The Planet Is.

The planet is:


many stories
always changing
always tired
losing things
forgetting things
reading
buying things
gone on Saturdays
joining groups
sick
taking on more outside responsibilities
leaving more things undone
setting goals
wanting her way
caring
not caring
searching for peace
feeling unappreciated
repeating things
finishing sentences
trying to belong
never satisfied
expecting different results
hiding things
not speaking
cooking
warm chattering
going to therapy
spinning out of control
spinning into inaction
residing resplendent in squalor
not knowing where to start


What is the planet doing?

If I thought I knew I know I was wrong.


Which of course begs the question. What the hell was I doing. Which is probably the only question any of us can answer with any authority at all. The truly sad thing is that I would probably get the answer wrong. Sadder still is most of us would.

But I can tell you what I thought I was doing even if it was no where near good enough for the Planet.

earning a living
helping with the satellites
keeping the household books
doing the laundry
doing yard work
paying the bills
trying to make income faster than the planets outflow
thanking genuinely for ever kindness showed
being grateful
being a loving husband
being a responsible father

Gosh, I am so special. At least these were the things I thought I was doing. Was I succeeding. The answer to that becomes apparent as the journey on the South Shore Line continues. All answers become self evident upon closer examination. The real trick is to stop looking with our heads and start to see with our hearts. Now that the panic attacks have ceased it is much easier to do.

Caring for the Planet was indeed a full time job. Where as I come from a long line of stoics, there never seemed a time when the Planet wasn't tired, in pain , just plain tuckered out. I tried to understand incapacitating maladies that have nightly occurrences, but the stoic in me is ever skeptical. Being a couple that had dutifully read "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" while in marriage counselling, I tried very hard to go against my nature and try not to fix things. So what's the natural response. I guess I chose to listen when verbalization of issues out of my control were offered and then do nothing. Maybe that wasn't the right response.

Oopsy.

The Little Lords of Doom

Is it inevitable that they visit every Planet? I don't know. What are the first signs? Is it the increasing signs of neglect. Showing up not only on the physical side of the household, but on the satellites as well. Is it the first time you get home early and discover that the drapes have not been opened all day and the house is still dark. Even though the hasty claim of “closed for nap time” is made. There was a lot of napping going on in those days, and not by the two little lads. They obviously had vast amounts of time, especially Addison, to create huge crayon based murals on walls all over the house. While I have always been an advocate of the arts it never dawned on me to question that toddlers would have the swath of unsupervised time to create such masterpieces on walls as opposed to supplied paper. But I trusted.

Was it the vast number of self help books and novels of all sorts that piled up in the two places the Planet orbited most that should have heralded the stealth arrival of the Little Lords of Doom. Or was it just the piles of everything that gathered on counters, stuffed into closets, piled on desks, thrown into the garage. The vast amount of fast food wrappers that seemed ubiquitous on the floor and in the back of the mini van. Or should I have been concerned about the mail that was picked up at the mail box on the corner, but never made it into the house. After all, the Planet had the care and feeding of the beloved Clark and Addison to contend with. Who could not understand the leaving of a few bills that have fallen behind the seats of a mini van inhabited by the two celestial terrors that are young boys in the throws of the terrible twos and beyond. Even if the bills contained large charges that where not mentioned either in passing or in family finance discussions. Was this screening of mail a tactic learned in one of those ever present self help books.

However meals were always prepared, The Planet was a born earth mother southern girl in the kitchen. I never thought twice about my arrival in the door and her saying take care of the boys I have to get out of here. That, from what I hear, is very common amongst mothers in the last decade of the Twentieth Century. It was quite enjoyable to care for my young sons. Quite refreshing after having to deal with advertising people all day, and strangely similar in more ways than I care to mention. Battle though it was with the apparent lack of routine things like brushing teeth and picking up toy's was hard to enforce when it was unknown to the lads on a daily basis. You pick your battles after all. But Planetary battles pick you in reality.

