Why You Should Spend Your Time Wisely & Bonus Feature!: How To Spend Any Leftover Time.

Author's note: Like life, which has equal parts happy and sad, so will this blog post. Buyer beware!

THE SAD PART

It's been a tough week boys and girls. I wanted to start this post with a wisecrack, but I honestly don't have one. Do me a favor and take a moment and think of anyone in your life you feel you've neglected (well, the people who weren't asking for it). Call them. Write them. Spend time with them. That's what I'm taking away from this week, where two people I cared about passed away. Suddenly one day they're not there any more. It's that simple and that complex all at once.

One was an older gentleman who I grew up living next door to in the summers. A true thespian, booming voice and laugh, very grandfatherly and kind to me year after year, even when I shamed him for being a Notre Dame fan. I had just emailed him (on Facebook, of all things) a few weeks ago, but didn't hear back, and yesterday got the note from his daughter that he had passed. With age I suppose we come to understand that elderly people can't be here forever, as much as we wish they could.

But the kick in the face this week was when I realized how much I take for granted that the young ones will be around too. We really do think we're invincible. The second friend who passed this week was young... younger than me, actually. Strong, healthy, always smiling, sharp as anything. And absolutely devoted to my friend, his new wife, in the most genuine way. I can't get my mind around it, to tell you the truth. The words of that phone call are ringing in my head, and have been for almost a week now. Some part of me probably thinks if I say it enough or write it enough it will sink in. But it isn't.

THE SAD PART: CALL TO ACTION

So before you read anything further, before we return to our regularly scheduled program, make your calls, return the emails, do it all. I have a new rule: if someone comes into my mind, I'm going to make the time. I've been doing that for a few weeks now - if I have the impulse to contact someone, I just do it, to see where it takes me. So far this week my Impulse PeopleConnect Movement (tm) has brought me news of an elementary school friend who is now pregnant with twins as well as tales of how crappy my Sprint phone service is from a guy who has been trying to call me all week. (Direct quote from my friend/attorney: "We should sue Sprint for interfering with your love life with bad service! Negligent Infliction of Emotional Distress!")

THE HAPPIER PART:

In other news, my sister and I went out to dinner with some girlfriends tonight and somehow the conversation turned to punishment. Actually, scratch the "somehow". It came up because our friend is a mediator and she had to mediate the case of a parent who couldn't find acceptable punishment for their kid (an abusive drug dealer). The parent refused to put the boy in his room because doing so "would be sensory deprivation." My sister replied: "Um, isn't that the POINT?!"

And so the conversation evolved to how we were punished as children. Susie and I were discussing our parent's default, which was that we had to go sit in the downstairs hallway bathroom, lights off, until it was time to come out and apologize for whatever that day's transgression was.

Pretty basic stuff, right?

But the conversation had the benefit of Susie's insanely good memory. Before I knew it, we were not discussing the punishments but rather the ambiance of said bathroom. The fact that it was mirrored on many sides, so you were locked in to face yourself (or rather the concept that yourself was reflected all around you, but you couldn't see this, because it was dark. And also because you were a borderline "small person" and probably couldn't see over the counter until you were a teen.)

We talked about the drawer and Susie listed the items from memory: bandaids, "one pencil". She apparently used to open the bandaids and try to close them again, but they'd never close quite right (this explains a lot because I vaguely recall going to get bandaids and wondering why they were half-peeled). She remembered the lacy brass garbage can and the metallic wallpaper.

So that's Susie's memory.

Do you know what mine is?...

It's of a CALCULATOR. My one memory in that bathroom involves sitting on the toilet in the dark doing math.

I remember the old calculator, I remember the glow in the dark red display. I remember my sheer joy typing in numbers (my dinner companions tonight asked what type of math I was doing. Answer: It was basic addition and also trying to see what words I could spell upside down.)

Whether I took the calculator with me or whether I had stashed it there remains up for discussion. I wasn't supposed to have anything in there with me, so now I'm troubled with the question of whether I went and sat in there in the dark voluntarily to do math, which is all sorts of sad. Or did I take the calculator in there during my punishment and my parents *let* it slide because, well, if your kid is that much of a loser, you might as well cut your losses?

* * *

Tonight's laughter about the Bathroom Chronicles and everything else we discussed felt like breath was coming back to me for the first time all week. My mom always says "Life is a tragedy to those who feel, and a comedy to those who think." You do the math.