The One Where Chandler Dies
The ghosts that haunt us, the skeletons in our closets…nothing to be afraid of…
Trick or treat?
I’ll happily take the treat, please. Unless it’s something licorice-y. Or Milk Duds. Or raisins trying to pass as candy.
Life’s been one big nasty trick of late, so I’ll take the sugar high for $2000, please, Alex.
Transformation Tuesday falling on Halloween seems somehow too convenient…it’s the day when people can pretend to be anyone they want to and get away with it. Well, we all can pretend to be anyone so long as it doesn’t involve blackface or cultural appropriation, of course…use your heads, people. A little common sense, a little sensitivity…some common sensitivity…
But anyway…today I don’t want to be anyone else…though I do want to live in a different world. One where common sense, sensitivity, and common sensitivity are not only reborn but also prevail.
I’m not prone to drama. (Though some might argue that I am, and they’d be right…under certain conditions. Bottom line is this: in a perfect storm of circumstances, I’m predictably and reliably not at my best. That’s not me being dramatic, though…it’s me being me. Which is a post for another day. Or never.)
But anyway…let’s start again…
I’m not prone to drama, but American society as we know (and love) it, is in extreme danger, in grave jeopardy. Yes, we’ve evolved over time, some changes forever, some for better…and some that leave me shaking my damn head. Just as much as we’ve evolved, it seems, so too have we devolved. There have been some consistent strong but negative themes over time, themes which are the rebar in our collective foundation, and it feels that, as a society, we are strengthened and reinforced by hate, with a super-sized side of stupidity.
Where to even start? Let’s go by reverse proximity of heartbreaking events, and start with what’s happening far away.
The Middle East. I’m not going to pretend to be an anything even remotely informed about the politics and oppression fueling the war over there, though I am going to say this—under no circumstances is terrorism a solution. The slaughter of innocents is no way to make a point, and never is, ever. And let’s not be naive and think that things are limited to a small area of land…this is bigger than Israel and Palestine and the Gaza Strip. It’s a global humanitarian crisis. A plane full of Jewish passengers landed in Russia and a riot ensued. Make no mistake—ethic strife is not the scourge of a bygone era. It’s a very modern-day problem, and it’s fueled by people (who shouldn’t be) in high places.
Seriously. It’s f-cking disgusting. Unthinkable. Reprehensible.
And the continued silence on the matter—by and large—is every bit as f-cking disgusting, unthinkable, and reprehensible. Not to mention inhumane and unconscionable.
The threats are real, and while the war is far away, the danger is close by. Our Jewish friends should not have to live in fear because of their Jewishness just as no one should have to cower because of their Blackness or Gayness or whatever else-ness for no valid reason, other than because ignorant bigots are afraid of who-knows-what. A 6-year old Muslim boy was stabbed to death by his landlord. Threats at Cornell University put the campus on lockdown. If someone wrote about this in a book, say 20 years ago, we might have been quick to dismiss the plot as ridiculously far-fetched…but if we reflect for a moment, the ridiculously far-fetched is our current, consistent reality.
I’ll say this—I don’t think it’s a coincidence that if you say it fast, “MAGA” sounds just like “maggot.”
Closer to home, if you went to one of the three small liberal arts colleges in a triangle in midcoast Maine—northwest from Brunswick and Bowdoin to Lewiston and Bates then northeast on to Waterville and Colby—you know that it’s a triangle of smugly implied intellectual superiority, with each vertex a juxtaposition of town and gown, a push-pull that many at the colleges seem oblivious to, unless you grew up as more town than gown. We got it. We felt it. We spent time in the local bowling alleys. In so many ways each of the towns could be interchangeable …so if you experienced Brunswick or Waterville, the shooting in Lewiston this week hit different. Extra.
No one needs an assault weapon or enough ammo to shoot up a school/movie theater/bowling alley/bar/grocery store/etc./etc. multiple times over. Full stop. I’m all for supporting the Constitution and I know that includes the right to bear arms…but I also am all for an up-to-date interpretation of said Constitution that accommodates all of the sociopolitical change and all the technological advancement that the forefathers never could have foreseen and thus were incapable of accounting for in any foundational doctrine. We owe it to them to reimagine their hopes and dreams with the benefit of 247 years of life and loss and lessons learned.
