His Odyssey Ends

Odysseus lent his name to the word we use for a long, arduous journey. According to legend, for ten years after the Trojan War, Odysseus tried to make his way home buffeted by stormy seas and whimsical gods. It's been a while since I read Homer's work, but I do remember something about a dim-witted Cyclops with a serious need for a creative optometrist and Scylla and Charybdis, the original "between a rock and a hard place." Endowed with a quick wit (it was Odysseus who came up with the idea of the Trojan Horse thus ending the interminable Trojan War) and an abundance of courage, Odysseus eventually returned home to his beloved wife Penelope and his son Telemachos.

I would like to propose a new name for a long, interesting journey. Nobody knows how to spell o-d-y-s-s-e-y anyway and most people don't know its derivation. Therefore, with appropriate apologies for being just a bit self-indulgent (As I recall, Odysseus was somewhat stuck on himself as well), I propose that a modern journey with a full measure of tragedies and triumphs henceforth be known as a "Joel".

I'm depending on all of you to make this happen. Lobby Mr. Webster and Ms. Random House and get them to agree. Tell them the J's need help; there hasn't been a new J added since jell-o!

I'm thinking and blogging about all this because I believe I may have reached a safe harbor here, and my odyssey and this blog are nearing their logical conclusions. My odyssey began in January when I accepted an offer on my NH condo. At that time, I didn't know where I would be living in April, whether I'd be able to ever walk a golf course due to a ruptured quad tendon suffered in September, how to make macaroni and cheese (I still don't), whether I'd ever want a woman's friendship again. These and many other questions have been answered during these past four months. Certainly new questions will arise, but I believe I will be able to tackle them "on my own" from here on in.

Here are some of the more cogent questions (and their answers) that I, Joel Oy-Dysseus Getman have encountered on this four-month...ahh..."Joel":

1. Is there a good barbeque joint in Navarre, Florida?
Yes, the East River Smokehouse is as good as it gets. It's got a roadhouse feel to it; there are always at least a couple of Harleys sitting outside; you can smell the tangy smoke the minute you walk in the place. The waitresses will call you "Hon" or "Darlin'" and pretend they know you even when they don't. Top of the line barbeque joint!

2. Is Navarre Beach all it's cracked up to be as far as beaches go?
Definitely. It is quite simply one of the most beautiful beaches I've ever seen. The color and purity of the Gulf here are amazing. The water is a gorgeous shade of turquoise and 100% clear. The magnificent dunes are protected and, down where I live, there are no restaurants, high rises, bathhouses, or crowds to detract from the purity of the beach. You could walk all the way to Pensacola Beach (over 20 miles) from where I live and never step on a pebble or see anything that shouldn't already be there.

3. Are male golf club members in Florida similar to male golf club members in New Hampshire?
Exactly the same. Within five minutes of arriving at either course, you will be greeted warmly; you will hear someone complaining about his own or someone else's handicap; you will be told an outrageously politically incorrect joke; and you will receive little or no sympathy when you play horribly. What more could you want?

4. What about female golf club members in Florida and New Hampshire?
While I have not as yet met any of the female golfers at my Florida golf club, I do not see how it would be remotely possible for them to be as wonderful as the women golfers at Eastman Golf Links in Grantham, NH. Sorry, ladies, but this I know to be true! The women golfers at Eastman are among the most kind, compassionate, generous, helpful, and just plain nice people on this green Earth. During Ada's three-year battle, they were always asking to help us in any way they could, even if that meant leaving us alone from time to time. They brought meals, they took walks, they called and they emailed. They drove Ada to the hospital or picked her up when necessary. They visited or stayed away as the situation required. They never gave up on Ada and, I am quite sure, they were a big part of her having the courage to go on as she did. Their random acts of kindness served to light up many a dark passage during my four-month journey. As far as I'm concerned, this light will never go out.

5. Am I worried about my family now that there is half a country separating us?
Yes and no. I would worry about my family if they lived next door. You must remember, I was raised in the Jewish culture. Worrying obsessively about those we love is part of our DNA. But here is something else this journey has taught me: it would be impossible for me to feel any prouder of my sons, my daughter-in-law, and my twin grandkids than I already do. They all encouraged this adventure and they have shared in its joys and sorrows. Will I worry about them? Of course. Do I have to? Absolutely not!

6. Can Navarre Beach ever feel like home?
It already does. I look forward to each day. I revel in the glorious weather and natural beauty of the place. I am eager to explore a new relationship with Kate (you probably knew it really wasn't Sally). If home is a place you look forward to returning to after a long journey, then this indeed is home.

7. Is there any way for Ada to know how my journey has ended?
Of course. It was Ada who kept the snow away when I left New Hampshire. It was Ada who helped me navigate the Washington Beltway in record time. It was Ada who made sure my room was clean in the Emporia, Virginia Quality Inn. It was Ada who kept me safe as I traveled to Venice, Florida and then on to the Panhandle. And it is Ada who is smiling as I pick up the phone to find out whether Kate's newest grandchild has arrived.

Thank you all for sharing this journey with me. I am such a lucky traveler.

Much love,
J

Developments

I've met someone.

We met as a result of my enrolling in an online dating service. It's not one of the well known ones like Match.com or EHarmony.com. Those were a bit pricey in my opinion. So I decided to save a few bucks and enroll in Date-a-Felon.com. When I read Sally's (not her real name; appeals are still pending) profile, I instantly knew there was a connection.

