July 2019
Hannah: Why don’t you watch this with us?
Jory: You know I get scared just coming up the stairs at night if I’m the last person down here, so watching anything remotely frightening is a bad idea. I used to like scary movies, but I’ve found, as I get older, that my tastes have changed.
Hannah: You’re not old yet.
Jory: Thank you, my daughter.
Hannah: And for the record, this isn’t scary at all, and I’d like to point out that you’re sitting right here.
Jory: But I’m not looking at it.
Hannah: Okay, be weird. I don’t have the energy to argue with you.
Jory: Well, thank you so much. Drink some water, please.
Hannah: Why?
Jory: You know why. Dehydration.
Hannah: …
Jory: Nice. Face.
DEAR JORY:
A mutual friend of my husband and mine likes to go to Chicago Blackhawks games with him.
I don’t enjoy it and never have. We have been friends with this woman since college, and I trust both her and my husband implicitly.
That being said, I simply don’t like it, and there’s no good-faith basis for my feelings.
They go out, sometimes they have a couple of beers after the game, and then my husband comes home.
I know I’m being stupid, my sister said I am, but I have a weird feeling about it that I simply can’t shake.
I also feel odd bringing it up to my husband since I’ve kept my mouth shut for years. Am I a crazy person?
Jory: If you feel it, you need to address the issue. It really doesn’t matter if this arrangement has been in place for years. If it’s bothering you, or if you feel ill at ease, then there’s a problem. You need to talk to your husband about it.
Sam: And then he’s going to say what?
Jory: What are you talking about?
Sam: So, his wife says to him, I don’t like you going to the games with whoever—Janet for example. And he says okay, but I like to see live hockey games and have a beer and you don’t.
Jory: He could go with his guy friends.
Sam: Would Janet be able to come along if there were other guys along?
Jory: Yes.
Sam: Why?
Jory: Because the concern is probably that one drunken night, in the rain—
Sam: You watch waaaaaay too much Lifetime Channel.
Jory: Shut up.
Sam: Go on.
Jory: One night when Janet is a bit tipsy, she leans over the console and lays a kiss on the husband.
Sam: Why does she have to be tipsy? The husband is so gross that she needs beer goggles to think he’s hot?
Jory: Uh. Fine. So she’s sober as a judge and leans over and makes a pass at him—
Sam: Because clearly, she’s missing something in her own life, and that’s why she’s going to games with this woman’s husband to begin with.
Jory: Ah-hah!
Sam: Like this was hard to figure out. They should have some kind of weekly outing to either see a game, be that hockey or football or basketball, or all go see a movie or all go have dinner.
And Janet’s significant other, or whoever she’s dating, comes along as well, and this woman who doesn’t like hockey—she has to go too.
We all hate doing certain things that our mates love.
Jory: Like fishing.
Sam: Fishing is a very good example.
Jory: But I’ve gone.
Sam: And complained the whole time, yes. But I don’t take single women or wives or husbands out fishing with me.
Jory: Though this brings up a good point. Because if Aja wanted to fish with you, I wouldn’t care, and I’ll bet you Dane wouldn’t either.
Sam: I would agree.
Jory: And if Dylan wanted to fish with you or Abe or really any of my friends…I wouldn’t care.
Sam: You’d be thrilled that you never had to go again.
Jory: There is that.
Sam: Uh-huh. But you not caring, what does that tell you?
Jory: That I trust you and them without question.
Sam: But you didn’t like Palmer.
Jory: No, I did not.
Sam: And we were only running.
Jory: Every morning, Sam. He was at the front door at five sharp, and he’s young, he’s, like, maybe––
Sam: He’s twenty-five.
Jory: See? If he’s out clubbing and getting laid but he’s still at our door at—
Sam: He’s real serious. He’s not a club kid.
Jory: Oh, so what? Guys who spend their nights at—
Sam: You’re flailing, and way off topic.
Jory: I don’t—
Sam: You didn’t like him, you asked me to stop running with him, and I did.
Jory: Yeah, I know, and I felt bad at the time.
Sam: But then when he came over here two weeks ago––
Jory: In the rain! It was raining that day.
Sam: ––when it was raining and tried to kiss me on the porch––
Jory: He’s so lucky I wasn’t home.
Sam: ––we both knew that you were right. You felt like something was off with him. You had a weird vibe, your intuition or whatever, warning you that something was amiss.
Jory: Which there was.
Sam: Which there was, yes.
Jory: Don’t sound so patronizing.
