LETTERS FROM HOME: BORN TO BE WILD AND OTHER PHANTASMAGORIAS

Oct. 24, 1996

Dear Pat,

DC went to Kansas City for the weekend. It was one of the few times we've been apart in three years, and I fantasized about doing all the things I'd do if we weren't married. Well, not all the things but some of them.

You know, really breaking out.

I'd have the medium-size popcorn and Raisinettes at the movies if I wanted. I'd play golf all day if I wanted. Or watch football games on TV all weekend.

I'd spend two hours reading in the bathtub if I wanted. I'd go out at night and listen to a rock 'n' roll band. Have a few beers.

Born to be wild.

Of course, DC doesn't prevent me from doing any of these things. She just doesn't understand why anyone would want to play golf when they could be refinishing a chair. And if you're going to spend an hour floating in the bathtub, she thinks at least 10 minutes should be devoted to scrubbing the tub. Watching football? She'd frown for a week.

I admire her work ethic. But I don't know if she makes enough time for pleasure.

Now that the wild weekend's over I confess that it consisted of playing an extra nine holes of golf, seeing a few movies (no Raisinettes, no popcorn), a large carton of dark chocolate ice cream with cashews and hanging out on the couch with Hank and Lucy.

Just as I was becoming accustomed to the idea that the comforts of home are now more appealing than going out, DC called from Kansas City to confer about a dining room table she'd found.

It makes me wonder, though. Is it DC's approval I'm seeking?

If it's her approval I want, God must be laughing. I married a woman whose greatest compliment is, "It's not bad."

Then again, a mate who does not give her approval is a perfect teacher of the fact that the only real source of affirmation is to be found in your own gut.

The belief we cherish at times is that someone else is preventing us from doing what we really want. It's an illusion, one that keeps you stuck.

I am convinced that fulfillment is nothing more, nothing less than being ourselves. Just who we are. Not the person our parents want us to be or our mate wants us to be or our children want us to be. And the way there is to do what pleases us.

Not in a selfish way that expects other people to bend to your will or egotistically refuses to compromise, but in a way that is true to yourself.

I ran into an old classmate in a bookstore recently. During our conversation she mentioned that her parents were living in the Southeast and playing golf almost every day. It was obvious from the way she said this that she thinks her parents could spend their time more usefully. Her husband recently had devoted some of his free time to learning how to make beautiful chairs. "At least he has something to show for it," she said.

I think the most of this woman. Wish I'd thought to ask her, "Are your parents happy?"

The Founding Fathers insisted on that oddest-sounding of all inalienable rights: the pursuit of happiness. Our Puritan legacy is the belief that certain pursuits of happiness are better than others.

Love, Sam

~Sam Blackwell is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.