And thus the Little Lords of Doom continued their insurgency.

Planetary Signals.

Communication can take many forms. Verbal, visual, aural, physical, intuitive, and perhaps one of the most effective, omission. As in any relationship there is always an exchange of resources, and often times we feel that we are transacting a fair exchange. Whether it is time, financial, affection, loyalty, or sharing resources, these are all part of the give and take that is existence. But there is no ledger in the sky and the value of resources can often be misunderstood or even in dispute. Balancing that ledger on a planetary scale is neither easy or even possible with incomplete or inaccurate information. This is where rifts can slowly form into canyons of astronomical proportions. Silently but persistently they grow. Imperceptible in the day to day activities of life.

So it was with Judith Janet Planet and myself. Like the running water of a river that can form grand canyons, so we continued on the river that was our life together. Much of my time riding on the South Shore Line, and working. Much of the Planets time seeing to the day to day welfare of the satellites Clarke and Addison. But today's world does little to reinforce the value of such domestic endeavors. We certainly give lip service to the sublime pursuit of parenting, but with the same conviction of “have a nice day”, that we pass from one another in our daily interactions. So when Planetary goals are not being met, and when Planetary compensation is felt inadequate, needless to say the polarity of the Planet may begin to go askew.

There were many signals, some heeded, some unrecognized, but in retrospect, they were there. Talking didn't seem to work. Fucking becomes infrequent. Actually became nonexistent unless initiated by me, which can become problematic for one that has issues of self image to begin with as well as a disinclination to convince people to do things for my own satisfaction. Add that toxic brew to a Planet with many of those same issues and it becomes clear that a happy ending is less than certain.

Then the ultimate clue, missed by the clueless me, was dropped.

“It's not you , it's me”, said Judith Janet Planet.

Ball-Less

Rene Uhbaduh said that all my meanness got cut off with my foot. She was wise for her years, but maybe a little low. I sometimes feel that my balls were removed at the same time. If nothing else poor body image, not that I ever was a pretty boy. But the Planet had body issues of her own, both before and after childbirth. Add latent evangelical Christian backgrounds and children to the mix there wasn’t a lot of naked, grape sharing time to be had. Perhaps a more intact me would been more amourously aggressive which might have been just what the doctor ordered for the Planets evangelical prudery, and the conflicting emotions in me combining the reverence for the sainted mother of my recombined DNA and the object of my burning lust. Then again maybe not. What may be a concise summation of the 14 year marriage to Judith Janet Planet?

As the daily trip upon the South Shore wore down my body and soul, so did the ever growing divide between our orbits. At first there were huge upsets about finances, household chores,and time for each other. Unfortunately many of these raged silently within both the Planet and myself. Like volcanic activity, only occasionally bursting forth from either one or the other, but rarely simultaneously. In retrospect it seemed neither of us wanted a confrontation, and there was so many other things to do. Work schedule kept me away long hours each week day, and the satellites growing and becoming mobile filled the Planets daylight hours.

Another aspect was playing out, the ramifications of which I was not aware of. The Planet herself came from a fractured solar system, a state of affairs I was unaccustomed to having come from what was, if nothing else, a more outwardly stable orbit family. More of the old school of stay together because of the kids, and then stay together because we have nothing better to do. Which arrangement is of greater or of lesser value is beyond my judgmental capabilities. The Planets Paternal Planetoid had contracted cancer. The conflicting emotions that were playing beneath the Planets surface were in full eruption interuptus. If such emotions were attempted to be shared with me, I obviously missed the signal. So they remained below the surface and festered.

I busied myself with trying to stay ahead of the ever increasing out flow of income, weekends of landed gentry maintenance activities and praying the Planet wouldn't be to demanding on social commitments allowing me a few moments rest on my days at the ranch. I found pleasure spending time with my sons, the Planet had it up to her polar ice cap by the weekends and felt no more time of hers was necessary with the little moons. She lit out of there Saturday mornings like a comet with a mission. Usually missions of the gapping maw of senseless consuming I would discover.

