SOME OF MY BEST CONVERSATIONS ARE WITH GHOSTS
My mom with her dog Corky, Portland, Michigan.
My last blog, which I trust you have built your life around 🤓, mentioned how this pandemic period is prompting many of us to surrender to the seductive pull of nostalgia. With the future so uncertain, or certain to be difficult for an uncertain amount of time, there is comfort in savoring memories: your mom’s hot chocolate; playing hide and seek in a grassy neighborhood somewhere; any number of scenes from high school; your first love; or meeting a friend for coffee without a care. Good memories, but bitter sweet. My irrational soul still wonders, why can’t I go back there? I want to climb into the old photograph and just stay.
There are lots of popular cliches about letting go of the past, all the people, places and things that have brought us pain and still do when we revisit them. “Just let it go.” “You can only lose what you cling to.” “Let go and let God.” They all sound fantastic. (What a great idea: Just let it go! Why didn’t I think of that?) But I’m not a big believer in any of them. I don’t think letting go is doable upon command. I lean more towards what Faulkner said: “The past is never dead. It’s not even past.” But what if I’m wrong? What if you can let go of something just because you choose to? Sounds like a magic trick to me. But wait, I DO believe in magic!
As some of you know, my mother died when I was quite young—10 to be exact. It was of course a horrible and life-altering event, defining in many ways. (No sympathy required. I’m good. Save it for someone who really needs it now.) That was a pretty long time ago, and I’ve coped, but I can’t say I’ve let go. In fact, I talk to her regularly as though she can hear me. There is actually some evidence that she can. For example, when I was writing my Christmas blog in 2019, I was sad that I didn’t have any copies of her handmade Christmas cards. These were precious and lovingly constructed bits of cheer that featured pictures of our family from decades ago. I mentioned this to her. I remember the moment exactly, looking out the cloudy window of a New York City bus, sending my silent missive up to a clear winter sky. Later on that same day, I got a text from a cousin I communicate with not even once a year that contained images of those very Christmas cards. You do the math.
Hal Willner
There are more ghosts all the time, especially as we get older. Good thing they don’t take up real space or who knows what might happen to them. When you do find yourself talking to a ghost, which I highly recommend, it’s easy to say it’s just your own voice talking back. “Prove it,” is a reasonable response. But even if it is you, just you, so what? What a nice gift to give yourself, to talk to someone you love who has become invisible, and to experience them near you, with you. Sometimes we’re wiser than we know.
This may sound like a childish endeavor. I’ve heard that growing up means giving up hope of having a better past. Sounds like acceptance of what has gone before, a worthy goal indeed. It’s on my list.
So today, February 1st, 2021, for no particular reason, I wish you a wonderful present, populated by both those you’ve loved and those you’ve lost. And a belated Happy New Year from me and my mom. She’s right here, I swear.
