Some things never change....
It was a strange weekend. First a Chicago production on Saturday examining personal relationships post September 11. The Richard Greenberg play would require a focus group discussion after the curtain came down so we all could sort out the train wreck we just witnessed. Then there was a Sunday morning phone call from a wonderful friend who I haven't spoken with in sometime. Then our "Sunday Dinner" group got together for the usual catching up which is sometimes insightful but always hysterical. Then there was an unexpected encounter with another friend from my day's in New Orleans. Through all the events, including the mentally exhausting play, one universal theme emerged: change and how well we deal with its effects.
Richard Greenberg's "A Well Appointed Room" focused on two relationships in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks of 9/11. The two-act play took place in an apartment that had a wonderful view from "New Jersey to Brooklyn." Those who are familiar with Manhattan know that the World Trade Center's Twin Towers would have been the focal point of this view. In all its thought-provoking dialog, both couples face enormous communication challenges leading them to the breaking point. The focus group was interesting in most could relate with the characters and pull a piece of the story from their own lives. For me, the play only reawakened memories of a painful period of my life.
My phone rang Sunday morning, which was unusual, but when I heard the voice on the other end it suddenly occurred that some things never change. It was my former partner of ten years, Greg. We had not spoken in sometime and I remembered that for Greg, Sunday mornings were for phone calls and catching up. For the lack of a better term, Greg is my "Kryptonite," my saddest personal failure, my worst blunder, my biggest mystery and still my greatest friend. I miss him immensely so when he finally called I found myself nervously speeding through topic after topic to catch up.
Looking back, I should have listened more giving him a chance elaborate further on his new life in San Francisco. At the same time I continue to have this ridiculous need to let him know I'm not the person that left our house on that rainy day in September 2003. Come to think of it I have that ridiculous need to continue to prove that to a lot of people. Some things never change.
I enjoyed catching up on the many wonderful things that have unfolded both professionally and personally for Greg, all of which he deserves. When we hung up, my current partner John in his usual understanding tone asked: "Are you okay?" I just nodded my head in confusion. He left me to my thoughts. John has never felt threatened by Greg. He respects the ten years we shared and truly wishes that one day I'll be at peace with what was not said, what was not done that lead to the destruction of something that at one time was something good. The sad thing is I know the truth and shakes me to my very soul if I dwell on it. I just learned it all when it was too late.
Our Sunday dinner group would lead to more discussion about relationships as our friend Oliver is going through a break-up of a five-year relationship. At one point I uttered in frustration: "Maybe it would have been better if we just hated each other at the end." We (Greg and I) were never capable of such device and both know the road that has unfolded is one that has its purpose. I think at some point we have to realize there is something larger than all of us paving new roads we have to take, yet we don't understand.
After dinner, a few of us used braved the bitter cold to head to "Sidetrack" and a dose of the late Laura Branigan with "all those voices in her head calling Gloria." I ran into a mutual friend of Greg and myself and suddenly realized how tiny the world had suddenly become this weekend. What is really strange, everyone uses pronouns when referring to Greg, never uttering his name: "Have you talked to "HIM?" or "HIS" name came up not too long ago. I was happy to look at our friend last night and say: "Oh, I talked to GREG today. He's really doing well and I couldn't be more proud of him."
John and I headed home. One of the many great things about my sobriety is that there's always a designated driver. John had been drinking and headed straight to sleep. As for me, I stood with my memories in my new "Well Appointed Room" with it's beautiful south view of downtown Chicago petting my cat Skutty. I told her I spoke to her daddy today, you remember GREG I said. She was just enjoying all the affection and attention. Some things never change and that's just fine with me.
Richard Greenberg's "A Well Appointed Room" focused on two relationships in the aftermath of the terrorist attacks of 9/11. The two-act play took place in an apartment that had a wonderful view from "New Jersey to Brooklyn." Those who are familiar with Manhattan know that the World Trade Center's Twin Towers would have been the focal point of this view. In all its thought-provoking dialog, both couples face enormous communication challenges leading them to the breaking point. The focus group was interesting in most could relate with the characters and pull a piece of the story from their own lives. For me, the play only reawakened memories of a painful period of my life.
My phone rang Sunday morning, which was unusual, but when I heard the voice on the other end it suddenly occurred that some things never change. It was my former partner of ten years, Greg. We had not spoken in sometime and I remembered that for Greg, Sunday mornings were for phone calls and catching up. For the lack of a better term, Greg is my "Kryptonite," my saddest personal failure, my worst blunder, my biggest mystery and still my greatest friend. I miss him immensely so when he finally called I found myself nervously speeding through topic after topic to catch up.
Looking back, I should have listened more giving him a chance elaborate further on his new life in San Francisco. At the same time I continue to have this ridiculous need to let him know I'm not the person that left our house on that rainy day in September 2003. Come to think of it I have that ridiculous need to continue to prove that to a lot of people. Some things never change.
I enjoyed catching up on the many wonderful things that have unfolded both professionally and personally for Greg, all of which he deserves. When we hung up, my current partner John in his usual understanding tone asked: "Are you okay?" I just nodded my head in confusion. He left me to my thoughts. John has never felt threatened by Greg. He respects the ten years we shared and truly wishes that one day I'll be at peace with what was not said, what was not done that lead to the destruction of something that at one time was something good. The sad thing is I know the truth and shakes me to my very soul if I dwell on it. I just learned it all when it was too late.
Our Sunday dinner group would lead to more discussion about relationships as our friend Oliver is going through a break-up of a five-year relationship. At one point I uttered in frustration: "Maybe it would have been better if we just hated each other at the end." We (Greg and I) were never capable of such device and both know the road that has unfolded is one that has its purpose. I think at some point we have to realize there is something larger than all of us paving new roads we have to take, yet we don't understand.
After dinner, a few of us used braved the bitter cold to head to "Sidetrack" and a dose of the late Laura Branigan with "all those voices in her head calling Gloria." I ran into a mutual friend of Greg and myself and suddenly realized how tiny the world had suddenly become this weekend. What is really strange, everyone uses pronouns when referring to Greg, never uttering his name: "Have you talked to "HIM?" or "HIS" name came up not too long ago. I was happy to look at our friend last night and say: "Oh, I talked to GREG today. He's really doing well and I couldn't be more proud of him."
John and I headed home. One of the many great things about my sobriety is that there's always a designated driver. John had been drinking and headed straight to sleep. As for me, I stood with my memories in my new "Well Appointed Room" with it's beautiful south view of downtown Chicago petting my cat Skutty. I told her I spoke to her daddy today, you remember GREG I said. She was just enjoying all the affection and attention. Some things never change and that's just fine with me.
posted by Matthew Cortez at 2/20/2006 02:14:00 PM
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