Life is Just a Party

...and parties weren’t meant to last

~~ “1999”, Prince

Unless you live in a cave, you’ve heard by now that we have lost another musician, the great Prince.

I’m not going to write about his life. There have been numerous stories about that, and numerous tributes to his kind, gentle, and caring nature. By all accounts, he was a genuinely decent human being who tried to do good things in this world.

I’m not going to write about his death. There has been a lot of speculation but nothing concrete yet. It is an ongoing investigation, so I’ll refrain from doing any speculation of my own. Besides, it’s still a little too hard for me to think about in any detail.

I’m also not going to write about the outpouring of love throughout the world for the man and his contribution to music. You’ve seen the pictures from all over the world of buildings and other things glowing purple: the Eiffel Tower, Niagara Falls...heck, our own South Bend River Lights were lit up in his honor.

What I’m going to write about is the personal response I’ve seen from some. Maybe it’s because I feel genuine anguish at his death (not quite as bad as what I felt when Bowie died, but pretty damn close) and it makes me want to lash out. I don’t know, but I feel that I need to defend myself and everyone around the world for our depth of feeling at his loss. I want to defend him, too, and explain why we are mourning him.

Because there are always the people who feel the need to say, “So? Big deal. He’s a musician and no one important. Why should I care?”

First of all, why don’t you just shut the fuck up and let us go about our grieving? No one asked you and no one cares that you don’t care.

Now that I’ve got that off my chest, I’ll expound a little further. It’s fine if you aren’t a fan. It’s fine if you don’t listen to music at all. But some of us are and some of us do. In fact, for some of us, music is a defining part of our life. It is what we turn to when we are sad or happy; triumphant or in despair; celebrating or commiserating. There are certain songs and certain artists who are part of the soundtrack of our lives (I know that’s a trite phrase, but it’s apt). Music can bring us to tears and it can make us dance with joy.

For those of us a certain age, Prince was very much a part of that soundtrack. His music reminds us of good times and bad, loves found and loves lost, or just going out clubbing with friends and dancing till we were dripping with sweat and loving every moment of it. (I may or may not have danced in a cage once or twice to a Prince song. No photos so it didn’t happen.)

What I’m trying to say is that just because you can’t relate doesn’t mean that the rest of us are not feeling true anguish over his loss. I’ve seen people who weren’t fans of his music still acknowledge that he was an amazing musician, a phenomenal talent, and an incredibly charismatic performer. To make a point of saying that you really couldn’t care less is not only disrespectful to one of the great talents of our time, it is negating and ridiculing what so many of us are feeling.

I suppose I should be used to people who completely lack the ability to feel empathy for what others are feeling, but I guess I’m not quite that jaded. It still surprises me. For anyone who doesn’t get the power of music, no matter the genre, I feel sorry for you. The best artists can generate a communal energy that is incredible and powerful and dare I say...life-affirming? It certainly is for me!

For anyone who just doesn’t get why anyone would feel genuine sorrow over someone they’ve never met, I’m reminded of the wise person who answered that question after Bowie’s death by saying that we don’t mourn them because we knew them. We mourn them because they helped us know ourselves.

It’s not your intelligence

I spent most of the afternoon sitting out on the deck and reading my current book, but came in once in a while to do some things inside and check Facebook posts. Our friend Yasmin across the pond posted this interesting article by a woman named Kate Mulvey, titled “I’m Single at 50. Why?”

I think all of us have experienced guys at a party more willing to talk to some super sexy swingin’ gal rather than us. That just kind of comes with the territory. I also don’t doubt that there is often a dismaying dearth of guys who value intelligence over looks.

However, when I read this woman’s article, my immediate reaction was, “Really? Perhaps you’re single because you are an insufferable bunt who seems hell bent on ensuring that everyone knows exactly how intelligent you are.” I’m not kidding, she comes across as an egotistical bore. I commented to Yasmin that I’m sure it has nothing to do with the author’s superiority and smugness, and that I wouldn’t want to hang out with the woman, either!

