by Dan Walsh
They walked past a few houses in silence.
Then Betty said, “Don’t be too hard on yourself. We don’t have switches like the guys do.”
“What do you mean?”
“Switches for our emotions. We can’t just turn them off and on whenever we want. I’m always surprised by how quickly Barney can just shut down his feelings. Things upset him, but only for a little while. Then he just decides to stop letting them. Stop thinking about it, stop feeling anything about it. And he just moves on. Sometimes I hate how easily he does it.”
“Stan is kind of like that too.”
“The thing with Barney is, sometimes he flips that switch off way before I want him to. Like after he’s done something hurtful or insensitive. I want him to feel bad about it longer than he usually does. Long enough to where he starts to care and maybe think twice about doing the same thing again. He’ll say he’s sorry, I can tell he probably is, but it feels too fast. Then he flips that switch, and he’s all done. Case closed.”
Judith smiled. She could relate to that. “Well, I can tell Stan is at least trying this time. He didn’t say it, but I could tell last night he would’ve liked it if I could have found that switch. He was disappointed his efforts hadn’t yielded better results.”
They reached a four-way stop sign and waited for a lone car to pass, then crossed the street. The next block was nice and shady.
“I’m sure you’ll come out of this when you’re ready,” Betty said. “I was thinking of that proverb, the one that says, ‘Hope deferred makes the heart sick.’ I think that’s what’s happening here.”
Judith knew the proverb and understood the implication. Disappointment, and even downright sadness, were normal when something you hoped for didn’t happen. “But doesn’t the next part say, ‘But a desire fulfilled is a tree of life’? Makes me feel kind of stuck. There’s no way what I desire can be fulfilled. Not this year. So, no tree of life for me.”
Betty thought a moment. “Guess my Bible verse kind of backfired. I was hoping it would make you feel a little better, knowing what you’re going through is normal.”
“I’m sorry. It does make me feel a little better. Just taking this walk with you helps some. What Stan did yesterday helps. But it’s just . . .”
“It’s just what? You can say it, whatever it is.”
They walked a few moments more. She wasn’t sure she should say it out loud or if Betty would understand, could understand.
“C’mon, Judith. What are you thinking?”
“I know this is probably just my depression talking, but I’ve been trying to figure out what’s bugging me, what’s keeping me stuck in this hole. And I think . . .” Still, she hesitated to say it.
“What? What is it?”
“It’s kind of what that proverb you quoted is saying. I’m struggling because I didn’t expect that having my kids and pouring my heart and soul into them all these years, sacrificing all of my hopes and dreams so that they could reach theirs, would end up with me having nothing to show for it in the end. That one by one, in just a few short years, they wouldn’t just leave the nest but fly so far away I’d never see them again. Even at Christmas.” Tears filled her eyes. “And I know I just said a whole bunch of things that are over the top, but that’s exactly how I feel.”
She stopped walking and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
Betty stopped too, leaned over, and gave her a hug. After a few moments, she said, “Yeah, I guess you’re gonna need a bit more than a ceramic Christmas house to pull out of this one.”
16
Do you want to turn back?” Betty asked.
“No,” Judith said, “we’ve only gone a couple of blocks.”
“I know, but maybe this is the kind of conversation we should have in your Florida room over coffee. Or maybe since it’s so nice out, in those antique Adirondacks you have parked underneath that big oak tree.”
Judith thought a moment. “No, let’s just keep walking. If I lose it again, we can turn around.” They started walking again. Neither one said anything until they reached the next stop sign.
“I think this expectation thing with your kids is pretty widespread,” Betty said. “I mean, feeling disappointed that things haven’t gone the way you planned. I know lots of parents our age feel that way.”
Judith didn’t know if she should say the other thing she was thinking. Betty was only trying to help.
“I know that look,” Betty said.
What kind of look was she giving? Judith wasn’t even aware her expression had changed. “What are you talking about?”
“You think my expectations have all been met, with my kids, I mean. Because they’re all still living in town, and they were all there at the house on Thursday. And you’re wondering how can I really understand what you’re going through since our situations are so different.”
Betty had nailed it. “I still appreciate you being here, though,” Judith said. “Helping me talk this out. I know it’s always better to talk things out when you’re hurting rather than to bottle them up inside.”
“That’s why we live ten years longer than men,” Betty said. “But I wasn’t just trying to comfort you by saying that. I think I understand your frustration a little more than you might imagine.”
They stepped out of the shady area and were now walking in the sun again. The warmth on her face felt nice. “Okay, I’m listening.”
“It’s true, our kids are still living nearby. And I’m not going to lie, it’s especially nice at holidays and birthdays. But things with our three kids aren’t exactly where we’d like them to be either. Especially with Ethan.” Ethan was their youngest, the only one still living at home. “It’s got Barney pretty frustrated. I don’t know if he’s ever mentioned anything to Stan.”
“If so, Stan hasn’t said.”
