"Of course," she says, "is that dependence?"
"It sounds like it to me," I reply, "and like everything else you can't have it without its shadows, its neediness, inferiority, submission, and loss of control."
-May Sarton
Dec. 4, 1993 Journal Entry
"At Eighty-Two, A Journal"
Twenty-five years ago today:
July 6, 1986
Sunday
I woke up at 5:45AM and was on the road by 6:30AM, departing Palm Springs for Alameda, CA. I stopped once for gas and made it home by 2 o’clock in the afternoon! Miracles do happen.
I found out later that Ron was waking-up at around 2PM. He figured I would be half-way home by that time. Little did he know…I had just completed my driving mission at 2PM. He was surprised at how quickly I made it home.
I had several messages on my answering machine:
Mark Landreth called me on the 4th of July.
Mike Miller, Greg Manachevitz, my Dad and Johnny Schaefer also called me.
I received the sweetest postcard from Paloma dated June 24, 1986. The postcard was 'Made in Spain' and depicted two Spanish dancers. Paloma wrote:
Dear Michael,
Thank you so much for that last card. That was a really nice one (as usual). When I saw this one I had to send it to you. Have you ever seen anything this tacky before? I've got a bunch just for you. Today I was walking in Marbella, Spain and I saw your belt (I mean the same one, of course!). The one I borrowed from you--remember? I thought about you, and that made me very sad. I miss you very much.
Talking about your tan...you should see mine. I work at the pool. I am in the sun for about five hours. That gives you an idea. At night time you can't see me.
How is life in California? Here we just have a few problems with bombs...last week we had a bomb alert. We had to stay on the golf practice till 4 A.M. Fun. We are about 12 hundred people!
Write me soon.
Love, Paloma
Don't you look under her dress!
(Funny, I looked under the dress of the postcard and Paloma wrote under the dress:
I KNEW YOU WOULD!
I returned Johnny Schaefer’s call, explaining to him that I never made it to Los Angeles. I knew he’d be bummed out if I didn’t stop by to see him, so it was better that he didn’t know I was there for the short period.
I said to Johnny, “I ended up going to Santa Cruz instead.”
It was just a little white lie. I did drive south. I didn’t want to hurt him.
I showered and went to my brother’s (John’s) house. I took Ashley with me and we went to my mom and dad’s house. Tony and Helen were there with Lauren.
Tony said, “Hey Mike, I start my ASR assignment on July 16th.”
“Well, that’s good!” I said.
I wasn’t in the least bit impressed.
PHOTO: Tony and Lauren; John and Ashley, 1986
I took a nap at mom’s house. Ashley and I left. I stopped to fill my car with gas. I had planned to drop Ashley back at her parents’ house.
Ashley said, “No, I want to go to the park!”
“Next time we’ll do that.”
She got a bit cranky but finally subsided and realized I would take her the next time around.
Once I was home I was feeling antsy. I invited mom to my place and we tested my videocassette to verify that the movie, BACK TO THE FUTURE, had taped successfully. I had a defective tape and it did not tape very well (annoying).
Mom and I tried to zip my rear window of my convertible. We were cracking-up because we felt like we were in a Lucy and Ethel episode, trying to do the impossible. We ended up tearing the thread of the zipper from its seams.
Mom said, “Mmmm…forget it, Dad will take it in tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I said, feeling reassured.
Mom left a bit later. I tried typing away on my word-processor but the screen strained my eyes. I went to sleep early. Yawn.
If analysis is, at best, the slow peeling away of frustrations in order to expose truths, the computer seemed to him to have the clinical equivalence of a scalpel. Details and facts simply blipped across the screen, cut free instantaneously with a few strokes on a keyboard. He hated it at the same time that it fascinated him.
-John Katzenbach
"The Analyst"
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