Here’s the thing: if some guy would rather focus on the pair of tits that walks into the room rather than finding out that you’re an interesting person, that’s not the kind of guy you want to be with. It’s a good way to weed them out. It’s been my experience in the past that guys value intelligence and a sense of humor in the long run, and the best ones will take the time to get to know you and enjoy your company. If that’s not what they want, then you don’t want them.

When Ken and I first got together, I remember being on a road trip with his kids, heading to Michigan to see our friends Bill and Mary Sue. As we were driving along, his son (probably 9 or 10 at the time) said, “Hey Dad. Who’s smarter? You or Miss Beth?” I looked at Ken like “Well?” Ken didn’t miss a beat and said, “Neither of us is smarter than the other. We’re both smart in our own areas. I’m good in my engineering stuff, but Miss Beth is good in her lab stuff, and she’s also good with writing and spelling.” Good answer, Honey! It is a matter of recognizing and respecting each other’s mutual intelligence.

Here’s a tip for Ms. Mulvey, if she is really seeking someone to have in her life. It is quite possible to be intelligent without beating people over the head with it. You can also be kind, empathetic, and fun rather than an uptight jerk who feels the need to belittle others in order to feel better about yourself. Such an attitude is off-putting to others, whether you are seeking a romantic or platonic relationship. Just reading her words made me dislike her, because of her obviously condescending attitude and easy dismissal of so many as not worthy of her company.

Perhaps she would be happier getting a dozen or so cats and retiring to a little cottage in the countryside. There she can extol her intellectual virtues to her captive feline audience. She obviously doesn’t care much for people, especially those who can’t speak several languages and who are not published authors. Until you make room for everyone, Ms. Mulvey, you will never be happy with anyone...including yourself.

Empathy for the Devil

“You don’t know how I feel! NOBODY knows how I feel!”

Remember Rob Petrie’s brother Stacy (played by Dick Van Dyke’s real brother, Jerry) yelling that whenever anyone told him they knew how he felt? Have you ever had to deal with that person for real?

I have, and it gets old real quick. People who feel that way seem to be saying that no matter what you’ve experienced, no matter what you’ve thought, or how much you’ve studied a situation or an issue, you can’t possibly know how they feel unless you’re exactly like them.

Technically, I suppose that’s true. Unless I’m your clone and have experienced every single thing that you have, lived every moment the exact same way you have, I probably can’t fully comprehend how you feel.

That doesn’t mean that I am not sympathetic to your situation, or that I don’t have empathy for what you have been through. It doesn’t mean that I lack the intellectual capacity to comprehend how your experiences might have made you feel, or how they might have colored your perception of the world around you. It also doesn’t mean that I have no right to comment on a situation merely because I am not the same stripe as the people involved. I may not be a child in Africa, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t be horrified by the perils that the majority of them face, and that certainly doesn’t mean that I can’t recommend donations to wonderful organizations like Nothing But Nets or Doctors Without Borders because of the aid that they provide to these kids.

I have opinions on racial prejudice and bigotry; are my opinions and thoughts on such subjects invalid because I am a white woman? Am I not allowed to say that I deplore such attitudes without hearing that I have no right to speak of such things because “NOBODY knows how we feel!” Do I not get to call people out on their racist remarks because there is simply no way I can possibly speak with any sort of authority or even voice my condemnation of such behavior because it hasn’t been my experience? If I speak out on such things, am I merely playing lip service to ending prejudice, am I trying to prove my progressive credentials, and am I busily congratulating myself because I voted for Barack Obama, thereby personally solving every prejudice problem in the country?