Within a year the Planet called for some counseling. So it was off to the counselors we went. We had three sessions together with the counselor, after that the Planet was chosen to attend on her own because Sigmund's brother French felt she was emotionally blocked. Well, that was it for that counselor. It was back to spinning within the vast emptiness of space for the both of us.

Can you hear a Planet scream in space.

Pain

Pain becomes part of life. Everyday takes into consideration the number of steps, or better to say the minimum number of steps to complete a task. But I moved blindly from day to day, searching to find an accommodation between my workaholic ways, and my new responsibilities. The stress that I felt, and the pain that I felt grew and grew everyday. It had been hard to feel good about myself for years. Accomplishment in a career that seemed to be slowly killing me, and the new weekly regiment that left little time to enjoy the things that I thought I was working for. This is not an uncommon feeling for many of us. Yet the increase in economic compensation was steadily losing ground to the economic demands of the Planet and the satellites. Any mention of receiving an accounting from the Planet was greeted by a flood of defensive maneuvers from Janet. I was unaware, and still am to this day, of the depth of emotions any mention of expenditures elicited from the Planet.  She was on a different operating system from the one I was on , and there was no finding an interface between the two.

Perhaps it was the Planets way of dealing with an empty life. For some  having a home and two satellites would be a fulfilling challenge. The opportunity to be a stay at home mom to some would be the most precious of gifts. The most ideal situation that this existence can bestow some would say. So many in our time cannot affords that luxury. The chance to be there through the early years long after maternal corporate leave runs out to many is an unattainable extravagance. Apparently it was. Yet there is so much to do and to experience watching the growth of a new human, who would choose to turn them over for ten hours a day to well investigated strangers. Good references or not you still never really know.

But the planet was an adrenaline junkie as well. She thrived on the company of others. The challenges of a career creating and transacting commerce is a drug all it's own. The appreciation of peers, the social interaction of others, and the feeling of a job well done is a reward we are all bred for these days. It is how our society bestows perceived value on us all. Although much lip service is given to the value of the interplanetary family unit, the rewards are not at all apparent externally. It is a value that can only be felt within. I can only speculate that the Planet need more exterior assurance than she received from within, and to my shame from me as well.

So to the planet it was like being cast adrift in space with no communication other than the arduous tasks demanded by the new moons. A vast emptiness that needed to be filled with the only tool she felt were available to her.

Credit Cards.  

  Credit Cards can be a blessing. Used judiciously they can facilitate immediate gratification, help retailers and governments keep track of your spending, and even make a profit for those that issue them on the juice especially if you get a little behind for a month or two.

  They can also become toxic when used on a planetary scale. When you add to the mix the legalized pyramid schemes commonly known as Multi Level Marketing, the dreaded MLM, it can only set the stage for a disaster of global proportions.

  While the Planet was gestating satellite number two, she began to dabble in that most insidious and ever present grandmother of all MLM schemes, Our Lady of the Pink Cadillac. Mary Kay.  Well the planet began to nibble at that bait but birthing took priority. But after young Addison was orbited, The Planet bought into Pink Caddy dreams with a vengeance.

Now I am sure that thousands of woman have made this work for them by building their business a little at a time , reinvesting their sales to resupply their inventory, and slowly build their pyramids. This however was not how the Planet operated.

  Judith Janet Planet not only needed to buy monthly inventory at levels that would put her on pace for her ultimate dream, regardless of the existence of any sales at all, but she also needed to have people do the housework, and care for the satellites as well. The Planet, a true aficionado of self help books, had read that to achieve success you had to live your life like that success had been achieved already. Step one of business plan apparently was to run this enterprise on credit cards till it was in the black.

  However the only black on the horizon was the black hole our unwholey union was spinning into.


Yes , unwholey.