Sam: I’m not. Really. I respect your intuition greatly. It kept you alive in some tricky situations over the years.
Jory: Yeah?
Sam: Of course
Jory: I didn’t—it felt strange to let you be alone with Palmer.
Sam: He’s a nice guy. He just got the wrong idea.
Jory: You’d think the ring on your finger would let people know where you stand on monogamy.
Sam: I let people know where I stand. Period.
Jory: I––
Sam: And for the record, guys who used to dance all night in clubs are my favorite kind of guys.
Jory: Is that right?
Sam: You know it is.
Jory: I wouldn’t let you go to a game with anyone once a week without me.
Sam: I wouldn’t want to. You’re my favorite.
Jory: Same.
Sam: I know.
Jory: Wait. That’s wrong.
Sam: What is?
Jory: I would totally be fine with you going to a game with Duncan every week. Or Pat and Chaz, or Aaron.
Sam: Pray tell, what sports does Aaron Sutter enjoy?
Jory: Don’t sound so snide.
Sam: I can’t wait to hear this.
Jory: Now I don’t want to tell you.
Sam: Wait. Lemme guess. Polo.
Jory: That’s correct.
Sam: Of course he likes polo.
Jory: Samuel Thomas Kage.
Sam: Polo. Ridiculous.
Jory: Okay, so after all this, our advice is for this woman to have a talk with her husband—and maybe even her friend—and tell them that there’s no more games unless it’s a group thing.
Sam: Yep. I don’t believe that men and women can’t be friends because I have women friends, but everyone has to be on the same page.
Jory: Yes.
Sam: C’mere.
Hannah: I can’t see. Come on, you guys…you can’t make out in the middle of…God. Just sit down and—no, Pa, don’t look at the screen!
Jory: I’m not. For heaven’s sake, I’m not five.
Hannah: Oh, just kiss him already and go back to your chair.
Jory: No. I’m going to sit right here next to him.
Hannah: Just be quiet.
Jory: Okay.
Hannah: Dad, you missed the whole part where…wait.
Jory: Oh no.
Hannah: What did you say? Did you just say that the guy you used to jog with made a pass at you on our porch?!
Kola: What? Who made a pass at Dad?
Jory: Everybody, watch the show.
DEAR JORY:
I love my family so much, but the day-to-day of being a father, a breadwinner, a husband, and a son of a chronically ill mother who lives with us is slowly killing me.
I hate my job, and it’s eating me up inside, and I’m honest enough to say that I’m taking that out on everyone around me.
I don’t want to leave, but I’m nearing my breaking point. Please help.
Jory: As much as I appreciate this email, I really don’t think that this is the forum where you will receive the help you need.
Sam: Suck it up.
Jory: What?
Sam: That’s what you tell him.
Jory: I will not.
Sam: He needs to know. Being an adult is hard.
Jory: Sam.
Sam: He’s not fulfilled; he hates his job—I’m sorry, but that’s how it goes. Once you have kids, you’re not a man anymore. You’re a father. First and foremost, before anything else, you’re the protector and the provider. You never, ever, flinch away from your responsibilities. Ever. You’re done.
Jory: You make fatherhood sound so appealing.
Sam: It’s the greatest job in the world, but no one’s holding a gun to your head. You made that baby or adopted it or someone died and left you a kid and you said yes to the lawyer who knocked on your door. I don’t care. Once you’re a dad, you’re a dad. You don’t just decide one day that it’s hard.
Jory: I think he needs help. He needs someone to help with his mother and—
Sam: And that’s another thing. That’s your mom. Unless the abuse was horrific or she abandoned you or did drugs and drank…I dunno, but to me, your mother is your mother and you step up and take care of her, because without her, there was never a you to feel shitty about your life right now.
Jory: I think—okay. He needs to call social services and see what he can do about getting help with his mother.
Sam: If he has siblings, he needs to ship his mother to their house for three months or six months—I mean, share the load—but if there’s no one else, he does it alone.
And yeah, talk to her. Does she want to do low-impact yoga?
Maybe she wants to join a support group or get some physical therapy or maybe even a nutrition and knitting group.
He needs to ask questions. And if she’s some angry, festering wound of a person, then—
Jory: Festering wound?
Sam: What? Maybe she has a horrible attitude, like the absolute worst, but still, he has to find someone to help schlep his shitshow of a mother wherever she needs to go.
Jory: So, you’re advocating what?
Sam: That he gets help not doing it all alone, but his issue with his mother is nothing a good shrink, a couple babysitters, and a talk with the rest of his family won’t fix.
