The Personal is the Political

Here is a little insight into me.

I’m a deeply private person. Not as private as my friend HAL, but very private nonetheless. I think most of my friends know how I feel on the issues. Most know where I was born (Kansas City), and where I went to school (Kansas University then the University of Minnesota). Most of my friends know my favorite bands (Radiohead and Wilco) and that I love to read (right now I’m reading “In the Lake of the Woods” by Tim O’Brien). Most know that I am an avid golfer and that I'm a lousy golfer (you might even call me a Duffer). Everyone knows that I have a daughter that we call TinyE, and everyone knows my wife, who she is and what she does. Many of my friends know that I am an aspiring writer and that I like to write poetry.

Almost none of my friends know that I have high blood pressure (and I do). It would be hard for me to tell my closest friends about that. And I don’t even think most people think of that as being such a big deal. But still it is hard for me. For others, that kind of sharing is very easy. I know of three co-workers (people who I barely know) who have high blood pressure. I know because they talk about it. They talk about it in the break room.

So, today, a personal story [sigh]…

Near Christmas, I was driving around in St. Paul and thinking about my friend Greg. Years ago, almost another lifetime ago, we lived together in a duplex in Minneapolis. Greg and his wife Sarah lived downstairs. My girlfriend Robin Ann and I lived upstairs. We spent so much time together, the four of us or various combinations of the four of us. We played Scrabble together. We ate lentils together every Sunday night. My life in those days seemed so rich and wonderful. And in retrospect, I still think it was.

I think the Feng Shui in that duplex was goofy becauase eventually, Robin and I split up, and later Greg and Sarah divorced. Over time, Greg and I lost touch - but it wasn't as subtle as that for me. It was a very difficult loss for me. In fact, in losing Robin Ann (which was hard), I also felt that I lost Sarah and Greg too. The first loss was the least surprising, but the most hurtful. The other losses shocked me (I never imagined it would happen), and in some respects hurt me in ways that were more profound (now I’m too mindful that it can happen).

Near Christmas, I was driving around in St. Paul and thinking about my friend Greg. He was such a good friend, and the loss of a friendship can be either so subtle that it is impalpable, or so jarring that it can devastate you. Drifting away from Greg was the latter. At first, I really did not want it to happen, but then later I did. I was prideful, and I started to be stubborn and ridiculous.

Near Christmas, I was driving around in St. Paul and thinking about my friend Greg. So I went to his house. His house is less than 4 miles from my house. I could walk to his house.

So I went to his house. I knocked on the door. He opened it. I am so glad that I did, and I’m so glad that he did. He gave me a hug like he saw me the day before. I get emails from him now. We’ve met for coffee, and he is trying to recruit me away from my church and to his church. Last night, he and his son Max and my daughter Elinor and I went to the Wellspring Wednesday dinner at his church. It was a great service, started by a great grace. The pastor said words, and we repeated them back. It went like this:

We thank You for being…
We thank You for being…

We thank You for being here…
We thank You for being here…

We thank You for being here together.
We thank You for being here together.

For me, being there together with my friend Greg, it was so apt. I like that prayer. I will remember it for a long time.

Some of my favorite blogs are those - like this one and like this one – that mix the personal and the political. I have always admired the openness of those who share a little bit of themselves along with their thoughts on the issues of the day. I draw my inspiration for this post from my friends who do this sharing and expressing so much better than I do it.