Of Rants and Conversations

Yesterday afternoon while I was poking around in my backyard I received a phone call.  Unavoidably it was intended for me, given that the loud noise was coming from my jacket pocket - cell phones! Conversation begins with the old familiar; one of my in laws seeing a certain truck on the highway and it reminds him of me and the golden years I spent going up and down the highways and biways of Canada and U.S, often passing through his city of habitation providing many good stop-ins. He is even more sentimental about those years than I am.

Conversation moves into what obviously dominant on his mind, and which receiving considerable airtime in local circles here as well.  It's a plot. All this coronavirus crap is of the devil just trying to make a mess of our country, of our lives.  He cooperates with protocal when and where he must "but it's all a hoax, a scheme."  A scheme of whom?  He doesn't really know.  I agree with him it's important to not be reckless, but I push back against his validation-seeking rant. I tell him I cannot agree that somebody planned this whole pandemic. Then of course I offer my variation, that this present dilemma, this pandemic is a  consequence of our modern world-traveling lifestyle (which can get me into a rant too, but he wouldn't be interested in that).  Mercifully conversation moves beyond the binary rant to queries about family members and the good memories we share.

The memories we share. There was a time in my life where, with my own self worth seriously at risk, I hit the road.  The open highway became a life-saving chapter, an opportunity to reflect on my own perceived failures at my noble life calling. There he would be, eagerly answering his phone always ready for a rendezvous anywhere almost anytime in his busy days managing his Services company, always full of stories, images, and yes, probably a bit gossipy.  He of course affirmed my re-entry into the real world (his world 😉) and I appreciated his lively company. He was very much a part of my therapy, along with my youngest son who lives in another city but also amazingly ready to meet dad for dinner or coffee here there or... wherever!  The appearance of a long haul trucker has a certain romanticism attached which I was easily able to provide for friends and some family members during those years. Thinking about this now, I realize the memories we now share are indeed a lifeline, and those occasions of check-in back there probably also lifelines for him and others I encountered along the way.

Lifelines are pretty important actually. "Throw out the Lifeline" was a song I became aware of when I was a teenager. Although themed for struggling drifting sinners, the idea holds sway for me in these retirement corona days.  We need lifelines, and the lifelines may not necessarily be thrown by people of same age, interests, or intellectual ability.  Lifelines can come from surprising places and in surprising ways.  I am reminded of a somewhat traumatizing incident this past winter. Our son fell into a partially frozen lake trying to rescue his dog who had scampered out chasing some birds.  Seeing a bit of skirmish a passerby nonchalantly threw a piece of rope laying on the shoreline and my son grabbed it.  It was his son however, yes our 14 year-old grandson, who made all the difference.  He grabbed other end of the rope, anchored his feet on some rough surface and literally pulled his dad and their dog back onto the ice.  Kadin does not like hero accolades - "It was nothing" - but we tearfully still thank him for holding the lifeline for his dad! 

In a different vein but similarly, I am a participant in some men's breakfast groupings which provided some marvelous pre-corona fellowship for a number of us. Now during corona we try to mimic a bit of that on Zoom, "Not Breakfast Meetings" we call them.  The beauty is in the mixture of retired farmers, businessmen, university professors and preachers.  One "good morning", one smile easily communicates the value of these 'board meetings' of the morning. The guy with a grade nine education may speak sentences a bit differently than the university professor, but we all know he has a fantastic faith, or life perspective. Or who might be feeling down because of a recent bad luck or family incident?  And who has the best jokes? It may not always be the guy who tells them all the time. 😐  It may be the guy who speaks the deadpan truth.  Absolutely essential, these varied contributors. This of course stretches into our recognized christian need for one another in the household of faith (eg Acts 2:42; cf also my recent post "Angels Close to the Ground," March 18).

And so I am grateful when my cell phone rings and a family member wants to shoot the breeze (There are also others of my lineage who could not be bothered). Also there are new friends from many other cultures right here in my longtime urban neighborhood - Christians, Muslims, and some 'unbelievers' - who throw me some amazing lifelines.  So, come to think of it, some of us read and write blogposts, some just read them, and also many who would not be bothered. It is good for those who cannot be bothered to also consider the lifeline somebody may be holding for you in surprising ways or places.  And speaking to myself too, Why not just make a phone call some time. I know it's old fashioned, but after a moment we could probably adjust to a novel new idea reminiscent of an old habit!  As truckers we called it "shoot the bull," or ---- more colorful yet, but I'll keep it classy here! I know I still like to pretend I'm busy, but I know I'd quite appreciate it.

Before you know it, that Facebook rant may well be replaced by a conversation.