These tragedies should be avoidable, and the real kicker when they strike is how quickly we move along after they do. If we’re fortunate enough not to be directly impacted by them, we breathe a sigh of relief, inhale a breath of gratitude, and then move along. What we often and easily forget is that for people impacted by tragedies like these, their lives change forever and ever, through all the generations to come (or not come). Politics have polarized us, blinding us to the fact that we are—like it or not—all connected. We are connected to all that came before us and we will be connected to all that comes after us. We are part and parcel of one another, and there’s nothing we can do to change it. Why keep fighting it? What are we so afraid of? Why are we so afraid of being alike and so quick to separate based on perceived differences? Why is it so easy to hate and so hard to love? And—not to be insensitive—if you have a death wish, try leaving innocents out of it. Take care of yourself. Let the rest of us be. The senseless violence achieves no positive ends, ever. So why?
Just why?
Before I go I need to loop back to the title of this week’s post, “The One Where Chandler Dies.” I know I wasn’t the only one of a certain generation who was shook—but not completely surprised—to learn that Matthew Perry (aka Chandler Bing) had died this weekend. For some of us, the show was an extension of real, post-college life…or maybe an idealization of it. In any case, we could see pieces and parts of ourselves in the characters—in the challenges they were facing as individuals and as friends. Matthew Perry’s death is (another) (tragic) reminder to go through the world with gratitude and without longing…a reminder that all is not as it seems…a reminder to take care of your friends. If we learn he relapsed, that’s so awful. He struggled so long and fought so hard, it doesn’t seem right that he couldn’t win. But if he successfully wrestled his demons but did so too late and died of some natural cause, well that’s pretty awful too. No matter what—despite the fame and fortune, his is a life of tragedy and despair. For the longest time, Friends was my fall-asleep show. If I couldn’t sleep I was entertained and if I fell asleep, I wasn’t missing anything I didn’t already know. And now it’s my stay awake and be sad show. Which sucks. Also, his show Go On, which aired for a single 22-episode season maybe 10 or so years ago was a feel-good watch that I remember enjoying very much. Hopefully that will bubble up on one of the many streaming services we already pay for. Speaking of streaming services there should be a law that once you pay $X00 for TV services you should get all the rest of them free. But anyway, another gone too soon. Remember to carpe the f-ck out of the diem.
Obviously the untimely death of a friend—well, a cast member of Friends—reinforces the fleeting and unpredictable nature of it all. So seeing this opinion piece yesterday by one of my fave authors, Anne Lamont, gave me some much-needed perspective, and a smile. Highly recommend a read of it.
All of this tragedy and death has me thinking of how it sucks that life stories often end in the middle. I mean the stories end, because they have to without their main character, but the plot line is almost always interrupted. We rarely get the resolution or the outcome or the time we want to do more, to learn more, to be more. So how do we live, knowing the end is going to come in the middle? (Not the actual middle, but I think you know what I am trying to say.) More gas, less brake, but not so fast that you miss the vistas, I guess. Maybe.
And speaking of “death” my gym surprisingly and unceremoniously closed for good this week, and I was notified in the form of an Instagram Story. I was a founding member and had been with them for five years, paid in full during the pandemic because I believed in the mission and the community they were trying to build, so not having a home gym is jarring. So now my midday outlet is no more, and I needed it for my mental health maybe even more than my physical health. It had some challenges at the end (I’ll bite my tongue) but for the most part it was the perfect gym—the sweet spot of fair price, great workouts, convenient location, and some fun people. And because we didn’t get any notice, as a (formerly) proud founding member, I am pissed on principle. The upside, I guess, is that now my “gym friends” are just my friends. They don’t have a qualifier anymore, and they don’t need one. Of course now that the gym closed, I’ll probably never see them. 😂😂😂🤦🏼♀️
Reminder—want to see people? Pick a date. Make a plan.
While I’m all dark and heavy, I might as well call attention to the fact that DST ends Sunday morning. Enjoy the extra hour of sleep, check your smoke alarm and C02 alarm batteries. Swap the unit if they’re past the date listed on the units. Do the same for neighbors or relatives who might not be able to do it themselves. And when the darkness hits before dinner, I hope you can ward off Seasonal Affective Disorder. The blues are real.
But even in the coldest darkest days of winter, I know we have this one warm day a week together. I appreciate you being here with me, and I thank you for making my heart happy.
The skeleton below has it right. You are amazing. And the tree has it right too. You are awesome.
Have a great week, and remember—life’s short, eat the candy!
Love you too.