(Hum along as I sing this old familiar tune. See if it
jogs any memories…)
“…Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows
your name, and they’re always glad you came… you want to go where people know
troubles are all the same, you want to go where everybody knows your name…”
Sometimes I love this song’s concept. Sometimes I
crave it. You know… the times that
you walk into a place – it can be anywhere, not just a pub or bar – but a grocery
store, bank, church, school, PTA meeting (although
I didn’t actually attend many of those - oops…) – and people’s faces light
up, you hear your name shouted, and someone waves, flags you down to sit with
them… You feel welcomed, you feel loved, you know they want to talk with you,
spend time with you.
But then there are the “other times” - the times you
dread running into someone you know. Have
you ever sung that same song, but used alternative words - maybe a little something
like this? (Clears throat)
“…Sometimes you want to go where not one single person
knows your name, and no one even knows you came… you want to go where people
don’t know you have a trouble in the world, you want to go where nobody knows
your name…”
A few weeks ago, I asked a question on my Facebook
status. “Why is it that whenever you
look your absolute WORST, you run into absolutely EVERYone you know???!!!”
Answers ranged from “Oh no, what’s wrong?” to “…that’s just the way it
is, some things will never change” to “Murphy’s Law dictates this to be the
case.” Good answers! For me, they’ve all
rung true… especially that darn Murphy – he
seems to get me every time!
Reasons for looking your worst in public, ultimately
making you want to hide, can vary. Perhaps you worked all day. Maybe your boss
gave you a good talking-to. Maybe you gave your boss a good talking-to. Maybe
you ended up in the bathroom, angry, counting to ten, teary even. Maybe you put
on your sunglasses before you left your desk so that your friends wouldn’t see
your swollen, red, weepy eyes. (Note: As
some of you may recall, when my daughter (“the baby”) left for college I wore
my sunglasses at the grocery store for weeks.)
Here’s another possibility for looking your worst. Perhaps
it was a 90-degree June Saturday and your husband decided it was an excellent
time to dig a trench, or dig a hole, or dig a garden, or (fill in your own blank
on the hot, sweaty yard work scenario – if you’re a homeowner, the
possibilities are endless!). Or maybe it was the complete opposite… zero
degrees and you just finished plowing snow and decided to ‘run to the store’
for a gallon of milk. Quick! Before the
snow starts up again! The smell of snowblower gas hovers around you like a
cloud – much like Charlie Brown’s friend, Pigpen. Icicles hang from the end of
your nose like an abominable snow woman. And when they finally melt – well, it
will look like you should blow your nose! Your winter hat has most graciously
left an indented sweaty ring of curls that will not comb, will not fluff, will
not tame, no matter what you try. (The
Memmel’s affectionately refer to this condition as “hat hair.”) Somehow you
are both freezing and sweating at the same time. How can that be, by the way?
Perhaps you’re feeling exhausted. Maybe no matter
what you do, 3:30 a.m. seems to be your bewitching hour. You find yourself lying
wide awake every night, calculating unpaid bills in your mind, wondering how
many Wednesdays (paydays) there are in June. And no matter how you twist or finagle
the math, you still come up $1,000 short – over and over till your alarm goes
off. Or maybe (still at the 3:30 hour)
you think about what you “coulda”… No, “shoulda” said to so-n-so about
such-n-such and privately vow to never let her or him get away with THAT type of comment EVER again! No wonder you’re dog tired by 7 a.m. So many problems, so little time.
But then I got to thinking… Let’s just say that I’d
had a disagreement at work and I was wearing my Foster Grants to hide “the
windows to my soul.” (a fancy way of
saying ‘eyes.’) If I ran into my friend, Linda, would she judge me, or
would she be concerned? What if I actually confessed to her that I’d had a
miserable day and that I didn’t know how I’d stand going back tomorrow… Would
that be so bad, or would she actually understand because everybody’s got a
little somethin’ to get through in their own lives every now and again?
Or let’s say that I ran into Chris, and horror of horrors,
I had an icicle dangling from my nose. Would she cross me off her friend list,
never want to see me again? Or might she kindly reach into her purse, grab a
tissue, and offer it to me saying, “Katie, you have an icicle dangling from
your nose… were you plowing snow?”
So here’s what I’m thinking… Maybe we’re all a
little bit hard on ourselves sometimes. Maybe everyone has these issues. If it’s zero degrees, then maybe it’s
normal, even common, for people to have icicles attach to their faces.
Maybe the
“Cheers!” song really does ring true.
“You want to go where people know
troubles are all the same…” Maybe the times that we’re struggling are actually good times to get out there and
experience our friends’ help.
Maybe…? Sometimes…
Katie
Kolberg Memmel is the author of “Five Fingers, Ten Toes – A Mother’s Story of
Raising a Child Born With a Limb Difference.” For more information on Katie and
her book, go to her website at www.katiekolbergmemmel.com
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