at the other end of the email world. I live alone. I never found my family.

DB - The Vagabond
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APRIL FOOLERY

Weekend Contest
This contest is open for the next 6 days.

APRIL FOOLERY
Choose as many numbers as you want and fill in the blanks
Winners will be posted on the evening of April 4.
The decisions of the nasty biased judge are final. Prizes will awarded on the basis of originality and whatever makes me laugh.

3 ENTRIES SO FAR

On the first day of April my true love gave to me
12______
11______
10______
9_______
8_______
7_______
6_______
5_______
4_______
3_______
2_______
and_______

Good luck
DB
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Sold On Solo

The wipers don't work and the horn don't blow,
But there ain't nothin' wrong with the radio.

Aaron Tippin
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Years ago I became accustomed to the fact that I would probably be spending the holidays alone. I was out of town working, or in transit, or filling a radio shift for an announcer who took a vacation day to be with his family.

In my youth the holidays were obligatory affairs. The coming together of a family that didn't particularly want to be together. Those who drank got drunk. The others either gossiped or fought with each other about something. The children, myself included, were bored, It perked up one year when my brother's kids were youngsters, But that was only once.

Frankly I was glad not to have to be a part of the so-called festivities. I was more content to be by myself. And so it has been most of my life.

There were exceptions. A couple of years ago I spent Christmas with a four star family of friends in Vermont. And several years ago I spent a few days with another family in California that turned unfriendly. Earlier this week I went to the local artists organization Christmas party and met some very nice people. But on the days of celebration I am usually alone.

I don't have plenty, no big Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner, But I have enough. Sometimes not quite enough, but I make do with what I have. I don't have all the music I want or all the literature but what I have enables me to journey to great places where the joy of meeting and discovering new ideas happens. I can tuck myself into a corner of my small apartment, with a single lamp shining across my desk, a fresh cup of coffee and an open book. I am instantly with a friend, celebrating. It's a cozy way to spend New Years Eve or any other eve.

Some would say "But don't you miss the company of other people?" Of course I do. But I'm in the company of great thinkers and artists with the stimulating and inspiring conversations it brings me. And these friends never turn their backs on me. They may not always agree with each other, particularly about complex philosophical issues, but they are gracious and intelligent about it, They're my real family and I love them.

There's north country lore which says you can tell how much snow there's going to be in the winter by seeing how high the spiders are instinctively building their webs to prepare for it. I'm no spider (I am not!) but even before I knew what the weather forecast was I had the strong feeling I should stock up. So yesterday I went to the market and came back with enough groceries to take me into next week. Now I learn that beginning today we are going to have a major storm, the worst storm in 100 years according to the overly dramatic local meteorologists. Instinct is a wonderful thing.

DB