Betty smiled, shook her head. “It’s crazy how men are. You’d think as long as he and Stan have been friends, he’d open up about it. With me, he goes back and forth between feeling hurt by Ethan and getting angry. Happened again at Thanksgiving.”
“Really?” Judith said. “How come you and I have never talked about it?”
“Because it’s not something that eats at me the way it does him. I guess I have my expectations set lower than Barney does. I see Ethan just being pretty much the way boys his age are. Especially nowadays.”
“What does Ethan do that bugs Barney?”
“He’s hardly ever home, for one thing. Between work and hanging out with his friends, we barely see him. He’s hardly even home for dinner, except maybe twice a week.”
“Is he hanging out with the wrong kind of friends?” Judith said. “Is he getting in any trouble, coming home drunk? Things like that?”
“Not really. He stays out way too late. We both don’t like that. But his friends are all the kids who grew up in church together. Now they’re all young adults, most in their early twenties. Barney says that they don’t act like adults, at least not the way we acted when we were their age. They hang out together at each other’s places. Sometimes they play Xbox tournaments well into the night or watch movies. They don’t seem all that focused on getting good jobs or settling down. But I don’t think those are the biggest things that bug Barney.”
Judith knew those things would’ve bugged Stan, had Brandon gone that way. But Brandon had been pretty serious-minded about college right out of high school. “So, what bothers Barney the most?”
“It’s that same unmet expectations thing you and I were talking about. That ‘hope deferred makes the heart sick’ thing. See, Barney and his dad were never close. He always wished they were, but his father was a workaholic. The kind of father more focused on his career than on spending time with his kids. His dad saw his primary job as putting a roof over their heads and keeping food on the table. He wasn’t into having a relationship with Barney or his siblings. Barney said he never showed up to any of his Little League games. They hardly did anything together. He can’t
remember ever having a single meaningful talk with his dad his whole life.”
Judith’s memories of her father were eerily similar. “I think a lot of men in that era were like that.”
“You’re probably right,” Betty said. “But my dad wasn’t one of them. He was a great dad growing up. I remember when I was pregnant with our first, Barney said he was gonna fix that with our kids. Be more like my dad than his. And he was. He turned down all kinds of promotions over the years, made sure he could be there for the kids, for everything. Never missed a birthday, never missed a holiday or a ballet recital for the girls. He didn’t just attend Ethan’s ball games, he was his coach. And he took him with him whenever he went out, tried to take an interest in everything going on in Ethan’s life.”
Judith could see where this was going. “Barney thought spending all that time with Ethan growing up would guarantee they’d have a close father-son friendship when Ethan got older.”
Betty nodded. “You got it. But that’s not what happened.” After the next intersection, the road started going downhill. It caused their pace to pick up a little steam. Betty continued. “I remember Barney and I having a talk a few years ago about how his friendship with Ethan might affect his relationship with Stan. Barney was concerned it might be a little awkward if he started including Ethan in the times he hung out with Stan.”
Judith didn’t recall that ever being a problem. Now she understood why.
“Of course,” Betty said, “that’s not where things ended up. Right about the time Ethan graduated from high school, we could feel him starting to pull away. He was spending more and more time with his friends and less and less time with us. Their friendship dried up completely. I was kind of expecting it. It hurt some, but it really got to Barney. He felt like after all that time he’d invested in the relationship, he would mean a little more to Ethan than he did. And Ethan would want to be with him more than with his friends.”
“But that didn’t happen,” Judith said.
“No, it didn’t. Not only did Barney’s friendship expectation fall flat, Ethan doesn’t even ask him for advice, even in things Barney could help him with. And sure, Ethan was there for Thanksgiving, for the dinner and dessert. But he was gone an hour later and didn’t come home until we were ready for bed.”
Judith felt bad for Barney. She had no idea he was going through this.
“Barney reminded me one time of that seventies song ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’ by Harry Chapin. You remember it?”
Judith involuntarily started humming the tune.
“That’s it,” Betty said. “Remember how it goes? The dad’s so busy he misses everything going on while his son is growing up.”
Judith nodded. “And he always promises it will be different later.”
Betty finished with the last line and said, “But that’s not what happens, because they never get together. The dad’s always too busy. Barney said when that song came out, it made him cry, because it was exactly what was going on between him and his dad. So, he was determined not to let that happen with Ethan.” Betty sighed. “Barney had tears in his eyes Thanksgiving night before we went to bed. He’d heard that song on the car radio, and now, just like the song, the son is avoiding his dad and doesn’t have any time for him. Barney said it wasn’t fair. That’s not how it was supposed to turn out, because he did all those things with Ethan his dad never did with him. But still, it didn’t matter. Ethan pulled away, and Barney feels like they’re no closer than he was with his dad.”
They reached the bottom of the hill, crossed the street, and started walking back in the other direction. “I’m so glad Barney and Stan have stayed good friends,” Betty said. “I’m not sure there’d be any living with Barney otherwise.”
