The Joy of Nothing in Particular

 

The Joy of Nothing in Particular

We all have many people in our lives, some we’ve grown apart from, maybe have little in common with them. Most of us are more comfortable chatting with folks on a similar social, intellectual, or creative wavelength. Some of us aren’t in the habit of just conversing on the phone. If there are folks who have been in our lives but now find themselves struggling in some way, maybe fighting a disease, it can be hard to call them. What do you say when you can’t really do anything to help? Going over what is causing them pain doesn’t seem right for either of us. I’ve felt it’s easier to move on with my life.

However, I had an "out-of-the-blue" call sometime back from a cousin I hadn’t heard from since my father’s funeral. She and I had little in common other than a passel of relatives and memories of interacting with those relatives when we were young. She hadn’t been able to have children, though wanting them. She had not chosen an intellectual track and was not socially engaged, her interests more mundane. I knew she had lost both her brothers and her parents and was no longer in a relationship, and I had rarely thought of her.

I was surprised by the call, but she wasn’t asking for anything; she hadn’t called to complain. She just seemed to want to reconnect with someone familiar. I learned she wasn’t well and living a pretty limited and isolated life with her cat. She had no computer and, though liking to cook, her physical needs and having no one to cook for, limited the pleasure in that activity. There didn’t seem to be much joy in her life.

Though not a person given to shooting the breeze about “nothing in particular” or reminiscing about the past, I could sense her loneliness, possibly fear…given her physical challenges. So, we had a “nothing in particular” type of enjoyable talk with laughing about silly things from our past as children. That seemed exactly what she was seeking—a distraction from her isolation and discomfort.

So, tamping down my interests in discussing more worldly or “significant” matters, I spent an hour or so just letting her take the conversational lead. I joined in, adding reminiscences we could both recall, telling some jokes, and discussing her cat. At the end of our “catching up,” I told her I was sincerely glad she’d called and to please feel free to call anytime she felt like it. Conversation and a connection with a more pleasant past are things I can give her. And that gives me joy too!

I’ve called her several times since to talk about “nothing in particular” and to let her know I’m thinking of her. She has called a couple of times. I sent her several humorous cards, just for something to arrive unexpectedly in the mail, a sign that someone cares about her. At Christmas, I sent her a humorous book on cats, the one thing that seemed to give her the most joy at that time.

I’ve thought about this reconnection with my cousin. I’m certainly not alone in having a person in my life who I haven’t thought about in a long time, who is lonely and abandoned by people who don’t know what to say to a person as she struggles alone against possibly frightening challenges. Maybe, like my cousin, their lives could be brightened a bit by an unexpected call, from someone they haven’t reconnected with in a while—someone willing to acknowledge them, listen and not judge or try to solve their problems, someone willing to reminisce and laugh about familiar memories of more pleasant times.

When is the last time you called someone just to let them know you are thinking about them…and to talk about nothing in particular? I think it was hard for this cousin to call me, and I’m saddened now to think it would never have occurred to me to call her. I’m glad I was reminded that we have a lot to offer—some of it very simple. Just the willingness to reach out and touch someone’s life by phone, card, email, Skype, or ZOOM lets them know we care.

Marilyn Michael lives on a boat in Seattle with the Space Needle out her back door. She leads a weekly Writing Workshop at Wallingford Community Senior Center. www.wallingfordseniors.org

SHARING STORIES is a weekly column for and about the 50 plus crowd living in the Puget Sound region. Send your stories and photos to ariele@comcast.net. Tell local or personal stories; discuss concerns around aging and other issues; share solutions, good luck, and reasons to celebrate; poems are fine too. Pieces may be edited or excerpted. We reserve the right to select among pieces. Photos are always a plus and a one-sentence bio is requested (where you live, maybe age or career, retired status, etc.).
SHARING STORIES is featured on www.northwestprimetime.com, the website
for Northwest Prime Time, a monthly publication for baby boomers, seniors, retirees, and those contemplating retirement. For more information, call 206-824-8600 or visit www.northwestprimetime.com. To find other SHARING STORIES articles on this website type "sharing stories" or a writer’s name into the search function above.

---