Jory: It sounds like he’s done being a husband, too.
Sam: That’s his prerogative. If he wants to be out of the relationship with his wife, then he should. But if he hates his job so much, maybe he should start there.
Jory: If he’s the breadwinner, he can’t just quit.
Sam: But he can change his circumstances.
Jory: Like?
Sam: Is there any way that I could answer while you start making the hamburgers?
Jory: There’s no hamburgers. You all have the stomach flu.
Sam: Oh no, mine’s over.
Jory: I’m sorry?
Sam: Done.
Jory: Yours is over? This is what you’re saying? You’re just calling it done?
Sam: Yeah. I usually barf, like, three times and I’m over it.
Jory: That was only the one time when you had a mild case of food poisoning.
Sam: When you tried to kill me with the frozen eggrolls.
Jory: How many times do I—I did not try to kill you. They were in your freezer past their expiration date by, like, a year.
Sam: And you didn’t check.
Jory: Who keeps year-old food in their freezer?
Sam: Apparently I did.
Jory: God. So, what? You’re all better?
Sam: Yeah.
Jory: And your children?
Sam: I suspect still sick.
Kola: Dad.
Sam: That was quite a whine.
Jory: Don’t bounce his head on your shoulder like that.
Sam: I was just checking for signs of life.
Kola: You’re gonna make me barf again if you—just watch the show. Ohmygod, you’re all driving me nuts.
Hannah: What’d I do?
Jory: You actually want a burger?
Sam: And a hot dog. It’s the Fourth of July. Thomas Jefferson would want us to have hot dogs to celebrate him hitting his deadline.
Jory: Deadline?
Sam: The declaration was due, was it not? He got it done.
Jory: I think you might be delirious.
Sam: I’m hungry.
Jory: Well, fine, because I made them already. You have patties in the refrigerator ready to go.
Sam: Really? With the cheese inside?
Jory: Yessir.
Sam: And you made some of them spicy because you love me?
Jory: I did.
Sam: Ohmygod, I love you so much.
Jory: This sounds suspiciously like you love me because I cook for you.
Sam: No. Not just that. It’s not the only reason.
Jory: You sound super convincing, by the way.
Sam: Follow me out to the grill.
Jory: Shall I get you a beer?
Sam: …
Jory: Oh. Well. I…kissing is good.
Sam: Let me show you what I can do with my hands.
Jory: Just—go already. I’ll be right out.
Sam: You need to finish with that guy.
Jory: And say what?
Sam: He needs a counselor. Tell him not to leave his family. He needs to talk to someone, and he needs to quit his job and do something he loves, as long as it’s not something super dicey like becoming a mob enforcer or being a lounge singer in Vegas.
Jory: The places your mind goes.
Sam: I like to cover the fringe areas first. The middle is easy to account for.
Jory: Got it.
Sam: I’m used to talking to you, so I have to stay on my toes.
Jory: So, he needs a new job, and maybe this next one will be one he loves.
Sam: Yeah. I mean, maybe his job is to have his own food truck.
Maybe he wants to open his own art gallery where he sells the paintings he does at night.
Perhaps he wants to go back to school and become an architect.
I don’t know. It doesn’t sound like he does either.
The point is, when I told my father that I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life after I graduated from high school, he said, why don’t you enlist while you figure it out?
That was really good advice, because I figured out that I wanted to be a policeman while I was on the other side of the world.
Jory: You’re saying if he doesn’t know now, maybe he should quit the career path that he hates and take something temporary while he goes to school or does whatever else to figure it out. Still support his family, still be there, but maybe make a bit less while he reboots his life.
Sam: Exactly. I agree the man deserves to be happy.
We all do. But not at the expense of others who are counting on him.
That being said, if the family has to make some changes, like tightening their belt so that he can fulfill his dream while he still provides for them, I see no problem with that.
Everyone should do all that they can. I think his family can help him, and if they love him, they will.
Jory: I think he needs to have a huge family meeting first.
Sam: That’s the takeaway. First, we talk.
Jory: Look at you all grown out here living your best life. I’m so proud of you.
Sam: Just come outside with me.
Kola: I want a burger.
Jory: You can’t keep a burger down.
Kola: Let’s just see.
Hannah: I want a hot dog, and I want to light sparklers in the backyard.
Jory: I’m liking this holiday all of a sudden.
Sam: Me too. Gimme a kiss.
Happy July, all. I’ll see you in August.