WHAT DO YOU REALLY WANT? -- IT COULD MATTER, YOU KNOW!

By Edwin Cooney

“What can I do for you?” asks the pretty sales clerk.
“How can I help you?” asks the telephone receptionist.
“What-do-ya need, mac?” chirps the local bar tender.

Usually we know the answers to these questions, because the answer to each of these consists of some kind of transaction. The more intimate or personal these kinds of inquiries, the more powerful they inevitably are.

Most of us consider it reasonably easy to determine what we want from relationships, but that determination is often dependent on factors that have a way of occurring suddenly. A romantic relationship can be especially tricky since each of us brings to a very emotional and, perhaps, even a volatile situation, a lifetime of conflicting hopes, fears, needs, and expectations that defy clear communication.

Forthright communication is the strongest bulwark against disappointment, but forthright communication (some would call it “straight talk”) is invariably governed by conflicting forces and needs from deep within that may be continuously shifting. In other words, what we want from one another or what we have to offer each other often changes -- occasionally with the suddenness and power of an 8.0 earthquake.

All of us have, at some point in life, surprised ourselves by our personal behavior. The forces that lead us to such behavior often slowly grow yet may suddenly appear.

When I was young, I made three promises to myself. I decided I would conduct my life so as to avoid three things: I’d never get drunk, never be fired from employment and, most of all, never be divorced. Since I made that pledge at age twenty-one (when I was young and very idealistic), I have experienced all three of these states of being.

The first, inebriation, was quite deliberate. Heartsick over the loss of my college sweetheart one Friday night in February of 1973, I went to our college rathskeller (which I understand no longer exists) and chug-a-lugged five or six beers. Although I had a buzz on, I wasn’t certain that I was really drunk except that my walk back to the dormitory on the ice was much easier than my earlier trek to the rathskeller on that very same ice. What surprised me was the degree to which I enjoyed the experience. It caused no anger or resentment nor feeling of personal sorrow — rather, it relaxed me. I remember visiting the room of my resident advisor, David (who had recently broken his leg in a skiing accident) to ask him what he thought of my state of sobriety. “You’re quite drunk, Ed,” he laughingly pronounced. So, off to bed and to sleep I went.

As for my “firing,” my former employer once told me that it was her impression that I wanted to quit — so, she fired me. She had good reason to think that, so “Christians, one, Lions, one,” as they say.

As for my divorce, that’s a story laden with the hopes, fears, needs, and efforts of two people who meant to do nothing but the best for one another and for their children. Neither of us really wanted it; however, we came to believe that it was the best solution to the conflicts we were experiencing.

Yesterday, November 28th, 2010, I reached a milestone in life—the great age of sixty-five years. I can vividly recall when the very idea of reaching such an age was unfathomably distant. Even worse, men and women I knew of that “great age” seemed to be either permanently crotchety, feeble or both. Now, some of them -- especially the ladies --combine energy with lightheartedness and are quite attractive. Hence, age sixty-five is what I am if not who I am and beckons me to make the most of it.

Since yesterday was the first day of a new age, I am asking myself what do I want from the rest of my life?

Over the years, my emphasis has shifted from the sins I was determined to avoid to who I would like to be.

May God grant me the energy to serve and be served, the willingness to need and be needed and, above all, the strength to realize that all forms of human affection are not what people owe me but rather a gift to me. After all, the more I serve, the more I offer, the better prepared I’ll be to face whatever eternity requires of me.

RESPECTFULLY SUBMITTED,
EDWIN COONEY