Greg Ryan is my husband of almost 10 years. He is, without question, one of the sweetest and funniest people I've ever met. He has no idea what a great guy he is, which is nice too.
So here's a Greg story. We met in 1996, three years after I lost Will Rockett, my first husband, to a brain tumor. Greg was always respectful of Will's memory, gave me space with it, but asked lots of questions about The Rockett Man because, oddly enough, he said he wished he had known Will. Okay, that's not even the sweet part.
We never needed to be around each other 24/7 and since our taste in movies doesn't always coincide we often go to movies separately with friends. He sees the big-blockbuster-blow-'em-ups and I go off to see my dark subtitled celluloid. Back in '96 John Travolta was in a film called "Phenomena." Okay, it wasn't the greatest film of all time, but I wanted to see it because of the subject matter. A man suddenly develops incredible psychic abilities after having a vision of a UFO or comet. Turns out, Greg had already seen it and I started to make plans to go with a friend. But he said he'd see it again and wanted to go with me. Well, if you've seen the film you know where this is going. Turns out, the Travolta character didn't see a comet; he had a brain tumor. And after everyone on the screen and in the audience falls absolutely in love with this great guy, he dies. I, of course, am crying my eyes out. I think it actually took me a few minutes to regain my composure after the credits rolled to go back outside without having snot roll down my face.
Days later, I ask Greg why he wanted to see it again. And he said, "I knew it would be hard on you and I wanted to be there for you when you saw it." And that got me crying all over again.
Now off you go. Go think about something sweet about someone you know.
PS Soon after, I told my sister-in-law Victoria about this. She said, "You better not screw things up with this guy!"
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Two People I'd Like to Be More Like
Maybe it was writing about the entire heart attack and its aftermath, maybe it was my declaration that I might or might not choose to lead a healthy life. Whatever it was, I sure feel better! Stamina is up; normalcy is returning. I only think about cigarettes about 3 dozen times a day.
I've stumbled on to two people that I want to emulate: Michael J. Fox and my neighbor Kris.
Take a look at Fox's appearance on The Daily Show and you'll see what I mean:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/66641/the-daily-show-with-jon-stewart-michael-j-fox
I love the fact that he said it took him 7 years to come to terms with being diagnosed with Parkinsons. And now he's this amazing force who uses his celebrity to champion research and awareness as opposed to being the self-proclaimed "jackass" he'd been over the previous few years.
And then there's Kris, who has been fighting cancer for a couple years now. I'm sure I've been one of the well-meaning people that I mentioned in my last blog, one of those who asked her one to many times how she was feeling. Or one of those people who suggested yet more reading material and alternative treatments, as though she didn't have enough of that. If my questions or comments were ever annoying, intrusive or just plain ignorant, Kris never let on. She has always been gracious and patient, as though she was there to make everyone else feel better rather than the other way around. Her attitude never ceases to amaze me.
But, then again, Kris always seemed to be a positive person. My brand of optimism has always been cautious; I try to guard against disappointment and heart break. I'm not sure if that's an inherent character trait or something that can change. It makes me think of a time when I was traveling alone in Italy. It was two years after my first husband Will had died and I thought I was past the worst of my grieving. I was sitting outside the main cathedral of St. Frances of Assisi when what seemed like an endless line of young Asian nuns streamed out of the church in a single file; all smiling, all looking radiant. They carried the bliss of pure faith around them like auras; I envied that innocence and simplicity and was almost brought to tears at the sight of these sweet nuns. I wished I could feel that kind of blind comfort in the midst of my grief. But I also came to terms with the fact that I simply did not share that faith; that one of my life's challenges was to live with rationality and uncertainty. Being uncertain as to whether or not there's an after life, a higher being, all of that stuff. It forces one to make decisions, especially those that involve ethics, not on the basis of getting some kind of reward after one's death, but simply because one has determined that it is the right thing to do.
Far too often, I've found that the people who advertise their religious beliefs the loudest are often the least likely to treat others fairly. Greg and I were recently cheated by a so-called Christian person; his sanctimonious attitude could only come from feeling absolutely correct, which is where I find religious fervor to be so dangerous. It can give license to humankind's worst behavior. And the question for us now is: do we just let the bad deed go or pursue justice? Which is better for our own peace of mind and well being? We're weighing the options.
In the meantime, I'm trying to find more people like MJF & Kris. And if it took Fox 7 years to figure things out, then maybe I will too.
I've stumbled on to two people that I want to emulate: Michael J. Fox and my neighbor Kris.
Take a look at Fox's appearance on The Daily Show and you'll see what I mean:
http://www.hulu.com/watch/66641/the-daily-show-with-jon-stewart-michael-j-fox
I love the fact that he said it took him 7 years to come to terms with being diagnosed with Parkinsons. And now he's this amazing force who uses his celebrity to champion research and awareness as opposed to being the self-proclaimed "jackass" he'd been over the previous few years.
And then there's Kris, who has been fighting cancer for a couple years now. I'm sure I've been one of the well-meaning people that I mentioned in my last blog, one of those who asked her one to many times how she was feeling. Or one of those people who suggested yet more reading material and alternative treatments, as though she didn't have enough of that. If my questions or comments were ever annoying, intrusive or just plain ignorant, Kris never let on. She has always been gracious and patient, as though she was there to make everyone else feel better rather than the other way around. Her attitude never ceases to amaze me.
But, then again, Kris always seemed to be a positive person. My brand of optimism has always been cautious; I try to guard against disappointment and heart break. I'm not sure if that's an inherent character trait or something that can change. It makes me think of a time when I was traveling alone in Italy. It was two years after my first husband Will had died and I thought I was past the worst of my grieving. I was sitting outside the main cathedral of St. Frances of Assisi when what seemed like an endless line of young Asian nuns streamed out of the church in a single file; all smiling, all looking radiant. They carried the bliss of pure faith around them like auras; I envied that innocence and simplicity and was almost brought to tears at the sight of these sweet nuns. I wished I could feel that kind of blind comfort in the midst of my grief. But I also came to terms with the fact that I simply did not share that faith; that one of my life's challenges was to live with rationality and uncertainty. Being uncertain as to whether or not there's an after life, a higher being, all of that stuff. It forces one to make decisions, especially those that involve ethics, not on the basis of getting some kind of reward after one's death, but simply because one has determined that it is the right thing to do.
Far too often, I've found that the people who advertise their religious beliefs the loudest are often the least likely to treat others fairly. Greg and I were recently cheated by a so-called Christian person; his sanctimonious attitude could only come from feeling absolutely correct, which is where I find religious fervor to be so dangerous. It can give license to humankind's worst behavior. And the question for us now is: do we just let the bad deed go or pursue justice? Which is better for our own peace of mind and well being? We're weighing the options.
In the meantime, I'm trying to find more people like MJF & Kris. And if it took Fox 7 years to figure things out, then maybe I will too.
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