Postpartum Planet

     Perhaps postpartum depression will last a few moths in many new mothers. But on a planetary scale and by my count it can last thirteen years. All the doctors and all the pharmaceuticals could never, it seems set the Planet on her axis again. Perhaps it was the Planets attempt to overcome the overpowering dynamics of hormones and brain chemicals that made planetoid number two more of a cry for help than another manipulative deception of the Planets. Perhaps, like the hair of the dog for a hangover, nature called for another satellite to cure the bodily imbalances brought about by the first heavenly un-docking maneuver. However speculating on the Planets motives and machinations as I was quick to learn were a fruitless endeavor.

   Co-dependence has often been described as: "when I die your life will pass before my eyes." So it is with planets and moons. The planet thinks that it is doing all the work by supplying the gravity that keeps the moon in orbit. Meanwhile the moon thinks it is doing all the work with the constant rotation and falling into the Planet while supplying tidal motions of the oceans that keeps all things in flux and balance. In fact both are doing their part in the order of things. Neither able to stand back and appreciate just how codependent they are. Who is to say whether this is a healthy or unhealthy state of affairs. It just is.

   So was the Planet from the very beginning trying to pull me into economic orbit only to cast me off at the first advantageous opportunity? Was I so dense and out of touch that I didn't notice? Was I so intent on playing my new role that I thought, as well as my DNA told me I was supposed to, and apparently I was destined to play that I failed to take the hint? Was the Planet even aware of the why and wherefores of her actions and inability to act? Where we both just fulfilling our perceived roles while both ignoring where we all were headed?

  So many questions that even hindsight cannot answer. As was made apparent from the very first visit to the marriage counselor, the Planets communications were shutting down. Enter denial and I ordered the same. The Planet shutdown communications with that marriage counselor. Thus begins a search for an answer. Unfortunately as with any answer the right question has to be asked. The endless trip down the South Shore was in it's infancy as was this galatic crisis. Was it a gibbous or a waning moon? yet all planetary considerations move at their own speed.

   The Planet remained silent.

Pink Mist

The fact of the matter is children and Planets are not owned. We just become voluntary care takers for each other and those that have been placed in our sphere of influence. Often I found myself woefully lacking. But push on all parties did to try to keep open lines of communications. But storms in Indiana often bring down power and communication lines. Bring them down it did. Slowly at first. One could say the Planet's and my infrastructure would be deemed structurally deficient.

Unfortunately at this time no such inspection had taken place.

But it would.

Then there was the SS line and it’s daily reminder.There was a palpable quiver up my spine upon my first of many daily arrivals from Hoosiervillie. What I saw on the first commute on the first morning of what would become a sixteen year ordeal should have been warning enough. The manifestation in the world of the harbinger of bad things from a dream ten years previous should have been heeded.

I dreamt in October of nineteen eighty, before the world had been subjected to Ronny and the Rayguns that I was boarding a train. The platform was high up on a huge wood framed trestle. Up and up I climbed until I boarded the train. It took off like a roller coaster giving all aboard the ride of their lives. On an on it went tossing us like clothes in a dryer. Then it stopped in a huge high grass prairie. The train to return home was on the other side of this grassland. As I walked towards my train home my feet got heavier and heavier. Then my legs felt like they were in cement. I could no longer pull my legs through the high grass. I was stuck and would never get my train home. There is no going home.

So on this first morning of the first commute when I pulled in to the station I saw where that dream train ride had begun. I felt I was in another world. How true it was . It was the Planets world now. I had changed many things already. There was much more to come.

But on this morning as my train arrived in Chicago and I came face to memory with the scene of that ten year old October dream which became my October nightmare all rolled into October 17, nineteen hundred and eighty. The day of the pink mist.

As I worked through another day of pain I counted all the good things that had happened to me in the decade since. Although there stood a reminder of a prescient dream, I counted my blessings on that December nineteen hundred and ninety morning. Things in my world couldn't have turned out better.

  Or so I thought