A Real Conversation
13/10/13 08:06
It's funny how things change over time. Evan called us from Pace the other night and we were on the phone for the better part of an hour with him. Nancy was having the conversation and I was sitting close by but not paying especially close attention. Not because I wasn't interested but because I was otherwise occupied doing something on the computer. I was distracted here and there when the tone of the conversation changed or when they were discussing a subject matter that was of more of less interest to me. It wasn't until the conversation was over, or maybe this occurred to me a good ways into the give and take of the chat, that this chat was different. It was different than any other chat I had ever heard between the two of them. It was, and I told Nancy this after the fact, perhaps the first real conversation I had ever heard between the two of them as adults. A real honest to goodness exchange of thoughts, feelings, concerns, pleasantries, and everything you might expect to hear in such a conversation.
The fact that it went on for an hour or more should tell you something. What it told me is that Evan wanted to speak to his mom candidly and without reservation. His thoughts were organized and well thought out and I began to think while listening to him that his being away at school was a good thing. He was learning and benefiting from his newfound independence but he has a ways to travel yet. He had concerns about not getting enough exercise; not eating the right foods; not getting the grades he thinks he deserves in the courses that he is taking; not getting a haircut as soon as he might have liked to; that his friends might think it odd if we brought too many flats of water to his room when we visit later this month; and concerns aside, he was very appreciative of the care package that his mom had sent within the last week. It was a nice package replete with her home bake cookies, clothes that he had asked to have sent, and some other miscellaneous items that he wasn't expecting and that I can't think of at the moment. I think that the conversation, while necessary from Evan's point of view, was restorative for his mom. It was a clear reminder to her that he was his mother's son. That concept has been adrift for too long now no thanks to Evan and his sometimes belligerent behavior. Perhaps the tide is changing. It couldn't come at a better time with Evan living and learning so many miles away.
I'm not sure where it all started with Nancy but it has been a pervasive character trait going back a number of years that seems to be getting worse with time. I think I first noticed it when she would lament the fact that some planned event or other did not or could not take place because of the weather. Oh, those poor people, she would say. They put so much work, time, money, and effort into putting this together only to have their efforts go to waste because no on attends these sorts of things in bad weather. I get that. Her sympathies have contorted and twisted over the years and they now extend to businesses on the brink, sole proprietors scratching out an existence at a local roadside stand, or some lost soul selling their wares on the internet. It has somehow become her responsibility to make sure that their businesses not only survive but that they thrive under her so-called stewardship. God forbid they should fail. So she does her personal best to make sure that that doesn't happen. It is a particular pastime that seems to give her pleasure so I'm careful not to go out of my way to say anything. Not that it would make a difference, of course. So I endure and forgive her her proclivities when and where her happiness is concerned. Is that not a husband's core chore? Indeed it is. And so it goes.
The fact that it went on for an hour or more should tell you something. What it told me is that Evan wanted to speak to his mom candidly and without reservation. His thoughts were organized and well thought out and I began to think while listening to him that his being away at school was a good thing. He was learning and benefiting from his newfound independence but he has a ways to travel yet. He had concerns about not getting enough exercise; not eating the right foods; not getting the grades he thinks he deserves in the courses that he is taking; not getting a haircut as soon as he might have liked to; that his friends might think it odd if we brought too many flats of water to his room when we visit later this month; and concerns aside, he was very appreciative of the care package that his mom had sent within the last week. It was a nice package replete with her home bake cookies, clothes that he had asked to have sent, and some other miscellaneous items that he wasn't expecting and that I can't think of at the moment. I think that the conversation, while necessary from Evan's point of view, was restorative for his mom. It was a clear reminder to her that he was his mother's son. That concept has been adrift for too long now no thanks to Evan and his sometimes belligerent behavior. Perhaps the tide is changing. It couldn't come at a better time with Evan living and learning so many miles away.
I'm not sure where it all started with Nancy but it has been a pervasive character trait going back a number of years that seems to be getting worse with time. I think I first noticed it when she would lament the fact that some planned event or other did not or could not take place because of the weather. Oh, those poor people, she would say. They put so much work, time, money, and effort into putting this together only to have their efforts go to waste because no on attends these sorts of things in bad weather. I get that. Her sympathies have contorted and twisted over the years and they now extend to businesses on the brink, sole proprietors scratching out an existence at a local roadside stand, or some lost soul selling their wares on the internet. It has somehow become her responsibility to make sure that their businesses not only survive but that they thrive under her so-called stewardship. God forbid they should fail. So she does her personal best to make sure that that doesn't happen. It is a particular pastime that seems to give her pleasure so I'm careful not to go out of my way to say anything. Not that it would make a difference, of course. So I endure and forgive her her proclivities when and where her happiness is concerned. Is that not a husband's core chore? Indeed it is. And so it goes.