No Sub-2-Toots

The other day I was congratulating myself on coming to grips with the preferences in my life. Usually, I take things as they come without a lot of examination. But, I thought, after being on this earth for over 75 years, I should have defined a certain set of clear likes and dislikes based on experience.

For instance, I’ve had some trouble with my feet due to an injured Achilles tendon – and there is one brand of shoe that seems to correct the problem. So, in a swift preemptive strike, I ordered two more pairs of Keen Brixen low-cuts. Because, who knows when they will stop being manufactured? Now it’s true that George calls them ‘clown shoes’ and he’s not completely wrong. Nevertheless, I was patting myself on the back for not only finding my shoe groove, but also for investing in another 4-5 years of hobble-prevention (anti-hobblement, non-hobblemento?).

Armed with that success, I also ordered an extra pair of K-Swiss tennis sneakers – pretty much for the same reason. The shoe bank is prospering and the future looks bright! I felt myself rising, freed up to make other choices based on my newly curated tastes. Maybe it’s time to ‘flex my brand’?

I mean, I have standards –right? I’m not crazy about gel toothpaste. I prefer spinach over green beans; angel hair as opposed to bucatini; peach jam instead of grape jelly; gestalt vs. cognitive; hard sci-fi more than fantasy; Rimsky-Korsakov over Phillip Glass. So why not declare that this is ‘my thing’ – it’s how I define myself?

My 97-year-old friend Dap demonstrated why I should not do that.

I shop for him, as he gave up his driver’s license. His tastes are very well defined – and have caused some disagreeable interactions between us (I think that Dap would characterize these interactions as ‘teachable moments’). After all, his shopping preferences specify Dole sliced peaches, Stewart’s brand white bread (lasts for two weeks), Hood non-dairy creamer, Florida Natural Most Pulp orange juice, General Mills Wheat Chex, Freihofer mini-cakes, Oreo thin cookies (chocolate and lemon), razor thin-sliced Angus roast beef, Land O Lakes white deli cheese, Stouffers frozen turkey dinners, Sam’s Club rotisserie chicken, Twining’s Irish Breakfast tea (square, not the round bags) … and Poland Spring water. I know this list by heart, because it rarely varies – and exceptions are not well received.

For instance, he requested another order of Poland Springs water: has to be 12oz bottles, has to be an 8-pack. But the grocery store featured only the small bottles, or the 12 oz bottles with sippy tops. I picked up the latter. Other than that, every item was as noted.

It turns out that sippy tops are not acceptable. When I brought in the groceries, my friend grew red in the face, slowly stood up and literally bellowed: “NO SUBSTITUTIONS! I have told you over and over that if you can’t get what I want, I don’t want anything!” He was in such a state that he actually became short of breath. To make sure I got the message, he wrote “NO SUB-2-TOOTS” on the next shopping list. (At least we could both laugh about that).

Let’s skip over the fact that he already has an industrial strength water dispensing machine for hot, cold, and room temperature options which holds a 5-gallon water tank; let’s also skip over the several cases of Poland Spring water sitting in his kitchen; let’s skip over the efficacy of Poland Spring water vs. other brands. The issue is entirely due to the cap on the bottle. I’d venture that this is an example of exquisite preference.

So, the question is: when do preferences become requirements; requirements become rules; and rules become commandments? I’m watching a 97-year-old individual paint himself into a corner, isolated by his preferences. After a lifetime of choices, it seems a shame to be defined by a shrinking set of options.

Now I’m scared straight! I think that I’ll hang loose with my curated tastes for a while – gel toothpaste is okay, after all — but I’m keeping my Keens!

Perfectionism by Blue Winged Poet — allpoetry.com

She poured a rainbow
down the toilet; its colors
wouldn’t stop touching.

My Relationship with Preferences

When I was younger, in my late 30’s, I began learning that what I knew to be truth could change with new information.  Scary stuff!  Around that time I began reading Buddhist type material.  One such reading yielded a phrase that remains with me, “…change expectations to preferences…”  The intention here, was in order to become happier, one needed to free oneself from becoming needlessly disappointed when something didn’t occur as expected.  However, if I preferred something to be a certain way, it carried less weight and thus became more acceptable if it didn’t quite turn out the way I had hoped.  This was a guiding principal for me over the better part of my life. 

More recently, I read Michael Singer’s book, “Living Untethered” which challenged me to leave behind my preferences.  He argued that if I simply took things as they are without even caring if they turned out a certain way, the angst, disappointment, and upset I still might feel when having a preference, one way or the other would cease to exist!  While a worthy challenge it is one that requires great diligence and discipline.

