A good support group

Had "dinner" this evening with a good friend of mine. Actually, dinner was a free banana split, and it reminded me of how much I have to curb that type of consumption.

Ross is a good friend of mine. A former colleague at the newspaper, Ross welcomed me into his home for a week when I returned to California last year. The guy is a really good conversationalist, a lover of sports and a man whom I share a few things in common with.

When I spent a week with him upon returning to California, he took the time to talk to me at length about my relationship with my wife and children. The interesting thing is, I thought I knew a lot about how I had to be back then. Believe it or not, I learned today that I have so much more to learn, and will continue to do so.

A lot of the time, even on this blog, I discuss how I should be and how I want to be. That doesn't always end up being the case in real life. It needs to be. So, in a sense, people see me in a certain way, others I love see me in other ways. The important thing is to have everyone see me as I would like to see myself.

This means that I must practice what I say, in theory. I think the jury is still out on that one. I can say that with a virtual certainty because I have, for many days now, felt the urge to call Cherie and simply talk to her in the friendliest of terms. I haven't done it. I want to call and talk to Isaac and Savannah and ask them how their day was. Quite frankly, I'm a bit scared.

The question is, why? Ross explained to me that when he and his wife call or visit his wife's daughter and her children, they're all talking about the visit for days. Then days go by, and people forget. I think that's where I might be with Isaac and Savannah, and to a lesser extent, Cherie. If I called them every single day to talk to them, and talked to them in the most respectful, friendly tone, how would they ever forget that? And, wouldn't that go a long way in having them believe I am what I want to be?

I have fear and trepidation that negative feelings will leak out. Why? Why would they ever? If I really loved someone, why would I ever worry about making them feel bad? I'm not sure. But the more I write this, the more it seems like I just need to stop writing and do it.

Ross and I have had a lot of good conversations, and I thank him for his friendship and his willingness to spot me a free banana split. I hope to simply pay it forward with my family as best I can, knowing there are no strings attached.