goooooaaaalllls, large and small

This time of year is hard. (okay, I admit, I say that every time of year...) Graduations, weddings, vacations, things I watch others celebrate that hold a mirror to what we lack. I know that's not a useful way to look at things; besides being solipsistic it's unavoidably disappointment-laden.  Yesterday in the car listening to "Old Man" from Neil Young's album Harvest, on its 40th anniversary. Wow, I'm old! But Neil is even older - 72! The song is a tribute to the caretaker of the ranch he bought and where he still lives.  Unusually gracious for a young guy, but that's part of what I've always loved about him: he was an old cranky soul in a young man's body, and now a youthful spirit in the old man he's become.

I start crying at the song, and the fact that I've been singing it for 40 years, and whatever else it stirs up in me. Stop! I tell myself, and I park the car and look in the rear view mirror to put on some lipstick, for color and protection, and also to encourage me to smile, even if it doesn't feel sincere.

I go to meet my friend, one of the few people I regularly get together with in this town. We go out to eat at a popular place - deservedly so, given the delicious Israeli food - and I see four people I know, parents of kids in B's class, including one of his best friends, and a neighbor.  Saying hi over and over but having no connection to any of them, I am aware of how much social rejection I've had here.

My friend has experienced the same, which makes it less personal and more situational.  Our sons have been in the same class - at two different schools - since they were about 6,  and while her encounters haven't been quite as hostile as mine, she has had plenty of  incidents where people stare or act uncomfortable, and times when an effort to socialize has been rejected.

She's really smart and warm and fun to hang out with so there's no reason that anyone wouldn't want to be her friend, I'm able to see from the other side of the table.  It makes me feel bad, but also normalizes the experience, that there is nothing either of us have done wrong except for move into a place where people are too busy or popular to add anyone new to their circles, especially someone with a family that they don't really want to spend time with, if they're honest with themselves.  And honesty is hard to come by.

I've projected my underdog nation mentality onto the World Cup.  Let's go Morocco, Tunisia, Iran! There was a slight earthquake registered in the Zocalo in Mexico City after the winning (and only) gooooaaaallll of Mexico's game against Germany. Take that you arrogant Europeans! 

Go Saudi Arabia, go Nigeria, Egypt, Iceland, Senegal and Morocco.  I watch sporadically, returning occasionally to check in.  Too much I should be doing instead, and watching is so much more fun with others who appreciate the sport, recognizing that the low scores that Americans cite as a reason that the game is so dull is actually proof that it's not: opposing teams race across an enormous field with foot work worthy of the greatest ballerinas. And even though the underdogs - they have that status for a reason - don't win much, the occasional upset energizes me.  Gooooaaaallll! Yes, we can!

Gooooaaaalllll!What if we responded to smaller achievements in the same way? I finally put away the winter clothes! I got in all the paperwork for summer camp!!  I'm up to date on paying bills!!! Except for that crazy-big dental bill that would pay for a week away with help for V so we could have a real family summer vacation for once...but we can't so we won't.  Damn our expensive mouths, our expensive health and neurological and mental health needs.  Damn all the uncovered services that leave me burdened and wistful. Damn my mind for spinning out into story lines like this...I'm on top of the end-of-year teacher gifts.  I cleaned out the condiment shelf. I meditated, drank a green smoothie and used my Water-pik this morning.  Gooooaaaallll! 

Things could be so much worse, I remind myself. According to family lore my great-grandmother, for whom I am named, went years without leaving the tenement apartment in Brownsville where she raised ten kids. She'd stick her head out the window and chat with the neighbors everyday, catch up on news, connect socially without ever leaving home.  I'm so lucky - I get outside every day, even when I don't talk to anyone.

Gooooaaaallll!  My gardening efforts are starting to yield fruit/vegetables. There are a few small peppers and the bud of an eggplant and a patch of lettuce. It's not as prolific as any garden I see on my walks with Ruby (thanks girl, for getting me out so much) but things are growing.  I'm posting every week, creating a chronicle for myself, the seeds of something bigger I hope to create.  I'm more Iran than Brazil, just barely in the game. But you have to start somewhere, right?