However, Wal reminds me that while I might aspire to total acceptance and freedom from want, I am and will always be a passionate, feeling, and responsive being.  I enthusiastically embrace the joy I experience when I meet a goal, accomplish an objective, or it’s a cool sunny day when I hoped it would be.  Knowing that and integrating Wal’s query about our relationship with preferences, especially as we age, I now wonder how it will go from here, for me.  Mind you, Wal has much to learn as the young whippersnapper of our group.  In those 431 days until he’s my age (and even longer to reach George’s longevity 😉 he’ll likely pick up a thing or two about preferences and the acceptance of substitutions and how to avoid falling into the “exquisite preferences” category.  But I thank him for his bringing my attention to this part of our senior lives.  What if we never thought about it?  What if we fell into the mindless behavior of seeking that which we know and brings us contentment without seeing the trap before it springs shut and is so tightly shut that we can no longer see a way out?  His story about Dap is a perfect reminder that staying aware that our choices and our reactions to those things that bring us joy or frustration are the products of our own doing.  Whether we seek to recognize this or ignore the warnings and fall prey to our shrinking perceptions, is the story of our lives yet to be told.

“Inflexibility is the worst human failing. You can learn to check impetuosity, overcome fear with confidence and laziness with discipline. But for rigidity of mind, there is no antidote. It carries the seeds of its own destruction.“

Anton Myrer – (Marine Corps vet and author)

Life Repeats Itself

Wally’s topic was tough for me.  I didn’t know where to go with my thoughts.  When I read Hen’s piece it gave me an idea.  I was always a little(size) kid, the littlest kid on the block, so I never got picked for teams or games even though I was fast!  Sometimes I got to fetch the ball when it went out of bounds.  Anyway, I am not “poor me-ing” my childhood.  There are many of us who experienced being left out or ignored. Every time I went out to play on the block this is what I learned to expect.  I accepted the role I was assigned and either went along with it or played alone in my room.  I am not sure where I learned to cope. I don’t think my parents ever sat me down and said that I was the little kid on the block and should just accept that as the  way it is. I don’t remember them telling me anything that helped me develop the attitude I eventually did.  I had to survive……period!

Without going into too much detail or hand wringing, my dad was a heavy drinker and not the nicest guy on the block when he had a few.  Everyday, I would worry what he was going to be like when he came home.  More than likely he had stopped at McAuliffe’s at the bus stop on the corner of BowneSt and Northern Blvd for a quicky which became 2 and by the time he walked around the block to our house I could tell he was a few sheets to the wind, as the expression goes.  If I had expected him to come in the door like Father Knows Best, I would have been incredibly disappointed and once again confirmed that I had little power to make things nice.  This went on for years.  And I adjusted my life accordingly, being careful to orchestrate such things as when my friends came over my house, or we were playing in my backyard, it was my job to hide all that from my friends, so that my house seemed just like theirs!  My philosophy developed over time.  I never realized it was buddhist like til I read Hen’s response.  All on my own I decided that expectations or predictions, whatever you call them, cause problems and I had two choices, either never expect anything in which case you never will experience any feeling or expect the worst and when it turned out by chance to be much better than anticipated(childhood logic) I could revel in the positive feelings I was unfamiliar with.  I adopted the latter philosophy and it worked well for me.  In stead of worrying about the outcome of something, just anticipate the worst so that if that is how it turns out I wouldn’t be all upset, BUT if it worked out better than my mind had it managed, I could be over joyed.  That works well for me, even today.  All through my life I worked hard to do my best but that didn’t necessarily change the outcome. BUT when the outcome was what I really hoped and prayed for the feeling of accomplishment and gratitude was terrific.  I did this through college, through my working years and it served me well.  Life got easier as I aged, goals became more easily attainable and I actually learned to love the life I had created.

Fast forward to the present, and I am starting to see the past repeat itself.  There are too many unexpected roadblocks thrown in the way of seniors. Personal health issues, loss of friends and relatives, disappointment at your own body that it can’t do what you want it to, anymore. So, I am finding that old, adopted philosophy that I thought I came up with on my own is seeping into my life again.  I’m not as good at not anticipating things as I was way back but perhaps it is like riding a bike.  The biggest unknown at this point in my life is the loneliness.  My expectations at 77 are very low, that way I can’t be disappointed but if something should develop then I have all this room to celebrate.  I guess you could say I’m a half empty kind of guy who is ok with that because if it should be filled imagine the joy I will experience!