She had been arrested and found guilty of stealing large quantities of candy. (You may recall my own confectionery caper a few blogs back.) She says she felt sorry for her actions and even sorrier for having tried to eat all the evidence. I knew that this was a woman with whom I could converse, or, at the very least, we could chew together.

Of course none of the above is true except for the first sentence. I have met someone and, as you can well imagine, it's got me all tangled up with feelings, some good, some not so good. Having met Ada when we were both 15, and having been, by and large, exclusively "with" her since that time, I have no idea about dating. When it comes to dating, I am the opposite of an idiot-savant. Essentially, I am a dating idiot. What does one say? Should I open doors? Is that sexist? Should I bring a gift? Is that a form of bribery? Remember to take small bites and eat with your mouth closed.

I haven't had to think about my "dating behavior" for almost 50 years. Ada somehow accepted me back then for what I was. I doubt anyone else on this Earth is that charitable. On the other hand, I don't want to present a completely false persona to "Sally". Sooner or later the truth about who I really am will have to come out, and it's probably better that it be sooner. Maybe it's just a matter of tweaking, of smoothing out some of the rough edges that have developed after 50 years of dormancy. Where is "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" when you really need them?

Of course none of this speaks to the bigger issue: How do I handle the guilt I feel in starting up a friendship or relationship with someone who isn't Ada? Intellectually I know that there is nothing wrong with any of this. It's actually a good thing, I know, I know. But that doesn't quell this sense of guilt I feel in having my "normal" life resume when Ada wasn't given that opportunity.

I will try my best to keep the guilt way back in there where it belongs; if that doesn't work, I'll try and get some help with it. I guess that's the best I can do.

On the other hand, I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge the excitement and joy I feel in this new adventure. When I think of all the funny stories I have to tell and the fact that "Sally" hasn't heard any of them before, I get positively giddy. So much "new" material and such an unsuspecting audience! Also, Sally knows her way around...the panhandle area, that is! What kind of disgusting blogophiles are you? As I've mentioned before, this is a family blog and there will be decorum.

Thus far Sally and I have gone out to dinner twice and attended a lovely open air concert together. At both dinners, I was impressed by how much she could eat. I was so busy talking, I barely touched my food. (Hmmm...This strategy may have to make its way into a chapter in my Rt. 95 Diet Book.) Yesterday we went to a huge air show at Eglin AFB to see the Thunderbirds precision flying team. I really enjoyed the air show because it was so loud, there is a good chance Sally didn't hear any of the stupid things I was saying.

On all of our dates, we have had a lot to talk about and we can make each other laugh easily. We seem to share the same value system, especially love of family, political outlook, and big picture view of life. More importantly, Sally has read the blog. She knows I don't care for broccoli. That's huge!

One last thing about Sally. She lets me go on and on about Ada. She even encourages me to do so. Sally isn't Jewish, but she's a mensch in my book!

I'm quite sure neither of us knows where we hope this friendship will go. Let's just call it Odyssey #2 for now and let it go at that.

Ain't life grand?

Much love,
J

My Keys

I was thinking about my keys last night while I was sitting on my new balcony on Navarre Beach enjoying a glorious evening and sunset. I only have four keys on my key ring. One for the car, one for the mailbox, and two for the condo. I only need one for the condo, so the number may go down to three shortly. Three keys.

I'm sure there was a time in my life when I had 10 or 15 keys on my key ring. I'm sure many of you could trump that number even now. Keys for two cars, keys for my room and desk at school, a whole bunch of keys for a large home, keys for my kids' various apartments, keys for my mother and Ada's mother. Keys, responsibilities, worries: they seem to go hand in hand, don't they?

Now I'm down to three keys. I'm also down to three primary responsibilities:
1.love my kids, grandkids, family and friends both old and new
2.keep all of my beautiful memories of Ada alive in my heart
3.keep my drive from slicing

I think I'm doing a better job on the first two than on the third, but, as they say, it's a good problem.

Here is another good problem I have. When I woke up this morning, there was so much light streaming into the condo, I was almost blinded. It was a perfect morning down here...(my apologies to those of you who have been experiencing the recent rains in the northeast)...there was light coming in from everywhere. It seemed as though the light had a life of its own; it had weight; you could touch it. With the light came the freshest air I think I have ever experienced. The air came from the Gulf and it was clean and sharp with just a hint of New England clam chowda. Perfect air. What a joy it was to join the light and the air and get going this morning. I know there will be days this summer when the light will be harmful and the air oppressive. When that happens, I promise to remember this day and not complain.

Apropos of nothing, but I noticed that once again I am 15 minutes away from a pizza place. I say once again because from as far back as I can remember, I have been 15 minutes away from the local pizza place. This was true in our first apartment in Quincy, MA, in Waltham, in East Weymouth (15 minutes to The Venetian: heaven!), in Hanover, in Grantham, NH, and now in Navarre Beach. I'm wondering if I arranged that in all those places either consciously or subconsciously. Of course the benefit of living 15 minutes away from your favorite pizza place should be obvious. When you call in your order, no matter how large or how small, you are inevitably told that it will be ready in 15 minutes. So you call, get your puny key ring and wallet, and head for the promised land. No unnecessary or convoluted calculations. Life doesn't always have to be complicated.

Speaking of not being complicated, in addition to my emaciated key ring, the contents of my car would attest to the new simplicity of my life. In my car on more or less a permanent basis are the following four items: a golf push cart, a golf bag, a beach chair, and a boogie board. If I add a good book and an adult beverage to that cargo, I think I'll be on to something.

I don't know if this new simplicity will be enough to sustain me. All I know is the last three years were very complicated and a little simplicity feels very good right about now.

Much love,
J