You know one of the things that has been my experience? It’s that sometimes people have such a Sequoia-sized chip on their shoulder that they can’t recognize when someone is on their side. Maybe it’s easier for them to say that NOBODY knows how they feel! and that no one can possibly relate, that no one can ever truly support them because no one else is like them. Maybe years of being the victim has left them unable to realize that not everyone wants to paint them into that corner...and maybe by their continued obstinacy in refusing to recognize that someone just wanted to be a friend to them, and was willing to discuss such matters—without being unfairly accused as being some sort of racist—they have effectively painted themselves into that very same corner, all on their own. You lost a friendship because of your unreasonable accusations? Congratulations. You’re a victim.

The Empath

When I was reading the Sunday paper (a little late in the day, but I did read it...okay, I skimmed it), it really bothered me to read this letter to the editor:

My neighbors' health care is not my responsibility. Engel [a local doctor] can be generous with his money if he will; he shouldn't project his morality upon me.

While I appreciated the author's correct use of the possessive apostrophe, I was appalled at the sentiment expressed.

I was pleased to see the vote in the Senate this weekend, in which it was agreed that the health care bill would move forward for debate. I was honestly perplexed by all the "nay" votes from Republicans. This wasn't a vote to pass the bill; this was a vote to debate it on the Senate floor. I think that's very indicative of the mindset of the GOP right now: don't discuss, don't propose solutions, simply pull a Nancy Reagan and "just say no." (And we all know how well that worked.) I've come to believe that rather than striving for true reform and working on making things better for all American citizens, the GOP simply wants President Obama and our country to fail. That's...that's really kind of warped, don't you think?

To top off my puzzlement at the "nay" votes, reading this letter to the editor appalled and disgusted me. It made me quite sad, too.

There is a practical aspect to it, as pointed out by my friend Tim on Facebook: it is a matter of public health. It is part of the greater good to ensure that everyone receives proper health care. If your neighbor gets sick, you might get it, too. If your child's classmate has parents that don't believe in vaccination, or simply can't afford to get proper care for their kid, your child is at risk of exposure. If there are millions of people who do not get preventive care or cannot pay for a doctor's visit to check out that pesky abdominal pain or to figure out why they have blurred vision or to have the doctor listen to that lingering cough...we all end up paying more for the care needed when the problem has gone beyond the easily treatable.

But even more importantly to me is something that made me think of an episode from the third season of "Star Trek," "The Empath." In this episode, Kirk, Spock, and Bones encounter a lovely young mute woman, Gem. Gem is a rarity, a true empath; when others are in pain or hurt, she can touch them, take their wounds into herself, and clear them. This takes its toll upon her, causing her great pain, but she cannot stop being what she is. (Sort of like John Coffey in The Green Mile, now that I think about it.) As the story unfolds, we realize that this is an experiment conducted by aliens to see if Gem is willing to harm herself in order to help others. They plan on taking care of her, and will treat her well, but Gem proves herself by being willing to almost die in order to save Bones.

Granted, most of us would draw the line at dying to save a stranger, depending on the situation. Notable exceptions would be soldiers serving their country, or the Secret Service agents who will die to protect their charges. I think most of us would die to protect our loved ones. But we're not talking about giving up our lives here. We're simply talking about finding a way to help our fellow citizens; to help them be healthy and not die miserably because they don't have insurance. Help them not lose their home because they receive a diagnosis of cancer; help them live as pain-free as possible if they have a chronic illness. We are talking about having empathy and compassion for our fellow human beings.

I am dismayed by the lack of compassion for others that I am seeing in this debate. I'm getting an attitude of "Hey, I've got my health insurance--fuck you." What has happened to people that they feel nothing for others? Do they really not care if some kid dies of an easily treatable infection because his parents can't take him to the doctor? Do they really not care if a little girl goes deaf because she wasn't treated for meningitis in a timely manner? Do they not care if their elderly neighbor has to choose between a decent meal and their blood pressure meds? Do they not care if their parents have to make that choice?

I have said this before, and I have not changed my feelings on it: I believe health care reform is not merely a financial necessity for our country. It is a moral obligation. We must not forget our humanity and our compassion for others.

We must remember the concept of empathy.