“Do you think I should mention any of this to Stan? Maybe he could figure out a tactful way to get Barney to open up to him.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt. But I wouldn’t try too hard. I don’t think Barney’s hiding it from him. I think by the time they get together after Barney’s had one of these Ethan disappointments, he’s already tucked any negative emotions into one of his many compartments.”
It was hard to believe how differently men processed things. Judith’s legs felt the tension of walking uphill, but her mind felt a little more at ease. It was somehow comforting to know that Betty could relate to her struggle, at least in part.
17
After their walk brought them back around to Judith’s house, she invited Betty in.
“I better not,” Betty said. “I need to get home and get cleaned up for work. But if you don’t mind, I’d like to keep you for another minute or two. We spent so much time talking about other things, I never got around to the thing I really wanted to ask you about this morning.”
Judith had forgotten all about that. “Okay.”
“Let’s talk in the shade,” Betty said. “Wish it was a little cooler out, to make it feel more Christmassy.”
They moved off the driveway into the side yard. “So what’s this all about?”
“It’s not a big thing,” Betty said. “It’s just an idea. It kind of goes along with what we’ve been talking about on our walk.”
“About my depression?”
“Yeah. I’ve thought of something I think might help. The idea came to me when we were visiting that last store on Saturday, the craft store.”
“When you were talking with the owner?”
“Yes. She was saying she might have to close down that whole make-it-yourself section in the back of the store. Nobody has time to make crafts anymore. They all just want to buy things already made.”
“And you don’t think that’s true?” Judith said.
“I think it’s partly true. A lot more moms are working full-time now, but I don’t think that’s the only reason. Remember last summer at church when I helped out at that young moms workshop?”
Judith nodded. “Suzanne went to it. I remember she liked it a lot.”
“I remember thinking as I listened that a lot of what they were teaching were the kinds of things moms used to teach their daughters themselves, day by day as they grew up. We would never have thought about going to a class to learn them. But these young mothers were eating it up, asking all kinds of questions. They really wanted to learn these things. It made me realize one of the casualties of modern life is this communication breakdown. The mentoring that moms used to do with their daughters that women our age take for granted.”
Judith could kind of see this, although she’d worked hard to teach the basics, even more than the basics, to Anna and Suzanne as they grew up. “So what does this have to do with the craft store we visited Saturday, or with me?”
“I think the same thing’s going on with this craft store,” Betty said. “Moms don’t make things anymore with their kids, because no one’s ever taught them how. But I think most people will try something new if there’s someone there willing to lead them through it, step-by-step.”
“And what do you think I should do about this?”
“Have a class,” Betty said. “That’s what I was talking to the owner about Saturday. I told her how you taught your kids to make ornaments from scratch every year throughout their childhood. You know all those handmade ornaments you were looking at in the store? Well, she has everything you need to make them right there.”
“So you want me to teach a class on making homemade ornaments?”
“On Saturday mornings, right there at the store.”
“Betty . . . you’ve seen my ornaments.”
Betty smiled. “Doesn’t matter. The owner loved the idea. She asked me to ask you if you’d consider it. I told her you might even volunteer. There’s just a few Saturdays left before Christmas. But I’m sure she’d consider paying you something to do it. If you say yes, she’ll talk it up with her customers and put posters by the front door and the cash register. The class would be free. The moms would just have to agree to buy the supplies for the ornaments there
at the store, in that make-it-yourself section.”
“So I’d be picking out ornaments to make from the already-made stuff in the store?”
“Either that, or you could come up with something totally original. You’d just have to use craft supplies they have available in the store.” Betty stood there a moment in silence. “So, what do you think? Is that something you might like to do?”
“I don’t know.” A part of her was certainly interested. She kind of wished Betty hadn’t talked to the owner about her teaching the class. She had no idea what she might charge. And it really would only be a handful of Saturdays. If she decided to do it. “How much time do I have before she needs an answer?”
“We didn’t discuss that,” Betty said. “But I think it would be nice if you could tell her in a day or two, especially if you’re gonna do it, so she could start promoting it in the store.”
Judith didn’t reply. She really wasn’t sure what to do.
“Well,” Betty said, “I think it would be a great idea. Not just for the craft store but even more so for you. It might help you get your mind off of these negative things you can’t do anything about. Besides, you really are good at this craft thing.”
“I don’t know about that,” Judith said. “Stan calls them the ugly ornaments for a reason.”
Betty laughed. “But your ideas weren’t ugly. Besides, how they turn out isn’t the point. It’s all the fun the moms and kids have making them, and all the memories they’ll make. And I think you might even wind up making some nice memories of your own.”
18
A few minutes before noon, Stan stepped outside of the Home Depot and headed for his car, which he’d parked in the far end of the parking lot under a cluster of shade trees. He wondered if a cold front might be moving in, because it was actually cooler now than it had been when he’d pulled in this morning. Stan was on his lunch break. Normally he’d be heading home after four hours, but last night they called and asked if he could work eight today. An unusual number of returns had come in over the weekend.
